#dk fic

you know seokmin wants to be held the moment he comes into your shared bedroom without a greeting, instantly going to the bed and falling face first into your lap. he's bigger than you, body covering your entire lower half without a second thought.

putting your phone down, you bring your hand down to rub your boyfriend's back. after a few minutes of silence, save for his soft breathing, he looks up at you, brown eyes wide with desperation as he sighs aloud.

"hi to you too." you chuckle softly, and seokmin cracks a smile at that, bare face handsome and beaming as he speaks. "sorry i didn't say anything when i came in. didn't feel like it."

you knew something was off the moment seokmin came into your room without a word, but you didn't want to press him on the situation, nodding with understanding as you smile. "it's okay. i'm just happy to have you back with me."

"can we cuddle, babe?" seokmin asks, face in a pleading expression as he scoots further up on the bed to kiss your lips softly. "i want to be held by you."

his words hold so much vulnerability in them, you agree without a second thought. nodding, you smile as seokmin gets up, putting himself beside you in the bed as he leans on your shoulder. you take him in your arms instead, letting him press his head against your chest as he lets his eyes close, taking a deep breath.

"good?" you ask gently, and seokmin nods, voice low and relaxed as he replies, "better than good."

smiling, you press a kiss to his forehead, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and keep his head pressed to your chest. he smiles against you a few moments later, and you giggle at the phantom feeling of his face moving against you, questioning him on the change of expression.

"what's so funny?" you inquire softly, and seokmin shakes his head ever so slightly, laughing moments later.

"i can hear your heart beating." seokmin says, and you giggle, nodding. "yeah. it means i'm still breathing."

"i know that," you can hear the 'duh' in seokmin's voice before he continues on, "i was just about to say how fast it's going right now."

even though you've been dating seokmin for seven months, the fact that you get nervous when he's close to you like this never changes. it's no surprise that your heart is speeding because he's so close to you.

"i think it's so cute when you go quiet because you don't know what to say," seokmin says aloud, and you scoff, knowing your cheeks are a bright red as you sigh. "i should have thrown you off of me the moment you got on me."

that causes both of you to laugh, your head falling on top of seokmin's as he laughs lowly against you.

THE ROAD AHEAD IS NEVER ENDING. At least, it’s starting to feel that way. You’ve been driving for hours, the inky ribbon of the highway unraveling ahead of you beneath the weak hum of your radio. The clock on your dash says it’s almost midnight, but you swear it was midnight two hours ago. You can’t really remember, which means you need sleep as soon as possible. 

Outside of the windows, the world is a smear of motionless dark. There are no other cars and no stars ahead, the cloudy night blanketing the world. The wind presses against your windows as you drive, wind kicking up on the road in front of your headlights before vanishing. 

Just as your eyes start to get heavy again, your headlights reflect on an exit sign. You breathe a sigh of relief. You’ve been driving across the country for the better part of two days and today has been the longest stretch of driving thus far. 

Red paint catches your attention on the green sign. An additional sign has been tacked on to the exit directions, a quick EXIT NOW FOR THE MIDNIGHT MENAGERIE - ONE NIGHT ONLY. The letters are hand painted and uneven, but your interest is piqued as you pass another exit sign with a list of lodging - there is only a single motel. 

Turning onto the exit ramp, you feel your fatigue deepen. It’s like a tug behind your ribs, an aching exhaustion that keeps you awake long enough to draw you in but threatens to make you shut down at any moment. You reach over to turn the radio up, hoping that the playlist will keep you up long enough to navigate to the motel and crash into a bed. 

The exit ramp curves longer than it should. You rub your eyes, blinking away stars as you slow down, careful not to go off the edge of the road. Just when you start to worry the exit ramp is still going, you hear the soft crunch of gravel beneath your tires. 

Lights appear. They bloom from the darkness like fireflies, reds and golds and a violet so deep it looks like a glowing bruise in the dark. The Midnight Menagerie rises just beyond a field, the stripped tents slouching against the inky horizon, a Ferris wheel spinning lazily under the night sky.

Blinking, you catch the sign for the direction of the motel - it’s the same direction as the glittering circus so you turn right, heading down a gravel road. You crack the windows a bit and turn the radio down, needing fresh air. It smells like wet earth with a hint of burnt sugar, your senses waking up as you drive toward the bright lights. 

Trees line either side of the road. They’re covered with weeping moss, giving them the appearance of ghoulish phantoms watching your lone car pull toward the lot of the motel. It’s a tiny building with maybe ten rooms, its neon vacancy sign sputtering like it's struggling to stay alive. The letters flicker as you park, but beyond the motel looms the circus.

You kill the car engine and it ticks as it cools. Outside, the air feels strange. You inhale the smell of burnt sugar one last time, eyes drifting to the circus that looks in full swing with no one inside. Weird. You suppose it makes sense for the circus to share a lot with the motel - there seem to be no other buildings around in the dense wood. 

Still. Odd place for a circus - odd time, for a circus to be alive and running. 

Humid air clings to your skin as you get out of the car. Music drifts from the circus, the scent of sugar in the air. You can’t see the entrance, but you can hear the voice of someone calling people to the circus. For a moment, you step toward the light. You’re tired, but you haven’t been to a circus in years - and what a curious place to find one. 

The wind shifts and the voice drifts away. You blink a little dizzy, tired again. Pivoting, you head to the hotel lobby, gravel crunching beneath your feet as the alluring voice fades with the wind. 

Inside the lobby smells faintly of mildew and something sweeter underneath. A ceiling fan turns with a lazy, uneven rhythm ahead, clicking loudly. The walls are wood-paneled and warped with humidity. A single vending machine hums by the door, filled with off-brand sodas and bags of chips that look dry rotted. 

No one is around. There’s a brass bell on the counter, a computer that hums loudly, and a wall of small cabinets that you think houses keys. You glance at the small sign on the counter: NO REFUNDS. NO QUESTIONS. 

Slowly, you lift your hand to tap the brass bell. It rings out in the silence, the sound muffled by the thick air. You shift, trepidation mounting as you wait. A moment later, a door behind the counter opens and a man shuffles from the back. He’s a small man, hunched over with grey hair and a name badge that says Gus. 

“How long?” He asks, opening a cabinet at the back. No greeting. Nothing else. 

“Uh, just a night.”

He grunts and pulls out a brass key from the cabinet, shuffling to turn and bring it over to you. “We required a card down and kept in the office overnight. You can get it in the morning.”

“That seems unnecessary.”

He holds on to the key and shrugs. “It’s here or the side of the road. You pick.”

Sighing, you fish out your credit card and swap it for the brass key. It’s heavier than you expect and warm to the touch. He locks your credit card into the same cabinet the key was in, so you assume at least it’s a little secure. You mutter your thanks before shuffling out into the night again.

Outside, there’s a low fog on the ground. The crickets chirp as you sigh, squinting in the dim parking lot light to see the key number. It says seven. You cross the lot back to your car, eyeing the circus as you grab a bag from the trunk. Voices drift from beyond the fence - so there must be people, but you can’t see them.

With a shiver, you trudge toward room seven, which you realize is the last in the building block and closest to the circus fence. The paint is peeling on the door and it takes a minute to wiggle the brass key into the lock, but it opens to a small room with stale air and faint smell of moth balls.

Red shag carpet drags beneath your shoes. There is a single narrow bed, a lamp on the table that hums when you turn it on, curtains that don’t quite close, and wall paper that peels at the corners, revealing dark wood. Maybe mold. 

You toss your bag on the bed and catch your reflection in the mirror above the desk. The glass is clouded and scratched and for a second, you think you see movement behind you. You whirl, heart pounding, but there’s no one there. It’s just you and the glow of the circus coming through your window, the sound of laughter drifting through the gap underneath the door. 

A voice also drifts through the door, rising and falling. It’s a man’s voice, smooth and commanding, echoing faintly through your room.

“Step right up, step right up! The night is waiting for you.”

The sound of his voice wraps around you, slipping through the cracks of the window and through the door. It sounds like he’s speaking directly to you, telling you that he’s waiting for you. You go to the window, pulling back the curtain to peek outside.

Beyond the glass, the circus is a blur of color and motion, its lights pulsing. The tents shimmer faintly, blurred by the dirty window and warped, rusted screen. The shadow of the ferris wheel looms against the flickering parking lot light, an occasional flicker of red against the fog. 

You glance at the clock. It’s midnight exactly, and you feel a spark of energy, a tiny flame of curiosity at the circus. You can sleep right after - it’ll only take a minute to skip over to the entrance and peek into the glittering lights. 

Just a peek.

You grab your motel key, slip on your jacket and step into the night.

The parking lot hums, the asphalt cool with the fog. You tuck your hands in your pocket, the key wrapped firmly in your palm as you walk the fence of the circus, looking up at the towering red tent next to you. The closer you get to the entrance, the louder the music becomes, a dizzying waltz that seems to spin round and round.

When you round the corner, the gates of the Midnight Menagerie stand tall before you, carved from iron that gleams with midnight dew. A single lantern burns at the archway, halloween the mist in red-gold light. 

The man that the voice belongs to is there. You blink. You don’t know where he came from, but suddenly he stands at the threshold, framed by the glow. He’s dressed in a crimson coat, lapels dusted with gold threat, his smile sharp. He’s handsome as ever, with gold skin that seems to glow in the light and dark hair that is styled back with gel. 

His smile is too perfect, too sharp. His presence pulls at something deep inside of you, a tug that you can’t name. The corners of his mouth curl like he senses it, like he’s drawn to you just as much as you’re drawn to him.

“Evening,” he says, the word drifting to you. You take a step closer without meaning to, drawn to his voice. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head, unable to look away. His eyes are dark, the reflection of the lantern reflected in the glassy surface. He leans toward you a little, a crooked smile tugging at his face. “I supposed it’s only fair you get a proper welcome,” he murmurs, dropping his voice down. Your stomach flips as his grin spreads. “Most folks just wander in and get lost in the lights but… how about I show you around?”

His gloved hand extends toward you, fingers steady and inviting. The gesture feels like a question that’s already been answered. You stare at his hand, caught between the safety of your room and the unknown beyond the gate. The air grows cooler, the hum louder, and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as if brushed by a gentle, unseen pair of lips.

Something nudges at your thoughts, a whisper, urging you forward. “I’m pretty tired,” you say slowly, eyes dragging from his hand to his eyes. His smile doesn’t falter. He nods, like he understands. “I don’t know.”

“Just a glimpse, then,” he says, voice soft as velvet. “A moment. I don’t bite.”

The nudge becomes a pull, subtle but insistent. You reach hesitantly for his hand and when your fingers meet his glove, a warmth sparks through you, electric and tingling up your arm. It feels like a pulse that tethers the two of you, your heart beating wildly as he tugs you gently toward the gate, his eyes glittering.

“Welcome,” he murmurs. “To the Midnight Menagerie. I’m Seokmin, barker, host, and tour extraordinaire. Tonight, you’ll meet our devils!”

You give Seokmin your name but it’s lost in the sound of the world unfurling around you. Lights glitter over head as Seokmin guides you through the gates, his smile easy and practiced. You follow him through the archway, the air thick with the scent of spun sugar and smoke.

The world inside the gates seems stretched, the tents rising too tall, paths curling where they shouldn’t. Music slips between pitches, drifting from a waltz to a dirge to something unplaceable. Seokmin drops your hand and wanders toward the lights, spinning toward you to outstretch his hands in show. 

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

It is. Even empty. You see none of the people that you heard earlier, but you hear laughter just on the edge of your hearing, like someone is giggling at a joke just beyond where you cannot see. Seokmin winks at you, watching as you tilt your head up to look at the slow turning of the ferris wheel.

“You should see your face right now,” he teases. “Pretty.”

That makes you blush. Seokmin beckons you and you follow, dirt crunching under your feet as he leads you deeper into the maze of tents and booths.

The deeper you go, the louder the circus hums. Sekomin keeps close, always just at your side as he tells you about each tent and the history of the circus. Sometimes his hand brushes the air near your elbow to guide you, but not quite touching. His nearness feels warm and you find yourself drawn to it, a moth to the flame. 

“Every tent belongs to one of our devils,” he says, his voice curling through the music. “Each is special on their own.”

Seokmin brings you to a small tent with red velvet curtains. There’s a gilded sign that denotes it as the Hall of Whispers. He pulls the curtain aside, gesturing for you to enter first. The hall is narrow as you pass him, his grin following you. You shiver, catching his scent of something sweet and smokey at the same time. 

Inside, the air is dense. Lanterns sway along the coordinator, glass globes filled with blue flame. Between them, gilded cages hang from the ceiling, each holding a drifting mote of light. They whisper - softly at first, but growing in volume. The sounds brush against your ears and you shiver, feeling the vibration of words you cannot understand in your ears.

“They’re memories,” Seokmin murmurs behind you, making you jump. He gives you an apologetic grin as he steps up beside you. You look up at him - you hadn’t realized how tall he is - as he cranes his neck to look at them. “They speak to those they miss.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, confused

Instead of answering, he walks ahead of you, the tails of his crimson coat brushing against the back of his legs. You follow him toward the lower cages that are eye level, motes of light twisting and dancing as you draw near. One of the cages seems to lean toward you, a tendril of pale blue flame extending. 

You start to lift your hand to reach toward it, but Seokmin lifts a hand and tuts at it, making the flame draw back. You flinch and look up at him, eyes round. 

He smiles at you. “It misses you.” He winks before turning to continue walking. “We have that in common.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Don’t I?”

The path twists until it spills out into a tent lined with paper stars. At the center is a small stage where a woman in white dances to no music. The air is chill here and you draw closer to Seokmin who stands and watches, his dark eyes focused on the stage. You look up to see only glittering lanterns that seem to float, no rafters or beams in sight. 

On stage, the woman’s feet barely touch the ground. Her expression is serene as she dances, skirts moving about the floor. Her shadow doesn’t follow, though. You notice that it sticks, slower than she is, as though it’s hesitant. Slowly, it starts to lean toward where you stand. Like with the mote of light, Seokmin makes a sound of chastisement and the shadow retreats back to the stage. 

Seokmin watches for a moment, eyes glinting as he murmurs, “She’s stuck here. She thought she could take someone’s place.”

“Whose place?”

Again, Seokmin doesn’t answer your question. He turns and leads you back outside of the tent and into the night. The air tastes like copper and sugars, the next attraction looming ahead. Seokmin leads you forward to a ring of cages, each filled with creatures that shimmer, half visible.

Your breath catches when you see translucent lions with ember eyes and serpents made of shadow and smoke. You look for the light projectors making the phantom creatures but you see none, puzzled at the clever production that makes them appear. You pass a fox with wings of silver dust and you step closer to it, fascinated. 

Heat presses against your skin, the air thickening around you as Seokmin steps up next to you, hovering as he eyes the fox as it flutters its wings, looking at you with eyes like stars. 

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. 

“They only appear to those they hold dear.” You look at him, frowning. “Or to those full of desire. They like desire.”

You glance at him, at the soft light painting his face, the way it sharpens the line of his jaw. For a moment, the desire is something you could almost name.

He notices, of course. His eyes flick to yours, amusement curling in his voice. “Careful,” he says lightly. “The Menagerie has a way of listening.”

Seokmin offers his arm, this time. You stare at it before flicking up to see him watching you. It’s not a command, but an invitation, and though you don’t remember making the decision, your hand finds the crook of his elbow, feeling the warmth of his skin through the jacket. The contact is light, but you feel the air shift as he smiles, thrilled, and leads you to the next exhibit. 

You pass through another tent where ropes float in the air like serpents, coiling lazily in invisible currents. Seokmin reaches out and snaps his fingers, and they twist themselves into an archway of knotted silk for you to walk beneath. 

Gasping, you grin, delighted as you walk underneath them. You’ve never seen a circus filled with so much apparent magic, wondering how a little offshoot on a no-where exit has managed to have such a highly-produced event. You want to ask, but instead Seokmin keeps up the string of conversation, asking where you’re from and where you’re going.

You don’t remember what you tell him. As soon as the words are out of your mouth, they drift away like they’re not worth remembering. Only the images of the swaying ropes follow you out into the circus grounds, the smell of Seokmin as he leans in close to whisper and point at two shadows chasing one another on the carousel. 

Seokmin begins guiding you to another tent. You follow, a chill driving you closer to him. He smiles when he notices, hugging your hand closer to him as you walk. 

“You could run the whole way through this place,” he says as you walk, “And never find the same place twice. But somehow you’d end up here again.”

“Here?”

“Beside me.”

The words shouldn’t make your heart skip, but they do. The lanterns seem to flare as you enter another tent, warmth flashing your face as he leads you into the cool dark. 

“Welcome to the hall of mirrors,” he murmurs in your ear, breath warm against you. “It only shows the truth.”

The Hall of Mirrors isn’t like the other tense. It feels quiet and contemplative, the air humming. The floor creaks faintly beneath your shoes, the scent of candle wax clinging to the walls. Mirrors line the narrow corridor, not quite straight but not quite curved. Each one seems to bend differently, making the room spine.

Together, you walk carefully. At first, it’s just your reflection. You look a little tired, distorted slightly by the wavering glass. When Seokmin steps beside you, his image ripples lightly, catching your attention. You cock your head as the corner of his head catches on something invisible, and for a second, you think you see the shadow of horns.

You blink and they’re gone. It’s just Seokmin, dark eyes watching you, a soft smile on his face. He tilts his head and beckons you to keep walking, and you follow, just like you did when he’d welcomed you at the front entrance..

Each mirror seems to multiple the two of you, infinite copies walking side-by-side. Sometimes you’re close enough to touch, sometimes oceans apart. In some of the mirrors, Seokmin looks as he does now - handsome and open-faced, a charming smile on his face. In others, something ancient glitters beneath his gaze, the light around him giving the illusion that there are shadows twisting around him.

“They say this hall shows who we are,” he says as you drift. “But I think it shows who we were.”

He turns to a mirror that’s taller than others. The glass trembles faintly, rippling like the surface of a pond. He stares at it as you stand next to him, but the glass makes it seem like  you’re further away and blurry. A memory.

“Every life,” he says, “She forgets me. Every time, I have to find her again. Sometimes I find her in a crowd. Sometimes at a crossroads. Sometimes…” His eyes flicker to you in the mirror, dancing. “On a lonely highway, drawn to a strange exit.”

You want to look away, but you don’t. His words root you to the spot and you stare at the endless reflections around you. Something nags at you - the memory of something you cannot place. Earlier, Seokmin had asked why you were traveling. You cannot remember the answer. Just that you’d been driving toward something - maybe someone. 

The mirrors waver again. You look at your own reflection, watching as shadows waver around you, a smokey halo beginning to take shape. You blink and it’s gone, but Seokmin’s breath catches beside you, his eyes fixated on you, intense. 

“Endless nights I have spent welcoming people into the gates,” Seokmin whispers. “Calling, calling calling. Hoping the right one would hear me.” He steps closer, his reflection multiplying around you, his voice dropping into a hush. “Finally, you’ve heard me.”

“Me?”

As soon as you ask, you know it’s true. You feel it in your chest, a resonance that feels older than language. You don’t understand it, and you don’t understand the way the mirrors waver, but as Seokmin steps behind you, you realize he is the perfect height for you. The two of you stare at one another in the reflection, your heartbeat racing. 

For a moment, neither of you move. The air feels taut, like it's waiting for something. His hand brushes yours and you shiver as the glass ripples in front of you. You see flashes of yourself, some recognizable, others strange. Seokmin is there too, reflected dozens, hundreds, thousands of times. 

Seokmin’s words sink into you, stirring something deep and buried. A sense of familiarity pulls at you, flickering at the edges of your mind, but it’s just out of reach. You look up at him, studying his face. The dark eyes, the soft mole, the slope of his nose. You know him. You don’t know how you do, but you know it to be true. 

Suddenly, desire crashes over you. It’s not just the pull of his faze but it's something else, something deeper, an instinct you cannot tamp out. Your skin prickles with need, your pulse quickening as you turn to face him fully. He makes a sound deep in his chest when he sees the change in you and he steps forward, backing you into the cool glass of the mirror. 

Seokmin’s hands frame your face as he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that devours. The spark between you ignites into a flame. The taste of him is familiar, like spiced wine and smoke. His body presses against yours, solid and warm and you groan, clinging to him

He deepens the kiss, turning hungry. Your hands roam up his chest, fingers tangling in the lapels of his coat to pull him closer. He moans softly into your mouth, his gloved hands sliding down to your waist, gripping with a desperation that mirrors your own. 

You grab at Seokmin - his hair, his shoulders - need more, needing all of him. His teeth graze your lower lip and you arch into him, the mirror creaking behind you as you press yourself into him, trying to satiate the fire that is now a roaring inferno inside of you. 

In the mirrors around you, you catch glimpses of him. Seokmin’s image wavers as he presses wet, hot kisses down your jaw and neck, making little sounds as he sucks feverishly at your skin. Shadows coil around him like living smoke, and for a second, you see curved horns again. 

It should terrify you, the way his presence envelops you like a shadow. Instead, it ignites a fire inside of you, an ancient, insatiable hunger that radiates between the two of you. You exhale a shaky breath as he leans in, his teeth grazing your neck with deliberate precision. 

Seokmin bites down - not hard enough to break skin, but enough to send a jolt of main mingled with pleasure racing through you. His tongue soothes the sling with slow, language presses, lapping at the damaged skin, wet and warm.

Your hands tremble as they slide under his jacket, fingers tracing the hard ridges of muscle beneath his shirt. His stomach flexes under your touch, and he shivers. “That’s it,” he murmurs against your skin. “Feel me. Touch me, and know who you belong to.”

His own hands become possessive, slipping under your jacket to trace the soft curve of your hips. He pulls you flush against him, his grip unyielding. It draws out soft, involuntary whimpers from your throat and his mouth trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

The mirrors surrounding you multiply the scene infinitely, endless versions of Seokmin pressing you against the glass, claiming you. Without warning, he spins you around and presses you against the cold glass, your breath fogging the mirror as you meet your own reflection. 

Seokmin’s body molds perfectly to yours from behind, his heat seeping through your clothes. “Stay still,” he orders, breath hot against your ear. His tongue teases your earlobe gently, teeth nipping and you moan. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

You nod instinctively, your body obeying before you can catch up. His hands roam greedily over you, one sliding up to cup your chest through your shirt. His thumb circles your nipple slowly, teasing. You gasp, your head falling back against his chest, but he catches your chin with his free hand, tilting your face forward.

“Eyes on the mirror,” he growls. “Look at us. See how perfectly you submit to me? My little chaos demon that needs to be called in, contained, controlled.”

You feel that same nudge to your thoughts, like he’s brushing his fingers along the very edges of your mind, your soul. It feels calming, your thoughts emptying out as his other hand dips lower, fingers deftly unbutton your pants to slip inside.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice rough and pleased. He presses his fingers against your underwear, finding you already wet and aching for him. He retracts his hand just long enough to bite the fingertip of his glove, ripping it off with his teeth before tossing it aside. His eyes lock onto yours. “Eyes on me.”

Slowly, he slips his hand back into your pants, this time under the hem of your panties. The warmth of his bare skin against your sensitive flesh makes you gasp, your mouth falling open as his fingers tease your sticky folds. He circles your clit with agonizing slowness, building tension until you’re squirming against him.

“Beg for it,” he murmurs. “Tell me how badly you need my touch.”

“Please,” you gasp. “Please Seokmin. I need you. Please.”

His reflection smirks over your shoulder, an ethereal flicker of horns going in and out like a glitch in the fabric of your reality. “Good girl.”

Seokmin’s praise sends a rush of heat through you as one of his fingers sinks into you, drawing a breath from your lips. It feels so good, your pussy clenching around his finger as he begins to thrust shallowly, testing you. You can’t look away from the mirror, watching the way his eyes darken and his smirk grows. 

Without warning, he presses in a second finger, stretching you wider. Your forehead hits the mirror and your thoughts turn to static as you moan, “Oh god.”

“No,” he growls, free hand wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but you feel it for what it is - a reminder that he is in control. “God has no place here. Say my name. Worship me.”

“Seokmin,” you moan as he curls his fingers.

Stars burst behind your eyelids, but you force them open, obeying his earlier command. Your breath fogs the mirror, but you don’t dare look away from him. Your palms press flat against the glass as your knees weaken, trying to keep yourself stable. He slips his arm around your waist, holding you up while his other hand pumps in a steady, relentless rhythm. 

You whine his name again and his grin sharpens. He nips at your earlobe hard enough to make you yelp. He quickens his pace, fingers thrusting deeper, the slick sounds of your pussy filling the air. The mirror reflects all of it: you, sweaty and desperate, him, intense and hungry. 

“Come for me,” he whispers. “Be good for me. Show me that you can listen.”

His words shatter you. You come hard around his fingers, your thighs convulsing. He doesn’t stop, drawing out every tremor and ragged breath until you’re boneless against the glass and he’s holding you up. 

Before you can catch your breath, he drops to his knees behind you, pulling your pants down with a swift yank. “Spread your legs.”

Seokmin’s hands grip your ass for emphasis and you comply without hesitation, gasping as he pushes you forward, your cheek pressing against the freezing mirror. He wastes no time burying his face into your dripping cunt, his tongue delving in greedily. You take in a sharp breath, mind whiting out.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs against you, mouth muffled against your folds. “Just like that.

One hand reaches back to tangle in his hair, pulling. He groans in approval, nodding as he sucks at your core with fervor. “Pull harder. Show me how much you want it.”

You tighten your grip, tugging him against you, and he rewards you with a deep hum, the sound sending electric sparks up your spine. His hands knead your flesh, pulling you harder onto his mouth as he devours you like a man starved. 

It feels so good - better than anything before. You lose yourself to it, the grip of his fingers on your skin and the press of his tongue, messy and hungry, sending you into overdrive. His tongue flicks lightly over your clit, finding what makes you louder. You feel him grin against you, his lips sucking on your clit gently until you’re ready to break.

“Come again,” he demands. “Let me taste you.”

You do. He hums in approval, drinking you in until you’re quivering and light headed, barely able to stand. Your eyes flutter open as he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes still burning with hunger.

Seokmin moves fast, shedding his coat and shirt, revealing golden skin stretched taut over rippling muscles. You turn to face him, pulling him into a fierce kiss. He lets you, moaning deep in his throat as he undoes his pants with one hand and pulls your shirt over your head with the other, breaking the kiss. 

His cock is thick and heard, leaking with need as he backs you up against the mirror. The cool shock of glass against your overheated skin makes you whine and he grins, nipping your bottom lip while he bends, his hands cupping the back of your thighs. 

“Up. Now.” 

You let him lift you, legs wrapping around his waist. Your mouths tangle together and he lines himself up, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. You trash, rolling your hips to try and meet him halfway, to help him sink in, but his hips pull back.

“Beg.” You open your eyes to find his eyes locked on yours. “Beg for it or I’m not giving it to you.”

“Please,” you plead. “Please fuck me.”

“Not good enough.”

“I want it so bad. I need it. I need you to fuck me, to take control of me. Seokmin, please.”

He grins and gives a satisfied growl, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw that feels softer than the moment allows for. He snaps his hips forward, filling you in one deep stroke. You both groan, the fit perfect, like you were made for each other. He starts moving, hips snapping with raw urgency, each thrust making you dizzy. 

“See how you take me,” he pants, burying his face in your neck. His teeth scrape against the raw skin of your throat. “Fucking made to take me, to give in to me.”

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging in. Seokmin kisses you, nudging your face to the side with his mouth. “Watch,” he murmurs, nodding to the mirror beside you.

You obey, mesmerized by the endless reflections: him fucking up into you, muscles flexing, sometimes a flicker of shadowy horns around his head, sometimes not; you, desperate and messy and panting, the tiniest little flicker of horns around your head. 

The mirrored hall amplifies every sound, your moans laced with his deep groans, the wet slap of his cock driving into you. He fucks you harder, one hand bracing on the glass beside your head, the other gripping your thigh. 

“Tell me your mind,” he growls.”

“Yours. In every life. I belong to you.”

The words set a fire inside of him. You watch the mirror as he presses into you harder, molding you to his shape - like he’s always meant to mold you, to lead you, to control you. He handles his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you that has you crying, babbling, seeing stars. 

“Come for me,” he hisses.

You squeeze around him and come undone. He groans as you do, your walls fluttering tight around his cock. He thrusts deep a few more times before he comes, hiding his face in your neck, lips pressed to your salty skin. He holds you close as he slows and then stops, both of you trying to catch your breath.

When he pulls back, you glance up, dizzy and sated. Dark horns catch the low light, real and velvet under your tentative touch as you run your fingers through his hair to the base. He groans, dropping his face to your neck, breathing you in like sustenance.

It must’ve been around two months ago now that you first saw Seoyeon wandering around Rainy Days Arcade curiously. She was alone, but she seemed content that way, with her headphones on and eyes roaming over the various games on offer to play.

Though, over the weeks following her first visit, you realised that she never had company, never tried to talk to the other teens her own age, and avoided the ones wearing the same school uniform as her. After two weeks of watching the lonely girl play on her own with barely a twitch of her lips when she won, she finally removed her headphones; you took the chance to talk to her and invite her to play a game with you.

To your joy, the day after you first spoke to her, she removed her headphones after spotting you a few games away. You took it for the invitation it was to join her, learn her name, and earn a few smiles that grew brighter with each round played.

Ever since then, Seoyeon has come out of her shell a lot. She still doesn’t talk to the other teens, but she does always find you out, and even happily talks to the other staff members of Rainy Days Arcade. Still, it’s clear you’re her favourite. Especially since the day that you pointed out that you are friends, after she admitted that she struggles to make friends and hasn’t befriended a single person at her new school despite a month of classes passing.

So now, you’re two months into being the best friend of a sweetheart of a shy 14-year-old girl, and only just realising that her dad is the single most attractive person you have ever laid eyes on.

Of course, you don’t blame her for not mentioning it; you can’t imagine anyone would ever call their own dad a DILF. But you still would’ve liked the heads up so that you can mentally prepare for the day Lee Seokmin first steps foot into the arcade and proves himself to be the man of your wettest and wildest dreams.

Honestly, you would probably find that very first moment you spot one another comical if you had been witnessing it and not starring in it.

For the past ten minutes, you and Seoyeon have been bothering Skater at the prize desk, where the young man has been trying to line up the new plushies on the shelf in the exact way you and Seoyeon instruct him. You’re pretty sure he can tell that you two are just messing with him and that you really don’t care how precisely the toys are displayed; but he’s always so placid and willing to do whatever you want, especially when you’re giggling away. He just keeps glancing over his shoulder at you with a dopily smitten smile and asks if he’s got it right yet.

Honestly, he probably had it right the very first second that he plopped the items down, but this innocent mischief is entertaining Seoyeon, and you really do love seeing her happy, so the façade continues.

Though, the second you naturally glance across the arcade to check that everything is still going as smoothly as last time you looked, you find a literal god on earth walking towards you. Seriously, there’s a glow behind him and ethereal music playing the second you lock your eyes on him. Granted, it’s probably coming from the mythical themed game he’s passing, but the timing is too perfect to dismiss.

He's looking around the arcade as he walks— clearly searching for someone— yet the instant his gaze lands on you, he stops in his tracks, and his eyes grow wide.

That music picks up, turns a little deeper, faster. The soft white blush blends into a sultry red halo of temptation around him. The world around you stops existing and you feel yourself drawn to this man so strongly that you take a step without thinking.

And then,

“Dad?”

All at once, the arcade bursts back to life around you. He’s no longer lit up and staring at you, but just another man— albeit a ridiculously gorgeous one— turning to smile at his daughter. Who happens to be right at your side.

“Hi, Snowdrop!” the man greets, brightening as he nears, attention on his daughter as you stare at Seoyeon with thinly veiled betrayal at her breaking the bestie code and hiding a hot guy from you.

You have to remind yourself that she is that hot guy’s teenage daughter pretty quickly, so that you can look like a normal human being when he looks at you with a polite, friendly smile and little wave, making you realise that Seoyeon is introducing you.

“This is Sunflower,” she says, motioning to you and you notice his eyes widen in shock, but she ignores him. “Sunflower, this is my dad, Lee Seokmin.”

“Lovely to meet you,” you say, offering your hand and internally melting as his strong, yet still gentle, hand clasps yours in an instinctive handshake.

“Yeah, you–you too,” he responds, leaning back as you reluctantly loosen your grip and end the polite greeting. “I uhm, sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, I really thought Sunflower was a same-aged friend. Seoyeon never said that you’re…not.”

“Sorry, that’s probably weird, huh? A 28-year-old befriending your 14-year-old,” you respond with a wince, entirely understanding how creepy it probably seems.

“28,” he chokes out, eyes widening further.

“Yeah…”

“There a problem, man?” Skater, bless his heart, asks from behind the counter as he leans on it with the stern expression he only breaks out when customers are being a pain in the ass picking their prizes. “Sunflower is a sweetheart and has been looking out for your kid while you’re off being too busy to be a parent.”

“Skater!” you scold, turning to give him a warning look that he only shrugs at before straightening, crossing his arms over his chest, and clearly unwilling to apologise or take his words back. Honestly, you can’t blame him.

For two months, Seoyeon has spent hours at the arcade. She arrives every day after school and leaves hours later when you watch her get on the bus to head home so that you know she’s left safely. And on the weekends, she often spends whole days at the arcade; enough that you make sure you always work weekends now just in case she does turn up, so that you can keep her company— even if you know the other staff would keep an eye on her. You just feel protective of the girl and want to do your best to make her feel less alone.

“No, he’s right,” Seokmin says. “I work a lot, probably too much, but I’m working on it,” he says. “It’s a new town for us, so I’ve been setting up, letting people know that I’m a reliable choice, so I’ve not been the best father I could be lately. That’s going to change.” He looks at Seoyeon as he says this, eyes and voice so sincere that even though he’s not talking to you, you can’t help but believe him. “I promise, Snowdrop, I’ll make more time to be with you.”

To your relief, Seoyeon smiles and moves forward to hug her dad right there, careless of who sees. You know that she loves her dad; she’s mentioned him a few times and always sounds fond and happy, so you know he can’t be a bad guy, not really. But you had been worried that she was putting on a brave face, or that she gave him more praise than he deserved— considering how much time she’s with you and not him. Yet seeing the pair so easily and lovingly embrace like this, it’s clear that it’s not unusual, and Seokmin has raised his daughter to not be afraid to show affection without shame.

The father-daughter duo breaks the hug, but he keeps his arm around her shoulders, suit pulling tight over his raised bicep and you can’t help but wonder what you’ve got to do to get those big, beefy arms wrapped around you instead.

“Thank you for looking out for Seoyeon, Sunflower,” Seokmin says, but you only snap your eyes and attention away from his bulging arms when you hear your work name said. He’s smiling at you softly, looking very grateful, which turns a little bashful when you smile back, unable to remain straight-faced when he’s smiling at you. You think anyone who doesn’t smile back at him is probably a psychopath. “I really appreciate it, and I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong or have bad intentions. She’s mentioned you a lot; told me how kind you are and how you always make a point of talking to anyone who looks lonely here. I was just…surprised. I really did think you were closer to her age…not…28.”

“Well, I am,” you respond, not sure what else to say.

“You’re here so much with my daughter that your own family must be really missing you at home!” he says quickly, some guilt shining in his big eyes.

“My family?” you question. “I live alone.”

“Oh…sorry,” he gives you a sheepish, embarrassed smile, and scratches his neck with his free hand, the other mindlessly tapping his daughter’s shoulder where it rests. “I just…I thought I had Seoyeon late, and I was 28, so I guess I always assume people have started their families by that age.”

You laugh, shaking your head a little. “No, no kids for me at the moment. Maybe if I find the right person, but it’s not something I’m looking for or anything.”

“Ah, okay. That’s cool! To each their own!” he declares with a smile.

“Did you come to play, dad?” Seoyeon prompts, realising the topic is over and she can talk without being rude by interrupting.

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I finished work early, so I thought we could go out for dinner tonight?” he suggests once he’s looking at his daughter, who nods enthusiastically with a smile to match. As Seokmin beams back at her, you can’t help but notice the similarities in how bright they both are; the way their eyes sparkle in reflection of one another. It’s adorable.

Seoyeon darts around the prize desk to grab her school bag from where she always stows it out of the way under the desk. Unlike with all the staff members— except you— Skater never complains when she takes up some of his snack shelf, as he calls it; just smiles and lets her put her trust in him to guard over her belongings.

Even now, he just smiles at her and pats her on the shoulder in his usual friendly manner as she passes him. “See ya tomorrow, Bud,” he says.

“See you tomorrow, Skater,” Seoyeon responds. “See you tomorrow, Sunflower!”

“See you tomorrow, Bud,” you respond, earning a confused look from Seokmin. “Nice to meet you, Seokmin, come by more often. We’ll show you a good time,” you can’t help but inject a little suggestive edge to your words and judging by the way Seokmin stumbles slightly as his daughter tugs him away, he doesn’t miss it. He glances at you in slight alarm, then smiles shyly, waves, and quickly rushes after Seoyeon before her pulling makes him fall flat on his face.

“Damn, you got a thing for older guys for real,” Skater comments with a whistle from behind you as you lean back on the counter with a dreamy sigh, admiring Seokmin’s ass in his perfectly tailored trousers as he leaves the arcade. “He’s literally the same age as my dad.”

“Maybe you should’ve introduced me to your dad,” you tease, grinning over your shoulder at Skater.

“Pretty sure his wife would not approve of that,” he deadpans.

“Ah, the wicked stepmother,” you respond with an understanding hum. He makes a noise back, clearly disapproving of his father’s choice in wife. “He only married her last year; I’ve known you for four years now, Skate, I could’ve taken her place by now. Wouldn’t you like to call me mommy?” you coo, leaning over to pinch his cheek.

“God, not in that way,” he responds shamelessly, making you laugh as you push away from the counter. “You gonna bone Bud’s dad?”

“I’m gonna fucking try.”

“What’s the game plan?”

“Get his attention, get his dick,” you summarise. Skater just laughs. “Alright, back to work; those plushies aren’t going to display themselves.”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Kinky fucker.”

Honestly, when you said to Skater that your first step in your game plan for getting Seokmin into your bed is “get his attention”, you really had no fucking idea how to achieve that. Despite the father-daughter duo having moved to town a little over two months ago, you haven’t once seen them anywhere but the arcade, and Seokmin only once.

Really, you were probably a little over ambitious with your plan. You probably should’ve added a research section where you subtly ask Seoyeon about her dad and where you can coincidentally bump into him— without her present— to not so subtly flirt with him.

Or at him, you’re not sure yet if he’d retaliate; he seemed more stunned than anything with your parting comment last time. You have no idea if his staring was because he had just found that his daughter’s new bestie isn’t a fellow teen but a grown ass woman, or if he likes what he sees of this grown ass woman. You’re hoping for the later, but not willing to hold your breath about it.

Regardless, you didn’t factor that into the game plan and even now, days later and after days of spending time with Seoyeon, you don’t amend your plan to include that step. As much as you would love to get your hands— and mouth, and entire body— on her dad, you respect the girl too much to use her like that. So, you just carry on like normal and pray for some god-like intervention to help you initiate level 1 of your game plan.

When you glance over your shoulder and notice Seokmin approaching you and Seoyeon, you think you may have to start praying more often, especially if this man is the god you’re praying to. You’d happily get on your knees to worship him any day.

“Hey,” he greets from a few metres away, smiling at you, and waves a little. You lift one hand from the plastic gun in your hands to wave back.

“Ha! Got ya!” Seoyeon cheers, making you turn to look at the screen and find that yes, Seoyeon has eliminated your avatar with a very effective headshot. You can’t even be mad about it; it’s a good shot. But that doesn’t mean you’re not going to play on it.

“Hey! No fair!” you complain, putting down the controller as she does the same with hers, docking them securely so that they don’t fall.

“You should’ve been paying attention,” she sasses, then giggles when you gawp at her.

“Are you playing nicely, Snowdrop?” Seokmin teases as he stops a few feet away, making Seoyeon turn and beam at him.

“Always!” she insists. “Are we going for dinner again? It’s a bit early,” she realises, face falling. “Do I have to leave?”

“Actually, I was thinking you could show me around and we can play some of your favourite games before heading off,” Seokmin responds, making Seoyeon light up.

“Yeah!” she enthuses and grabs Seokmin’s arm to start pulling him to one side of the arcade. “Let’s start over here, there’s so many cool games! You’ll love some of the prizes too.” Seokmin shoots you a little smile as he obligingly lets his daughter drag him across the building, getting lost from your sight amongst the consoles and lights, but you don’t mind. Not when Seoyeon looks happier than she ever has now that her dad’s joined her.

“Damn, tough luck,” Skater says, appearing behind you, making you jolt in surprise then turn to flick his upper arm, making him snicker.

“Have you just turned up?” you question, well aware that you haven’t seen or heard of Skater yet today until now, and Dip has been covering him at the prize desk all afternoon.

“Hit a pothole,” he explains, lifting his arm which, now high enough, you can see has a bandage wrapped around it. “It was nasty.”

“Gross,” you comment at the thought of how he must’ve messed up his arm on the road when he fell off his skateboard. Again. The guy spends more time on the floor than actually riding it, but he’s determined. Even if you’ve known him for four years– since he started working at Rainy Days Arcade— and he has only recently managed to figure out how to turn his skateboard without toppling right off. The poor, directionally and balance challenged fool.

“Yep. I did message the chat, but you never check it, so, not my fault, boss.”

“You guys talk so much fucking shit in there,” you defend with a groan as you both turn and head to the prize desk so that he can stow his skateboard— still clutched in his unbandaged arm— and relieve Dip from the cover. “It’s supposed to be work related.”

“How many people Sandman has bored to fuck in a day is work related,” he insists.

“Yeah, and why is Noodle in it? He doesn’t even work here.”

“He’s an honorary member!” Skater defends as he circles around the desk to prop his board up on the holder that you had installed on the back wall when he kept tripping over the board every time he had to move around. He really is a walking safety hazard.

“Who is?” Dip asks as she gets up from the stool, pushing herself up off of the counter she’s leaning against as if her entire body is heavy. Judging by the glassy look in her eyes, it probably does feel that way, but you know she’ll never shirk her duties regardless of how high she is. And at least she never smokes around work hours, only takes edibles, so she thankfully doesn’t come in smelling of it, because then there would be a serious problem. You’d hate to fire her for making the place reek of weed; she’s always the first to step up when customers cause issue. You think she probably enjoys kicking people out far too much for such a chill woman, but still, you don’t mind.

“Noodle,” you answer.

“Ah, they’re a package deal at this point, Flower; you know this,” Dip points out as she leans against your shoulder. “You smell good, that a new perfume?”

“Yeah, MD saw it in the store a few days ago and made her mums buy it for me, because it’s a sunflower bottle.”

“Aww, she’s so cute,” Dip coos and you can’t help but nod in empathic agreement. Your little cousin is the cutest little shit going. “When’s she coming ‘round next? I miss her.”

“Doc’s gotta come fix the table that asshole broke the other day,” Skater reminds, pointing to his right, to the wall that leads to the snack bar attached— though technically in another unit— with an archway further down the wall to let customers pass between. And also lets the scents of all the fried foods and sweet snacks waft through, enticing customers, but also staff.

“Mm, reminds me, I’m hungry. He better have made up a fresh batch of ‘slaw or I’ll cry,” she says, already toddling off to the snack bar, knowing that although you are their boss, you really don’t care if they eat or drink on shift— so long as they still do their jobs and don’t make a mess, of course.

“Where is your conjoined bestie, anyway?” you wonder, glancing around as if Noodle will pop up from behind one of the machines any second. It’s happened before.

“Probably getting cursed out by Frenchie for bringing another instant noodle pot into the kitchen and making him boil water for him,” Skater muses, once again motioning to the separating wall, in between neatening the boxes in the glass display case under the counter you’re leaning on.

“Makes sense,” you respond then pat the counter before pushing away from it. “Let me know if your arm plays up; I’ve got painkillers in the office.”

“I know.” Skater chuckles, looking at you amusedly. “Just say you’re making excuses to take me back there.”

“Ha, you wish,” you scoff.

“Yeah, I really do.” You just laugh, fondly rolling your eyes at his complete lack of shame about his ongoing crush on you, before you walk off to do the rounds; to make sure the customers are happy, and everything is running smoothly.

To your utter joy, it’s only two days before you see Seokmin, god of your libido, again.

It’s Sunday, and although Seoyeon had arrived an hour ago on her own, she had announced that her dad would be by once he’s done with his usual Sunday morning chores. She had also warned that it probably wouldn’t be until the afternoon, because he is really particular about the laundry cycle, and how to clean the kitchen.

Yet he steps into the arcade and immediately finds the pair of you only an hour after his daughter arrives. “Snowdrop!”

“Dad?” she baulks, turning to look at him in surprise; you take the chance to knock out her character. “Sunflower!” she whines as he hears the KO announcement and turns to look at you in betrayed disbelief.

“What? You should’ve been paying attention,” you retort sassily, reflecting her words from the other day back at her. She gawps at you, though breaks into giggles when you theatrically flip your hair over your shoulder, especially as it’s tied up in a half-hearted bun so there are only some wispy strands even hanging down to flip. You giggle along with her then take a step back. “I’ll let you two have your peace. You know where I’ll be if you need me for anything.”

“Why do you say that as if you’re ever in one place long?” Seoyeon deadpans. “You’re always wandering around.”

“I’ve got a lot of energy, okay,” you defend and glance at Seokmin, finding him smiling happily, seeming to enjoy witnessing you and his daughter interacting so playfully. “Anyway, if you need my stamina, come find me,” you finalise, making sure to lock your gaze with Seokmin’s suddenly wide eyes before you turn and head off.

You barely manage to make it a few games away before a regular customer, a kid barely 6-years-old— who turns up a couple of times a week with his teen sibling— pops up in front of you with the usual grin he always wears when he spots you. Without a word, you sweep him up into your arms, making him giggle madly; he happily bounces through the air as you carry him over to his favourite racing game to keep him occupied and safe until his sibling is ready to leave.

Although there are signs around the arcade stating that all children under 13 must always be accompanied by someone over 16— signs all of the staff adamantly stand by—, there are some exceptions to the rule. You had once confronted the boy’s sibling, only to quickly notice how drained the teen was, and you just knew that they already have enough on their plate. Ever since then, you make sure to feed the pair and play free babysitter for a couple hours a week to give the teen a break.

And honestly, even if you spend an hour straight sitting on that plastic chair until your ass goes numb, so long as the boy is innocently laughing away on your lap as he purposely veers off course, you’re happy to do it.

Rainy Days Arcade was started those decades back with the sole purpose of giving people a happy place to be and just forget about all the shit life throws at them, especially on rainy days when the outside world can feel a little sadder. You’re always so proud that even now, even when most people have game consoles in the comfort of their own homes, your family’s business can still do exactly what it was made to do.

“You know, I’m starting to think your plan might be working,” Skater comments one evening as the two of you lean against the prize counter, sharing a basket of Frenchie’s infamous dirty fries.

“Hm?” you respond, eyes glancing over the arcade yet inevitably returning to where Seoyeon and Seokmin are playing a game together. The man is clearly not at all experienced or skilled at any of the arcade games; he consistently loses with sulky pouts that shouldn’t be so cute on a 42-year-old man, though they always quickly morph into smiles upon seeing his daughter’s joy at winning.

“Bud’s dad,” Skater says, vaguely motioning with a floppy couple of fries towards the pair before abruptly leaning forward to shove the fries into his mouth before the topping can slip off onto the glass counter. “He keeps looking at you,” he informs around the food in his mouth.

“Heathen,” you say, giving Skater a disgusted look, which grows when he opens his mouth to show you his partially chewed food. “Gross!” you exclaim, shoving his shoulder while he laughs, though thankfully, with his mouth shut.

“His seduction techniques leave a lot to be desired,” Noodle’s voice suddenly announces, making you both look over the counter to find the young man standing there, helping himself to the fries as if he’s been present for ages already. You hadn’t even heard him approach, but at this point, you’re used to him appearing like some weird, noodle-obsessed entity and only react to slap his hand away when he reaches for more. “Hey,” he complains, pouting at you. “You’re sharing with him.” He points to Skater as if they’re not best friends and have been— you’re pretty sure— since they learned to crawl.

“I’m her favourite,” Skater declares.

“He dropped his burger, I pity him,” you correct and Noodle hums in understanding, picking up his pot of freshly steaming instant noodles from the counter to mix them and test if they’re done. As if the guy doesn’t know the precise cooking times for every single brand of instant noodles at this point.

“How’s your plan going?” Noodle asks a moment later as he leans back against the counter while he eats, eyes quickly finding Seoyeon and her dad— the pair now on a different game. “He’s wearing tighter trousers today.”

“I noticed,” you say with a dreamy sigh as you lean down onto the counter, resting your chin in your palms. “I want to bite his thighs, Nood.”

“Really fucking weird you call him nude,” Skater mutters. You both ignore him.

“They’re huge. Think he’d give me work-out tips?” Noodle asks, looking down at his own thighs.

You lean forward to peer over the counter down at his denim clad legs. “Your thighs are already big,” you comment before leaning back.

“No, keep leaning over the counter,” Skater argues in a whine, making you look over your shoulder at him, not at all surprised to find his eyes on your ass. “Noodle, do some squats, get her to lean over again.”

“You want to fuck her and you’re trying to get her to check me out?” Noodle deadpans, making Skater look up at his best friend as if he hadn’t even considered that. Noodle snorts a laugh then turns back around to look over the arcade as he eats.

“Can’t believe you’re trying to get me to check out your best friend, Skate,” you tease, turning to face him better and leaning one elbow on the counter. Skater blinks at you kind of dumbly, still looking surprised at his accidental encouragement. “Don’t you want to fuck me anymore, Skater?”

“Don’t say such stupid things,” he retorts, snapping back to reality to look at you with such an offended expression that you burst into giggles. “Can I record your giggles and put it as my alarm? I’ll wake up happy then,” he asks, already reaching for his phone.

“God, you’re such a freak,” Noodle comments without turning around.

Instead of answering Skater, you grab a final couple of fries then walk off with amusement pulling your lips up.

“Sunflower!” Seoyeon’s voice makes you abruptly turn and head towards her instead of going to the snack bar to get a drink.

“What’s up, Bud?” you ask as you near the girl and her dad.

“The prize is stuck,” she says with a pout, pointing at the keyring stuck in the chute of the penny machine they’ve been playing.

“Go get a new one from Skater, this one’ll smell like pennies,” you say, even as you unhook the bundle of keys from your belt.

“Do I have to get the exact same one?” she wonders, making you give her a questioning look while your fingers flick through the keys to find the correct one without looking— you’ve been doing this for so long that you know all of the keys by touch alone at this point, it’s a skill you’re rather proud of. “Dad likes the sunflower one better than the tulip,” she informs, pointing into the neighbouring machine to where the little sunflower keyring lays close to the moving shelf on top of the pennies, too far away from the chute to be worth trying.

“Mm, sure,” you consent. Seoyeon grins, then bounces over to the prize counter while you focus on unlocking the glass door.

“I uhm, thanks, for agreeing,” Seokmin says, making you glance at him and find him standing close on your right, not touching but you know it wouldn’t take much of an adjustment to brush your ass against him if you turn slightly. But you don’t. Even if you want to. “Sunflowers have always been my favourite flower.”

“I’m taking that as a personal compliment,” you joke with a wink then reach into the machine to free the stuck keyring and place it back on the pennies, before locking the door back into place.

“Ah…yeah,” he chuckles softly, sounding a little awkward and when you look at him, he looks endearingly shy, eyes diverted aside as he mindlessly plays with his earlobe. “Are they your favourite too? Seoyeon told me all staff go by a nickname here, but she doesn’t know the story behind any of them because she’s never asked.”

“No, well, I do love them, but I love all flowers; my mum raised me with a love and appreciation for all plants,” you answer as you lock the door back into place before straightening up.

“Then why are you called Sunflower? And not…Daisy or something?” he wonders, tilting his head a little as he looks at you curiously.

“When I was little, I always followed my uncle around. He was the one who ran the arcade then and he went by Sunshine, because he was always so bright and happy. I looked up to him in every way; always turned to him when he was near like a sunflower to the sun, so Sunflower came easily.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet,” Seokmin says, smiling in a way that makes your chest warm. He looks so endeared by the little story, eyes soft and tender. It’s dangerous for your heart and you suddenly want to change his expression before he gains the attention of your heart as well as your libido.

“It’s probably the only name with a deeper meaning,” you announce with a little grin as you lean against the machine behind you. “Skater got his name because he always has a skateboard, and he can’t ride it for shit.” Seokmin chokes on a laugh he tries to hold back. “It’s okay, you can laugh; he’s not shy about that at all and will admit to the root of his workname to anyone who asks.”

With your assurance, Seokmin lets himself laugh, lips lifting into a smile that makes you think your heart may get involved no matter how hard you try to stop it.

To try to counteract the fact Seokmin has started to ruin you with his smile every time he visits the arcade to spend time with his daughter, you decide to try harder to seduce the fuck out of the man. Then hopefully fuck him and stop your heart racing whenever your eyes meet in the middle of neon lights that would make anyone else look atrocious, but not Lee Seokmin.

Though, of course, you need to be subtle enough that Seoyeon doesn’t catch on, but obvious enough that Seokmin can’t ignore you or miss your hints. Which means you gradually start wearing slightly tighter clothes, lower necklines, and bend in his eyeline to give him the best view you possibly can without presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat in the middle of your family’s arcade.

Sometimes, you notice his eyes lingering on you a fraction darker than his usual gaze, but it never lasts, and he doesn’t make any kind of move or sign otherwise that he’s interested.

Thankfully, you have Skater to encourage you to step up your game, even if the guy would much rather your efforts be turned to him, but he’s far too much of a respectful dude to ever push his own wishes on anyone, especially like this.

“Do it,” Skater says, nudging you away from where you’re both leaning against an out-of-order game in wait for your aunt to arrive to fix it. You’re both in view of the prize desk so Skater can easily see if someone approaches in need of his assistance, but he’s more interested in talking to you than standing alone. Jelly already sent him away from the back office when he tried to convince her to play a fifth round of rock, paper, scissors with him to pass time.

“Bud is literally right there,” you point out in deadpan, motioning to where Seoyeon is standing and watching her dad repeatedly get destroyed in the single-player game he’s been determinedly trying to beat the level of for the past half an hour.

“I’ll distract her,” Skater offers, making you look at him suspiciously.

“What’s in it for you?”

“Can’t a guy want to help his friend get the DILF she’s been thirsting over for the past month?” he asks innocently, even rounding his eyes out. You look at him flatly, not buying his act. He quickly gives and sidles closer to you, playfully tugging on your fingers. “Come to the movie with us after shift?” he requests with a cute grin that you know he doesn’t even need to try hard to put on. The fucker is actually very attractive; if he was older and not your employee, you probably would’ve been interested in him. But he’s 22 and you sign his paycheck, so you have zero interest in him.

“That’s what you want? Me to join your and Nood’s movie date?”

“Yeah! You haven’t gone with us in ages,” he complains, pouting at you. “And he’s bringing someone he met at his dance club, so I’ll be third wheeling.”

“Are you tricking me into a double date?”

“Ew, gross, no, why would I want to date you?” he retorts, making you gasp offendedly and backhand his shoulder. He sniggers and grabs your hand to lightly swing between the two of you; you just let him, not at all opposed to the harmless affection from your friend. “You know I’d never stoop so low as to trick you into dating me. I want it to be real if it ever happens. But I’ll definitely tell everyone you let me put my hand up your shirt in the backrow.” He laughs when you shove him hard enough that he stumbles aside. “Kidding! I’ll say you offered but I said no, and-”

“She’s going to fire you one day,” your aunt— known as Doc for the fact she makes the arcade better when something goes wrong— comments as she approaches from your left, making you look over and grin at her.

“She loves me too much,” Skater responds cheekily. “No Mini-Doc today?” he asks, pouting a little at the lack of your cousin following behind her mum like usual.

“She’s with her mama, doing something I’m apparently not allowed to know,” Doc says, rolling her eyes but she’s smiling fondly, so full of love for her wife and daughter. 

“That sucks, haven’t seen MD in a while,” he admits. “Miss the little cutie.”

“She’s really into How It’s Made at the minute, so she’s been binge watching it lately, plus any show that’s remotely similar,” Doc muses as he nudges you aside to kneel in front of the machine and access the panel after placing her tool bag on the floor at her side within easy reach.

“If I didn’t know she’s adopted, I’d say she very clearly has your blood in her,” you respond, making your aunt huff a laugh while nodding in agreement.

“Oof, your DILF lost again,” Skater comments, making you look over to Seokmin and find him frowning defeatedly at the screen while Seoyeon consolingly pats his arm, then laughs when he stubbornly puts another coin into the machine to restart the game.

“Your what?” Doc sputters, half laughing and half utterly bewildered.

“Sunflower wants Bud’s dad.”

“Right…and Bud is who, exactly?”

“Oh right, you’ve not been around when she’s here,” Skater responds, humming in understanding. “Bud’s that girl over there, her name’s Seoyeon; Flower befriended her like a month ago and she’s a chill kid. We all like her and she’s almost always here after school and on weekends. Her dad joins now.”

“And you want a man with a teen?” your aunt asks, looking up at you questioningly. You look at her and make a face, shrugging. “What does that even mean?”

“He’s really hot,” you state.

Doc looks over at Seokmin consideringly then nods in agreement before turning back to the machine to begin looking inside now that she’s got the panel off, shining a little torch within to light up the inside. “How old is he?”

“42.”

Doc baulks at you. “He’s only 11 years younger than me! That’s 14 years older than you!”

“She likes older guys,” Skater says solemnly.

“You really don’t ever have a chance then,” Doc sniggers then turns back to her task while Skater makes a wounded sound that only makes her snicker again. “Now, both of you get lost so I can focus.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Skater agrees and flings his arm around your shoulders to walk with you over to the father-daughter duo without discussion. “Hey, Bud; hey, Bud’s dad.”

“Hey,” Seokmin responds, glancing over quickly; though upon noticing you, his gaze lingers, catching on the young man’s arm around your shoulders before he smiles at you with less enthusiasm than usual and focuses back on his game.

“While it’s quiet, wanna rematch?” Skater says to Seoyeon, motioning with his free hand over to the basketball hoops. Seoyeon nods enthusiastically and starts to leave but Seokmin makes a betrayed little sound that makes her step back to him.

“You’re leaving me to face this alone?” he asks, frowning at her shortly then looks back at the screen, only to die for the umpteenth time tonight. “Dammit.”

“You know, I’m an expert at this game,” you say, moving closer and making Skater’s arm drop off of your shoulders. Seokmin glances at the retreating limb, then Skater and Seoyeon as they race over to the basketball game before he looks at you properly.

“You’re an expert?” he questions, not doubting you, just curious.

“Mm, I’ve played pretty much every game in here to completion many times, and this particular one has a few little tricks I can teach you. If you’re willing to play with me.”

“I…yeah, I’m willing,” he agrees, voice a little quieter and he nods in agreement.

“It’s the third round you get stuck on, right?” you ask, moving closer to the machine, and Seokmin, to put one of the many coins you keep in the pouch around your hips into the slot, then physically place his hands on the buttons and joystick.

Seokmin yelps and quickly starts to play before he can die less than a second into the game. “Yeah, third round. Probably very lame to you, right?” he chuckles a little self-depreciatively.

“No. Everyone has to start somewhere,” you reassure, gently laying a supportive hand on his arm and resisting the temptation to appreciatively squeeze the strong muscle of his bicep you can feel even without him flexing.

As Seokmin works his way through the first two rounds, you stand close to his side, watching the screen with him while giving him tips on how to get a higher score and keep more lives as he goes.

“Please don’t judge me too harshly if I cry with frustration when I die again,” he requests as the third round loads up. You giggle amusedly and he smiles at you a little too long, long enough that his character almost dies. He yelps when you do upon noticing the danger on screen, then his hands quickly work to save his character. “I always die on this next bit.”

“Ah, yeah, there’s a like, real fucking awkward thing you need to do to clear it easily without going around and taking even longer.”

“You can go around?!” he baulks.

You laugh, nodding. “Here, let me help, it’s too late to avoid it,” you offer as a genius idea forms in your brain. Seokmin makes a curious noise, starting to move his hands but you quickly slip under his arm closest to you to stand directly in front of him with your back to his chest and your hands over his to guide his movements on the controls.

Even though his hands move easily under your touch, you know he tensed as soon as you situated yourself in the small gap between his body and the machine. You’re so close that your hips are almost pressed against it, and his initially brushed your ass, but he moved back slightly. To your great disappointment.

“Are you looking, Mr. Lee?” you ask playfully, leaning back against his chest to allow him to easier see over your shoulder at the buttons. And by buttons you do mean the game buttons, but also the open button of your shirt allowing an incredible view of your cleavage from his vantage point. You really hope he’s taking the chance to look; you chose an uncomfortable push-up bra today just because you hoped he’d enjoy how great it makes your boobs look.

“H-huh?” he responds. “Uhm, ye-yeah, yeah, I’m…looking,” he says, and you feel him shift behind you.

For a split, heart wrenching second, you think he’s going to put more distance between you, but then he subtly presses closer to you and his arms pull in slightly, loosely caging your torso. You think you could be convinced to bend over the machine right here and now and lift your skirt if he asked. You know he won’t, but damn, are you considering how much power he must have in those thick thighs brushing against the back of yours.

It takes everything in you to not screech with excitement at his actions; the silent confirmation that he’s into this, you. You really want to immediately press your ass back against him, but you think that would spook the guy considering that the past weeks of your increasing seductions have only just proved fruitful.

Although you’re more than a little distracted by the feeling of his strong body behind you and his large, warm hands under your own— making you wonder what they’d feel like elsewhere— you diligently guide him through the level until the screen flickers as his character progresses to the next round.

“Yes!” he exclaims excitedly behind you, even bouncing once in his joy and rubbing his body against yours unintentionally—while you wish it’s intentional, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Thank you, Sunflower.”

“You’re welcome,” you say as you slip out from between his arms, making him let out an alarmed little sound.

“Wait, come back,” he requests a little desperately, eyes darting between you and the game as he tries to work through the level, but his character has already died. “See, I can’t do it without you,” he says, landing a pout on you that makes your heart swell in your chest, dangerously threatening to press through your ribs like a cartoon character in its want to reach the man before you.

Clearly, the only option here is to quickly turn things around and wipe that cute pout from his face before he can do real damage. “Oh, I’m sure you can use your fingers in the exact right way,” you coo, making his pout melt away as his eyebrows lift slightly, eyes widening, and posture straightening out of his slightly sulky pout; the suggestion in your words causing him to rise in height, and to the occasion— you’d like to imagine.

“Yeah?” he responds, voice pitched a little lower, quieter; just for the two of you despite the bustle of the arcade around you.

You hum and offer a coin from your pouch. “It’s your turn to do it alone now,” you say as he takes the coin from your fingers, in no rush and letting his skin drag against yours as his gaze remains locked with yours. “Show me what you’ve learned, daddy.” Immediately, Seokmin freezes and his lips pop open, the slight darkness to his gaze abruptly lifting with shock at your words. You just smirk and let your fingers brush his once more before you lower your hand and lean against the machine in wait.

It takes a few long seconds before Seokmin snaps back to reality, swallows thickly with a few subtle nods, and then turns to the machine to slide the coin into the slot with slightly trembling fingers before they find their place on the controls.

With nothing but utter determination on his features, jaw deliciously defined as he clenches it in intense focus, Seokmin flies through not only the first three levels, but the following two, dying at a particularly tricky spot. Though instead of looking defeated or pouting again, he looks at you with big, round eyes; looking so fucking endearing that you don’t have a hope in sweet hell of stopping the racing of your heart.

“Did I do good?” he asks, so soft and innocent, so precious, which only grows when you nod, finding yourself unable to even form a single syllable right now, not when he’s thrown you for such a loop. He beams so bright and proud. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” you manage to mumble out quietly as he straightens and turns to you, looking so happy to be standing before you like this that you know that you’re absolutely fucked; and not in the way you intended. Although you’d still love to be railed within an inch of your life by Lee Seokmin, you also want to hold his warm hands and spend your time making him smile.

“So, the crane machines,” he says, motioning vaguely across the arcade without looking— in the complete wrong direction of the mentioned machines. “Do you have any tricks for those? Seoyeon has her eye on a rabbit plushie, and I’d earn World’s Best Dad if I surprise her with it,” he says with a chuckle around an almost cheeky grin.

“I think you already have it,” you respond without thought, making the man’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, before he looks aside with a shy blush, one hand tugging bashfully on his earlobe as he smiles a little dopily at the floor. “I know some tricks,” you say, making him look back up at you.

Once you’ve led him over to the crane machines— in the correct direction— Seokmin finds the one he needs, and ushers you closer to point out the toy he wants through the glass. When you nod and let him know that you can help him nab it, he lights up and excitedly collects the right number of coins from his pocket to slot into the machine.

Then, to your heart-skipping surprise, he puts one hand on the machine over the buttons, though doesn’t grab the joystick yet and instead looks at you and motions to the space in front of him in invitation, smile still on his face.

As you slot yourself between him and the machine, settling your hands over his once his left is on the joystick, you decide to no longer chase after this man for his body— though you definitely still want that— but for his heart too. It feels right to be tucked up against his chest with his arms around you and mouth murmuring near your ear, joy in his tone as you successfully grasp the right toy.

Right here and now, you decide that you need to adjust your two-step plan. You’re pretty confident that you’ve gained his attention, so part one is complete, but everything after that needs to change with your new goal in mind. Now, there’s something important that you need to do before you can even attempt to make a romantic move on the man, and it’s something you’re determined to do right.

“Earn his trust?” Skater repeats the words you just said to him as you meet outside of work— something you haven’t done in some weeks now.

It’s a weekend, and although you both usually work, you know Seoyeon has gone on a little weekend trip with her dad, so you decided to take the time off. Skater had decided to also take the weekend off and make you go to the mall with him; he hates going alone and doesn’t trust anyone but Noodle and you to actually help him not look like a giant fool where his fashion is concerned.

It’s probably a very misplaced trust, honestly, because he’s currently wearing a neon green hoodie and a tie-dyed beanie combo he's just purchased, and both you and Noodle haven’t told him how ridiculous it is. Then again, he somehow pulls it off, so you think he could probably buy anything and look good. It’s highly unfair.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” he carries on, while you continue to eye his outfit with a slight pout, wishing you could just throw on whatever and look half as good as him. Noodle is doing similarly from your right, but he’s more obvious in his displeasure at his best friend’s effortless style. You know it took Noodle twenty minutes to pick his jeans this morning, because you and Skater had been sitting outside of his apartment in your car for at least that long. But at this point, you’re both used to waiting for him.

“It means that if I want a chance with him past getting freaky in the sheets, then I need to show him that I’m worth his time. That he can rely on me; not just for him, but his daughter too. He’s a father first, daddy second,” you declare.

Both young men look at you in disgust that just makes you cackle a little before nudging them along in the line for the noodle bar that Noodle always makes the three of you eat at when you visit the mall. As if you didn’t eat here last night before going to the cinema with them and Noodle’s new dance club bestie— who insisted on being called Tiger, seeing as you all have your own nicknames, and his eyes sparkled too much in excitement at the thought for you to not go along with it.

“Ignoring that last part, I think you’ve got a good point,” Noodle says, nodding in agreement as his eyes dart between you and the line to make sure he doesn’t lose his place and risk his favourite noodles selling out before he can claim any for himself. “But surely, he already trusts you with Bud? You’ve been watching over her like every day for over a month now.”

“As a friend figure, sure. I just play games with her and keep her occupied, but I need to prove than I can be more than that. I can help her with homework; she’s told me she struggles a lot, and he’s often too busy with work that she doesn’t want to bother him. And I can drop her home sometimes. We exchanged numbers yesterday for Seoyeon’s sake, so I could definitely text him and say I can drive her home so he can go straight home and start dinner or take the chance to relax because she’s with me and I will look after her.”

“Wait, you exchanged numbers?” Skater questions, and you nod.

“For Seoyeon.”

“Right.”

“What?”

“She literally has her own phone; she can just text you herself. You don’t need to swap numbers with him for her sake,” he points out in a deadpan tone with the expression to match.

“Look, I’m pretty sure if it wasn’t for that reason, he’d have never suggested it; don’t ruin this for me, Skate,” you say, pouting slightly, though your eyebrows are furrowed a little sternly. He just holds his hands up, palms to you in defence, and wisely keeps his mouth shut.

At least for a few minutes until you’re almost at the front of the line.

“You should send him a nude,” he says then turns his head to look at you with big, serious eyes. “But send it to me first so I can give approval.”

In sync, you and Noodle shove Skater out of the line while he cackles, so pleased with himself. At least until you both refuse to let him back in the line and he whines all the way to the back.

Sometimes, the littlest victories taste so sweet. Or freshly cooked, while the loser gets the soggy, scraped from the bottom portion. Delicious.

You put your new plan into place the very first day you see Seoyeon after concocting it. As per usual, you ask her about school, and when she complains about the history project that she was told about today and only has two weeks to complete amongst all her other homework, you take her to the snack bar, sit at a table with her, and have her walk you through every piece of homework she currently has on her plate.

To your surprise, Seoyeon doesn’t argue at all, she seems enthusiastic about gaining help and doesn’t hesitate to listen attentively and obediently follow your guidance. Of course, it’s been some years since you were in school, and you definitely can’t recall having to learn all these topics, but those you can at least remember a little, you do your best to help her with.

Slowly, you manage to work through homework for two subjects— with the internet to fill in the gaps in your knowledge— before deciding the rest can wait, and she deserves to play some games.

While she’s putting away everything— after you’ve taken photos of the topics you want to do some research on to help her better tomorrow— the familiar, godly figure of Seokmin approaches, looking a little puzzled as he nears, yet still smiling.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you with your bookbag here, Snowdrop,” he muses, alerting his daughter to his presence.

Seoyeon beams at her dad. “Sunflower helped me with my homework!”

“Oh, really?” he asks, looking genuinely surprised as he turns his entire focus to you, making you feel like you’ve melted a little into the seat under his sole attention. “You really helped her?”

“Yeah. She’s here so much that she can’t realistically have time to do it once she gets home, and I’d hate for her to get behind and get in trouble. I thought we could make this a regular thing; get some homework done before gaming,” you say with a shrug, trying to play it off when your heart is skipping over itself in worry that the man might immediately shut this down and say you’re overstepping. If he does that, you know that you’ll never have a chance with him really, and the thought makes your chest ache.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, looking a little guilty. “You have your own work to be doing; besides, it’s my job as her dad to do those things. I should really be doing it, but I’ve been focused on work and then just spending time with her, and I don’t want to force her to do homework because I know it sucks, and I–”

“Dad, you’re spiralling,” Seoyeon says, making Seokmin cut off and look down at the table as embarrassment colours his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s fine,” you insist, getting up as Seoyeon finishes packing up, so that you can put a gentle hand on Seokmin’s arm, not even paying note to his strength for once; you’re more interested in soothing the man. Your plans really have changed where he’s concerned. “You don’t need to be sorry, Seokmin,” you assure softly. He looks at you without much moving his head, mostly looking at you endearingly through his lashes. It makes your heart skip a beat. “I’m happy to help her. I really like spending time with your daughter; I come to work just to see her and spend time with her sometimes. I’m really more than happy to do my best to assist her with her homework, honest.”

“Oh…” he stares at you consideringly for a moment then lets out a breath and straightens to his natural posture, less slumped and curled in on himself in shame, and more confident, taller; shoulders back but still relaxed. He lifts one hand to place it over yours on his arm and gives you a grateful, tender kind of smile as he squeezes your hand slightly. “Thank you, Sunflower, I really appreciate everything you do for Seoyeon. She really deserves it.”

“Mm, she does. And so do you. If you need help, you can always text me and I’ll do my best.”

“I couldn’t ask you to–”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” you correct, voice firm and no-nonsense, yet still gentle in the way you hope to always be for him. Safety and comfort rolled into one. “You’re allowed to have someone to rely on too, Seokmin.”

“I…I am,” he agrees, nodding. “Thank you, really.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile and remove your hand to turn and look at Seoyeon, who’s standing beside the table with her backpack slung over one shoulder, and a strange, considering look on her face as she looks at you and her dad. “What’s the face?”

“I was born with it,” she retorts.

“Hey! That’s my line!” you exclaim, reaching out to prod her, making her giggle before she links her arm with yours and leads you through to the arcade with Seokmin following close behind you both, with a content smile on his face that you fail to notice the fondness in.

“We have to play a round before I go,” Seoyeon insists, leading you to the same game that the two of you always play a round on every single day she visits the arcade. It’s pretty much tradition at this point, so you don’t argue and just slip the coins into the slot and start playing, always so happy to get the privilege of spending time with the girl like this.

Over the past two weeks, it really has become typical for you to drive Seoyeon home from the arcade after school— once you’ve completed some homework and played a few rounds together, of course.

Almost every single school day, you’ve driven her home to give Seokmin time to get home without rush, get started on dinner, and do chores that can’t wait until the weekend. He still stops by sometimes, but he always texts you first to let you know that he plans to pick Seoyeon up himself, so that you don’t take her home while he’s on the way to the arcade.

Unfortunately, it’s the only reason he texts you, but you’ve kind of deluded yourself into thinking of it as some kind of co-parenting thing. You know it’s not, but it makes your heart flutter to think of it that way— even if you know, if anything, you’re just a voluntary babysitter.

Still, despite dropping the teen off for the past two weeks, you’ve never been inside her house until today. Seoyeon’s never invited you in because it hadn’t been the point of driving her home, and you’re always perfectly okay with that and expect nothing else.

Today, however, Seoyeon arrives at the arcade after school looking miserable, and you quickly realise that she’s got a cold, so you insist on taking her home so that she can rest. It goes to show how bad she feels that she doesn’t argue at all and just quietly waits at the prize desk for you to be ready, while holding the plushie Skater had given her for comfort as soon as you told him she’s ill.

Of course, you text Seokmin to let him know, and also ask permission to go inside and watch over her until he’s home before heading off. Instead of texting back, he calls five minutes later when you’re driving, so Seoyeon puts your phone on speaker for you.

“Hey, I’m driving right now, so you’re on speaker,” you announce in greeting, always wanting to be upfront with others if the call is audible to others; you’d want the same basic respect to be granted to you, after all.

“Ah, okay. Thank you for driving Seoyeon home,” Seokmin replies, voice a little quiet and low, as if he’s trying not to be heard by other people; you assume he’s with clients and has stepped out to call you quickly in private. “I’ll try to finish up here quickly and get home; you probably have to get back to work yourself and–”

“Nope. I’m done for the day now. I have no plans but to make sure Seoyeon is tucked up at home resting. Do you mind if I make some soup?”

“Oh…you’d really do that?”

“Of course. I’m great at soup!”

“I’d really appreciate that, Sunflower. Use whatever you need and let me know if you need me to pick up anything on the way home. We should have meds, but I’m not sure if there’s that many. We probably need more.”

“I’ll text you anything you’re low on and she needs.”

“Great. Thank you,” he says, letting out a big, grateful exhale. “I owe you big time.”

“Nah, it’s just what friends do, right?”

“I guess so,” he hums before his tone turns softer, even sweeter. “Sweetheart, do you want me to pick up anything on the way home?”  For a split, utterly delusional moment, you think he’s still talking to you, but then you quickly remind yourself to rein in the wishful thinking and face the reality that he’s talking to his daughter, not you.

“Ice cream?” Seoyeon requests a little hoarsely, making you frown sympathetically. “My throat hurts.”

“Okay, Snowdrop; ice cream, and honey tea,” Seokmin decides, making Seoyeon whine in complaint. “I know you don’t like honey tea, but it’s good for your throat.” Seoyeon doesn’t respond, just pouts, and you assume he must know that she’s likely to do that because he doesn’t wait long for a response, knowing he won’t gain one. “My meeting is scheduled for another almost two hours, I’m afraid. But I will get through it as quick as possible and be home as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” Seoyeon croaks. “See you soon.”

“Mm, see you soon. Rest lots and be good for Sunflower.”

“She always is,” you assure. “Don’t worry about Seoyeon; I’ve got this. You focus on your meeting and get back when you can. We’ll be waiting, so will soup.”

Seokmin chuckles. “I look forward to seeing you both, and soup, of course.”

After a final round of farewells, the call ends and you finish the drive in a calm quiet.

As soon as you and Seoyeon step into the Lee house, you send her off to get into comfy pyjamas. Once you’ve watched her trek up the stairs— to make sure she doesn’t fall down them in her groggy state— you familiarise yourself with the ground floor of the house, then head the kitchen to get started on making— what you hope— will be the most healing soup Seoyeon has ever consumed. You genuinely hate seeing her so under the weather like this; it makes your heart ache and fills you with the urge to do whatever you can to make her feel even a little bit better.

When Seoyeon joins you again, she’s dressed in pyjamas so soft and cosy that you immediately ask her where she got them so that you can get yourself a pair, earning an amused, though snuffy giggle.

“Feeling a bit more human now you’re in cosy clothes, not your uniform?” you ask, gently brushing her hair back from her forehead so that you can feel her temperature, while your other hand stirs the contents of the pan on the hob before you, even if your eyes are on her.

“Bit,” she agrees with a nod.

“I found meds,” you inform, removing your hand from her warm skin to point to the counter behind you. Seoyeon automatically looks over, then toddles the few steps to obediently take the medication laid out for her beside a glass of water. “And I text your dad to pick up some more, and orange juice. I always get a craving for oranges when I’m ill, and juice is easier than chewing when your noise is stuffy.”

“Dad always gives me orange juice when I’m ill, for the vitamin c.”

“Great minds think alike,” you joke, wiggling your eyebrows at the teen, making her laugh, though break into a few coughs that makes you frown in sympathy. “Why don’t you go get all snug on the sofa? Put on a movie and I’ll join you soon.”

“Oh…Can…Can we watch Toy Story?” she requests shyly, making you tilt your head slightly in question. “Just…it’s…We always watch it when one of us are ill; it’s kind of tradition.”

“Oh. Don’t you want to wait for your dad?” Seoyeon’s face falls a little. “I’m happy to watch it, seriously; I love that movie. But I don’t want to take something special from you if it’s something you do with your dad, Bud.”

“Ah, I suppose,” she agrees quietly, nodding in understanding. “Do you have a movie you watch when you’re ill?”

“Beauty and The Beast,” you answer without hesitation.

“I’m going to watch that,” she decides with another nod, then turns and toddles into the living room with her glass of water before you can say anything in response. Not that you have anything to say, just a smile full of fondness for the girl on your face even as you turn back to cooking.

It’s a little more than two hours since ending the phone call with Seokmin that he enters the house, rustling with the bags in his hands, and calling out to say he’s home, concern in his voice.

“In here!” Seoyeon calls back, sounding a fair amount better now that she’s had some meds, soup, and dozed against your shoulder for the last half an hour of Beauty and the Beast. She’s much more alert now yet still tucked up against you and seeming more than content to remain as she is. Honestly, you don’t want to move either; it’s far too nice.

“Oh,” Seokmin says as he steps into view, both shopping bags in one hand and expression turning soft as it lands on the two of you. “You two look…” he doesn’t finish his words, but his smile somehow grows a little more tender. “I’ll put this away, make your tea, and then–”

“I can do it,” you offer, beginning to remove your arm from around Seoyeon, unaware that she’s pouting as you do, your attention on Seokmin. “I’ll handle that and you can go get out of your work clothes.”

“No, no, you stay there,” Seokmin insists, waving his hands at you. “You both look comfy and I refuse to let you move. Stay,” he demands, pointing at you and looking suddenly stern in a way you hadn’t even thought his features could grow, voice firm and no-nonsense.

Obediently, you settle back into place, eyes a little wide and you’re pretty sure very obvious that you’re a little…into being told what to do by the man. Seokmin’s head tilts almost imperceptibly as he considers your reaction before his lips tilt into a hint of a smirk. He doesn’t say or do anything more before turning and going to the kitchen.

“Will you stay to watch Toy Story with us?” Seoyeon requests as she begins to search for the movie on the streaming app on the TV.

“Do you want me to?” you ask, turning your head just enough to look at her. She nods, still looking at the TV. “Then of course I’ll stay.” Seoyeon looks at you, smiling so genuinely happy at your agreement that you know you’ll never be able to reject her requests to spend time together, not when you know it makes her eyes shine like this.

A little under twenty minutes later, Seokmin is back, dressed in his own comfy pyjamas, hair damp, and skin shiny and tinted red from the quick shower he just had to wash the day of work away. He’s got a bowl in one hand, and a mug in the other, which he hands to Seoyeon. The teen groans in complaint, but she begrudgingly accepts the mug to sip at the contents while her dad sits on her right side, an amused little smile on his face from her reaction.

“How you feeling now, Snowdrop?” Seokmin asks as he settles comfortably in his place, pulling his bowl closer and gently stirring the steaming contents within. Your stomach warms strangely as you realise that he’s about to try your cooking for the first time; you hope he likes it and will let you cook for him again one day.

“Better than earlier, still not great,” Seoyeon answers honestly, lips protruding into a displeased pout above her mug. You notice Seokmin’s expression match it despite the fact he’s not even looking at her, upset because his daughter is, and it makes you smile to yourself to see the care— and similarities— between the father-daughter duo.

“I’ll get you some ice-cream after I’ve eaten this.”

“It’s really good; Sunflower’s a really good cook.”

“It smells delicious,” Seokmin enthuses, eyes glued to the soup and looking far more excited than anyone should be about a very basic vegetable soup. Both you and Seoyeon watch as he blows on his first spoonful carefully before tentatively putting it in his mouth, cautious of the heat. It takes a second for him to register the food in his mouth properly before he makes a pleased, enthusiastic hum of a sound and dives in for more. “It is really good. You’ll have to give me the recipe, Sunflower.”

“I just threw things together,” you admit with a soft laugh, which grows when he levels you a surprised look.

“No secret family recipe?” he questions, tone light and playful.

“If it was a secret family recipe, I couldn’t exactly tell you, could I?” you joke back with a grin.

“Ah, I suppose not,” he agrees with a laugh. “Unless I adopt you.” Immediately, your expression twists in disgust and his smile drops. “Hey! I’m a great dad!”

“I’m aware,” you respond, nodding a little. “I just really do not want that at all. Plus, you’re not that much older than me!” you point out.

“I’m 14 years older than you,” he deadpans. “Over a decade.”

“And? That means nothing.”

Seokmin’s expression does something odd now; turns considering with a hint of something you can’t name but really wish you could. It feels important and you can’t help but hold his gaze as you try to figure it out, aware that his eyes are growing more intense with every passing moment and thought flicking behind them.

If it wasn’t for Seoyeon speaking up after a few moments, you get the feeling neither you nor Seokmin would’ve looked away, and that intensity would’ve only grown to something you really hope to experience one day— just preferably when his daughter isn’t literally sitting right between you.

“Can we watch Toy Story now?” she asks, looking between you and her dad with big eyes.

Seokmin immediately drags his gaze away from you and looks down into the space between you to smile obligingly at his daughter. “Of course, Snowdrop.”

The three of you get comfy facing the TV and settle down to fulfil a Lee house ill-day tradition. You hope that it’s only the start of being invited to join family traditions with the pair. You’d really like that.

Thankfully, Seoyeon isn’t ill for long, but she does pass it on to her dad, so you take up driving her home straight from school the few days Seokmin is curled up in bed fighting the bug. Although he had tried to insist he can still cook and look after the house on the first day, you had promptly ordered him back to bed, put dinner on to cook, then went out to get more meds as he hadn’t anticipated getting ill himself when he bought them for Seoyeon a handful of days before he fell ill. 

Seokmin doesn’t seem to mind that you take up spending the evenings in his living room with Seoyeon— doing your best to help her with homework. Then again, he doesn’t surface past the first time you sent him swiftly back to bed upon seeing his red nose and watery eyes. You do, however, make sure to send Seoyeon up to check on him routinely. You’d do it yourself, but you think that’s probably a step too far, and then he’d definitely kick you out for entering his private room uninvited.

It's Sunday by the time you see Seokmin again, when he joins you and Seoyeon in the kitchen as you both try to figure out how to work the mini candyfloss machine that you bought on a whim at the supermarket that morning while stocking up on groceries for both households.

“What’s that?” Seokmin asks, drawing both of your attention. He’s standing at the kitchen doorway, looking almost like the man you’re used to. You know, other than the fact he’s in a plain white t-shirt and shorts of all things. Thankfully, he’s focused on the machine on the counter as he nears, because your own focus is a lot lower, stuck to his gloriously thick thighs and wondering if maybe you’re the ill one now and this is some kind of fever induced hallucination. Those thighs cannot be real.

“Candyfloss machine,” Seoyeon answers, flapping the manual in his direction, making him pluck it from her fingers to begin to read the page she has it open on. “The instructions are worded really weird.”

“Mm, they are,” he agrees, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to focus, and yet still, you’re gawping at his thighs.

Somehow, the father-daughter duo doesn’t notice your obvious staring of the man’s delicious thighs, and you manage to snap out of your horny-daze all on your own.

Between the three of you, you manage to decode the ridiculous manual and produce three wild— and wildly pathetic— sticks of candyfloss. There’s more of the treat covering the machine, counters, and the three of you than the sticks, but you’re all laughing, and although you know this will be quite the clean up, you don’t care. You’re already planning to search online for different coloured and flavoured sugars to try next week with the hope of making the pair look as happy as they do right now.

Honestly, now that Seokmin and Seoyeon are both back to full health and there’s no reason for you to spend so much time at their house, you keep expecting Seokmin to politely tell you to fuck off home. You know Seoyeon won’t, because she’s always so happy to have you around; both to just hang out, and because since you’ve started to do homework with her, she’s been less behind at school and doesn’t struggle as much.

Yet every time you drive Seoyeon home on days Seokmin doesn’t pick her up— or join her at the arcade if it’s a weekend—, she still invites you in and you’re still there hours later. You only leave when she’s gone off to bed and you’ve finished cleaning up whatever the two of you have used, and Seokmin always walks you to the door.

Tonight is no different; Seoyeon went up to bed ten minutes ago and now you’re finishing cleaning the kitchen counters so that Seokmin doesn’t have to do it. Though he’s right behind you, loading the last dishes into the dishwasher. It’s so fucking domestic it makes you want to scream. But in a good way. And kind of a horny way. But mostly a wholesome, yearning sort of way.

“You know, Seoyeon’s teacher called me today,” Seokmin starts, making you immediately drop the cloth in your hand to spin and look at him. He’s already leaning back against the counter and facing you; arms crossed casually across his chest and a little smile on his face. It makes you relax, understanding that it can’t be bad if he’s still got that natural little smile he always wears on his face.

“Is that normal? Random calls?” you ask, still a little worried though, because you’re always worried about Seoyeon where her schooling is concerned. You know she really struggles with most of her lessons except creative ones. She excels in art, but everything else isn’t easy for her and the school only helps so much.

Seoyeon still doesn’t have any friends either and you worry she is isolated socially. Though she has mentioned a few classmates a handful of times, but you know she doesn’t consider them friends, just nicer classmates who are willing to talk to her and work with her despite her being at the bottom of the class academically. At the very least, she doesn’t seem to get picked on for being quiet and behind compared to the rest of the class. Still, you always worry that one day she’ll come home in tears and admit she’s been hiding it, or that things have changed for the worst.

Seokmin nods in answer to your question. “She’s still the newest student, and well, you know she struggles academically and hasn’t really made any friends, so the staff keep a close eye on her.”

“Ah, I see. I’m glad they care enough to do that.”

“Me too,” he agrees, smile lifting a little more. “It’s a really good school; supportive and everything about these things. They just don’t have the staff to give her more focus to help with her studies, and I don’t want to make her go to catch up clubs; I know she’d hate them.”

“She would. I think you’re doing the right thing by her, even if the school probably tries to guilt you into thinking otherwise.”

“Oh, you do?” His tone softens and his arms unfold to slide down to hang by his sides as he looks at you in a touched kind of way. You nod. “Thank you, that means a lot to me. They have bugged me about sending her to clubs, and even changing her to a different class, but then she’d be with younger students and held back a year and I really don’t want her to go through that. Especially not now that she’s settled and gotten used to her classmates and routine.”

“She’d be right back where she started.”

He hums and nods. “Exactly. I’m really glad you agree and I have your support with this. And that Seoyeon does too. That’s actually what the call was about.”

You give him a bewildered look and point to yourself. “Me? It was about me?”

“Well, technically, yes,” he confirms with a chuckle. “More like how much better Seoyeon is doing lately. Ever since you started to do homework with her, she’s picked up a lot more. Her classwork is improving and she’s more confident now; she raised her hand for the first time today to ask a question! She’s never asked for clarification before, especially not in front of the whole class.”

“Oh, she did?” you ask, lifting your hands to press one against your suddenly warm heart. Hearing that the shy, anxious girl felt brave enough to push past her fear of drawing attention to her struggles really makes your chest feel so full.

You know it’s a little thing to most, something that a lot of kids start doing in their first years of school, but you’re so proud of Seoyeon that you wish she was still downstairs so that you could give her a giant hug. You know bringing attention to her act could potentially lead to her retreating and not raising her hand in class again, so you wouldn’t mention it, just hold her and hopefully silently let her know how much you care about her.

“That… I really want to hug her right now,” you admit, making Seokmin laugh softly. “I’m so proud of her.”

“I get it, I want to squeeze her and smother her in praise, but it’s probably better to not mention it in case she gets embarrassed about her teacher calling me to say that.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” you agree. “I’m going to have to squeeze a pillow when I get home instead.”

“Or…” Seokmin says, suddenly talking quieter, almost timid as he pushes off of the counter and takes a step towards you. “You can hug me?” he offers, giving you a shy smile as he opens his arms to the side a little in invitation.

“Hug you?” you repeat dumbly, staring up at him with big, surprised eyes.

He nods a little jerkily. “If–if you want to. If you’re comfort–” before he’s even finished, you step forward into his space. It’s Seokmin’s eyes that widen now. It seems like he hadn’t expected you to accept his offer. Though he doesn’t move away, doesn’t take it back, so you move even closer and carefully wrap your arms around his waist. A little stiltedly, Seokmin’s arms close around you, enveloping your body in a warmth and comfort you never want to let go of.

You really don’t know if you’ll ever get another chance to be held by Seokmin, so you decide to take full advantage of the moment and tuck up against his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder and just enjoy it while you can.

When Seokmin moves, you’re expecting him to let go, to remove your arms from him and politely tell you that he’s not comfortable with that kind of affection from you; that you’ve gone too far, and he would like it if you don’t touch him again. As much as you don’t want him to say any of that— even knowing he’d be so fucking gentle and considerate about it, because that’s just the kind of man he is— you’re as ready for it as you can be; ready to remove your arms and kiss goodbye to any miniscule chance of getting to ever kiss him.

What you aren’t ready for, however, is for Seokmin’s arms to not fall away, but tighten. For him to not step back, but closer. For him to do anything but curl down to rest his head against yours and let out a breath as if he’s been waiting for this moment. For this comfort. You don’t know if he’s just missed having this kind of affection with another adult, or if it’s because it’s you he’s holding in his arms like you belong there, but you let your delusions win out this time and pretend that it’s the second option.

Time ceases to exist, ceases to have meaning as you stand motionlessly in the kitchen holding one another. You think you could be happy doing nothing but this for the rest of your life. But there’s truth to the saying ‘all good things must end’, and slowly, Seokmin’s hold loosens, silently telling you that it’s time to let go now.

The two of you unwind your arms from one another and take a step back to put a more respectable distance between you, though you notice that it’s not as respectable as it could be. Seokmin hasn’t gone far or prompted you to move further, so you lift your gaze to look at him, only to find him already looking down at you.

There’s something in the air between you, something that slips under your skin and fills your chest, makes your heart race thickly with anticipation and hope.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seokmin’s right arm lift, though you don’t look at it, don’t dare break the locked gaze; it feels too important. Still, you’re so aware of it raising in your peripheral. Of his fingers extending a little. Of him reaching out. Yet, he doesn’t touch.

Seokmin drops his arm just as his fingers are about to brush your cheek, so close that you can already almost feel his touch. He steps back and breaks the eye contact, turning instead back to the dishwasher to turn it on while you can only stare at his back, your chest tight and heart aching.

You make sure to gather yourself and turn before he does, so that you can finish wiping down the side and focus on something other than that it feels like rejection despite the fact you hadn’t done anything.

Like every night, Seokmin walks you to the door when you leave. Like every night, he thanks you for coming over and being so helpful to his little family. Like every night, he remains at the door to watch you get in your car and drive away. But for the first time, you don’t have a content little smile on your face, only a frown as you try to understand what happened tonight.

Sometimes, your parents like to suggest that you should really get some new friends— ones you don’t work with, namely— and you always dismiss the suggestion and assure them that you’re more than content with the friends you do have. However, it’s times like this when you reluctantly think there’s some merit to your parents’ words.

“Forget about him! I’ll adopt a cat and be a DILF instead!” Skater exclaims, waving his beer bottle around where he’s half melded with his favourite beanbag in his apartment— an apartment he shares with Noodle, of course.

You’ve just told the pair what happened the other night with you and Seokmin; how you could’ve sworn he was reaching out to caress your cheek, to lean in and claim your lips for his own. Yet, he didn’t and turned away and if nothing had happened. Of course, nothing had happened, but you really fucking wanted it to.

Noodle is still nibbling on his last slice of pizza like a tipsy little mouse. You can’t tell if he keeps forgetting that he’s in the midst of eating as the three of you talk and joke around, or if he’s just genuinely savouring the fancy, stone baked pizza from the fancy Italian restaurant. At least most of it, because you know that as soon as he’s finished taking his tiny little bites of the middle and topping, he’ll pass the crust to Skater, who will eat it without complaint. You’ve witnessed this very routine many times over the years, but only with this specific restaurant’s pizza, despite the crust genuinely being delicious; part of you has a feeling it’s more to do with the fact that Skater weirdly loves the crust than Noodle not liking it.

“CILF,” Noodle mumbles, making you and Skater glance at him, then crack up at his half dazed, yet semi-serious expression; eyes unfocused as he stares blankly ahead. “Huh?” he asks after blinking himself back to reality and straightening up where he’s sitting cross legged on the other end of the sofa to you.

“You’re so cute, Nood,” you coo, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He just grins at you, then returns to imitating a pizza-loving mouse.

“Back to Bud’s dad being a fucking idiot,” Skater decides, making you both look at him and find him frowning a little. “What kind of a man, no, what kind of a person wouldn’t kiss you given the chance?!”

“Me,” Noodle declares.

“You’re barely a person,” Skater dismisses while waving a hand vaguely. Noodle immediately throws the last of his pizza— essentially just crust now— at his best friend. It thwacks Skater in the face, and both you and Noodle burst into laughter. Instead of retaliating, Skater just takes it as a flying food gift and picks the crust up from where it fell onto his partially reclined torso to shove half of it straight into his mouth.

“He’s right though,” you decide, looking at Noodle, who looks at you in betrayal. “You’re probably like 80% noodle at this point.”

Noodle laughs as he nods. “You’re right.”

“What’s the other 20?” Skater ponders aloud. “At least 18% dance.”

“I think I’m more dance than that,” Noodle offers.

“He’s right,” you agree. “Okay, let’s say…70% noodle, 20% dance, and 10% thighs and ass.”

“Have you been looking at his ass?!” Skater exclaims indignantly while Noodle just cackles away, pleased with your decision and finding his best friend hilarious as he goes on a rant about how it’s unfair that you don’t look at his ass.

You don’t correct Skater that you have— and still do— look at his ass when it’s in your line of sight; you think it’s funnier watching him whine and turn his big babyboy eyes on you as he tries to convince you to check out his ass— and whole body— every time you see him, for the sake of his wounded ego.

The topic of the last time you saw Seokmin doesn’t come up for the rest of the night and part of you regrets it the next morning, because now you’re no closer to figuring out what the fuck happened and what you’re supposed to do about it.

But mostly, you’re just glad you got to spend time with the pair and are reminded exactly why you tell your parents that you’re happy with the friends you have.

Although you don’t want to admit it, you’ve come to understand that you must’ve been wrong about Seokmin’s interest in you. You’ve seen him multiple times since that night in his kitchen, and despite him being his usual friendly self, there’s something that flickers in his eyes when he looks at you. Something that looks hesitant, worried almost, and your chest aches as you consider that he doesn’t know how to act with you now.

You think that either he regrets the tension in his kitchen that night, that he regrets trying to reach out; or he realised in that moment how much you want him, and he hadn’t understood before that you no longer just want to have sex with him. Maybe he only wants meaningless sex, but you’ve ruined it by gaining feelings for him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so he’s trying to figure out how to let you down easy or put a boundary up between you.

As much as Seokmin doesn’t want to hurt you, you don’t want to hurt him either or put him in an uncomfortable position; so, you back off a little.

Of course, you don’t stop spending time with the Lee family. You still drive Seoyeon home a few times a week and stay to help her with her homework and hang out. You still text Seokmin to ask if they need anything from the store while you’re doing your own shopping. You still joke with him and keep a friendly relationship. But that’s as far as you go.

You no longer make suggestive jokes that he doesn’t always catch but always looks at you in slight disbelief when he does, as if he can’t believe you’ve said that. You no longer let your hand linger over his a second too long when passing him items. You no longer look at him with adoration in your gaze and heart beating wildly when you admire him smiling with his daughter.

You’re doing all you can to put a respectable emotional distance between you, to just be his friend. Even if it’s one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. But if that’s what you need to do to be able to remain in the lives of the father-daughter duo for a long time, you’ll do it and hope for nothing more. Even if it hurts.

One night, just as you’re about to leave the Lee house after the usual routine of helping Seokmin clean up, the doorbell rings. Seokmin chuckles as you immediately step backwards from the door, lowering your hand from where you had been inches from grasping the handle, and instead motion him to it.

As he opens the door, you remain behind it out of sight in wait for his visitor to leave so that you can take your own leave. You probably could’ve just stepped out and let him greet his visitor then, but it hadn’t occurred to you until now and Seokmin doesn’t seem bothered that you’re behind the door, so you don’t feel bad about it.

Though you do feel awkward very quickly when you tune into the conversation that you had purposely not paid attention to for privacy’s sake, when you hear him chuckle awkwardly. Now, you can hear that his visitor is a woman and, judging by her tone, she’s flirting and flirting hard.

Curious about the woman— who Seokmin clearly knows judging by how easily they converse, even if he’s awkwardly avoiding the flirtations, much to your relief— you cautiously move aside a little to peer through the gap above the door hinge to get a glimpse of the visitor.

You have to admit, she’s really pretty. The kind of pretty that would look perfectly at place hanging off of one of Seokmin’s strong arms. Visually, the pair really suit each other, they even seem of similar age, and it makes an irrational little flicker of insecurity appear in your chest. Clearly, Seokmin has no interest in this woman— though she doesn’t seem to get the hint— so what hope does that give you if he won’t give this well-matched woman a chance.

Thankfully, Seokmin manages to politely end the conversation shortly, and instead of keeping the door open to let you leave as the woman walks away, he shuts the door and leans his forehead against it with a heavy exhale.

“She’s pretty,” you comment without thought, making him tilt his head to look at you questioningly.

“She is,” he confirms as if it’s simple fact, an easy observation and nothing more than that. Like saying a flower is pretty. Actually, you’ve heard him compliment flowers much more enthusiastically than this.

“She clearly likes you,” you say, wishing you would shut up but unable to stop the words coming out as he straightens and turns to face you properly. “But you…don’t seem interested in her.”

“I’m not,” he says immediately, voice unwavering in a way that almost makes you think he’s making sure you know that. That he has no interest in that woman whatsoever, nor will he. But you don’t let yourself think that. You can’t let that hope return to your chest, even if the hole it left behind those weeks ago aches every time you see him.

“Why not?”

“What?” He frowns at you in bewilderment. “Do I need a specific reason?”

“No, sometimes you just don’t like people and that’s fine,” you assure with a little nod. “I’m just…wondering. Like, haven’t you even entertained the thought of a date with her?”

“No. She’s my neighbour and she’s away for work a lot, and from what she says, it’s often last minute.”

“Oh, you want to know your partner is there.”

“Not for me, well, not really.” He sighs softly then glances at his watch before chewing on his lip nervously while returning his gaze to you. “Do you need to get home right now? Can you stay for a bit?”

“Oh…you want me to stay?” you question surprised.

“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about. It’s…important.”

“Oh, okay,” you agree and remove your shoes to place neatly on the place on the low rack— a place that used to house a spare pair of Seokmin’s dress shoes, but you haven’t seen those in a while and there is always a gap for your shoes now. You try not to think of the potential fact that Seokmin purposely put his shoes away in his room to make space for yours. A space for you.

Seokmin is in the kitchen when you enter the living room, and you can hear the kettle boiling, so you take a seat on the sofa and wait.

Minutes later, Seokmin joins you, placing two mugs down on the coasters still in place on the coffee table from your drinks earlier. His mug has a photo of baby Seoyeon printed on, a little worn with use, but still treasured. Your mug is new, newer than even your presence in the house; it’s dotted with sunflowers and yellow love hearts.

“So, uhm, has Seoyeon ever mentioned her mother?” he asks once he’s settled, leaning his right side against the back of the sofa so that he’s facing you, with his right arm braced on the back rest, and his right leg bent, foot tucked behind his left knee.

“Not once,” you answer honestly. It’s genuinely never occurred to you to question it either; sometimes it’s just better to not ask where missing parents are.

“I’m not surprised, she hasn’t mentioned her for a long time, since she was really little and before she understood what happened. But I just wondered; in case she mentioned something to you. I know she tells you pretty much everything, so it might’ve come up, or maybe you got curious.”

“I mean, yeah, I’ve been curious, but it’s not my business. If either of you want me to know, you’ll tell me without being prompted to,” you respond with a shrug.

“I really appreciate that. So many people hear that I’m a single parent and assume her mother died when Seoyeon was young, because obviously, that’s the only reason a mother wouldn’t be around,” he says with a sarcastic note to his voice, rolling his eyes a little too. You hum softly, letting him know that you understand what he means, even if not on a personal level. “She left us,” he says bluntly, making your eyebrows raise a little, more surprised about how he got right to the point. “She suddenly decided that she doesn’t want children when Seoyeon was only 4 months old.”

“What the fuck? She didn’t know that before?” you question flabbergasted.

“That’s the thing,” he says, sighing heavily. “It wasn’t like Seoyeon was a happy little accident; we planned for her. We got married at 22 and agreed to make sure we were completely financially stable before even thinking about extending our family. Then we were, and she said she wasn’t ready. So, we waited, and waited, and one day she told me she was ready. We planned everything; gave her time to be certain before she even stopped taking birth control. She seemed so excited and happy throughout the pregnancy too. I still don’t understand, and I don’t think I ever will, honestly.”

“That must’ve broken your heart,” you comment softly, sympathetically.

“It did,” he confirms with an almost sad little smile, but it doesn’t last, as if he was just being sympathetic to his memories and doesn’t truly hurt over it anymore. “But I wasn’t going to force her to stay. I didn’t want Seoyeon to grow up raised by a mother who doesn’t want her. So, we divorced and I had her sign full custody to me. She has no rights over my daughter and never will.”

“Good, she doesn’t deserve to be in Seoyeon’s life. Seoyeon deserves nothing but the best; to be loved until she bursts with it.”

Seokmin’s lips lift into a soft kind of smile as he nods in agreement to your words, gentle gaze glued to you and making a riot of your heart. “She really does. She always comes first, and I refuse to bring someone into her life who won’t be there for her.”

“Ah,” you say, understanding his lack of interest in his neighbour now. “I get it. I’d want the same for her if I were you.”

“I’m glad you agree,” he says softly, lowering his gaze to find your hands where they’re laid loosely on your lap. His hand on his own lap twitches a little, and for a second, you think he’s going to reach out to take your hand into his hold, but he presses his palm to his thigh and looks back up at you. “She’s never had a mother figure, so I don’t want to ever rush into things with someone if I’m not positive they’ll be around and willing to one day be a kind of mum to her. I wouldn’t expect it right away, of course, but I’m 42, Seoyeon is 14; we’re both too old to not be serious about who I bring into our family.”

“I understand.”

“You do?” He straightens a little and you nod at him.

“Yeah. You both deserve someone who is secure in where they are in life and knows where they want to go too. I…I hope you find that,” you say, wishing you could tell him that you’d be willing to fulfil that role right now, but you don’t want to push him when he needs to be ready on his own to open his heart to you. You don’t know if he ever will be, but that traitorous little hole in your chest fills slightly as a little hope slots back into place.

You hope that you’ve been proving yourself to him; that you’re more than willing to look after Seoyeon and stick around as much as she wants you to, no matter what happens between you and Seokmin. You hope that he understands that, but you’re really not sure and decide to just be patient and wait for the day he lets you know one way or the other.

Before you know it, the summer holidays come around, and you see less of Seoyeon. Due to schools being closed for the holidays and tourists popping up, Rainy Days Arcade faces a much higher level of foot traffic. Which, unfortunately, means that you don’t have as much time while at work to spend with Seoyeon, nor can you leave work early to drive her home.

Although she does still visit, it’s not often and not for long, not wanting to get caught up in the bustle of the arcade— even Skater can’t keep her company at the prize desk, and she gets mistaken for an employee when she sits there so often that she doesn’t want to risk it. You don’t blame her for picking her nice, quiet house over the hectic summer season of the arcade.

Every time you have a day off though— which is rare in the summer— you make sure to call her up to hang out, either at her house, or you’ve taken on going for drives to various places. Sometimes you just spend hours driving, listening to music, and stopping only so she can take photos, or for toilet breaks. You even bought her a travel painting kit, so on days you tell her you’ve packed a picnic, she brings the kit and the two of you sit on a blanket for hours as she contently paints, humming along to the music playing through your Bluetooth speaker.

Even though you know today will be a busy day at the arcade as it’s a Wednesday and they’re always busy, you have the day off. It’s not through choice, but a strict rule at Rainy Days Arcade where no-one can work on their birthday. So, of course, you plan to take advantage of that fact, and after responding to the barrage of birthday wishes in the work group chat, you message Seoyeon to check if she’s busy.

It doesn’t take long for her to excitedly agree to hang out, and add that her dad has today off too, so he can join!

You haven’t really seen much of Seokmin lately, even rarer than Seoyeon, but he does pop by on his own sometimes on his way home from work, to say hi and make sure you’re looking after yourself. You never point out that he can just text you to do that; you like seeing his handsome face too much to ever refuse his presence.

And today is no exception. You respond to Seoyeon just as enthusiastically to let her know you’ve still got to get ready, but you can come pick them up in half an hour. Moments later, she says they’ll come pick you up instead and her dad will drive; at his own insistence so that you can be the passenger princess for once. Thinking of Seokmin calling you princess, even indirectly, makes you giggle dopily before simply agreeing, then you rush off to get showered and dressed.

As soon as you step out of your front door and onto the exterior landing, you spot Seokmin’s car in the parking lot, a level below you. He must spot you too, because as you lock your door, he gets out of the driver’s seat and walks around to the passenger door in wait.

The moment you’re close enough to the car a minute later, Seokmin opens the door with a flourish, bowing at you. “Your carriage awaits,” he says, making you giggle.

“Why, thank you,” you respond with a curtsy, playing along without hesitation, making him grin at you. He offers his hand to help you into the car, then shuts the door and rushes around to the driver’s side as you turn in your seat to greet Seoyeon in the back. She’s already got her camera in her hands and lifts it to take a photo of you. You’re far used to it by now to do anything other than grin at her. When Seokmin is seated, he turns and grins too, making Seoyeon giggle and take a few photos of the both of you cheesing at her from the front seats.

“So, where to?” Seokmin asks once you’re both turned around and strapped in securely, as he starts the car back up.

“East,” Seoyeon declares, earning a questioning look from her dad. “What?”

“That’s very vague,” he points out.

“We rarely have a specific destination in mind when we go on drives,” you explain, making Seokmin hum in understanding and start to drive.

As the car reaches the end of the lot and he has to make a turn, he hesitates. “Do either of you have a compass on you?” he asks, making you and Seoyeon both giggle amusedly.

“Just go right,” you say.

“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees, sending a lick of heat into your stomach as he obeys your directions without hesitation.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s always so obedient; you remember how sweet he looked that day when you taught him how to play the game and he asked if he did a good job. You bet he’d look even better looking up at you from between your thighs as he asks for praise for doing such a good job.

Thankfully— or unfortunately, because it’s a really fucking good mental image—, Seokmin talks again, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to reality. The reality where he’s driving the car at your side and his daughter is in the backseat behind you both. “Have you eaten? We were thinking of stopping for breakfast pretty quickly. But we can get something to eat in the car.”

“There’s this really good place at the edge of town; On the Edge Café,” you inform. “Have you been?”

“No, but I remember passing it a few times. We can definitely go there.”

“Sound good, Bud?” you ask, peering over your shoulder at Seoyeon, who just nods in agreement. “We have approval,” you announce, making Seokmin chuckle as he smoothly switches lanes ready for the upcoming turn.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that,” he comments in a thoughtful tone. “I’ve noticed you and the arcade staff all call her Bud. I thought it was just like buddy at first, but it seems more like a standalone nickname.”

“Ah, it’s a bit of both really. It’s short for buddy, yeah, but everyone essentially considers her once of us, minus the working part, of course. Don’t worry, we’re not putting your daughter to work or anything,” you assure jokingly, making him laugh. “Everyone who works there, or is there enough to be one of us, has their own nickname. Seoyeon is Bud both because she’s our precious friend, and because well, she’s still growing and we don’t know what she’ll flower into, but we all know it’ll be beautiful and we’re excited to find out when the day comes.”

“Oh, that’s…she really will flower beautifully, won’t she,” Seokmin agrees in a tone so tender and full of love that even though it’s not directed to you, you can feel it all the same.

After breakfast, Seokmin drives East— or at least heads right as none of you care to actually be accurate about which direction you go— for hours without complaint.

The three of you sing along to the radio and you’re immediately besotted with his singing voice; which is how you find out that he’s been hiding his singing habit. According to Seoyeon, the man is always singing when you’re not around, but he hadn’t wanted to annoy you, while also being out of practise singing around anyone but his daughter, so he had been too shy to sing in front of you. You don’t hesitate to shower him in praise and make him promise to sing around you more, earning the cutest little shy yet pleased smile from the man, matched with prettily pinkened cheeks.

Eventually, Seokmin pulls over to do something on his phone, angling the screen away from you, making you give him a questioning look due to the playful way he’s doing it, making him giggle but he doesn’t show you. You can only look away to hide your dopey ass grin at his fucking adorable giggle.

He hands his phone to Seoyeon behind you and tells her to guide him, then he drives again. Seoyeon diligently follows the directions he must’ve found on his phone until Seokmin is parking in a little dirt parking lot with space for only a dozen cars at most. The lot is nestled just within a mass of trees, and although they don’t block out the summer sun, you can’t really see very far through them.

“Have you been here before? It must be a great photo spot for Bud,” you comment as the three of you get out of the car.

“No, I didn’t know about it until now,” Seokmin admits, walking to the boot to open it and pull out a picnic blanket and an insulated backpack.

“Did you pack a picnic?” you ask in shocked awe.

“Just a few things, it’s nothing special!” he insists, cheeks flushing pink as you take the blanket from him while he shuts the boot and locks his car. “Please don’t expect a lot.”

“I expect nothing, and this is already way above that. We should invite you to join us more often,” you tease and sling your arm around Seoyeon’s shoulders as the three of you head further into the trees along the trodden path.

Very quickly, you let go of Seoyeon and take her backpack from her to allow her to dart around taking photos of everything that catches her artistic eye.

“Do you know where we’re going or are we walking until we find a spot?” you wonder as Seokmin falls into step at your side.

“I know. Well…I hope I know,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

“So long as she’s happy, we could sit in the car park and I’d be happy. Well, provided we were in a safe place, I really don’t fancy getting run over today.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let that happen,” he assures with a playful wink. “Gotta keep my passenger princess safe, right?”

“Does that make you my knight in shining armour?”

“Happily.” He sounds so honest, so certain, that you can’t help but turn your head away in hopes he won’t see the blush that suddenly rushes to darken your cheeks as your heart races almost violently in the abrupt strength of it.

A little under ten minutes of casual strolling later, stopping when Seoyeon gets particularly invested in getting a specific shot, or Seokmin puts his hand on you to prompt you to look at something— a touch you relish in, and pretend to not see what he’s showing you just so that he’ll move closer to you and keep his hand on your waist for longer—, the three of you step out onto an expanse of lush grass stretching out ahead of you up a little incline.

Seoyeon immediately gasps in excitement and runs off ahead to climb up to the peak of the small hill.

“This is what you found online?” you ask in a soft voice, utterly awed, as Seokmin once again puts his hand on the small of your back to lead you forward. You hadn’t even realised you had stopped still at the sight until now.

“Yeah. But this isn’t the best part,” he whispers as his hand slides around to hold your waist. Your heart skips a beat, and you press your lips together to not do something stupid like ask him to never let you go.

As soon as you crest the hill, you understand exactly what Seokmin meant. Although the hill doesn’t look big from the angle you approached, it’s much higher on the other side. You can see for miles around; the nearby town, the roads cutting through the hills and fields, the farms dotted around, but most importantly, you can see the field of sunflowers just at the bottom of the hill.

“Sunflowers,” you whisper, unable to talk any louder as you step closer to the other side with one hand to your chest as you look at your namesake.

“I’ve known there’s a sunflower field around here for a while now, I just didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to bring you here to see it,” Seokmin says. You think he’s talking to his daughter— who is a few metres ahead of you taking endless photos of the landscape— but then he stands on your left, and his hand brushes your back briefly. You wish he’d leave it there, but you know you can’t ask that.

“Me? You wanted to bring me here?” you ask in surprise.

“Yeah, you’re Sunflower,” he answers as if it’s all he needs to say, as if it’s a simple as that. Something in his full gaze locked onto you makes you think it isn’t. But you’re not brave enough to voice your suspicion. Not when that look is making the hole in your chest rapidly fill again, and you really don’t want it to be ripped out if he tells you that you’re wrong, or that he isn’t ready yet and may never be. You’d rather just keep it to yourself and enjoy the day.

“Do you think we could get close enough to take photos with them?” you wonder playfully as you turn your face forward again to escape his expression and move on before your chest can empty on your birthday of all days.

“If it will please my princess, I’ll find away,” he promises, mostly playful but you can hear the undercurrent of pure honesty. You don’t dare to look at him right now, too pink to be able to face anyone, let alone the man who makes your heart race. “For now, I’ll set up the picnic!” He takes the blanket from your hand and Seoyeon’s backpack from your shoulder then wanders off behind you to find the perfect spot.

The three of you spend hours on the hill.

Seoyeon spends most of the time carefully getting the view down onto the multiple tiny canvases she always keeps stocked up in her travel art kit. She even convinces you and Seokmin to have a go too. Neither of you are anywhere near as good at painting as Seoyeon, but you both paint a close up of a sunflower without realising, then laugh when you realise what happened once you reveal your finished masterpieces.

But mostly, you and Seokmin remain on the blanket while Seoyeon paints closer to the edge of the hill to have a better view. The two of you never face an awkwardly silent moment, even when a topic naturally ends and another doesn’t immediately pick up. It’s just…easy, to sit quietly at Seokmin’s side and enjoy the day with him. You even manage to convince him to sing for you and lay on your side as he lays on his back, face to the sky as he sings, but the romantic words settle behind your ribs so warmly.

As much as you would love to stay on that hill in a content, cosy little bubble with no thoughts of the world outside the three of you, both you and Seokmin have work in the morning, so reluctantly, the three of you pack up when the sun sets, and head back.

On the drive back home, Seokmin stops at a drive-through, realising that the picnic really isn’t a good substitute for dinner, and the three of you eat your meals on the road. You make a point of feeding Seokmin, insisting that he can’t take his hands off of the wheel— despite the fact he mostly drives with only one hand on the wheel anyway—, mostly just because he blushes so pretty and whines when Seoyeon laughs at him for it.

It's not particularly late when Seokmin pulls up infront of your building, but Seoyeon is asleep in the back, curled against the door and hugging her backpack in place of the childhood teddy bear you know she still sleeps with— something she had only admitted to after you told her you sleep with a few plushies on your bed and tend to hug one to sleep.

“Thanks for letting me tag along today, Sunflower, I really had a great day,” Seokmin says quietly, once you both realise that his daughter is sleeping away and neither of you want to risk waking her up yet.

“I don’t think it can be classed as tagging along when you drove, found the most beautiful picnic location, supplied said picnic, and paid for dinner.”

Seokmin shrugs, almost dismissively. “I’d do all that for you two any time. I’m just grateful you let me join your time together.”

“We love having you with us, Seokmin.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you assure confidently, making his lips curl up into a content smile.

“I’m glad. I really like being with you both too.” You smile at him and reach over to squeeze his hand on his thigh. You smile a little brighter, and so does he, when he turns his hand over to gently squeeze in response.

“I’ll treasure today’s memories for a long time,” you say honestly. “This was the best birthday I’ve had in years, thank you.” You try to turn and get out of the car, but Seokmin makes an alarmed sound, causing you to look at him with your own alarmed expression. “Are you okay?”

“It’s your birthday today?” he hisses in shock. You just nod. “Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve done something special!”

You look at him for a moment before smiling and leaning over to gently hold his worried face in your hands. You don’t miss the way he immediately melts against your palms, and his eyes turn big and round on you. “Today was so special to me. You don’t understand how happy I am, how happy you’ve made me with today. I don’t need or want any more than that. I expected nothing, and you still blew that out of the water.”

“I…okay,” he concedes, trusting the honesty on your features, so you nod in approval and let your hands slide away from his face to land gently on your lap. “I’m glad I could make your birthday special for you. You deserve it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And happy birthday, by the way.” You giggle and thank him again before getting out of the car. You say goodbye and then he ushers you to your apartment, insisting he won’t leave until he’s seen your front door close behind you.

True to his word, Seokmin only starts the car back up when you open your front door, and it’s only once you’ve closed it behind you and peer out of the window beside it that you see his car driving away.

Just as you decide to call it a night and turn off the TV to head to bed, there’s a timid sounding knock on your door. It’s close to midnight now, and you’re really not expecting guests— especially when your friends and family never turn up out of the blue so late— so you’re confused and a little cautious as you inch towards the door. When you’re only steps away, there’s another knock, slightly louder as if they realised the first was maybe too quiet to be heard.

As soon as you recognise the figure on the landing when you peer through the spyhole, your confusion grows exponentially but worry blooms bright as the worst comes to mind as to why he would be knocking your door so late without prior warning.

As quickly as you can, you disengage the alarm, remove the latch, and unlock the door to open it and meet a fidgeting, pyjama clad Seokmin face to face. “Is Seoyeon okay?” you immediately ask, only to realise he’s wearing a shy, sheepish smile and is holding a cupcake in his hands with an unlit birthday candle sticking out of the top. “Oh…”

“Sorry, I know it’s late and I probably disturbed your sleep–”

“You didn’t,” you assure, not liking the guilt on his features. He relaxes, trusting that you’re being honest and smiles more naturally as he steps closer.

“I couldn’t sleep thinking about how it’s your birthday and you didn’t get to blow out a candle. Unless you did it with someone else…I should’ve considered that. You have family, and friends, and–”

“Seokmin,” you interrupt him for the second time, stepping closer to put one hand over his and making him look at you with such an endearingly cute expression that you can’t help but smile at him. “I haven’t seen anyone but you and Seoyeon today.”

“Ah, good. Well, not good that you haven’t seen anyone else, but good that I’m not making you blow out a second set of candles.” You just giggle and watch as he produces a lighter from his pocket and struggles with it for a few moments, long enough that he gets a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I just bought it, and I haven’t touched a lighter in years. We use matches at home, and I didn’t think to bring them.” Finally, the flame appears steady, and he makes a victorious sound before carefully setting the little white candle aflame, wick burning bright and strong without a breeze to tease it. “Make a wish,” he encourages softly, holding the cupcake closer to you.

Obligingly, you shut your eyes and clasp your hands together as you wish for a long, happy life with many birthdays like today with Seokmin and Seoyeon by your side.

When you open your eyes, you immediately blow out the candle then look up at Seokmin, finding him looking at you with what you can’t deny as utter adoration on his gently smiling features.

“Happy birthday, Sunflower.”

“Thank you,” you respond quietly.

Your breath catches when he steps even closer to you, only to reach past you and put the cupcake on the little table directly inside of the apartment under the window. It confuses you why he didn’t just give it to you, but then he wraps his arms around your waist in a hug so perfect you can only melt against his strong chest and clutch onto him in hopes he won’t let go too soon.

To your relief, Seokmin waits for you to lift your head off his shoulder before he loosens his hold. Though he doesn’t let you go; he lifts one hand to gently brush your hair out of your face then cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your warm cheek.

He leans in, holding your jaw a little firmer, and then tilts his head aside to kiss your cheek. Still, your heart races and skips over its own beats.

“I should go, we both have work in the morning,” he says as he pulls back, his cheeks flushed to match yours. He looks shy and flicks his eyes away from you quicker than he usually does. It’s utterly precious.

Not wanting to risk ruining anything, you obligingly release your hold on him and let him step back. “Thank you for coming all this way so that I get a birthday wish, Seokmin.”

“I hope your wish comes true.”

You can’t help but wonder if he’d say the same if he knew what you wished for. As you think about the way it seemed like he changed his aim at the last minute to kiss your cheek instead of your lips, you think he probably would.

Ever since your birthday, you’re pretty sure things between you and Seokmin have changed. Not in any wildly obvious ways, but in the ways you notice. The way he hovers around you more. The way he seems to find excuses to sit or stand near you. The way he lets his eyes linger when you catch him already looking at you, and he doesn’t shy away immediately, yet smiles to himself when he inevitably does.

Something has changed, and something is changing further, but you still keep back. You’re too scared you’ll scare him off if you let your interest and feelings show now. You’re not sure he’s actually ready for anything, because at this point you really can’t deny that he does like you. You wish he’d tell you that and let you know where he stands, so that you’re not constantly in a state of anxious anticipation for the moment he makes some kind of move. But you won’t push him.

You wait, and the hope in your chest swells as big as it’s ever been.

A week before the summer holidays end, Seokmin has to go away for a work trip. He’s only going to a city a few hours away, but he’s got a lot of work to do for a couple of different clients, so he’ll be away for a few days.

Initially, he planned to take Seoyeon with him, unwilling to leave her home alone for three days. Not because he doesn’t trust her— you think he trusts her more than anyone else, and more than you’ve ever seen a parent trust their child— but because he just can’t handle the thought of something potentially happening to his baby while he’s too far away to do anything about it or even know that something’s happened.

Yet when you offer to stay with Seoyeon for the few days, even saying you’ll get someone to cover as many as your hours at the arcade as possible, Seokmin doesn’t even get the chance to respond before Seoyeon pops up from behind the couch— you hadn’t even known she was done in the kitchen— and enthusiastically agrees. She even pulls out the puppy eyes and cutely pleads her dad to allow her to stay at home with you. Seokmin can’t say no to Seoyeon on the average day, let alone when she’s purposely acting cute; so just like that, you and Seoyeon start to plan your sleepover.

Almost as soon as Seokmin leaves— not long after the three of you have had dinner so that he can get to his hotel tonight and relax before his first meeting in the morning— you and Seoyeon break into almost manically excited giggles and rush to gather all the supplies you need.

Even though Seokmin assured you that you can take his bed for the days as they don’t have a guest room, you don’t spend a single moment in his room— even if a huge part of you would love to envelop yourself in his scent embedded into his bed.

While planning the sleepover, Seoyeon had requested the two of you sleep in the living room together, like a real sleepover— something she’s never had before. Of course, you didn’t even try to argue, didn’t want to, but you had one condition; the two of you make a fort to sleep in.

It takes two hours at least to get the fort exactly how the two of you want, and it’s a grand, cosy thing too. You’ve left the front mostly open, so that you can see the large TV from the masses of pillows and blankets cushioning the floor, and also so that you can easily get in and out without risking pulling the whole thing down on top of you.

Honestly, you think the fort is a work of art and you’re already planning to try and convince Seokmin to make it a permanent feature in the living room. Or at least a special, limited-edition feature for as long as he can deal with having no sofa to sit on. You’re pretty that sure between you and Seoyeon, you can wheedle at least a week and a half out of him, perhaps two if you bribe him with dinner, which, you are more than willing to do. Honestly, you’d be happy to make him dinner or take him out to dinner any given day without any ulterior motive, but he doesn’t know that, nor does he need to know that when it’ll work greatly to your benefit in this particular circumstance.

On the first morning of your sleepover, you and Seoyeon clamber out of the fort at a little after 10am and then immediately rush off to get ready for the day trip the two of you had planned the night before.

Not even half an hour after waking, the pair of you are in your car— eating breakfast on the go— and headed off for a day focused entirely on Seoyeon’s passion in life, art. You start by touring the huge art museum a few towns away, where you spend the majority of the day.

Every time Seoyeon stops at a piece that really catches her eye, you can’t help but take photos on your phone; partly to send a few to her dad, but mostly because you utterly adore the shine to her big eyes and awed smiles as she takes in every inch of the masterpiece. Of course, you don’t argue when she wants to stop and try to recreate the artwork in her sketchbook that she’s clutched close to her chest the entire tour, even as she takes photos on her camera for future reference too.

There’s a decent sized café at the museum, so you stop for a late lunch there, enjoying the dishes and drinks named after pieces homed in the museum. When Seoyeon comments on how much her dad would like the hand decorated sugar cookies, you buy a box to take home for him, while she just giggles amusedly at your concentration in picking out the perfect cookies for the man.

After the museum, there’s a little time to kill before the evening night art class you signed up for. It’s situated on the roof of the tallest building in the city, where you’re all given free access to various paints, pastels, and pencils to recreate the skyline in your own styles. You’re not the best at art, but you try your hardest and also try not to encourage the flirting of one of the instructors as he helps you get your vision onto paper.

Of course, Seoyeon does an incredible job with her painting, and you’re tempted to ask her for her finished piece, but you think Seokmin would adore having it hanging in the entrance hall, where there’s a proud shrine to his daughter’s work for all visitors of the Lee house to gaze upon reverently.

By the time you get back to the Lee house, you both have just enough energy to throw together a quick dinner, before curling up in the fort and falling asleep excited for another day out together tomorrow.

On the second day, the pair of you wake up with unimpressed pouts as your alarm rings, neither of you quite cognisant enough to realise why you set an alarm for 6:30am when you don’t even have work for another couple of days. Though once you realise, you both scramble excitedly off to get ready for today’s trip.

After four hours, including stops to stretch your legs and refuel— both the car and yourselves—, you arrive at the beach and can’t help but marvel at the beauty of the hidden cove, barely populated despite the time of day and summer season. All day, the two of you are in awe of how it never gets busy; it remains a calm little pocket of beauty outside the bustle of tourist trap beaches.

While at the beach, you send a photo— or multiple— to Seokmin, who video calls an hour later, both to pout about the two of you going to the beach without him, and to check in and get a full run down of your time together while he has some time to kill before his next meeting. You let Seoyeon do most of the talking and simply sit back with a fond little smile on your face as you watch the pair match one another’s enthusiasm with identical, bright smiles, and sparkling eyes.

You think you could spend the rest of your life watching the father-daughter duo interact and be truly happy. You think if you were blessed with that life, you’d never need nor want for more.

After two days of driving for hours at a time, and walking for hours, and lounging under the sun and playing in the sea for hours, you and Seoyeon need a lazy day to recharge.

On the third— and final— day of your sleepover, the two of you wake a little after 9am, and remain in the fort dozing and watching TV for another hour before you heave yourself up to make you both breakfast.

Seoyeon is almost asleep again when you return, but she becomes more alert at the scent of food and sleepily sits up to let you place her tray on her lap. “Can we go get snacks?” she asks as the two of you sit side by side while you eat and watch the show she’s put on. You just hum in agreement, then smile to yourself when you catch her wiggle happily in your periphery.

“No,” you refuse as soon as you see the packet of giant marshmallows Seoyeon has found somewhere in the store and trotted over to the shopping trolley with. She pouts at you cutely. “You and your dad have zero self-control where marshmallows are concerned, I am banning you both from them for the foreseeable future. At least until I forget the sight of you puking up pastel two weeks ago.”

“I’ll only eat one at a time!” she promises.

“That doesn’t mean one packet,” you clarify, making her giggle and you just know she would’ve used that non-specification as a loophole. “I’m going to buy a lock box to keep them in,” you warn, taking the packet from her hands to toss into the trolley, making her cheer happily. “A big lock box; that’s a huge bag, Bud.”

“I’ll share.”

“With me or do you mean one in each hand?” you joke, making her shove you a little at the tease, though she’s grinning, so you know she doesn’t mind.

“Can we have pizza for dinner?” she requests as you enter a new aisle and immediately grab a large bag of rice from the shelf, knowing that the Lee’s pot is getting low and Seokmin somehow always forgets to buy more rice. You’re pretty sure you’ve bought the last few bags of rice, not that you mind at all, nor do you accept Seokmin’s offers to pay you back. He feeds you multiple times a week, the least you can do is keep them topped up on rice.

“You really are your father’s child,” you muse and she nods. “I’m not making it. We’ll order in.”

“Hell yeah,” she enthuses, making you snort a laugh. “You should stay one more night, so you can be there in the morning for dad’s pancakes. He promised to make them the first morning he’s back.”

“I have work the day after your dad’s back, I need to get up too early for you two to be awake.”

“We’ll get up for breakfast with you.”

“Bud, I’d have to leave at 7 at the latest, I have stuff to do before the arcade even opens.”

“Can’t someone else do it?”

“No,” you laugh and put your arm around her shoulders to pull her against your side while she pouts. “We’ll have pancakes at some point. They don’t just have to be a breakfast food, you know?”

“Dad’s weird about stuff like that. He said it’s called breakfast for a reason. You’ll have to stay over another day when you both don’t have to be up early, so we can have breakfast together,” she decides.

It sounds nice; spending the night and having breakfast with the pair, something like a dream come true, honestly. You don’t have it in you to argue with the girl when you want that as much as she seems to, so you just hum and let go of her to motion to a jar on the shelf for her to grab while you get something from another self. Thankfully, the topic is forgotten after that, and you can push it to the back of your mind and focus on shopping.

Something makes you jerk awake. You’re really confused for a moment until you hear a noise in the entrance hall. Suddenly, you’re wide awake and creep out of the fort, grabbing your phone as you go and unlocking it ready to call the police if need be.

Though as soon as you carefully peer into the entrance hall, you relax and lock your phone. “You’re early,” you comment, stepping into the hall as Seokmin jumps in surprise, having been too focused on trying to get his shoes off where he’s perched on the stool and fighting with the too tightly tied laces of his dress shoes. He’s still in one of his work outfits— shirt unbuttoned a little too far and sleeves roughly rolled up his forearms to fight the summer heat, even if it’s late now so a lot cooler than it was earlier.

“Ah, yeah, I just…really wanted to come home,” he admits a little bashfully, straightening up and smiling at you. “Did I wake you?”

“Mm, but it’s okay, I’m glad you’re back. Going to join us in the fort?” you offer, motioning to the lounge with a tired, yet still cheeky little grin that makes him chuckle.

“If there’s room.” You nod enthusiastically, earning another little chuckle. “Alright. I’ll take my stuff upstairs and shower, then I’ll be right there…as soon as I get these off.”

“Want some help?” you offer with a soft laugh, already moving over to kneel in front of him and reach for his shoes before he can answer.

It goes to show how sleepy you are that you don’t even conjure images of what else you can do on your knees infront of the man, his thick thighs spread right in front of your face when you’re upright. But you’re not upright, you’re bending down low to get a good look at his laces and untangle the tight knot that he’s made worse with his tugging.

Once you’ve got both shoes undone, you remove them from his feet and get up to put them in their usual place on the shoe rack, entirely unaware that Seokmin has done nothing but stare a little dumbly at you as you work. At least until you turn and look at him, finding his big eyes locked on you, mouth dropped open.

You giggle amusedly and then walk over to brush your fingers over the dark marks under his eyes, giving away that he’s tired, no doubt from being away from home and the long drive back so late at night. “Come on, sleepy pants, you need to go to bed, and so do I.” You pick up his hands from his lap and tug until he obediently gets to his feet, still staring down at you with that same expression. “Do I need to take you upstairs myself, Seokmin?” you muse.

Finally, Seokmin snaps out of it and shakes the daze from his head, lips curling into a smile again. “No, sorry. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” you agree and let him go a little reluctantly— you could swear his fingers curl against yours until they can’t anymore, as reluctant as you are to let go— before returning to your space in the fort, hearing Seokmin clamber up the stairs with his luggage a few moments later.

By the time Seokmin joins you— truly not even that long later— you’re practically asleep again, curled on your side facing Seoyeon but stubbornly trying to remain awake until he’s in his rightful space. As he ducks into the fort on his daughter’s other side, you smile sleepily at him, and he smiles back.

You watch as he settles under the blanket beside his daughter. He takes the time to make sure she’s tucked in comfortably and presses a love filled kiss against her head before looking at you as he remains propped up on his left hand.

“Tell me about your trip in the morning,” you suggest, words starting to slur as you lose the fight with your eyelids and they flutter shut, sleep already close to dragging you under. “You can make us pancakes.” You barely hear Seokmin’s answering chuckle and agreement, you can barely feel the gently brush of fingers tucking your hair out of your face. “We missed you.”

You can’t be sure, you’re already falling asleep, but you think you feel something against your forehead, something that feels awfully like a kiss, and then you’re asleep and you can’t think about it anymore.

Before you know it, the summer holidays are over, Seoyeon goes back to school, and Rainy Days Arcade feels almost empty during the weekdays again.

Despite being practically raised in this very arcade, despite how many years you’ve worked here and witnessed this happened every September, it still makes your heart ache a little to no longer spend the workday seeing smiling faces everywhere you turn.

Though, of course, you can always rely on Skater to cheer you up.

“Hey, look, I got a tattoo of you,” Skater declares one afternoon; after watching you mope around the arcade since the morning, only picking up when you come across a customer as you wait for the afterschool rush.

“What?” you ask, utterly bewildered and a little concerned. You don’t truly believe the man would actually get a tattoo of you— even with his major crush and borderline harmless obsession with you— but you also know that he and Noodle went out with Tiger and some others last night and drank far too much.

Noodle is still sprawled across some seats in the snack bar, snoring away and clutching an empty noodle pot in an attempt to get over his hangover. Skater hadn’t been in a much better condition when he turned up for work; though he thankfully gets over his hangovers pretty quickly with some food in him and a powernap curled up on the floor under a table in the snack bar— you stopped trying to get him to sleep there years ago—, so he’s fine now. But the condition of him when he turned up makes you think he was definitely in a position last night to make a really fucking dumb decision. And Tiger, as you have learned, is full of dumb ideas.

Tentatively, you lean over the prize desk to peer at where Skater has the rip in his jeans pulled, revealing the little cartoon sunflower on his thigh. Immediately, you reach out and slap his arm, making him crack up laughing. It’s just a temporary tattoo, one that can be claimed from the prize desk in exchange for a couple of tickets.

“Asshole, I was worried for a moment there!” you admit and hit him again for good measure.

“Why are we beating him up?” Curly asks as she steps up on your right, holding her youngest child against her chest in a sling, making both you and Skater immediately coo at the 8-month-old. Neither of you answer her question, too occupied in making the baby gurgle and laugh, but Curly doesn’t mind.

“What brings you by?” you wonder almost ten minutes later, when you straighten up and look at the adult attached to the adorable little baby.

“Gremlin number two broke gremlin number three’s plushie you gave her last time she was here,” she explains, meaning that her second oldest child broke the plushie of her third oldest— or second youngest—; a plushie you gave the little girl a few weeks back, when she had been so in awe of the weird looking frog-creature.

“Ah,” you nod in understanding and move behind the desk to unlock the back display and pull down another of the weird looking plushies to hand over. “Tell gremlin two that he won’t be allowed to play here if he isn’t nice to the other gremlins.”

“Will do,” Curly agrees with a laugh. “We’ll probably be by this weekend; their cousins are coming to visit, and you know the husband can’t handle that many kids in the house at once.”

“Rate he knocks you up, you’d think he’s trying to have that many kids,” Skater jokes.

“Oh, we’re done now,” Curly declares, patting the baby against her to show he’s the last one. “Got two of each, better not upset those odds.”

“May the odds be ever in your favour,” Skater says, and you both ignore him, far too used to the random quotes after working with him for four years now.

“Speaking of kids, how is your plan to become Bud’s stepmother going?”

“I’m not trying to be her stepmother,” you correct, though sigh forlornly and flop against the desk. “But I wouldn’t mind. I love her, she’s the best.”

“She really loves you too, it’s obvious. She looks up to you a lot,” Curly says, petting your head and laughing softly when you lean into it like an animal when she stops too fast for your liking. “You’re good for her. He must see that.”

“He does, I think,” you answer, tilting your head to pout at the woman you consider an aunt. She coos at you and brushes the loose strands of hair back from your sulking features. “But he hasn’t given any indication that he’s ready to bring me into their lives like that. I’m like 76.2% sure that he does like me. I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s almost kissed me at least twice now!”

“Damn, lucky guy,” Skater mutters. “What I’d give to almost kiss you.”

“You literally asked for a kiss for your birthday,” you deadpan at him.

“In my defence, I was very drunk, and I do not remember that night at all. I still don’t believe you did it,” he comments honestly. “I think you and Noodle are just fucking with me.”

You stare at him for a moment then abruptly straighten, grab his face, and plant a kiss on his parted in surprise lips. When you pull back after barely a second, his eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen them, and his cheeks already pink and only growing brighter.

“I–” he chokes out, then rushes off, tripping over his own feet and catching himself on a games machine, causing the alarm to start blaring. He yelps and glances at you, so red now that you’re genuinely a little concerned, before he motions to the machine limply then bolts to the snack bar, no doubt to freak out to his best friend.

“I should deal with that,” you mutter, then sigh and wander over to the machine to turn the alarm off.

“I’ve gotta go, the gremlins will be coming out of school soon,” Curly announces when you return to the prize desk, deciding that someone is going to have to cover Skater until he’s functional again, and you don’t exactly have anything better to do right now, so you may as well do it.

“Ah, right,” you respond, glancing at the clock on the wall behind you, then back at her. “Give them all hugs from their auntie Sunflower.”

“Will do. If you torment Skate again, record it; everyone will be sad they missed it.”

“Not like it’s not on CCTV,” you muse, motioning vaguely to one of the many security cameras around the arcade; a few are directed at the prize desk, and you know at least one has a perfect view of Skater’s freak out.

“Send it in the work chat,” Curly suggests as she backs up, grinning at you. You just laugh and nod in agreement before watching her walk off.

Almost half an hour later, Skater returns half hiding behind Noodle, who is wearing a shit-eating grin. “He wants to request the rest of the day off because he can’t even look at you right now,” Noodle announces once he’s on the opposite side of the desk to you, and Skater is staring wide eyed at his best friend’s left shoulder from barely inches behind it.

“I didn’t think he’d freak out this much,” you muse. “He kept asking for more last time.”

“He was drunk,” Noodle retorts. “Anyway, can we go? It’s about to get busy with teenagers soon and my head still hurts.” He pouts at you, cutely pleading with his eyes.

“You can do what you want, Nood. But he needs to get someone to cover his shift if he’s leaving,” you remind with a shrug. “I can’t do it; I’ve got to take Bud home tonight. Seokmin’s making lasagne and I am not missing it.”

“Go,” Noodle encourages his best friend as he looks over his shoulder at him, even nudging the taller male when Skater remains in place. “Go find someone to cover the desk. Pretty sure I saw Violet earlier, and by saw, he sat watching me sleep for like twenty minutes.”

“In his defence, you sleep talk and it’s hilarious,” you muse as Skater scuttles off in search of the older man— or someone else to cover his shift.

“I’m hilarious when I’m awake too,” Noodle declares. You suck your teeth and he gawps, reaching over to flick you in offense, making you snigger. Then he leans onto the desk to talk to you with wide eyes and a grin. “You can get the kiss cam footage from the CCTV, right?”

“Curly’s already told me to send it in the group chat,” you answer, making him let out a weird little laugh before he leans back to his side of the counter.

Not long later, Skater returns, not with Violet but your own dad, making your eyebrows lift in surprise, before you grin and bounce around the desk to greet him with a hug.

“I didn’t know you’re coming by today,” you comment.

“Your mum’s working on the beds out front,” he explains, motioning to the front of the arcade, making you gasp then rush off to find your mother, where she’s already kneeling on her foam mat, gardening tools at her side, and gloves on her hands to weed the flower beds decorating the front of the arcade.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she coos when you sit at her side to hug her. She leans into the embrace but doesn’t lift her hands from the pot, not wanting to get soil on you.

“No job today?” you ask and she shakes her head before going on to tell you about the job she and your dad were supposed to start today for their landscaping business, but the client cancelled at the last minute, despite the fact that the expensive custom pebble mix had been ordered. 

The two of you stay out there talking as she works on the flowerbeds and hanging planters long enough that the arcade is filling with students looking to relax and hang out after school.

When Seoyeon arrives, she looks a little bewildered, not recognising your mother, but you quickly introduce the pair and Seoyeon relaxes, though gets a little shy. Still, your mum obviously adores her already and as she already knows who Bud is after hearing about her from you and the other staff over the past months, she quickly tells you to bring her and her dad over on the weekend for a barbeque while the weather is still good enough for it.

Knowing how shy Seoyeon can get— and is clearly feeling right now— you take her into the arcade and leave your mum gardening in peace.

“You don’t have to come,” you assure the teen as the two of you head to the snack bar after you’ve peered at the prize desk and spotted your dad contently sitting on the stool behind it and watching over the place.

“You’d really be okay with it?” Seoyeon asks as the two of you sit down at your usual table and she pulls some homework from her bag for you to look at and decide if it’s possible to start it here, or if it’s something you’ll have to help her with her home where you can both concentrate better. “Me and dad with your family?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” you respond, looking at her a little puzzled. “They invite the staff over a few times a year for events, and sometimes Skater tags along when I visit them.”

“I’m not staff though; I’m just a kid.”

“Hey,” you argue, turning to face her better. “You’re not just a kid. You’re someone very important to me, okay? I care about you a hell of a lot, Seoyeon; enough that, yes, I’ve talked about you to my parents so much that they even ask about you now. Mum’s wanted to meet you for a while, it’s just not been viable with her working, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I still don’t. You can say no; nobody will be mad if you’re not comfortable with going to their place and spending time with us all.”

“Oh…You’re really okay with us coming? Meeting your parents?”

“Yeah. Doc and MD will likely be there, so you’ll already know them. Plus, Doc’s wife. And my brother maybe, if he comes home from school this weekend,” you inform with a shrug. “He always brings lots of sweets and cakes to share; both because he’s obsessed with sugar, and because he claims he’s securing future patients.” Seoyeon gives you a questioning look. “He’s studying to be a dentist.”

“Oh.” She giggles amusedly. “Should we bring anything?”

“You want to come?” Seoyeon nods in confirmation and you grin before hugging her excitedly. She giggles some more and happily hugs you back. “We’ll talk to your dad about it later. Hopefully, he’ll agree.”

To both of your genuine surprise, when you and Seoyeon bring up the barbeque when the three of you are lounging on the sofa watching a movie after dinner, Seokmin doesn’t agree.

“What? No?” Seoyeon repeats, straightening up from her usual place in between you and her dad to look at him in betrayed shock. “Why no?”

Seokmin shuffles to sit up straighter and turns a little to face the pair of you, though he’s looking directly at Seoyeon. “Snowdrop, they’re having a family barbeque and–”

“Her mum invited us!” Seoyeon interrupts. “Sunflower didn’t, her mum did! We’re not intruding on family time.”

Seokmin sighs heavily, and for the first time, he looks a little frustrated towards his daughter. Part of you feels like you shouldn’t be here, but part of you knows it’s related to you and your family, so you’re perfectly within your rights to remain. “Let’s discuss this later, okay?” he says pointedly, and despite what you felt seconds ago, now you feel like you’re unwelcome here. It’s not something you’ve ever felt in the house, or around the pair.

“I get the hint,” you mutter and get up. “See you tomorrow, Bud,” you say, squeezing her arm a little before walking to the entrance hall to get your shoes on.

“No!” Seoyeon argues while getting up, shoving her dad’s hand from her hand to follow you. “Don’t go. You never leave before I’m in bed.”

“Your dad obviously wants to have a private conversation with you, so it’s time for me to leave,” you explain as you sit on the stool to pull your shoes on.

“We don’t need a private conversation about this! It’s about family– you–your family…I mean.” You look up at her and find her suddenly withdrawn a little. It makes you think that her little trip up with her words means something.

“Bud…” you give up with your shoes, removing them again so that you can walk over and gently take a hold of her face to make her look at you. She looks like she could cry any second and it breaks your heart. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” you ask softly.

“I…I hate it when you leave,” she admits with a sniffle. “I like it when you’re here, with us, where–where you belong. You’re…I want you to be family with us and not in the way people call friends. I mean real family.”

You don’t know what to say, you genuinely hadn’t ever thought she’d want that. Maybe in the future if Seokmin came around and you two got together, but you’re just friends.

“I think we should talk,” Seokmin’s voice makes you look over to where he’s standing by the entrance of the living room, arms crossed over his chest and an expression on his face that you can’t read as he watches his daughter try not to cry.

Although you don’t want to leave, you know it’s not your place to argue; it’s Seokmin’s house, his daughter who is upset, not yours. So, you nod and only kiss Seoyeon’s head before letting your hands drop away so that you can move to grab your shoes, willing to leave with them in your hands at this point.

But before you can get far, Seokmin speaks back up. “I meant us, Sunflower,” he says, making you look at him in surprise. “Can you give us a minute, Snowdrop?” he requests as he stops beside his daughter. As soon as he puts a gentle hand on her back, she jerks away and storms off to the living room. Seokmin waits for the movie to start and the volume to get turned up to give you privacy to talk before he steps closer to you. “Do you remember the talk we had? About Seoyeon’s mother and dating?”

You blink at him a few times before nodding while lowering your shoes back to the floor. “You want to be sure whoever you date will stick around.”

“And be ready to be our family one day, when ready,” he adds and you nod. “And you said that you hope I find that.”

“I do. You deserve it, you both do.”

“Thank you.” He gives you a little smile that doesn’t meet the ache in his eyes. “I told Seoyeon about that talk because I tell her everything and it felt important to tell her.”

“I understand,” you respond honestly, not at all upset at him for talking to Seoyeon about it; it’s probably something she deserves to know anyway.

“Why are you always so understanding?” he suddenly asks, looking even more pained, utterly bewildering you. “I don’t know how to deal with you.”

“What?” you deadpan.

“Not like that!” He groans frustratedly at himself and buries his face in his hands. You watch his shoulders move as he takes a few deep breaths before he drops his hands and looks at you. “I want to deal with you. I–I want you around too, it’s not just Seoyeon that wants you here, Sunflower.”

“Then ask me to be,” you say simply, moving a little closer while he stares at you in disbelief.

“But…you said you hope I find that.”

“Yes, I do hope that.”

“I…I thought you meant with someone else.”

“No. I want it to be with me, but if you want someone else–”

“No. Never,” he argues firmly and quickly moves closer to take your face into his hands, staring down at you so seriously, so heated that your heart races. “I was trying to tell you that day what I want from you, what I’d expect if you agree. I thought your response meant you don’t want that, and then you…backed off.”

“I thought you were telling me you weren’t ready,” you admit. “So, I was giving you space to decide in your own time. I’d already done all I could to prove that you can trust me with your family, so it was just down to you to be ready.”

“Oh…” he relaxes as a smile lifts his lips. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

You can’t help but laugh and his smile grows wider. “Yeah, you are a bit.”

“Hey!” he complains, though there’s no heat to it, and instead of pulling away in offense, he leans closer in adoration. “I’d really like to stop being stupid and let you know how I feel about you.”

“Mm, and how do you plan on doing that?” you muse, lifting your hands to hold onto his waist loosely, then a little tighter when you remember that he’s likely ripped under his clothes based on the size of his thighs and arms.

“I’ll write you a poem,” he declares seriously, then giggles when you give him an unimpressed look. “Serenade you from outside of your window with a boombox?”

“Okay, I would actually love that. I love your voice,” you decide, making him blush prettily and smile shyly under the compliment. “My neighbours might not appreciate it though, so how about you just serenade me face to face at a later point?”

“A later point?” he teases. “Not now?”

“No, you should do what I’m pretty sure you’ve almost done a few times before today.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Kiss me.”

“You noticed?”

“I don’t think you realise how much attention I pay to you, Seokmin. I’ve been kind of obsessed with your handsome face since I first saw it.” The shy little whine he lets out makes you giggle. “You’re so ridiculously cute for a 42-year-old man, you know?”

“Please don’t remind me how much older than I am,” he complains, adjusting his hold on your face to hold you a little more securely.

“You’re a DILF.”

He gives you an unimpressed look, though it slips away almost instantly and he chuckles, looking pleased by your words. “Okay, I’ll accept that,” he smirks smugly, then leans in to brush his nose against yours. “I can really kiss you?”

“Whenever the fuck you like, seriously,” you enthuse.

Seokmin chuckles then finally, finally, finally presses his lips to yours. His lips are still a little sticky from the marshmallows that he and Seoyeon puppy-dog-eyed out of you immediately after dinner, and there’s still gel in his hair from work when you lift your hands to run through it, but you think it’s a perfect kiss all the same. And quickly turns heated in an also very perfect way, in your so humble opinion.

The two of you pull apart minute later when you hear a little yelp from the living room and turn to find Seoyeon scrambling away from the doorway, clearly having decided to spy on the two of you yet found you making out in the entrance hall.

“She definitely saw,” you muse, looking back at Seokmin as you wrap your arms around his neck loosely.

“I’m very certain that’s the first time she’s seen me kiss someone,” he comments, looking like he’s not sure if he should run away and hide from the awkward embarrassment of his daughter seeing him grabbing your ass with his tongue teasing yours. Though he turns his slightly panicked look on you and it melts away as his hands— unfortunately— move away from your ass and to a safe spot on your waist. “Are you really okay with this? That being with me means becoming her mum one day? Not for a while, it’s too soon for that, even if I love seeing you two together and how good you are with her. But in the future.”

“You think I’d have just let you grab my ass if I wasn’t committed to this? Both of you?”

“To be honest, I think you wanted me to grab your ass from the moment we met,” he comments, partly cheeky, partly cocky.

You automatically open your mouth to argue, only to realise you can’t and instead giggle. “Okay, that’s true. But things have changed. I just wanted to take you for a ride or twelve then, now I want to ride you for the rest of my life.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, cheeks a little pink, but his eyes a little darker. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not? Don’t you want me to?”

“Oh, that’s not it at all,” he insists, eyes widening a little. “The day you taught me to play that game and pressed your ass against me, I couldn’t think of anything else that night.”

“I probably would’ve let you flip my skirt and bend me over that game, by the way,” you announce off-handedly, as if it it’s such a normal thing to say to your brand new, fresh out of the box DILF-boyfriend. God, you can’t want to play with him.

“You’re going to kill me,” he croaks out, fingers digging into your flesh as he tries to not let that mental image take over his mind. He’ll be unable to function if so.

“And you’re going to enjoy every second of it,” you coo and tap his nose, making his somewhat constipated expression break as he smiles.

“Yeah, I will.” He kisses you once more— innocently this time— then lets you go and steps back. “Even though I’m very sure she already knows, let’s go tell Seoyeon,” He suggests, while offering his hand to you. You nod in agreement and take the offer, immediately lacing your fingers together and walking close enough to him that you can nervously hug his arm to your chest.

Although Seoyeon had already basically said she wants you to be with her dad and be her pseudo-mother, you’re pretty sure she never wanted to see you and her dad lip locked, especially not like you were, so you’re nervous she’ll have changed her mind upon realising what the two of you being in a relationship really means.

Though as soon as she looks at the two of you, her slightly disturbed expression leaves and she smiles brightly. You let go of Seokmin to dart over and tackle Seoyeon down in a hug, making her laugh as she hugs you back just as enthusiastically.

“Does this mean you’re moving in?” she questions as you sit up and allow her to sit too, before you pull her against your side, arms around her shoulders and head resting on hers, and she curls right into your arms.

“No, it’s too soon for that,” you answer as Seokmin sits behind Seoyeon and pulls you both into his own arms, dropping a kiss on both of your heads that makes you and Seoyeon smile at the affection. “But I imagine there will be more sleepovers.”

“Not always like last time,” Seokmin adds quickly. “I love the fort, so we’ll definitely have to rebuild it and do that, but I will want time with Sunflower on my own.”

“Ew, gross, I don’t want to know about that!” Seoyeon exclaims in complaint, making you laugh, which turns into cackles when you see Seokmin’s wide eyed, flustered expression.

“I didn’t mean for that!” he defends. “I–I just meant to cuddle!”

“Tell that to what I saw in the hallway,” Seoyeon mutters and you laugh harder while Seokmin whines.

“So!” you start a few moments later when you’ve stopped laughing. “About this weekend.” The Lee pair look at you in sync, making your smile widen. They’re so cute. “Are you still against going, Seok? Because I’d really like to introduce my boyfriend to my family.”

“Boyfriend,” Seokmin repeats a little dumbly.

“Yes, that is what you are,” you confirm amusedly. “Or do you prefer to be called partner?”

“That makes me think of cowboys,” he admits, making you and Seoyeon giggle. “Or cops,” he adds and oh, now you’re thinking about roleplay.

You wonder if Seokmin would dress up as a cop if you offer to be handcuffed to the bed. Or maybe a cowboy and he can tie you with rope. Or you can be a cowboy— it sounds better for roleplay than cowgirl— and he can be a wild beast you have to tame, with rope. You just really think someone should be tied up or tied down. Either way, you’re willing to buy out the entire bondage section of your preferred supplies website, he’s just got to say green. Green means go to go, after all.

“Sunflower?” Seokmin’s voice bring you out of your thoughts and back to reality with a questioning hum. “You okay?” You just nod, so he drops it and returns to the topic at hand— unfortunately not him dressed in a cop uniform and telling you to get on your knees. “I’d really love to meet your parents as your boyfriend.”

“Really?!” you ask excitedly, face lighting up, which only grows when he nods in confirmation with a smile upon seeing your joy. “You’re the best!” you cover Seoyeon’s eyes and lean over to plant a kiss on Seokmin’s lips, making him chuckle softly.

“Are you going to make a habit of that?” Seoyeon asks as you settle back, turning to face the TV and the two of you copy, even as Seoyeon remains tucked between you both with your right arm around her, and Seokmin’s left on the back of the sofa behind you both.

“Kissing your dad’s pretty face?” you question and she pulls a face while Seokmin smiles shyly pleased at the compliment. “Hell fucking yeah, I am.”

Seoyeon bursts into giggles at your response, while Seokmin sighs, trying to hide his own laugh, then goes on to scold you about swearing like that around the baby. Seoyeon starts to argue with him about being called a baby while you watch the pair with your chest full and warm of the love you have for the duo. A love you just know will last for the rest of your life, and you’re excited as fuck to spend it with them.

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Where joy should be, a horrible kind of dread is crawling up your throat like soda foam. You don’t want this. You never wanted this.

For the last six months, you’ve been orchestrating your own quiet downfall. 

Small acts of rebellion: late reports, mismatched fonts in client decks, turning in spreadsheets without formulas. Once, you deliberately CC’d the wrong contact on an invoice email. Twice. Three times.

Nothing. Not a single reprimand. You’ve only been praised for your ‘out-of-the-box thinking.’

Now here you are. Employee of the Month at Carat Bay—home of hollow branding jargon, ergonomic nightmares, and a break room fridge that smells like egg salad and regret. You’re holding a plaque you prayed someone else would win.

The universe is cruel. Your parents are crueler.

See, Carat Bay is just the latest on your resume’s Greatest Hits of Unwanted Professions. Before this was the summer you spent handing out frozen yogurt samples in a visor that said Lick Me. Before that: barista at a vegan café that also sold crystals. Before that: dog-walking, tutoring, retail at a candle shop that played Meghan Trainor on loop.

Your parents forced each one of them with the same airtight argument: You need discipline. You need direction.

You said you wanted to freelance. Write, maybe. Design book covers. Do something weird and personal and fulfilling. They laughed. Your father nearly choked on his coffee.

But a deal was struck with the Carat Bay gig. If you got laid off, they’d stop pushing. Let you go rogue. No more curated job listings emailed at 5 a.m. No more passive-aggressive forwarded TED Talks. No more, ‘When I was your age, I had a mortgage and two kids.’

If—if—you got laid off. Quitting was not in the cards. It was either that or you stay for at least three years, which you would honestly rather die than do. 

Now, you find that you have this. A plaque. A photo op. Changbin squealing, “This one’s going in the newsletter!”

God, you think, gripping the plaque like it might shatter. You are being rewarded for mediocrity. You are being celebrated for incompetence.

You smile for the camera anyway.

It’s the kind of smile that could get you promoted.

Back at the merchandise stand, your co-worker greets you with a grin and a pair of scissors he’s using to snip zip ties off a crate of branded tote bags.

“Look at you, hotshot,” Seokmin says, nudging you with his elbow. “Changbin’s golden child. I knew you had it in you.”

Your brows furrow. “You’re not mad?”

He scoffs, that beaming smile of his slotting back into place without a moment’s hesitation. “Why would I be mad? This means I don’t have to be Employee of the Month. That plaque is cursed,” he teases good-naturedly. 

You laugh. Genuinely, if only for a second. Seokmin is the kind of person who makes you believe in the good of humanity. 

He once gave his lunch to a crying intern. He always remembers your birthday. He talks to every lost tourist like it’s his job, which technically, it is not. And—in your honest, unbiased opinion—he’s easy on the eyes, too. It takes a lot to make the dreadful polo and even more dreadful khakis work, but Seokmin somehow manages. 

“Seriously,” he continues, turning back to the tote bags, “I’m happy for you. You’ve been working hard. And let’s be honest, you’re the only one who knows how to fix the card reader. Changbin was probably just buying insurance.”

There’s a lightness to his voice. No trace of envy. Just easy, unaffected kindness.

You swallow down the guilt forming like a pit in your stomach. You’ve been quietly planning your own escape route while he’s been showing up every day like a real adult, juggling overtime and night classes. You’re trying to crash and burn and Seokmin—sweet, undeserving Seokmin—might get singed in the crossfire.

You clear your throat. “Thanks, Seokmin. That means a lot.”

He just shrugs. “Don’t let it go to your head, okay? You still owe me lunch for covering your shift last week.”

Seokmin walks away to restock mugs, and you stare after him, plaque still under your arm, feeling like the world’s worst con artist. You don’t want Employee of the Month. You don’t deserve it. 

You know someone who does. 

Lee Seokmin, who brings extra socks to work in case someone forgets theirs. He knows the perfect ratio of syrup to ice in the rainbow slushies. He has an uncanny ability to get toddlers to stop crying with a single balloon animal. 

You’ve seen it all. He’s sunshine in human form, if sunshine occasionally tripped over its own feet and knocked over the popcorn machine.

That’s the thing, though. Seokmin—bumbling, bright-eyed Lee Seokmin—isn’t just your co-worker. He’s the son of the owners. 

The heir of this kitschy little theme park kingdom. The golden boy who is destined to inherit its cotton candy throne and take up the sticky, sunscreen-slicked mantle of summer fun for generations to come.

Carat Bay is practically tattooed on his DNA. The gift shop trinkets, the underwater mascot shows, the overenthusiastic lifeguards. This whole place was designed by his family and built on a business model of manufactured joy, and he was the prince working the merchandise stand to get some good ol’ starting-from-the-bottom experience. 

So when, days later, he startles and blurts, “I swear it’s not what it looks like!”—while clutching an open box cutter and a half-disemboweled box of limited edition light sticks—your first reaction isn’t anger. 

It’s confusion.

You ask, flatly, “What the fuck are you doing?”

He winces. He always winces when you swear. Rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes dart around like he’s searching for an escape hatch. “Okay, I know this looks bad. Like, really bad,” he starts. “But I swear I wasn’t going to, like, ruin them. Just… make them look better?”

Your mouth opens. Closes. And opens again. “But why?” you manage. It’s a good thing the waterpark has already shut down for the day. You’re not sure what you’d do if you had to deal with this with a whole shift ahead of you.

Seokmin sighs. It’s the kind of sigh that carries a decade of summer-themed retail trauma.

You glance over his shoulder to the shimmering banner flapping in the breeze: WELCOME TO CARAT BAY—THE #1 MERCH DESTINATION ON THE COASTLINE! A glittering monstrosity. Just like everything else here.

“I thought you liked it here,” you add, genuinely bewildered. “You do the Carat cheer. You wore the mascot suit that one time. Willingly.”

He shrugs, sheepish. “Well, yeah. But I also want out.”

“You’re the owner’s kid. All this is going to be yours someday.” You gesture vaguely at the cartoon dolphins, the sparkle-laminated shelves, the sea of bubblegum-pink merchandise. 

Seokmin shouldn’t be cutting up product. He should be on some managerial fast-track, drawing up expansion plans in a conference room somewhere. Not ruining stock and looking like he’s going to hurl from the guilt of it.

It happens fast enough for you to almost miss it, but Seokmin’s expression crumbles into  a grimace. Unnatural on a face that usually had a perpetual grin, a catalogue of every positive emotion known to man. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Exactly.” 

It clicks, then. All of it.

The too-frequent mishandling of inventory. The time he tripped and unplugged the entire register system. The day he mistakenly shipped an entire box of glow-in-the-dark keychains to the wrong coast.

You’d chalked it up to Seokmin being Seokmin. Lovable. Mildly chaotic. But now—

“You’ve been trying to get fired,” you say, the truth hitting you like a tsunami on the Wave River.

“Just like you,” Seokmin confirms. The knowledge sends a prickle of panic down your spine, but it fades when he goes on to joke, “Only I suck at it even more than you do.”

You snort. You can’t help it. “Wow. So we’re really the dumbest people here.”

He laughs sheepishly, but it’s the most honest thing you’ve heard in weeks. And when your eyes meet, there’s this quiet understanding that passes between you—like a pact sealed in shared misery and mutual sabotage.

You exhale. “Fine. I won’t rat you out. But you’re going to tell me what it is you actually want to do. Eventually.”

Seokmin grins. It’s that sun-bright, unfiltered expression he wears when he’s about to say something incredibly sincere or incredibly stupid.

“Deal.”

You reach for the disemboweled box. “Let’s make it look like an accident.”

Now you’ve both got a secret. And a goal.

The only thing more dangerous than two people who hate their jobs? Two people who’ve decided to stop pretending otherwise.

--

Except nothing you try works.

You set the air conditioning so low people start confusing your booth for a meat locker. Seokmin deliberately stocks the wrong merchandise on the featured shelves. You both take extended lunch breaks and once, very deliberately, you curse out a mom with three kids after she calls the staff lazy. Seokmin nearly fainted afterward from the adrenaline.

But none of it lands. Your manager pats you both on the back. Customers rave about your booth on Yelp. Kids write thank-you notes in marker.

Next thing you know, a laminated sign appears at the break room. Your name and Seokmin’s, right next to the dreaded Employees of the Month title. 

The photo is horrible. Your smile is tight with disbelief. Seokmin’s peace sign is half a second from cramping.

You two convene in the supply closet. Your emergency meeting room of choice.

“This is bad,” you say, pacing. “This is so, so bad.”

“We could, uh… just keep trying?” Seokmin offers, nibbling the edge of a pen.

“We’ve been trying. We ended up with a plague.” You groan. “We need something bigger. Something bold.”

Your mind whirs. You sift through memory like old receipts in a drawer. Nobody gave a fuck enough about merchandise to cry about its sabotage. Snark was to be somewhat expected from the two of you, and you didn’t really want anything too extreme on your track record. 

How had the past couple of people left Carat Bay? Your fingers tap, tap, tap on the closed closet door. There had been Heeseung, and Soobin—

Bingo.

The recent firings. Not many, but enough to see the pattern.

Heeseung, shortly after he was confirmed to be living with the girl who worked the bodyslide. Soobin, who packed his stuff up when he was found making out with the after-hours lifeguard. 

The ‘rule’ wasn’t written in stone. Not in the employee manual, not mentioned during briefings. But it still existed in a yellowing Post-It taped up on the janky breakroom refrigerator.

DON’T FUCK EACH OTHER.

“Of course,” you whisper. “Of course.”

“What?” Seokmin says, wary.

You turn to him slowly. The smile that breaks on your face only seems to unnerve the boy even more, especially when you go on to declare,  “We fake date.”

A beat. Seokmin blinks at you like you just offered to throw hands with God himself. “Fake date?” he repeats. 

You nod sagely. “It’s bulletproof. Everyone who’s gotten canned the past three months? They were caught hooking up with coworkers. There’s a Post-It in the lounge, remember? ‘DON’T FUCK EACH OTHER.’”

Seokmin opens his mouth, closes it. Then again. It’s like watching a fish try to breathe above water. Finally, he croaks, “No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, slightly firmer now, arms crossing over his chest like that would protect him from you. Which, to be fair, it might have if you weren’t already smirking.

“Wow,” you say, feigning hurt. “That repulsive, huh?”

Seokmin chokes. “Don’t put words into my mouth!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then what am I supposed to take from that, huh? You look like I asked you to run off to Vegas.”

He rubs the back of his neck, visibly flustered. His ears are already pink. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Why? What, you got a secret girlfriend stashed in the plushie bin?”

He groans. “No. That’s not—I just… haven’t.”

“Haven’t what?”

“Dated.”

“You’ve never had bitches?”

“I don’t—women are not bitches,” Seokmin splutters. 

He looks like he might spontaneously combust. You’re half-tempted to poke his cheek, see if steam comes out of his ears. Cute, you muse to yourself, but cute in the same way that a kitten might be if its head was stuck in a tissue box. Not cute in a I-want-this-man way. At least, you don’t think so. 

You lean your elbow on the counter and study him, thoughtful. “I could ask someone else. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t even hesitate,” you note. “But I wanted it to be mutually beneficial.”

Seokmin chews the inside of his cheek. “Mutually beneficial?”

“Yeah. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, handsome,” you say, deliberately sweet, watching his face redden by the second.

He presses his hands to his cheeks like that’ll stop the heat. “Can I… think about it?”

“Sure. Just don’t think too hard. Might take it personally.” 

He groans again, but you catch the shy little grin he tries to hide as he ducks his head. Victory tastes a lot like Seokmin’s embarrassment—soft and just a little sweet.

Four days and three failed sabotage attempts later, Seokmin finally gets back to you.

You’re in the middle of stacking sun-bleached baseball caps that say CARAT BAY: GOOD VIBES ONLY when he approaches, rubbing the back of his neck like he might apologize for existing.

“So,” he starts, glancing around like he thinks you might have an audience. The only person within 10 feet of you is a kid licking ice cream and glaring at a pigeon. “About the thing. The, uh. Proposal.”

You know where he’s getting at. You just want to hear him say it. “You’ll have to be more specific,” you say breezily. “I proposed several things.”

He goes pink in the ears. Adorable.

“The fake dating thing,” he clarifies, and then fumbles over his next words. “Not that I think dating you would be—I mean, obviously, you’re very—I’m not, like, repulsed or anything—”

“Seokmin.”

“Right. Sorry. Yes. Let’s do it.”

You blink. Then blink again. You had expected him to try and let you down gently, to instead try and rope you into vandalizing the mat racer. Instead, he’s shifting from side to side, laying his heart down on your feet. 

“If you still want to,” Seokmin adds when you’re silent for a beat too long. By some miracle, you resist the urge to coo. 

“Handsome,” you say slowly, grinning as he sputters. “Of course I still want to. What changed your mind?”

He looks down at his shoes, his voice soft. “You said it could be mutually beneficial. And I figured… I want out. You want out. Maybe this is the way.”

Something flickers in your chest. Not pity, exactly. Something warmer.

“Alright,” you say, and you reach over to the counter to hold out your hand to him. 

You lay out the ground rules. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time the past few days doing research of your own—watching contemporary classics like Anyone But You and To All The Boys I Loved Before before scouring the fake dating tag on AO3. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” you remind him. “Touch is probably the best way to go about this, but we only have to do that when somebody’s watching. Convincing flirting is the key. The goal is to get caught.” 

You don’t add the cliche of all cliches. No falling in love. Not because you’re hoping for it, no, but because it feels like a given. You like to think you’re smarter than Sydney Sweeney’s Bea and Landa Condor’s Lara Jean. 

Seokmin listens with rapt attention before bobbing his head up and down in a solemn nod. With eyebrows slightly scrunched from concentration, he takes your hand. 

The two of you shake on it. 

--

You and Seokmin agreed to start small. Ease into it. Not make it too obvious. Open flirtation in the break rooms, stolen glances in line for churros, maybe a suggestive comment or two over headset. Nothing too dramatic.

So far, none of it has landed.

You’d told Seokmin to just follow your lead. He was good at that. Always had been. When you reached across the table to oh-so-casually pluck a cherry off his soda float and pop it into your mouth, you expected at least one co-worker to clock it. Instead, Soonyoung kept chattering about the new ice sculpture exhibit, completely unbothered. Joshua just nodded, as if you had simply demonstrated the polite camaraderie of sharing a beverage.

You even tried batting your lashes while Seokmin offered you the last dumpling. He didn’t need to play it up much—just smiled wide, ears going red. Still, all you got from the others was a distracted thanks-for-leaving-some-for-us, not even a wink or a whisper.

You were going to have to double your efforts.

“This is a disaster,” you mutter later that night as you help Seokmin restock souvenir mugs.

He straightens a bit too fast, knocking over a stack of keychains. “I thought it was subtle,” he sniffles, going to pick up the plastic surfboards. 

“Exactly the problem,” you shoot back. “We’re so subtle, it’s like watching two Barbie dolls try to make out without bending at the waist.”

Seokmin’s laugh is loud and unguarded, drawing a look from a passing intern. He ducks his head and waits for her to pass. “Okay. We go bigger. I can do that,” he says, probably trying to convince himself as much as you. “Maybe I could, I dunno, carry you bridal style through the sand sculpture path?”

“Let’s not go zero to K-drama,” you say dryly. “We build up to that. We start with touches. Long looks. Close proximity.”

“You say that like we’re not already touching every five minutes by accident.”

You hand him a mug and let your fingers brush his, lingering. It’s an act, sure, but you’re sure he feels it too. The jolt of electricity. The thrum beneath your skin. Seokmin’s breath hitches, his eyes flitting to where the tips of your fingers had just pressed. 

“That,” you point out. “But on purpose.”

He nods, dazed. “Right. Totally. On purpose.”

If anybody asked, you were building a believable relationship arc.

A couple of days later, you find Seokmin hunched over the merchandise booth counter, the cheap company laptop tilted slightly toward him. He’s got that familiar deep crease between his brows, the one he gets whenever he’s hyper-focused. Usually while trying to fix a jammed ticket printer or master a new drink recipe from the cafe next door.

You lean closer, about to tease him for working too hard, when the wikiHow tab on the screen catches your eye: How to be a good boyfriend: A guide for beginners.

You bite back a smile, heart squeezing painfully at the earnestness of it. Of course he’d look it up. Sweet, ridiculous Seokmin.

“Whatcha doing, handsome?” you ask, voice lilting and teasing.

Seokmin jolts upright so fast he nearly knocks the laptop onto the floor. “I—Nothing! Research! Important work research!”

You snicker, plucking the laptop gently from his grasp and setting it safely aside. “Research, huh? Planning to date the slushie machine or something?”

He groans, covering his face with both hands. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, words muffled by his palm. “I'm—I'm trying to be good at this.”

Your chest aches again. Not in an oh-I’m-screwed way, but in the reminder that, once again, Lee Seokmin is too good for this world. Too pure to be roped into your low-budget, romantic-comedy life. 

“Hey,” you say delicately, nudging his arm until he peeks at you between his fingers. “You can just ask me, you know.”

“Ask you?”

You grin. “Yeah. You’re fake-dating me, remember? Free resource right here.”

He drops his hands, staring at you for a moment. It lasts long enough to make you feel seen, which is never good. “You’d really help me?”

“Of course. I’m an excellent fake girlfriend.” You lean in, conspiratorial. “Tip one: You’re already doing great just by caring this much.”

Seokmin's mouth parts slightly, like he wants to protest but can't quite find the words.

“Tip two,” you continue, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “If you ever don’t know what to do, just be honest. It's kind of…” —you soften— “my favorite thing about you.”

He blinks at you, visibly flustered, and you resist the urge to pinch his cheeks.

“Got any other questions, babe?” you tease, but Seokmin only shakes his head and mumbles something about knowing what to do. 

You’re not all too sure about that. Especially as he starts acting pretty weird in the coming days. 

At first, you think it’s just regular old Seokmin nerves. He fumbles during his cash register shifts, stutters when customers ask for directions, and practically leaps out of his skin when you tap his shoulder to pass him a bottle of water.

But then you notice him sneaking glances at you every few minutes. Shifty, fleeting glances. Like he’s hiding something. You catch him half the time, and he immediately goes red, waving you off with a too-high laugh. “Nothing!” he chirps. “Just—! Nothing!”

Suspicious.

During your lunch break, you find him pacing behind the Carat Bay merchandise booth, clutching his phone like it’s a lifeline. When he spots you, he stuffs it into his back pocket and beams so brightly it’s blinding.

“You good, handsome?” you ask, raising a brow.

“Yup!” His voice cracks on the word.

You narrow your eyes but let it go. For now.

It’s when you’re restocking plushies that you notice it: Seokmin, in the distance, accepting—and then panicking over—a large, extravagant bouquet of flowers.

He tries to hold it normally. He really does.

But first, he almost drops it. Then, he sneezes. Loudly. Violently. Three times in a row.

“Are you okay?” You rush over just as he doubles over with another round of sneezes, the bouquet wobbling precariously in his arms.

“I’m—” he gasps between fits, “—fine!” Sneeze. “Fine!” Sneeze.

You take the flowers from him. It’s a stunning collection of pink and white blooms. “Were you… getting me flowers?” you ask dazedly. 

Seokmin nods, eyes watery, nose turning a tragic shade of red.

Your heart lurches. “Seokmin. Are you allergic to flowers?”

“N-No?” He says unconvincingly before another sneeze rattles through him.

You bite down a laugh, the affection nearly overwhelming.

“Oh my God,” you murmur, shoving the bouquet into Joshua’s bewildered arms as he passes by. “You’re literally dying to be my boyfriend.”

Seokmin sniffles pitifully. “Worth it.”

You shake your head, pulling him by the wrist toward the staff lounge. “C’mon, Romeo. Let's find you some allergy meds before you actually keel over.”

Behind you, Joshua calls out “Are these for me?” while holding up the bouquet.

Seokmin sneezes again in response.

--

“We should actually get to know each other,” you say around a mouthful of rice.

Lunch at Carat Bay is a lawless stretch of twenty-five minutes during which the staff gathers in a sun-warped outdoor seating area, and hierarchy momentarily dissolves into lukewarm leftovers and communal fries. You and Seokmin decide this is the perfect place for the two of you to set your scene. 

You sit on the same picnic bench, unnecessarily close to two people who claim to be coworkers. Which is the point, really.

“I thought we were doing okay,” he answers middlingly. 

“You Googled how to be a boyfriend, Seokmin.”

His ears redden. You fight a smile.

“Let’s do this,” you urge, setting your chopsticks down. “Secrets. Weird facts. Stuff you tell someone if you’re… you know. Really dating.”

Seokmin shifts, folding himself smaller as he thinks. “You first,” he says, almost bashfully.

“Fine,” you huff dramatically. “I can’t snap my fingers.”

Seokmin blinks then bursts into laughter, his head tilting back with the force of it. “That’s your big secret?”

“You’d be surprised how often it comes up in life!”

He wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, still grinning. “Okay, okay. My turn. Uh. I still sleep with a nightlight.”

Your heart squeezes. “That’s cute,” you say, smiling softly.

“It’s dizzying otherwise.” 

“It’s fine,” you say, nudging him. “Better than getting eaten by whatever monster’s under your bed.”

He groans before looking at you with an open, helpless fondness that makes you feel raw. If you were a little smarter, you’d call it off then and there for both of your sake. 

Instead, you go back and forth like that, trading tiny confessions. You tell him about your irrational fear of mannequins. He admits he once tried to drink orange juice after brushing his teeth on a dare and cried. Every admission makes him squirm, makes you giggle, softens the space between you and pulls it tighter.

Seokmin is sweetness, clumsy and earnest and golden. And as he talks, stammering through another story about how he accidentally joined a ballet class in high school thinking it was an improv workshop, you realize: you aren’t acting when you find him impossibly endearing.

You lean your head against his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “We’re gonna crush this fake dating thing.”

“Yeah?” Seokmin says, wide-eyed but smiling.

“Yeah,” you say, and it’s with a certainty that’s wholly misplaced.

Soon enough, the conversation spins into romantic experiences. When Seokmin asks you about your worst dating experience, you lean in conspiratorially. “There was this one guy who wore socks during sex. Like—knee-high, novelty print socks,” you divulge. “Multiple times.”

Seokmin’s mouth falls open. “No. No. No.”

“Yes.”

“Was that—was it a kink thing or—?”

“Unclear,” you say. “He called it his 'performance gear.”

Seokmin makes a scandalized noise and drops his sandwich in horror. “That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard. I hate the fact you experienced that.”

You’re laughing now. The kind of light, surprised laugh that bubbles up without warning. “I can go worse.”

“Don’t you dare. I’m already mortified.”

“Come on, Mr. No Dating Experience,” you tease. “You’re the one who wanted to know. Unless you’re just jealous.”

He goes red instantly. It shoots up his ears, stains his neck. “I—well, maybe I should be! I don’t have any dramatic sock stories to tell,” he says defensively. “I had one crush in the eighth grade who gave me half of a Twix bar.” 

“That’s romantic.” 

“She transferred schools the next day.”

You burst out laughing, while Seokmin stares at you helplessly. “It’s not not character building,” he whines, shaking your shoulders as you giggle over his misfortune. 

Across the lawn, Joshua nearly drops his water bottle doing a double take at the sight of you two. Joshua blinks a few times, looks away, and proceeds to accidentally pour water down his own shirt.

You and Seokmin exchange a glance.

“Half-win?” he whispers.

You grin. “Half-win.”

He reaches for another fry. You nudge his knee with yours. Lunch hour ticks on like a warm, strange summer dream.

--

You’re elbow-deep in foam fingers and keychains when Seokmin saunters over, oozing effort.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, leaning on the edge of the merch booth like he’s James fucking Dean. “Need a hand, or were you just waiting for me?”

It’s so out of character that you freeze for a second, your fist halfway inside a box labeled CLEARANCE MUGS. Then, you clock Soonyoung loitering a few steps away, nursing a popsicle and watching the two of you with all the interest of someone half-invested in a reality show.

You turn back to Seokmin. He winks. Actually winks. It’s not subtle. You can feel the twitch of his eyelashes from here.

Soonyoung squints. “You guys good?”

“Just peachy,” you chirp, playing along. You sling an arm around Seokmin’s shoulder and lean in a little, giving the performance a few more sparks. “My knight in branded polo just saved me from mug-related peril.”

“Cool,” Soonyoung says, totally unfazed. “Let me know if you find the sunscreen shipment. Shua burned his face again.”

You hold your grin until he’s gone, then collapse against Seokmin’s side with a snort. “Jesus. That was rough.”

Seokmin groans. “I thought the wink would sell it.”

“The wink was, frankly, terrifying.”

He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m trying, okay?”

“You’ve got heart, baby,” you say, patting his chest. “Execution just needs a little work.”

He mutters something about humiliation and stock rooms.

“You sure you’ve never dated before?” you ask, teasing.

He sighs, still pink. “Yeah. Theater kid. Improv. Not exactly irresistible, apparently.”

You blink at him, then let your gaze sweep from the messy fringe of his hair to the freckle on his jaw, lingering a second longer than necessary. Sure, Seokmin is a bit—all over the place. But he’s boyishly attractive, and if he wasn’t doomed to wear rose quartz and serenity as a 9-5, you think he might actually be a real catch. 

You decide to let him know. 

“Seokmin,” you say slowly. “You are irresistible as fuck, actually..”

He gapes at you. You pretend not to notice how his ears go red like warning lights.

You busy yourself with mugs again, all while your heart plays hopscotch in your chest.

After the disaster masterclass with Soonyoung, you decide to up your act. With Seokmin's consent, of course. 

It’s silly, really. His hand settles in the back pocket of your jeans as if it belongs there, palm flat against the curve of your ass like this is the most natural thing in the world. It’s not. It isn’t. Seokmin is practically vibrating with embarrassment, eyes darting like he’s waiting for a lightning bolt to strike him down. He’s sweating through his uniform polo, and you can feel the tremor in his fingers as he tries—bless him—to stay composed.

“You okay there, champ?” you murmur out the side of your mouth, smile still perfectly plastered. You’ve faked worse. But there’s something especially comical about watching Seokmin try to play suave when he looks like he might pass out from holding your gaze too long.

“Totally fine. Just, uh, practicing proximity,” he says, a little too loud, a little too stiff.

“Proximity,” you echo, biting down a laugh. “Sure. That’s what the kids are calling it now.”

He opens his mouth to reply but clams up instantly when Joshua walks by and double-takes so hard it’s like his neck cricks. Joshua’s eyes linger for a second too long, eyebrows halfway up his forehead, and then he walks faster, like maybe if he moves quickly enough, the image of Seokmin copping a feel in broad daylight will erase itself from his memory.

“Was that—did that count as a win?” Seokmin mumbles.

You grin victoriously. “Definitely a win.” 

Seokmin exhales, relieved. “You’re really good at this,” he breathes. 

“Oh, honey,” you say, adjusting your shirt and looping your arm around his waist like it’s nothing. “I haven’t even started.”

--

Seokmin shoots you a wide-eyed look over Soonyoung's shoulder. You know the one. The look that says, Please get me out of here before I die.

For the past fifteen minutes, Soonyoung has been monologuing about his fantasy, co-ed K-pop group, who he thinks would thrive the most in JYP Entertainment. You catch Seokmin’s eye and give him a sympathetic smile. When there’s a lull in the conversation, you seize your moment.

“We should get going,” you say, brushing your hand against Seokmin’s arm. It makes you feel like a scene partner in a bad rom-com. “Busy day.”

Soonyoung nods, waving a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah! Go do your merch-y things!”

And that’s your cue.

You lean in like it’s second nature and press a kiss to Seokmin’s cheek—except he turns to look at you just as you're going in, and your lips graze far too close to the corner of his mouth.

Seokmin freezes, eyes wide, cheeks pink. You pull back with a proud little smirk, only to hear Soonyoung’s delighted voice go, “Aww, cute!”

Soonyoung then leans in and, before you can stop him, plants a swift kiss to your cheek.

You blink.

Seokmin blinks.

Soonyoung pulls away, shit-eating grin firmly in place. “Guess that’s how we’re saying goodbye now, huh? Love that for us.”

And then he’s gone, humming something off-key.

You and Seokmin are left standing in stunned silence, lips parted, eyes still tracking the space Soonyoung just vacated.

“What just happened?” Seokmin asks dazedly.

“We’re either really bad at this,” you say, “or Soonyoung’s just really, really good at being Soonyoung.”

Seokmin lets out a strangled laugh. “You think Shua’s gonna want a kiss next time too?”

“God, let’s hope not. I only have so much emotional bandwidth.”

The next month’s announcement comes with a twist neither of you anticipated. 

Wonwoo—quiet, brooding, catlike in demeanor—is the new Employee of the Month. The rest of the team cheers for him with tepid enthusiasm, and he accepts it with a shrug, already halfway back to the cabanas before the applause dies down.

But for you and Seokmin? It’s hope. A rare, glimmering thing.

Seokmin finds you an hour later, halfway through inventory behind the booths. He sidles in beside you like he’s doing something criminal, which—considering the last few weeks of manufactured PDA and workplace sabotage—isn't far from the truth.

“Heard the news?” he says.

“Wonwoo finally getting recognition for his uncanny ability to look hot and disinterested at the same time? Yeah. Big day for the guy.”

“No, I mean—” He lowers his voice, eyes flicking to the open slats of the booth. “Do you think this means it’s working? That they’re onto us?”

You close the inventory sheet and lean against the shelf. “I mean, maybe. But let’s not get cocky. We still work here. We’re not off the hook until we’re fully jobless and making life choices our parents would cry about.”

Seokmin grimaces. “Right. That.”

You bump your shoulder into his. “We gotta up the ante.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What, like another back pocket maneuver?”

“No. We bring out the big guns.”

He looks skeptical. “What’s bigger than the back pocket?”

“A kiss.”

Seokmin chokes on absolutely nothing. “A kiss?”

“In public. Obviously. Catch us in 4K. Let the rumors fly, let HR cry.”

He stares at you like you’ve suggested robbing a bank. Which, to be fair, with this level of emotional fraud it isn’t too far off. “You’re serious.”

“As a tax audit.”

He groans and drops his forehead onto your shoulder. “I am not mentally equipped for this.”

“You’re doing great, handsome.”

“Don’t call me handsome when you’re about to ruin my life.”

You grin, threading your fingers together in a fake prayer. “It’s only fake ruining. Come on, do it for the cause.”

He sighs deeply, like a martyr. “Alright. But if this backfires, you’re buying me dinner.”

“Deal. And dessert, too. You’ll need something sweet to cry into when we’re finally free.”

The plans get made. You’re both actively trying to get fired, sure, but Seokmin still wants to get some of his stuff done. And so the two of you stay even as the clock ticks past eleven, Carat Bay, a ghost town save for you and Seokmin. 

Plastic bins of unsold shirts and foam fingers lay scattered around you while you’re both sluggishly folding and stacking them back into place. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a sterile hum over the quiet.

Seokmin yawns into his shoulder and tosses a crumpled hoodie into a bin without aiming. It lands with a sad little flop, nowhere close to folded. You nudge him with your hip.

“You're getting sloppy,” you snicker.

“‘M tired,” he mumbles.

“Whose idea was it to volunteer for overtime, huh?”

He gives a small, sheepish smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes tonight. You watch him for a beat longer than you should, picking up on how the weight of something heavier seems to settle over him.

“Hey,” you say, softer now. “You okay?”

Seokmin fiddles with the hem of the hoodie, his fingers restless. For a moment you think he won’t answer. But then he breathes out a laugh, quiet and self-deprecating.

“I guess I owe you the truth,” he says, “about why I wanted to get fired so badly.”

You put the last foam finger down and turn to him, giving him your full attention. He looks everywhere but you before admitting, “I… I wanna open an animal shelter. Mostly for dogs, but… you know. Cats too. Whatever needs a home.”

You blink, processing. “Seokmin, that’s—that’s noble as fuck.”

He gives a short laugh. “Yeah, well. Not really. I’ve been saving up, but my parents aren’t really big on  charity and shit. They still want me to take over this place."

Your heart twists painfully at his honesty, at the way he says it like he's bracing for you to think less of him. “Seokmin,” you insist, stepping closer, “I can’t believe you’d ever be embarrassed of this. You want to get fired because you want to help dogs?”

He lets out another laugh, finally looking at you. “When you put it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“It sounds like you have the biggest heart in the world,” you correct him.

He flushes at the praise, ducking his head. You feel something tender pull tight in your chest.

“You’re gonna do it,” you say, firm. “You’re gonna open that shelter. And it’s gonna be amazing."

Seokmin gives you a look so soft you have to glance away, pretending to busy yourself with a pile of lanyards. But even as you fumble with the cheap keychains, you feel the warmth of his smile on your skin—quiet and certain, as if for the first time, he believes it too.

--

The cubicle smells like a mix of chlorine, sunscreen, and the ghost of body spray someone probably forgot to bring home last week. 

You and Seokmin are pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the tight space, backs to the damp plastic wall, waiting. You can hear the sound of people outside. Laughter, feet slapping against tiles, the zip of a towel being whipped like a weapon. No one ever checks the shower cubicles during lunch. They’re too humid, too gross. That’s what makes it perfect.

“Okay,” you say, shifting your weight, peering at Seokmin. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, eyes fixed on some grout on the tiles. “We don’t have to, like, make out or anything. Just something quick. Catchy. Like a Sabrina Carpenter music video.”

Seokmin nods slowly. Then shakes his head. Then nods again. “Right. Okay. But, uh… just so you know… I’ve never done this before.”

“Kissed someone?”

“Yeah,” he says. He sounds like he’s confessing to murder. “Like—not even a stage kiss. I always got cast as the comedic relief or the tree.”

You pause. That makes your heart hurt a little. This was supposed to be a dumb performance. Another scheme. But now, your stomach knots with guilt. 

“Do you want to back out?” you ask, already leaning away. “I don’t want to take your first kiss in, like, a sticky-ass stall with pool water dripping on us. That’s a memory you’ll carry forever.”

But before you can make a clean retreat, Seokmin grabs your wrist.

“I want to,” he says, and for once, he doesn’t sound unsure. “With you. It’s doesn’t sound  bad.”

You freeze for a beat. His grip is warm. His cheeks are flushed pink, and he’s still damp from the park’s mist sprayers. For some reason, your heart picks that moment to hammer in your chest.

“Okay,” you breathe.

You lean in. You expect it to be awkward, but it’s… not. 

It’s a little shy at first—his lips tentative, almost featherlight—but it deepens just slightly, like he’s trusting you to lead. His hand flutters awkwardly at your waist, not quite sure where to go, before settling on your hip.

When you pull back, you’re both a little dazed. 

“Christ,” you murmur.

Seokmin grins, soft and stunned. “That wasn’t terrible.”

You smile, and for a second, you forget why you’re even here. Right—

You're still holding onto his wrist, gently, when you say, “We could practice. If you want. Just to make it convincing.”

Seokmin clears his throat. “Practice?” 

“Yeah,” you say, with a noncommittal shrug. All cool girl, chill girl, this-isn’t-a-big-deal girl. “Just enough so we’re not all teeth and awkward angles when it counts. We want it to look natural.”

He nods, visibly thinking through the logistics. Then, a little breathlessly, he says, “Okay. Yeah. Practice. That makes sense.”

You step closer. The shower stall is cramped, so it’s not hard. Your shoes bump into his, your body brushing his chest. You place one of his hands on your waist. His fingers are hesitant, like he’s afraid you might change your mind and bolt.

“Touch me like you want to,” you urge him gently. “Like you're allowed to.”

His palm flattens more deliberately now. You feel the shift in him, the effort. His other hand lifts but hovers, unsure.

“Here,” you guide it, fingers curling gently around his wrist to place it at the side of your face. “You can hold me here. It helps.”

His thumb grazes your cheek, trembling slightly. His breath comes shallow.

“Now, slower this time,” you say. “Tilt your head a little more.”

He does, obedient. Eager. His eyes flick to your mouth, and then he leans in.

The second kiss is better. Less rush, more curiosity. You taste mint gum and something sweet—maybe from the café earlier. His lips are soft, tentative, and open slightly when yours press in a little firmer.

Your fingers rest lightly on his collarbone. His hand on your waist grips tighter, just a little. He kisses you again, like he’s learning. Like he wants to keep learning.

When you pull away, just slightly, he’s dazed and pink in the cheeks.

“Okay,” he says, voice low and stunned. “That was... useful.”

You try not to laugh. “We’ll need more practice. Just to sell it.”

“Right,” he agrees, too fast. “Totally. For realism.”

You’re both kidding each other at this point, but to hell with it. 

Things escalate not long after. He’s touchier. Bolder. Somewhere along the way, Seokmin has stopped flinching when he touches you in public and started leaning into the performance like it’s second nature. And worse still: he’s getting good at it.

A brush of his fingers along the dip of your waist as you reach for the locker door. A comment in front of Soonyoung about how you look good in the staff polo, followed by a wink that is actually genuinely disarming. One time, he even smooths your hair back before a team meeting, murmuring something about presentation.

You catch Mingyu watching the two of you, eyes narrowed. Minghao frowns when Seokmin lets you steal a bite of his lunch using the same fork. The whispers are starting, and not even Seokmin’s endearing clumsiness can cover for the shift in atmosphere.

But the real danger doesn’t come from the outside.

It comes from the break room.

You’re sitting on the counter while Seokmin stands between your legs, lips a breath away. It’s meant to be another rehearsal. A quick one. A casual, convincing peck for the hallway.

Instead, Seokmin’s hand brushes your thigh. Not by accident.

Your breath hitches. He pauses. You don’t move.

His palm presses firmer, sliding just barely, just enough.

Then, without much warning, he leans in and kisses you again. Slower. A little hungrier. It catches you off guard—not because it’s clumsy, but because it’s not. It’s careful. Considered. There’s intention behind it, like he’s trying to see what else he can get away with.

You make a sound. It’s not loud, but it’s unmistakable. A quiet, surprised thing at the back of your throat.

Seokmin jerks back immediately. You stare at each other, both stunned into silence.

“What was that?” you ask, heart pounding.

His voice is soft, eyes wide. “I—I don’t know. I thought we were practicing.”

“We are,” you say, but it comes out shaky.

You both stare at each other for another beat.

It’s getting dangerous. Very, very dangerous. You force yourself to act, to play the role. You shift, leaning back slightly to break the tension, giving him a small, teasing smile. “Now I’m curious, Seokmin. Can you make the same sound?”

The question only flusters him even more. “What?” 

“You know. The sound I made. You looked like you liked it.”

“I—” he sputters, adorably scandalized. “That wasn’t—I mean, it was nice, but I wasn’t—”

You lean closer again, voice dropping just slightly. “Let me try something.”

He nods. Wordless. Willing.

Your hands come up to rest on his chest, warm over the fabric of his shirt. You feel the faint thud of his heart beneath your palms. He’s wound tight, you can tell, nervous in the way he always is when you close the distance. You tilt your head, angle your lips near his ear.

“Relax,” you whisper, soft, lilting.

Then you kiss him.

It starts gentle, barely-there pressure. Your hands slide up his shoulders, then down, resting at his hips as you slot your mouth against his more deliberately. You deepen it slowly, coaxing, guiding.

When your fingers skim up the nape of his neck, he makes a sound—a small, breathy one that ghosts from the back of his throat. It makes your stomach flip, makes you smile into the kiss. You do it again. Just to hear it.

“That,” you murmur, lips brushing his, “was hot.”

He groans in embarrassment, pulling back to bury his face in your shoulder.

“You can't just say stuff like that,” he mumbles, muffled.

“Why not? You sounded good. Really good.”

You laugh, light and airy, and he groans again. When he peeks up at you again, he’s still flushed. But he’s smiling.

“Okay,” he whispers, all conspiratorial, almost as if it were a dare, “your turn again.”

You’re in trouble.

--

The plan is simple, in theory: get caught in a compromising position by the most enthusiastic gossip in Carat Bay. 

The break room behind the bumper cars is off-limits after closing. Soonyoung has a habit of staying late to tally the day’s dance competition scores. It’s foolproof. Everything’s lined up.

Except Seokmin is looking at you like he’s just been asked to disarm a bomb with his teeth.

“I didn’t think you’d actually…” he trails off, eyes darting downwards, where your polo shirt now lies folded over the employee bench. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen them, which is saying something. You’re still wearing your undershirt—barely indecent by any standard—but Seokmin’s expression says otherwise.

“Strip?” you finish for him, amused. “It’s the uniform. People get fired for less than partial nudity, you know.”

He swallows. Hard. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

You laugh, stepping closer. “Seokmin, we’re trying to sell the illusion. If we’re going to pull this off, I need you to look less like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not gonna pass out,” he lies, his voice two pitches higher than usual.

You reach up, fingers grazing the side of his face, and it’s like flipping a switch. He exhales, trembling a little. Your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth.

“We’ve done this before,” you remind him gently. “We’ve kissed before. This is just like practice, remember?”

He nods again, more believably this time. “Yeah. Just like practice.”

“Exactly.” 

You press your lips to his, soft and warm. 

Enough to ease him in, to coax some steadiness into his hands where they hover near your waist. You kiss him again, this time slower, more deliberate.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re reassuring yourself as much as you are him. Because your skin tingles where his fingers tentatively land on your hips, and your breath hitches when his mouth parts just slightly, enough to let your tongue graze his.

He pulls back first, eyes wide and unfocused. “That was…”

“Convincing?” you offer, trying to keep your voice steady.

He nods mutely, blinking at you like he’s never seen you before.

“Good,” you murmur, straightening his shirt collar. “Let’s make this a performance Soonyoung won’t ever shut up about.”

The break room is just warm enough to be stifling, wrapped in the hush of neon hum and the smell of popcorn grease and old rubber. You’re straddling Seokmin’s lap on the worn-out couch you’ve both dubbed the ‘emergency plushie zone.’ 

Seokmin’s tie is hanging off a peg behind you, abandoned somewhere between your fifth and sixth practice kisses. How much fucking practice one needs to get this ‘right,’ you’re not sure, but neither of you are complaining. 

This kiss starts like the rest, lips brushing with practiced familiarity, but something shifts when Seokmin’s hands curl around your waist with more certainty than before.

"You’re really getting good at this," you murmur against his mouth.

He huffs a shy laugh, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your undershirt where your skin runs hot. “You told me to practice.”

“I didn’t tell you to practice this well,” you say, and then you kiss him again, hungrier now, breath catching when his hand trails up your spine.

It’s just an act, you remind yourself. Just something to get Soonyoung to walk in and freak out, let the gossip train do the rest.

Except Seokmin moans when you nip at his lower lip. A small sound, barely there—but it melts into you. You want to hear it again. So you shift your weight, rolling your hips once. His breath stutters. Yours does too.

You press your mouth to the underside of his jaw, voice low. “You’re really committing to the bit.”

“I think,” Seokmin says, voice wrecked with something like disbelief, “I’m losing track of what’s a bit.”

You smile against his neck. “We’ve been at it for twenty minutes. Where the hell is Soonyoung?”

“Was—Was Soonyoung even at work today?” 

You freeze. You pull back and stare at Seokmin. 

Kwon Soonyoung had taken a ‘sick’ leave today. To line up at midnight for a video game. He bragged about it in the group chat that all the newbies shared. 

You glance down at your exposed chest, then at the way your thighs are locked around Seokmin’s hips. “Are we fucking stupid?” you wonder out loud. 

Seokmin blinks at you, lips swollen and pink, eyes blown wide. He leans his head back against the couch with a groan. “I don’t think I can do that again without losing my soul,” he rasps. 

“You’ll get it back in pieces,” you sigh, patting Seokmin’s chest in a gesture that’s meant to be reassuring. “Starting with your tie.”

--

You’re heading back from the boardwalk, salt still on your skin and the cheap cola you pilfered from the vendor stand fizzing in your hand, when you hear voices. The kind that make you stop short and lean just a little closer to the maintenance shed wall, pretending like you’re very interested in the bulletin board you’ve seen a hundred times.

It’s Joshua. Low and calm, like always, but there’s a seriousness in his voice you’re not used to.

“Seokmin. I just want to know what this is.”

You freeze. You don’t mean to. You know it’s bad form to eavesdrop, especially when you’re the this in question, but something roots you to the spot.

“I’m not trying to start anything,” Joshua continues, “but if this is just a game, if the two of you are pretending? You guys should quit it. Seriously. You’re both going to get into a shitton of trouble.”

A beat. Then Seokmin’s voice rings out, convincingly offended.

“It’s not pretend. I like her.”

Your breath catches.

“I like how she always wipes her hands on her shorts even when she has a towel. I like how she rolls her eyes like the world’s exhausting but she still shows up every day. I like that she lets me be nervous, but doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile. I like her laugh. A lot.”

Joshua doesn’t say anything, so Seokmin keeps going.

“I’m—I may not be able to call her my girlfriend. Not yet,” he says hastily. “But that doesn’t change the way I feel. I lo—like being around her. I like her, Shua.” 

You press your lips together, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands, your breath, your entire chest. You feel like a live wire. Humming, sparking at the edges with something dangerous and sweet.

None of that was part of the act.

And, fine. You wish it were real. Just a little bit. Just enough to close the distance between his feelings and yours.

You slip away from the corner of the shed before either boy notices you there. The cola in your hand has gone flat. Kind of like your plan.

The conversation makes a home underneath your skin, hangs like a cloud over your head. It exists even as you’re perched on the countertop in the employee break room, the sickly hum of the vending machine buzzing under the clatter of Seokmin's footsteps. He slots himself between your knees with the same ease he’s learned over the past few weeks, hands bracing on either side of your thighs. It would be routine now, if not for the fact that your heart is somewhere around your ankles.

His eyes search yours. “Are you okay?” he asks delicately, looking at you with that concerned glance he’s been throwing your way all afternoon. 

The thing about Seokmin is that he's gotten good at reading you lately, which would be great if you weren’t actively trying to keep your thoughts from turning into a romantic nosedive. You sigh. Might as well throw it all out. “I overheard you and Joshua,” you push out through your teeth. 

Seokmin freezes like you’ve just dropped on him  a bucket of ice water. “What?”

You offer a crooked smile, something flimsy and fragile. “You were good. Like, really convincing. Should’ve guessed you were a theater kid.”

He looks like he’s been punched. The breath leaves him slowly. “You thought I was lying.”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to. The way your gaze skitters off to the corner of the room is answer enough.

His voice goes soft when he says his name, and you presume it’s him readying you. He’s about to let you down gently, you think. “I—” he starts, and you refuse to hear it. Not without one final act of stupidity. 

You move before you can think. Your hand cups the back of his neck and you yank him forward, pressing your lips to his like it'll keep everything messy and tender at bay. It’s not careful. It’s not supposed to be. It’s a distraction, a fire alarm, an emotional eject button.

Seokmin doesn’t kiss you back, not immediately; his brain is still caught on whatever he was about to say. The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but it’s long enough for the door to swing open behind you.

“GUYS—”

You both tear apart like you’ve been electrocuted. Soonyoung stands at the doorway holding a neon slushie. The look on his face is the type of thing that would have him going viral on TikTok.

You and Seokmin exchange a look, wide-eyed and flushed.

It’s the worst time to get caught, and of course, that’s when it finally happens.

--

The fallout begins quietly.

Which is the worst part, really.

No fireworks, no messy confrontation, just an unrelenting silence that creeps in where easy laughter used to be. Every brush of Seokmin’s hand now feels weighted, every shared glance taut with the possibility of a conversation you’re not ready to have.

Worse, people are buying it. Hook, line, and sinker. After Soonyoung caught the two of you mid-liplock, the rumor mill went into overdrive, and suddenly, no one bats an eye when Seokmin shares his food with you, or when your knees knock beneath the merchandise booth. Everyone thinks you’re together. That you’re real.

It makes it harder than ever to fake it.

Seokmin still tries. He flashes you that warm grin and slings his arm around your shoulder like nothing’s changed, but it has. You can feel it in the way he hesitates before touching you, or how his laughter doesn’t quite reach his eyes when you tease him. He wants to talk about it. You know he does.

And he tries.

It happens after another long shift, the two of you walking side by side through the near-empty parking lot. The sky is bruised and pink at the edges, cotton-candy dusk descending on Carat Bay like an afterthought. He catches your wrist, gently but firmly.

“Can we just—talk?” he says, voice low, eyes impossibly sincere.

It’s the exact thing you’ve been avoiding. You look at his hand around your wrist and your heart hammers in your chest. You want to hear him out. You want to ask him which parts were real, and which ones were for show. You want to tell him it’s been pretty damn hard for you to tell the difference, even if you’re the one who laid out the blueprint months ago. 

But you’re a coward. And this isn’t part of the plan.

So you do what you’re best at.

You run.

You tug your hand free and turn on your heel. You don’t get far. Just past the bumpers, right by the yellow staff lines painted across the lot, you hear it—the telltale squeak of worn soles and a long-suffering sigh.

Changbin. 

He’s standing there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His eyes flick from you to Seokmin, whose hand is still hovering like it’s caught mid-air.

“Inside. Both of you,” Changbin says coolly. “HR wants a word.”

Great.

You’ve been trying to get fired for months. And now, at long last, it feels like your wish is about to come true.

Except the look Seokmin shoots you isn’t relief.

It’s heartbreak.

The HR room is ice cold. Not temperature-wise—someone must've left the thermostat on the exact edge of comfort. It’s cold in that awful, bureaucratic kind of way. Like nothing good has ever happened in here. Like no one’s ever left this place with dignity fully intact.

Changmin, the HR Manager, offers you both paper cups of water. His smile is so bland it’s offensive. “Let’s make this quick,” he says, as if he has something better to do than scold employees for handsy interactions in the Carat Bay parking lot. “There’ve been some... concerns.”

Your arms are crossed. Seokmin’s foot keeps tapping under the table, a nervous rhythm he’s trying to stifle.

“Rumors have been circulating,” Changmin continues, folding his hands neatly. “Several employees have reported seeing you two getting cozy on company time.”

You open your mouth, but Seokmin beats you to it. “We weren’t—I mean, it was nothing compromising,” he argues feebly. 

“The CCTV disagrees.”

Holy shit. You almost forgot about that. There are eyes and ears all over the place; you and Seokmin didn’t even have to wait around for Soonyoung. The two of you could have just made out in the merch booth and been done with it.

“You’re both aware of the rule,” Changmin goes on. “No romantic fraternization during work hours. No workplace relationships without disclosure. And certainly not in full view of customers or staff.”

“Yes,” you mutter.

Changmin sighs, as if he genuinely hates what’s about to happen. “After internal discussion, we’ve decided to terminate the employment of one party.”

It sinks in a beat too late, what’s wrong about the statement. 

One party. Only one of you is going to get sacked, and it’s pretty clear who it’s going to be. 

Seokmin’s head snaps toward you. “What? No, that—that doesn’t make sense,” he sputters. “We both broke the rule.”

Changmin's smile flickers. “Mr. Lee, you know very well your position in this company.”

Ah. There it is.

The heir card.

You could laugh, but it’d come out strangled.

“This doesn’t have to be a big thing,” Changmin says smoothly. “We’ll phrase it as a mutual separation. No disciplinary record. A clean reference, if needed.”

You stare at the condensation sliding down your paper cup. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To get fired. To be released from this pastel-colored theme park hellscape and finally live your own damn life.

And yet.

Beside you, Seokmin's voice breaks. “It wasn’t just her. If anyone should take responsibility—”

“This is final,” Changmin says, in the politest voice imaginable.

You got what you had planned for. Why does it feel like shit?

You find Seokmin in the parking lot after the meeting, his hands jammed in his pockets, shoulders drawn up like they’re trying to shield him from the world. The Carat Bay sign flickers behind him, casting a tacky blue halo over his profile. You take slow steps toward him, gravel crunching under your shoes.

“Hey,” you say tentatively. “I—I didn’t think it would go like that. I thought we’d both get fired. That was the point.”

Seokmin doesn’t look at you. His jaw works, like he’s trying to swallow something sharp. “I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted,” he says flatly.

“That’s not—” You stop yourself, bite your tongue. “You know that’s not what I meant. I didn’t want you to get hurt by this. I didn’t think they’d—only fire me.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, the kind that tastes of ash. “Of course they didn’t. Why would they? I’m Lee Seokmin, Prince of Carat Bay. Fucking heir to the tacky throne.”

You step closer. “Seokmin—”

“No, seriously. This is the first time I ever tried to do something for myself, and I managed to ruin it by—” He breaks off, exhales hard through his nose. “By catching feelings for someone who only wanted a clean way out.”

You flinch. “That's not fair.”

“Isn't it?” he snaps. “You heard what I told Shua, right? You were eavesdropping. So you know. You know I wasn't acting. You kissed me anyway, like it didn’t matter. Like it was just another scene.”

You shake your head. “I kissed you because I didn’t know what to say,” you say, voice cracking. “Because I was scared. Not because I didn’t care.”

Seokmin finally looks at you, and it guts you. His eyes are red-rimmed, vulnerable in a way he’s never let you see. When he speaks, it’s as good as a confession, “I thought maybe, just maybe, if I kept being useful, if I kept showing up, you’d start to want me for real,” he manages. “But I guess I really was just an acting partner, huh?” 

He pulls back when you reach for him. “Don’t,” he says, looking less like the boy you’ve come to love and more like the ghost of him. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.” 

And then he’s walking away, shoulders still hunched, hands still buried in his pockets, as if letting them out might betray too much. You stay rooted to the spot, the neon lights buzzing overhead, your name already half-forgotten by the place—and the coworker—you were trying so hard to leave behind. 

--

You have at least two more weeks before your exile from Carat Bay is final, and you tell yourself you’re okay.

You tell yourself that when Seokmin, who you’ve worked elbow-to-elbow with all summer, starts pretending you’re not breathing the same air as him. You tell yourself that when he disappears to ‘stock’ the back room every time you so much as look at him.

You tell yourself that when he hands you inventory lists like he’s passing secret messages in a Cold War spy thriller. Gaze averted, fingers barely brushing yours.

You’re fine.

It’s fine.

You’re very normal about the fact that the boy who once had a casual palm curved to the slope of your ass now can’t stand to be within two feet of you. The boy who used to trip over himself to steal kisses, to coax soft sounds out of your throat in the shadowed corners of Carat Bay, now can’t even meet your eyes.

The merchandise booth is tiny, the kind of claustrophobic that’s usually endearing in the early stages of a slow-burn romance. Now it feels like a battlefield. 

Every interaction is a landmine. You joke with Soonyoung and Joshua louder than necessary just to fill the silence Seokmin leaves behind. You laugh a little too hard when Mingyu teases you about winning the Fastest Employee-to-HR Pipeline award. You act normal. You’re good at acting normal.

Seokmin, for all his theater-kid roots, isn’t.

His silences are loud. His stiffness is louder.

You catch him watching you sometimes, when he thinks you’re not looking. There’s a hollow, guilty kind of sadness in it, like he’s punishing himself. Like he’s mourning something neither of you can name.

You don’t know how to fix it. You’re not sure you should. Wasn't this what you wanted?

You got out. You got what you needed. It’s not your fault if somewhere along the way, Seokmin handed you something far messier, far more dangerous, and you didn’t know how to hold it.

You clock in. You clock out. You memorize the days until your last shift like you’re counting down to parole.

You don’t think about how empty the booth feels now.

You don’t think about the way Seokmin used to smile at you like you put the sun in the sky.

You don’t think at all.

You can’t afford to.

And, really, you don’t mean to cry. You’d told yourself you’d get through your shift, maybe duck into the bathroom if it got bad enough. You could’ve handled this like an adult. Quietly. Dignified.

Instead, here you are in the back break room, facedown against the sticky laminate table. Your shoulders are shaking, and you’re sniffling embarrassingly loud as you try to muffle the sound.

“Whoa, hey,” comes Soonyoung’s voice, full of immediate alarm. “Hey, what—oh my God, are you crying?”

You don’t look up. You can’t. You just groan low into your arms, trying to make the world swallow you whole. Of all the people who could find you. 

There’s the rustling sound of Soonyoung pulling out the chair next to you, scooting in close. A warm, awkward hand pats the middle of your back.

“Hey,” he says again, softer now. “Hey, it’s okay. Breakups suck. Like, really bad. Especially when it’s someone you see every day at work. That’s brutal.”

You let out a wet, miserable noise.

“Everyone’s been talking,” Soonyoung continues, unaware of the dagger twisting deeper into your gut. “Like, we all kinda figured something was wrong since Seokmin’s been… I dunno, all weird. He barely even smiles anymore. He’s acting like you killed his cat.”

You lift your head just enough to squint at Soonyoung through bleary eyes. “It wasn’t even real,” you whisper.

“Huh?”

You sniff and rub your sleeve across your nose, cringing at yourself. “It was all fake. Me and Seokmin. We were faking it.”

Soonyoung blinks at you. “Like… the relationship?”

You nod miserably.

“Why?”

Through your tears, you tell Soonyoung everything. The plan, the faking it, the makeout sessions. The way it ended on a Wednesday, of all days, which is terrible—because you both had to clock in the next morning like you hadn’t just broken each other’s hearts. 

Soonyoung leans back in his chair, processing this with the same serious expression he reserves for really important things, like choosing what to order for lunch.

“Okay,” he says after a beat. “That’s kinda… diabolical. But also, like, you and Seokmin… you’re just idiots in love.”

You let out a half-sob, half-laugh, wiping your eyes with the heel of your palm.

“I mean it,” Soonyoung says, smiling now, in that rare, earnest way of his. “You’re both idiots. And it’s kinda beautiful, if you think about it.”

You don’t know if ‘beautiful’ is the right word for the mess you’ve made.

But maybe—maybe it could be.

--

You always figure there’s a big act of romance in every rom-com. A grand, sweeping gesture by the male lead. Unfortunately, your male lead is out of commission; you decide to take things into your own hands. 

It’s your last day of work, and you have nothing left to lose.

Lunch time is your choice of poison. You wait for the clock to hit exactly 12:30, and then you hit Send after making sure everybody who matters is in the breakroom. 

Someone gasps. Someone else drops their coffee. Employees and managers alike pull out their phones to see what’s so stunning. 

The screenshots are in the group chat. Seokmin’s texts to you over the past few months, confessions of all the petty little sabotage attempts he’s made at the merchandise booth: mislabeling shirts, sneaking wrong sizes into bags, purposefully miscounting plushies. 

People are side-eyeing you, whispering among themselves—

“Damn, she’s really airing him out.”

“Was the breakup that bad?” 

“Evil ass ex.” 

You ignore them all.

You’re focused on Seokmin, who is seated between Joshua and Soonyoung. When he glances at his lockscreen, he does a double take. Blinks. Shoots up, his expression slack with horror. He looks like he’s about to make a run for it. 

You cross the room in a couple of quick strides. Before Seokmin can say a word, you grab him by the collar of his stupid Carat Bay polo and kiss him. Long. Hard. Unapologetic. 

Your mouth moves against his like you’re staking a claim. Like you’re not done with him yet. 

The breakroom explodes in noise—shrieks, whistles, laughter—but you barely hear it. Your brain is doing that thing again, the one where your entire world narrows into nothing whenever you’re up against Seokmin like this. 

You’ve known since the first time you kissed him that he would ruin you. You were right. 

You break the kiss to breathe, to murmur against his lips, “You’re definitely going to get fired now.” 

You don’t need to look to know a few mothers outside the breakroom are going to be scandalized. That the CCTV in the corner is blinking red, and Seokmin’s face is angled so you absolutely cannot manipulate or miss who had just participated in public indecency. 

For the first time in days, Seokmin smiles.

Not the fake half-smile he’s been giving you lately. Not the sad, wilted one. A real one. Wide and bright and devastatingly beautiful. He cups your face, leans in, and kisses you again—softer this time, like a promise. 

Screw the script. You're writing your own ending.

--

EPILOGUE. 

The drive is long, but not unbearable. 

Soonyoung and Joshua have packed the car with snacks, and between the three of you, there’s enough chaos to keep the ride from feeling too heavy. It's only when the road smooths out into rolling countryside and the first glimpse of the shelter comes into view—an unassuming building with bright, inviting banners—that your heart tightens in your chest.

“There it is,” Soonyoung says, leaning forward against his seatbelt, eyes wide.

“Cute,” Joshua adds, pulling his sunglasses down to get a better look. “Looks like it belongs to someone who loves, like, every living thing.”

You laugh, amused. “Sounds about right.”

The car barely parks before you're throwing the door open, feet hitting the gravel with an eager crunch. Seokmin is already at the entrance, waving both arms above his head like he's trying to guide a plane in for landing. You sprint the last few steps and collide into him, arms wrapping around his middle.

He lets out a winded, delighted noise, hugging you so tight your feet lift off the ground for a second. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here,” you murmur against his neck. “I’d be a terrible girlfriend otherwise.” 

Behind you, Soonyoung and Joshua groan loudly.

“God, it’s worse than I thought,” Soonyoung sighs. “You’d think the honeymoon phase would be over by now.” 

“It’s watching a rom-com on 2x speed,” Joshua agrees.

Seokmin only grins against your hair, clearly unfazed. He sets you back down but keeps an arm looped lazily around your shoulders as he ushers everyone inside.

The shelter is still new—there’s the faint smell of fresh paint, and not every kennel is full yet—but the energy is unmistakably Seokmin: warm, bright, buzzing with earnest hope. He introduces you to every animal like he’s presenting you with priceless treasures. You fall in love with each one.

You had properly fallen in love with Seokmin shortly after you were both freed from the clutches of Carat Bay. The two of you talked it out. He asked you on a proper date. The rest became history, and the story of your origins—now about half a year in the rearview—proves to be a fun tale to swap during drinking sessions. 

This time, you both got what you wanted, and so much more. 

At one point, Seokmin presses a kiss to your temple. You instinctively lift onto your toes to kiss his jaw in return. You both giggle like teenagers, noses brushing, completely lost in each other.

From behind you, Joshua pretends to gag. “Do we need to leave you two alone with the puppies?” he says judgmentally, arms tightening around the Rottweiler puppy he’d been eyeing for weeks. 

Soonyoung joins in on the teasing. “Disgustingly cute,” he announces dryly, already halfway out the door so he can escape you and Seokmin. And then, he throws in as an afterthought: “You two deserve each other.” 

You glance up at Seokmin. He beams down at you like you’re the only thing he can see.

“That is not how you apply lip balm, Seokmin.”

You remark with a sigh, watching your best friend move his lips around as if trying to catch the balm, rather than smoothly gliding the stick across his lips. It's a bit awkward and humorous but cute at the same time.

He grins, popping the lid back on and turning to you. “Teach me how to apply it then.”

You can't help but laugh at his request, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he hands the lip balm to you. You stare at it for a second longer, before mindlessly scooting closer on the couch.

“Okay, let me show you," you say, taking the sleek tube from him without much thought. You twist off the cap, revealing the soft, shiny balm inside.

"First, you want to make sure your lips are clean and dry," you explain, gently wiping Seokmin's lips with your thumb. He sputters a little at the contact, and only after seeing his expression do you realize what's happening.

Your first instinct is to blush furiously, and your hand falters against his jaw. You refuse to look straight into his eyes for more than a second because the look that he's giving you makes your stomach flip.

How could you be so dumb? Why in the world were you teaching him how to apply a stupid lip balm?

“You can use tissue paper,” he says in a low voice. His lips move against your thumb and your whole hand vibrates. It's nearly like an electric shock.

It dawns on you rather late that he's implying he wants you to go on and also that his lips are messily moisturised because he applied lip balm some minutes ago.

You don't want to go on. You don't think you have that kind of self control—being in such close proximity to your best friend who you've loved for years and not kissing him.

You swallow, backing away a little to find some tissues but he's already holding one for you to take. Though you can't tell when he grabbed it, you take it and carefully begin dabbing it on his beautiful lips.

Once the balm is somewhat removed, you hold the stick up to his lips. "Next, you want to apply a small amount of balm to your lips," you continue, demonstrating the correct technique. "Just glide the stick across your lips, making sure to cover them evenly."

You hope he fails to catch the way your hand is shaking, but you successfully see how his cheeks have turned pink. It gives you a little boost of confidence. Is he affected too?

"Now it's your turn," you say, handing the lip balm back to him. Seokmin takes it, his fingers brushing against yours, and you guide his hand to help him apply it smoothly.

However, he stops. You raise your brows questioningly.

His words are all over the place when he speaks, his finger pointing to his mouth. “I— uh I already have lip balm on, so…”

Your eyes widen slightly, realizing that you indeed just applied it for him.

“I'll wipe it off.” He reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table, and you don't know what, but something stirs inside you. Something so intense that you grab his wrist to stop him.

“I have another way to wipe it off.”

Stupid stupid stupid. Why would you say that?!

Seokmin genuinely looks confused, his eyes turning bigger as he stares at you. He looks adorable, and much more kissable now. You want to dump every common sense in your body and do what your intrusive thoughts are telling you.

Stupidly, you do exactly that.

You lean closer to him, fingers tightening around his wrist as your lips press against his glossy ones. You can't believe the sigh that leaves your mouth at the touch—you feel like you have starved for his lips.

Seokmin seems a little frozen at first, his eyes widening even more if it's possible. Then he shuts them tightly, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest. He can't seem to move, because as much as he has wanted it for years, he can't take any risks. Not with you.

He waits till you pull away without kissing him at all. It was just a firm press of your lips together, and both your ears are hot.

The look on his face makes you assume that you have fucked up. Your heart drops and you sputter out apologies that he can't hear. Seokmin is too busy staring at your lips, and reminiscing how they felt against his own.

Your train of apologies is interrupted by his sudden voice. “I think my lips aren't completely wiped yet.”

You pause. Everything in Seokmin's living room feels dead still. The whole world falls silent. Until he speaks again, his voice so low you fear you would've missed it. “You could–you could try again.”

Your lips find him in the next second. This time, you can't tell if it's his sigh or yours, because you're too engrossed in the feeling of his soft, glossy lips gliding against yours.

It's a gentle kiss, soft yet urgent in a way that tells you he's waited as long as you. Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls you closer by the waist, almost in his lap.

By the time you pull away, you're both breathless. His forehead rests against yours as you both try coming down from the high.

Now it hits. You've crossed this line that you both had carefully drawn over the course of your friendship.

You pull your head back a little, staring at him. His lips are slightly puffy, and his hair are messy on his forehead. He looks more kissable—it almost feels insane. But you do not let your intrusive thoughts win this time.

“Seokmin.” You call out gently. He hums, big eyes meeting yours in a way that makes him look incredibly small. You have so much to say, yet what comes out is entirely stupid and baseless.

“Do you want to continue learning?”

“Learning what?”

“How to apply lip balm.”

Seokmin giggles. The sound makes your head cloudy. You don't know what has caused him to laugh like that, but you know you would do anything to continue making him laugh.

His large hand cradles your face, suddenly making you feel smaller. “Will you wipe it off like this again?”

You fail to control the smile that takes up your features. It's a little shy, a little goofy and mostly surprised. “Does this mean you like me?”

He raises his eyebrows, his warm face lighting up more. Slowly, he nods, making you gasp.

“Fucking hell, dude.”

He bites his lip, and tries to contain his beautiful smile. “Don't dude me. I prefer baby now.”

You stare at him in complete shock, unable to believe how things have spiraled in a matter of few minutes.

It's stupid of you to look like a deer caught in headlights after kissing your best friend and hearing his confession, because now he's starting to look unsure.

“I mean—you don't have to call me baby. I was just saying it as a joke. I don't—do you even like me?”

It's your turn to giggle. You all but throw yourself on him, holding his face in your hands and pecking his lips. “I have liked you for years, baby.”

Seokmin thinks he can faint. If somebody were to tell him that the world is ending right now, he wouldn't bat an eye. He will die gladly in your arms with the memory of you calling him baby.

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The knight first appears at the edge of the clearing like a mirage, a vision of polished steel and unwavering sunlight that has no place in your damp, shadow-dappled world. You sense him long before you see him—the rigid, righteous energy of him, a vibration that sets your teeth on edge and your herbs trembling on their drying lines. He stands there, hesitant, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, his gaze scanning your crooked cottage with a mixture of caution and duty.

You let him wait. You finish bundling your wolfsbane, the purple flowers stark against your earth-stained fingers. When you finally step out of your home, you offer no smile, only a slow, assessing look that travels from the griffins engraved on his pauldrons to the uncertain set of his jaw.

“The forest is no place for shiny things, Sir Knight,” you call out, your voice cutting through the humid air. “You’ll tarnish.”

He startles, as if expecting you to slink from the shadows, not appear plain in the open by opening the door. He takes a few steps forward, his armour clinking a soft, metallic rhythm. “The name is Seokmin,” he introduces himself. “I seek the one they call the Briar Witch of Murkwood. I was told… you offer remedies.”

His voice is warmer than you anticipated, a rich and soft sound that speaks to you of open fields and honest labour, not the clipped tones of courtly arrogance. Interesting.

“Some call it that, Seokmin,” you agree, wiping your hands on your apron. You call him by his name, letting it settle in the space between you. It suits him. Bright and strong. “Others call it poison. It depends on the need and the coin. What is yours?”

He tells you of a sick child in a village a day’s ride from here, a fever that no physicker could break. His words are earnest, voice filled with urgent worry, his brow furrowed with genuine concern. He is not here for glory or to slay a monster; he is here on a desperate errand of mercy. A sweet, morally good, chivalrous knight. How utterly delectable.

You prepare the tincture without fuss, measuring out drops of echinacea and elderberry into a small glass vial. You feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, not with suspicion, but with a fascinated kind of awe. You explain to him the means of use and charge him not in gold, but in a favour. “A promise,” you say, pressing the cool glass into his gauntleted palm. Your fingers brush his, covered in a layer of leather and metal, and a faint flush creeps up his neck. “You will owe me. One day, I may call upon you.”

He agrees without hesitation, his vow given as easily as breathing. “You have my word. On my honour.”

You watch him leave, a splash of brilliant white against the deepening green, and a slow smile touches your lips. A knight’s honour is a brittle, beautiful thing. It takes so little to make a hairline fracture.

Seokmin returns a season later, to settle his debt. You ask for nothing more than help lifting a fallen log from your garden. He removes his chest plate, his tunic stretching across his broad shoulders as he strains with the task. You offer him water from your own cup, and his lips touch the place where yours have been. Unknowingly. The fracture widens.

The visits become a pattern. Finding him with a sprained ankle from a misstep in the woods leads you to insist he rest on your pallet while you brew a poultice. His armour, piece by piece, is stacked neatly by the door. He is smaller without it, more real. His laughter, when you coax it out of him with a wry comment about the stiffness of court manners, is a bright, colourful sound in your quiet home. It makes you know that the people he serves love him sincerely.

You speak to him of things he has never considered. That rules are for those who lack the wit to see the grey between the black and white. That devotion is a currency that should be spent on something more tangible than an abstract moral code created with the sole purpose of making people obedient. That a man’s true strength is not in his resistance, but in his surrender to the right person.

Each time he leaves, he is quieter, his conviction a little less certain.

Seokmin begins to come without a reason, citing patrols that conveniently bring him near your clearing. You don’t point it out, not yet. No need to startle, to scare him off. Especially not when you enjoy the company for a change. He brings you things—a songbird with a broken wing that you heal with your magic, a rare sprig of silver-leaf that you then hone in your garden, a loaf of honey bread from the castle kitchens that you share with him. Little offerings. Little betrayals of his black-and-white world.

You reward him with your attention, a touch on his arm that lasts a heartbeat too long, a glance that holds a universe of unspoken things. You see the war in his eyes, the years of discipline wrestling with a yearning so profound it terrifies him. “This is… not proper,” he stammers one evening as your hand lingers on his. “My vows…”

“Your vows are for the world out there,” you murmur, your voice low and hypnotic. “They are chains you fashioned yourself. In here, there is only truth. And I see your truth in the way you look at me.”

You watch the shackles strain. You watch the good, chivalrous dog yearn to chew through its leash.

The air in the cottage is thick and still, heavy with the scent of drying rosemary, dark earth, and the peculiar ozone sharpness that always clings to you after working. It is a smell that has become, to him, as intoxicating as any fine incense from a cathedral. Seokmin stands just inside the door, having closed it behind him with a soft, definitive thud that seems to echo in the silent room. He is not wearing his full armour tonight, only the reinforced leather jerkin and greaves of a man on a casual patrol, but the weight of his station feels heavier than ever.

You are at your table, grinding moonwort into a fine powder with a stone pestle. The rhythmic, scraping sound is the only noise for a long moment. You do not look up. You let the silence stretch, let him stand there in the space between his world and yours, let him feel the unbearable tension of the choice he has not yet consciously made.

“The patrols bring you far afield these days, Sir Knight,” you say after a while, finally pointing out his frequenting trips to your house, your voice low, not an accusation, no, but a statement of fact. You finally lift your gaze to him.

He looks… ravaged. Not by battle, but by thought. His usually bright eyes are shadowed, the set of his shoulders is not one of proud duty but of a terrible, weary burden. His hands flex at his sides, restless.

“I could not stay away.” The admission is torn from him, raw and honest. It is the first time Seokmin has stated it so plainly, without the pretext of an owed favour or a convenient duty.

You set the pestle down with a quiet click. “And why is that?”

He shakes his head, a helpless, lost motion. “You know why. You have always known.”

“I know many things,” you agree, rising slowly from your stool. You move around the table, approaching him not like a predator stalking prey, but like mist settling over a landscape—inevitable, enveloping, omnipresent. “I know the properties of every root and berry in this wood. I know the secrets the wind carries. But I do not know what is in here.” You stop before him, so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you press your fingertips lightly against his chest, over his heart. It hammers against his ribs, a wild, frantic songbird trapped in a cage of chivalry and vows.

He shudders from your touch, his eyes slipping closed. “It is at war,” he breathes, the words choked. “A constant war. Between what I am… and what I…”

“And what you desire,” you finish for him, your voice a soft murmur. You let your hand slide up, over the stiff leather of his jerkin, to rest on the strong column of his neck. Your thumb finds the frantic pulse beating there. “What you crave.”

Seokmin opens his eyes, and the look in them is one of desolation. “It is a sin. A betrayal of everything I have sworn to uphold. My code… my honour…”

“Your chains,” you whisper, and you see the word strike him to a physical shudder. “You speak of them with such reverence. Do they keep you safe? Or do they simply keep you… lonely?”

You step even closer, eliminating the last inch of space between you. You can see the fine sheen of sweat on his brow, the desperate way his eyes search yours, not for condemnation, but for permission. For absolution.

“Tell me, my dear knight,” you urge, your lips nearly brushing his as you speak. “When you are kneeling in the chapel, what do you pray for? For strength to resist this?” You lean in, a fraction, and your mouth ghosts over his. It is not a kiss. It is a promise of one. Or, perhaps, a threat. He makes a shattered, guttural sound.

“I pray for clarity,” he gasps.

“And have you found it?” you ask, pulling back just enough to watch his face crumble.

“No. Only… more of you. It is always you. Your voice in my head, telling me the rules are lies. Your face in my dreams, offering a different kind of devotion.” His confession spills out, desperate and unadorned. “I am losing myself.”

“No,” you correct him, your voice firm yet hypnotic. You cradle his jaw, forcing him to hold your gaze. “You are finding yourself again. The self they tried to bury under all those pretty, pointless rules. I am not leading you astray, my good man. I am leading you home.”

You see the precise moment the last thread of his resistance snaps. It is in the way his eyes go blank, not with emptiness, but with a profound, terrifying surrender. The war is over. You have won.

A tear tracks through the dust on his cheek. You catch it with your thumb. “Oh, my dear knight,” you croon, the epithet both an endearment and a dismissal of his title. “You have fought so bravely. You have been so strong. But you don’t have to fight anymore. Not with me.”

You close the final distance and kiss him.

It is not the hesitant, exploratory kiss of a lover. It is a slow hand closing around his neck, gently sliding a new leash in place. Your mouth moves against his with a slow, devastating certainty, and Seokmin simply… yields. His lips part under yours with a sob that you swallow, and his body, that strong, disciplined instrument of war and order, goes pliant against you. His hands come up to grip your arms, not to push you away, but to hold on, as if you are the only solid thing in a world that has dissolved into chaos. And you hope you are, you are that only solid thing for him because he needs a beacon. Which you will gladly play the part of.

You guide him, step by step, backward toward your bed, a nest of furs and woven blankets in the corner. He follows without protest, his eyes dazed, fixed on your face as if you are the sun and he—a creature of the night finally emerging into the dawn, mesmerised by the world it has never seen before. His breath comes in ragged, shallow pulls.

When the back of his knees hit the edge of the pallet, he stops, a flicker of that old fear re-emerges in his eyes. “I… my vows…”

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Shhh. Remember, those are for out there. They have no power in my domain. The only vow you need tonight is to be good for me and serve me well. Can you do that? Can you be good, my dear knight?”

The fight is gone as quickly as it came. He nods, a slow, mesmerized dip of his chin. “Yes,” he whispers, the word thick with surrender. “I want to be good. For you.”

“I know you do,” you soothe, and you begin to undress him.

You work with deliberate attentiveness, your fingers making quick, efficient work of the buckles and ties of his leathers. Each piece of clothing that falls away is another layer of his identity shed onto your floor. The jerkin, the greaves, the padded tunic beneath, until he stands before you in only his soft linen breeches. His skin is pale and smooth over the hard planes of muscle, and he trembles under your scrutiny, not from cold, but from exposure. You have stripped him of more than his clothes; you have stripped him of his purpose.

You push him gently, and he sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at you with wide, trusting eyes. The pupils are blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of dark brown around them. He is already falling into the trance of your making.

“Lie back,” you instruct, and he obeys, lowering himself onto the furs. The sight of him there, in your bed, his body offered up to you, is more powerful than any spell you have ever cast.

You shed your own simple dress, and his breath hitches as he watches you. There is no artful seduction in it; it is a simple, practical act, and that makes it all the more potent. You kneel on the bed, straddling his hips, and look down at him. You run your hands over his chest, his stomach, feeling the muscles jump and quiver under your palms. Seokmin is breathing in sharp, shallow gasps, his hands fisted at his sides.

“You can touch me,” you grant him, and his hands fly to your hips, gripping you as if you are his only anchor in a stormy sea. His touch is hesitant, reverent.

You lean down, your hair curtaining both your faces, and you kiss him again, deeply, slowly. You pour every ounce of your will into that kiss, sealing his fate, tasting his surrender. When you pull back, a thin strand of saliva connects your lips for a second before breaking.

“You are so beautiful like this,” you murmur, your voice husky in the quiet room. Your fingers gently graze the sharp lines of his face. “All that strength, laid bare for me. All that control, finally given up. Isn’t it easier? To just… let go?”

“Yes,” he breathes, his voice ragged. “It is…”

You continue your exploration, mapping his body with your hands and mouth. You lick a stripe up the center of his chest, bite gently at his nipple, suck a bruise into the tender skin of his inner arm, then his pec. Seokmin writhes beneath you, his hips making aborted, helpless thrusts into the air. Every sound Seokmin makes—every gasp, every moan, every broken sigh—is a hymn to your corruption of him.

“You belong here,” you tell him, your lips brushing against his ear. “Not in some drafty stone hall, swearing oaths to a piece of cloth on a stick. You belong in my bed, swearing yourself to me. Your warmth. Your strength. Your pleasure. It’s all mine now. Say it.”

He is beyond coherent thought. “Yours,” he chokes out, his eyes screwed shut. “All yours.”

“Look at me when you say it.”

His eyes flutter open. They are glazed, unfocused, swimming with devotion so absolute it is terrifying. “Yours,” he repeats, his voice stronger now, filled with desperate need to please. “I am yours.”

You reward him with a slow, deep kiss. “My good knight. My obedient thing.”

You finally remove the last barrier between you, his breeches, and he kicks them away with a frantic urgency. His arousal is evident, hard and leaking against his stomach. You take him in your hand, and he gasps audibly, a raw, shattered sound that seems to tear from the very core of him. You stroke him slowly, smearing precum over the sensitive tip and watching his face contort in an agony of pleasure.

“All this,” you muse, your thumb swiping over the slick head of him yet again, “all this desperate need, and you would have spent your life pretending it didn’t exist. Locking it away. What a waste.”

You position yourself over him, holding his gaze. You see the last flicker of his old self, a final, silent goodbye in the depths of his eyes. And then you sink down onto him, taking him inside you in one slow, inexorable motion.

He whimpers, a wordless cry of pure, heightened sensation. His back arches off the bed, his hands scrambling at your arms, your hips, your thighs, anywhere to find purchase. His eyes are wide, seeing nothing but you.

You begin to move, a slow, rocking grind that has him sobbing beneath you. You set a deliberate, punishing rhythm, and he is utterly lost to it, his body responding to your every cue. You are in complete control.

“Look at you,” you whisper, your voice dripping with a sweetness that belies the degradation of your words. “The king’s own knight. The paragon of virtue. Reduced to this. A trembling, begging mess in a witch’s bed. You’re nothing but a desperate puppy for me, aren’t you? My good, obedient puppy.”

And Seokmin is. He is pleading, babbling nonsense, fragments of prayers and your name. “Please… more… oh, god, yes… my lady…”

My lady. The words feel like echo in the air, a final, beautiful surrender. You lean down, bracing your hands on either side of his head, and increase your pace. Your hair brushes his cheeks. “That’s it,” you coax. “Let go. Give it all to me. Your honour, your vows, your pleasure. I want it all. To own it all.”

His climax hits him like a convulsion. He drawls a mewl, a raw, broken sound that is swallowed by the furs, his body seizing under yours as he spills himself inside you with a force that seems to drain the very soul from him. You milk him through it, clenching your inner muscles, continuing to ride slowly, whispering praise and filth into his ear until he is boneless and spent, his eyes rolled back in his head, his chest heaving.

You collapse atop him, and his arms, weakened and trembling, come up to wrap around you. He holds you to him like a lifeline, his face buried in your hair. You can feel the frantic, galloping beat of his heart begin to slow against your own.

For a long time, there is only the sound of your mingled breathing and the crackle of the fire. The knight is gone. In his place is a pliant, devoted creature of your own making.

Finally, you shift to look down at him. His eyes are hazy, soft with a post-coital bliss that has erased all traces of his previous anguish. He looks peaceful. He looks… owned.

You stroke his damp hair back from his forehead. “There now,” you murmur, your voice soft now, genuinely affectionate. “Was that so terrible?”

Seokmin nuzzles into your touch, a contented, almost unconscious movement. A slow, dazed smile touches his bruised lips. “No,” he slurs, his voice thick with exhaustion and lazy wonder. “It wasn’t.” His eyes, when you meet them, are heavy-lidded and full of a blissful, dumb emptiness.

He is already half-asleep, sinking into the furs, into the new reality you have built for him. You continue to stroke his hair, watching the flickering firelight play over the features of your knight, your masterpiece, your perfectly corrupted devotee. You have set the pretty chained dog free, and he has chosen to lay his head in your lap forever.

A good, obedient puppy of a knight.

*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this!

“Obviously I know. But I’ve known you for way longer than him. Don’t I get like, friendship superiority over him?”

Hansol sighed on the other line, his voice crackling through the speaker. “That’s not how that works and you know that. Come on, dude. You’re both really important to me. I know things didn’t end great between you-”

“That’s one way to put it.” You scoffed, scraping the vegetables from the cutting board into the pot waiting on the stove.

“...Fine. I know things ended horribly between you two, but I really want you both to be there. You’re my oldest friend, and he’s one of my best friends.” You could practically hear the puppy-dog eyes your best friend was putting on through his pout. “Can’t you just put it aside for one night?”

You paused, contemplating the question for a moment, “No.” you quickly hung up before he could protest, your irritation showing in the way you aggressively stirred the pot on the stove. ‘Things didn’t end great between you’ you scoffed as you recalled Hansol’s words. ‘Not great’ was certainly one way to put it.

FIVE YEARS AGO

You and Seokmin had been together for nearly four years. You’d met him through Hansol, your best friend since before you could walk. Him and Hansol had the same birthday, so one year, they’d decided to have a joint party with all of their friends- including you. You and Seokmin hit it off immediately. He was just your type; tall, goofy, and a little shy, with a pretty nose. 

Your relationship was nothing short of perfect. Seokmin was possibly the only person in the world that made you feel comfortable in your own skin. The way he was able to make you open up so quickly was something no one else had ever been able to do. You knew you loved him after your first date- he was everything you’d ever wanted- and he felt the same. You moved in with each other a month after you started dating, which was something nearly all your friends protested. But it worked for you.

You were so sure that Seokmin was ‘the one’. Before him, you’d always thought the idea of soulmates was stupid. You were never much of a romantic. But Seokmin changed that. He changed a lot about you. You remember the look on your friend Minghao’s face when you told him that you and Seokmin were planning on getting married. You’d known Minghao since high school, you went to college together, and worked at the same company. He knew you better than most- he knew that before Seokmin, you were just like him when it came to love: a total cynic. He was concerned about how fast you two were going- he told you that getting married to someone you knew for barely a year was too quick, that you weren’t thinking straight.

It hurt a little bit- to be told by one of your best friends that you had your head in the clouds, but you listened. You and Seokmin slowed down. You knew that it hurt Seokmin when you told him you couldn’t get married that quickly- but he understood. And now here you were, three years later. Still not married, but happy.

“I love you.” He sighed between kisses, his hands gently holding your face, his thumbs lightly running over your cheekbones. “I love you so much.”

Your nights often ended like this; the weight of your boyfriend on top of you, his lips all over you, your nails gently scratching his scalp as he planted his lips on yours again. Your smile widened and your face flushed at the way he planted soft kisses all over your face so intently, as if he was trying to paint your face with his lips.

He took one of his hands away from your face, bringing it up to yours, his fingers entwined with your own, and he brought it down to hold against the mattress with a gentleness that no one else had ever shown you. Seokmin wasn’t your first relationship- not by a long shot. But he was the only person you’d been with that you really loved. Even if you had a hard time showing it sometimes, he knew how to coax it out of you. “I know you love me, too. Say it for me, my pretty girl.”

“I love you.” You didn’t hesitate to say it. You felt him smile against your lips at your words, his hand squeezing yours a little tighter. He pulled away with one final peck to your bottom lip, his eyes filled with nothing but adoration as they met your own, your face flushing even brighter as he stared. “Stop that.” You took your hand from the back of his head to cover his eyes, a grin spreading across his face at your shy demeanor.

He wrapped both arms around you and rolled over to switch places, your body now on top of his. You removed your hand from his eyes to rest your head on his chest, planting a peck on the tip of his nose on your way down. The feeling of warmth you felt in your chest was indescribable as Seokmin soothingly ran a hand through your hair, his chest rumbling warmly as he hummed your favorite song.

You were sure he told you he loved you again as you drifted off to sleep, he always did. There was never any room for doubt in your relationship. Seokmin loved you, and he made sure that you knew it.

CURRENT DAY

You caved in. You couldn’t just not go to your best friend’s birthday party. Despite the fact that you knew he would be there. Despite that it was technically his party too, you were here for Hansol and Hansol only.

“There you are!” Speak of the devil. Hansol’s face broke out in a grin as soon as he spotted you in the sea of people swarming his house, making a beeline for you, holding his cup of mysterious alcohol above his head as he parted his way through the crowd. He wrapped his free arm around you as soon as he got close enough, dragging you with him into the kitchen, pouring a drink for you as quick as he could. That was a bad sign. Hansol wouldn’t willingly pour you a drink unless he knew you’d need it.

You eyed him suspiciously as you took a sip- there was definitely vodka in there. That bastard. “Happy birthday.” You mused as the alcohol actively burned your throat.  Hansol stayed quiet, just giving you a sheepish look, taking another sip of his drink to ease the tension.

“What?”

Hansol sighed at the sharp question, pinching the bridge of his nose as if you were already giving him a headache. “...Just don’t kill me, okay?”

“I already know he’s here, Hansol. Just tell me what room he’s in so I can avoid it.”

“No, that’s the thing, dude.” He took a deep breath and set his cup on the counter. You followed suit and he gently took your wrists in his hands, probably so you wouldn’t run away after whatever he was going to say. His eyes met yours and your stomach dropped at the almost guilty look on his face. “...He wants to talk.”

“No.” You immediately tried to pull away, but Hansol’s grip on your wrists prevented you from fleeing. “Hansol, let me go.”

“Just let me finish first.”

“I’m not talking to him. I don’t give a fuck about what he has to say. Now let me go.”

“Don’t…yell.” He sighed, your protests starting to attract odd looks from the other partygoers. He dropped one of your wrists before turning around and practically dragging you across the house. He took you into his room, letting you go and standing in front of the door as if he was guarding it. “Okay, now you can yell.”

“I am not going to talk to him. I don’t fucking care about what he has to say.” You were practically in tears as you raised your voice at your friend, who stood his ground in front of the door.

“I know you and him are…complicated, but I really think you should hear him out.”

“Complicated? Are you even hearing yourself right now? Do you even remember what I was like after?”

“God, obviously I remember!” Hansol snapped, causing you to fall silent. “Do you remember who was there for you after all of that? Do you remember who stayed up late with you while you cried yourself to sleep every night for two months straight? Me. I did. Me and Minghao. Despite the fact that Seokmin is one of my best friends and I knew he was hurting too, I put you first.”

You sat on Hansol’s bed as he took his turn airing out his frustrations. You knew he was right. He’d been there for you completely unconditionally through yours and Seokmin’s breakup. He listened as you cried over your broken relationship, let you stay in his home while you were in the process of moving out of Seokmin’s apartment, stayed up with you until the early hours of the morning, holding you as you cried. He was there for you. He knew how badly you were hurt.

“I know what the breakup did to you. I know how badly it hurt you. But I also know how badly it hurt him.” Hansol moved away from the door to take a seat next to you on his bed, wrapping an arm around you. Your head instinctively went to his shoulder, his head rested on top of yours as he continued. “Please…I know it hurts, but it’s been like, five years. Just listen to what he has to say…It’s my birthday.”

“Alright, shut up.” You rolled your eyes, pulling away from him slightly. He looked up at you with those big brown eyes, silently pleading for you to do the right thing. “...Fine.”

“Really?” He sat up straight, giving you an excited shove, his face breaking out into a grin. “Are you serious? You’ll talk to him?”

“God, just go get him before I change my mind. Seriously.”

He nodded quickly, practically leaping off the bed and running out of the room, leaving you sitting on the bed. You took a shaky breath as the weight of what you just agreed to settled on your shoulders. You hadn’t spoken to Seokmin since the night you broke up. Even as you were moving out of his apartment, you didn’t speak to him once- and Hansol and Minghao were the ones who did most of the actual moving.

Your heart plunged into your stomach as you heard the sound of two people approaching the room. You could hear what was obviously Hansol’s voice muttering as he paused outside the door, the handle rattling as he grabbed a hold on it on the other side.

Your heart pounded as the door creaked open, Hansol peeked his head in to give you a fleeting smile before he ran off to enjoy his party- you felt guilty for making him have to deal with your problems on his birthday. But the feeling of guilt was quickly replaced by an indescribable pain as the face of Lee Seokmin replaced your best friend. You remained silent as he slowly entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him, keeping his eyes on your face as he did so. You purposely avoided his gaze as he stood, his hands folded in front of him, his back resting on the door.

“...Hey.”

FIVE YEARS AGO

“Say it again.”

You giggled as Seokmin pressed you against the wall, his breath tickling your ear as he planted soft fleeting kisses on your neck. He had your arms pinned gently against the wall, your jacket threatening to slip off your shoulders as he attacked your neck.

“Okay! I love you! Now, let me go. I have to go to work.” Seokmin hummed at your request, his hands moving from your arms to your waist, his lips moving from your neck to your jaw, to your lips.

“Hmm…five more minutes.”

“Seokmin!” You planted your hands on his chest, giving him a gentle push. He pulled away from your face to meet your gaze, his eyes practically sparkling as he looked down at you. “I have to go to work. Minghao can’t keep covering for me forever.”

“Please- he’d do anything for you. Just say it one more time and I’ll let you go.” He grinned at you innocently as his firm arms around you held you in place against the wall.

“...I love you…God, I can’t wait to marry you.” You leaned in and gave a little love bite to the tip of his nose before planting a peck on the same spot, adoring the little giggle that escaped his mouth as you did so.

Seokmin grinned before fully pulling away from you, satisfied with your admittance, he adjusted your jacket back over your shoulders, and marched you to the door. He leaned down to kiss you one more time, his lips gently pressing against yours, his fingertips ghosting your jawline. “I love you, pretty girl.”

|

“He does that a lot, doesn’t he?” Minghao mused as he took a bite of his salad. The two of you were on your lunch break, sitting on a bench outside in the warm spring air.

“I’m sorry, is it not normal for my boyfriend to tell me that he loves me?”

“Not that. I mean him not replying when you say you want to marry him..”

You hummed as you took a bite of your sandwich, looking over to your friend as he brushed his long hair behind his ears. He always seemed to have his reservations about yours and Seokmins relationship. “Does he have to? I mean, we’ve been together for almost four years now, we’ve lived together for almost that whole time, my family loves him, his family loves me, we don’t have to worry about each other's friends not liking us because we have the same friend group. I know it was too early when we first started talking about it- I know that now. One year in is too early. And I mean, we were so young. But four years? I think that’s a good time to start at least thinking about it.”

Minghao sighed, taking another bite of salad. “I don’t know, kid. I don’t think you’re looking at this from the right angle.”

“...What do you mean?”

He turned to you as if he’d been waiting for you to ask, setting his salad aside and running a hand through his hair as he faced you. You were put slightly off-guard at the serious expression on his face. What had started out as a conversation based around you gushing over how much of a romantic your boyfriend was had quickly turned into what you were sure was going to be one of Minghao’s lectures.

“You really want to get married to him?”

“...Yes?”

“You always have?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re always the one that brings it up?”

“I guess?”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“...I mean…Yes?”

He took another breath, running a hand over his face. An anxious pit had started to form in your stomach.

“Does he want to get married?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach at the question. Somehow, in all your years with Seokmin, you’d never thought about that. He did. He definitely did. Sure, you were always the one to bring it up, you were always the one talking about how much you wanted to get married, how excited you were to have a wedding and start a family with him. You wracked your brain, trying to remember one singular time where he’d been the one to bring it up first, searching desperately through your own memories to try and find any instance where he’d mentioned getting married without you prompting it.

Did he want to get married? Was that ever something he wanted? You loved Seokmin, you really did, and you knew he loved you, too. He told you every day. But did he want to marry you? He never told you he didn’t- but he never told you he did.

“Hey.” Minghao’s voice sounded distant as he rested his hand on your shoulder. “I don’t mean to freak you out, I just…I want to make sure that you’re not wasting your time with someone who doesn’t have the same end goal in mind as you.”

The alarm on your phone rang, signaling the end of your lunch break before you could respond. Minghao kept an arm wrapped around you as the two of you walked back into the building, his hand rubbing your bicep comfortingly as your mind spiraled.

CURRENT DAY

“You know, we’re going to have to actually talk at some point.” Seokmin sighed between kisses. “I actually have things I want to say to you.”

You hummed against his lips, the pleasant feeling of his hands under your shirt offset the shame-filled pit in your stomach as you pulled at his hair, causing his mouth to fall open in a silent gasp, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. Seokmin sighed deeply, pulling you tightly against him, forcing you to sit fully on his lap as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss even more.

“Then talk.” You abandoned his lips, moving your mouth down to his neck, nipping gently at the sensitive skin. Seokmin bit his lip to hold back the sinful noises that threatened to escape his mouth at the feeling of your weight on his lap, your lips on his neck, and your hands in his hair. He didn’t know how he’d survived nearly five years without feeling you.

“I thought you hated me.” He whispered, his hands trailing down to your hips, holding them firmly in place.

“I do.” Your hands abandoned his hair, now resting on his chest.

“I hate that thought.” He continued, his thumbs gently running over the exposed skin between the hem of your shirt and your jeans. “Never meant to hurt you. My pretty girl.”

“But you did.”

How did you even end up here? You were fully prepared to scream and shout at your ex- you knew he would’ve just stood there and taken it, waited until you had nothing left to say until he even thought about opening his mouth. But once he was actually in front of you, your mind went blank. All the scathing insults that you’d thought of over the past five years suddenly left your mind at the sight of Lee Seokmin.

Seokmin took your silence as a good sign, taking the initiative to sit next to you on the bed- leaving a respectable distance between you. You hadn’t meant for it to happen- you looked up at him to try and see if you could see what he was thinking through his expression. He always wore his thoughts on his face.

All it took was one slight shift in his expression- the parting of his lips and a slight curve of his brow- for the energy of the room to change. It took less than a second for you to practically tackle him. The two of you immediately melting into each other as you had countless times before. The familiar smell of Seokmin’s cologne filled your mind with such a comfortable haze, you almost forgot why you were here in the first place.

Seokmin groaned as you shifted in his lap, one of his hands resting on your back to make it easier for him to flip you over and lay you flat on your back. He leaned over you, immediately planting his lips back on yours. He’d always been a muscular man- it was one of the first things you’d noticed about him, but as he held you tightly against him, pressing you into the mattress with his arms tightly around you, his body felt firmer than when he’d last held you like this.

He groaned as your nails raked down his chest, his lips detaching from yours to take a breath. He rested his forehead on yours for a moment, breathing you in as you squirmed beneath him, wordlessly begging him to put his mouth on you again.

“God, I’m so sorry.” He breathed out as your hands sneaked under his t-shirt, exploring the expanse of his firm torso. “I love you so much, I’m so sorry.”

You paused.

You opened your eyes to find Seokmin staring at you intently, the passion in his eyes unmistakable as his chest heaved with his heavy breaths. Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head. “Don’t tell me that.”

“I needed to tell you. I’m so sorry. I love you so much, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I regretted everything I said the second you left.”

Seokmin didn’t protest as you pushed him off of you, he rolled onto his side as you sat up, the weight of the past fifteen minutes suddenly crashing onto you all at once. The two of you stayed silent, Seokmin sitting up next to you, unsure of whether or not he would get his head ripped off if he made an attempt to comfort you.

“I fucking hate you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care.”

Seokmin sighed deeply, standing up from his spot next to you. He adjusted his clothes and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes welling up as he watched your shoulders shake, your head in your hands as your thoughts spiraled, your mind feeling like it was caught in the midst of a hurricane.

“I know I hurt you.” He slowly started, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But if you ever want to hear me out, my number hasn’t changed.”

You stayed silent as Seokmin walked to the door, his hand resting on the handle as he looked back at you. “I really do regret the things I said. I was childish. And I was wrong. I just want you to know…it's been five years. And I still love you.”

FIVE YEARS AGO

“You love me, right?”

Seokmin raised an eyebrow at your question as he stirred the pot of soup on the stove, your hands slightly shook as you nervously asked the question, the bread knife in your hand reflecting the light from the soft ambient lamps that littered the living room that connected to yours and Seokmin’s kitchen.

“Do I not tell you enough? Of course I love you.” Seokmin rested his hand atop of yours, preventing you from potentially cutting your hand instead of the bread on the cutting board. “You know I love you.” He brushed your hair back, a soft lazy smile on his face. “My pretty girl.”

You smiled shyly, looking down at your hands as Seokmin looked down at you with that sparkle in his eyes. “I love you, too.” You mumbled, setting the knife down and taking his hand in yours, squeezing it gently before looking up at him tentatively.

“Why do you ask?” He turned back to the stove to turn the heat down to a simmer before looking back at you, his eyes concerned as you looked away.

“I just…I had a conversation with Minghao during lunch today.”

This conversation might have been a mistake, is what you thought as Seokmin slowly nodded, removing his hand from yours to stir the simmering soup again. He cleared his throat before asking, “...A conversation about what?”

“Nothing. It’s not important.” You went back to slicing the bread on the counter, your hands shaking more now.

“No, I wanna know. It’s obviously bugging you.” He rubbed your back in what you were sure was supposed to be a soothing manner, but it just set you on edge even more. You looked back up at him to find him looking at you still, that concerned look still in his eyes. Your bottom lip trembled as you recalled yours and Minghao’s conversation. The idea that Seokmin didn’t want you the same way you wanted him- the idea that he didn’t see the two of you starting a family and growing old together- it had been eating at you all day.

“Do you…want to be with me?”

He laughed in shock; the question absolutely absurd to him. “Of course I do. What are you talking about?”

“No, I mean…do you want to be with me like…forever?”

“Of course, babe. You’re my girl.”

“No, Seokmin…” You took a frustrated breath, setting the knife down and turning to fully face your boyfriend. The confusion on his face only grew as he saw the frustrated tears starting to well in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling before you asked the dreaded question. “Do you even want to get married?”

He laughed nervously, his eyes averting yours as he aimlessly stirred the pot. “Come on, you know I love you.”

“Seokmin, just answer the question.”

“We’ve been together for four years, why are you asking me this now? What did Minghao say to make you think like this?”

“For the love of god, Seokmin. Answer the question. Do you want to marry me?”

Seokmin fell silent, his hands dropped to his sides. There was no changing the subject. No avoiding the question. “Do you remember…way early on…when we started talking about getting married, and our friends all thought it was a bad idea because we’d only known each other for like, a year?”

“Of course.”

“Do you remember what Minghao said?”

You paused, wracking your brain in an attempt to remember what your friend could have possibly said that would have Seokmin still thinking about it three years later. Seokmin ran his hands over his face at your silence, taking a deep breath before turning to you. “He said…He said that we were being stupid, not thinking straight, we were still in the honeymoon phase, and if we got married so young, we’d probably regret it. Because what if we found someone else? What if we ended up realizing that we weren’t meant for each other after a few years?”

“But that was…three years ago, Seokmin. We’ve been living together that entire time. We’re basically already married- we do practically everything that married couples do! You’ve been to my family reunions, I buy your parents and sister birthday and christmas presents. So just answer the goddamn question. Do you want to marry me?”

Seokmin bit his cheek, his own eyes welling up as he saw the tears falling down your cheeks. His mouth opened and closed, as if he was trying to speak but the words just wouldn’t come out. He ran a hand over his face again, taking a deep breath, his voice wavering as he answered. “...No. I don’t.”

You kept your mouth clamped shut, a stomach-churning sob threatening to escape your mouth. You turned away from Seokmin- you couldn’t look at him. You didn’t see the tears falling from his eyes as you buried your face in your hands, leaning against the kitchen counter. The tension in the air was thick from Seokmin’s confession, your whole world felt as though it was crashing around you due to those three words he’d uttered.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He whispered through his own tears, unsure of how to comfort you- or whether he should comfort you. He should have just said yes.

“I don’t understand, Seokmin. I just don’t understand. We’ve been together for so long, just…why?”

“I don’t know…We’re both still so young…I don’t know where we’re gonna be in five years. I don’t know how I’m going to…feel.”

His words felt like a slap to the face. Four years together. Four years of spending every day together, eating dinner together every evening, falling asleep in each other's arms every night. Four years, and he ‘didn’t know’. “You don’t know how you’re going to feel, or you don’t know how you’re going to feel about me?”

Seokmin stayed silent, which was an answer in itself. “I can’t fucking believe this. Why are you still with me if you don’t know if you’re still going to love me five years from now?”

“Because I love you. I love you now, but…we’re so young still.”

You couldn’t help the way you rolled your eyes at his words. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

Seokmin turned the stove off completely, the tears in his eyes blurring his vision as he turned back to you. “...I didn’t know if we were going to be together forever…I didn’t know if I wanted to marry you…but I knew I didn’t want you to leave me.”

You’d heard enough. You wiped the tears from your eyes, standing up and walking towards the front door, leaving Seokmin trailing behind you.

“Where are you going?” The thing that irritated you most was the way his voice wasn’t particularly concerned- it was more annoyed than anything.

“I don’t know. Hansol’s. Maybe Minghao’s.”

Seokmin watched, totally speechless as you pulled on your shoes, words only coming to him as you grabbed your jacket and keys from the closet. “...Why?”

You ran your hands through your hair, turning to him with the most incredulous expression he’d ever seen. “Because…I’ve wasted four years of my life on someone who’s still unsure about whether or not he really loves me. Through everything we’ve been together, all the time we’ve spent, you’re still unsure. And you never told me, because you were scared that I’d leave you…because you’re selfish.”

You turned to open the door, your hand pausing on the handle as you turned to look back at Seokmin. You had no more words for him, simply shaking your head at the pitiful look on his face.

CURRENT DAY

Your head was in Minghao’s lap as you laid on Hansol’s couch, his fingers running through your hair, gently detangling any knots he found. Seokmin had apparently left the party after your ‘conversation’ with him. Hansol had come to find you after he saw Seokmin leave his house, finding you staring at the floor, seemingly still sitting in the same spot he’d left you in. He brushed away the tears from your face while you vaguely relayed what Seokmin had said- leaving out the bit where you’d made out with your ex on his bed.

He let you hide in his room, quietly pulling Minhao aside to tell him what happened, the two of them subtly ended the party, turning the music down, and telling people that Hansol had to be up the next morning.

Hansol sighed deeply as he set a cup of tea on the table in front of you, frowning as you quietly cried into Minghao’s lap. He moved your legs so he could sit on the couch, letting your calves rest atop his thighs, absently massaging them as he shook his head. “How the hell did things end up like this?”

“Happy birthday.” Minghao joked, shaking his head along with Hansol. The two had very different stances on yours and Seokmin’s relationship. Hansol loved the two of you together- he thought you were soulmates, that you still loved each other deep down, that if you just talked it out, then you’d realize that you really were meant to be together.

Minghao had always had his reservations about yours and Seokmin’s relationship. He thought you two always moved too fast, without even really talking about the long-term, and that’s how you ended up here. He knew better than anyone- except maybe Hansol- how difficult your past relationships had been. That you weren’t sure if you really even believed in love before Seokmin came along. And he felt that made you vulnerable and naive, and that Seokmin might have, whether intentionally or not, taken advantage of that.

“I’m so sorry, Hansol.” Your voice was quiet, almost unintelligible as you spoke through the tears. Your friend just patted your leg, a silent reassurance that he didn’t mind. Minghao hummed as he worked on a knot in your hair, slim fingers gently pulling apart the locks as he thought.

“Maybe this is a good thing.”

“Dude…” Hansol immediately rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, hear me out.” His hands left your hair and shifted in his seat, prompting you to sit up straight on the couch, your knees curling up for you to rest your cheek on them, turning your face towards Minghao as he continued. “I know he fucked you up. Really bad. I mean, I was there, I remember. But…I mean…you guys have been broken up for longer than you were together at this point. Maybe this is a turning point for you to get over it.”

You could hear Hansol audibly facepalm behind you, Minghao immediately regretting his words the second he saw the way your bottom lip trembled. “...Get over it?”

“Wait, wait, wait. I didn’t mean it like…get over it, get over it. Just like…move on?”

“Dude. Stop.” Hansol whispered as Minghao stumbled over his words. You rolled your eyes at your two friends and leaned back into the couch, letting them argue in whispers over you.

“Then what the hell should she do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe actually talk to him! I know he has some things he wants to air out, and it sounds like he didn’t get the opportunity to say any of it.”

“And that’s her fault?”

“Did I say that? No! I didn’t. I’m just saying, she should give him a chance.”

Minghao scoffed at Hansol, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “She did give him a chance. Five years ago. And he fucked it.”

“Five years ago! Exactly! He’s had plenty of time to think about this.” Hansol leaned over you, his arm resting on the back of the couch above your head as you sank further into the couch cushions.

“And she gave him a chance tonight. And where did that go? Nowhere.”

“Maybe because he didn’t actually get the chance to say anything because they were too busy making out on my bed!” Hansol turned to you, holding up a finger before you could protest. “Yes. I know about that. We’ll unpack that later.”

“Wait- what?” Minghao turned to you as well, the shock on his face palpable, his jaw dropped in what you were certain was disgust. “You made out with Seokmin? You made out with your ex? Who you hate?”

“On my bed!” Hansol added on, crossing his arms and shaking his head like a disappointed parent.

“That’s none of your guys’ business! I didn’t want to talk to him in the first place!”

“Then maybe you should! Next time you see him, keep your tongue in your mouth and your hands to yourself, and listen to what he has to say!”

Your jaw went slack at Hansol’s words- but you almost laughed at the way his expression changed once he realized what he’d said. “I’m…just gonna go to bed. I’ll talk to you two about this tomorrow.”

The two boys stayed silent as you made your way to Hansol’s guest bedroom, closing the door behind you and immediately falling face-first onto the soft sheets. You heard them continue their argument as soon as the door closed, but you paid them no mind, your brain fuzzy and tired from your several consecutive hours of crying.

You knew your friends just wanted you to be happy. They both thought they knew what’s best for you. But you don’t even know what’s best for you. Maybe you were just bitter- bitter at the way Seokmin had practically led you on for four years- letting you think that he wanted to get married and start a family, while he never really had that intention.

But still, his words from earlier buzzed in your mind; “it's been five years. And I still love you.” That scared you. The idea that he really did regret what he said, that you’d been actively avoiding him for five years, hating him the whole time, when all he wanted was to take back what he said as soon as he said it. It haunted you.

But another thing he’d said came to mind; “if you ever want to hear me out, my number hasn’t changed.”

|

You knew it was stupid. Possibly the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. Sneaking out of your best friend's house in the middle of the night to see your ex boyfriend who you told you hated not even a full day ago. Definitely a bad idea.

But you needed to hear what he had to say.

It was stupid. All you had to send him was two words; “it’s me.” before he was sending you his address, telling you to come over whenever you wanted to talk. You didn’t know how long you stood outside his door, finger hovering over the doorbell. You could potentially be making a huge mistake. You hated him. You did.

Or maybe you didn’t.

He had to have been waiting by the door all night with how quickly he answered after you pressed the doorbell. You internally sighed at the sight in front of you. Seokmin wore his typical sleepwear; a white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, his glasses dangerously askew on his long nose, his hair wild, as if he’d been running his hands through it habitually. A soft smile graced his face as his eyes met yours, stepping aside, silently inviting you into his home.

His new apartment was slightly smaller than the one you shared- but it was still very him. Several warm lamps filled the living room, various plants littered the area, a kitschy rug on the floor in front of his brown leather couch. He trailed behind you as you walked towards the couch, hesitantly sitting next to you as you settled in.

“So…you wanted to talk. Talk. I won’t say anything until you’re done.”

He nodded quickly, his eyes eager as he opened his mouth…and quickly closed it. You raised an eyebrow at him, waiting patiently for him to speak. But he stayed silent. “...Are you going to say something?”

“I was going to.” He laughed nervously, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I’ve kind of spent the past five years perfecting the great big speech I was gonna give you when you gave me the chance…but I’ve kind of forgotten all of it.”

You silently cursed the small amused smile that creeped onto your face. “Well…I wish I could say I’m surprised.”

He laughed again, more relaxed this time. “Yeah, it’s pretty on-brand, isn’t it? Guess I have to speak from the heart now.” He clasped his hands in front of him, looking at you directly as he began. “I’m sorry and I still love you.”

You inadvertently rolled your eyes, jaw dropping in disbelief. “That’s how you’re starting?”

“You said you weren’t gonna say anything until I was done!” He protested. You nodded silently, admitting your fault, gesturing for him to continue. “Okay. Yeah, so…I love you. I never stopped loving you. I don’t expect you to forgive me, and I know you probably don’t want to hear how horribly depressed I was after we broke up, because I’m sure you had to deal with enough of that on your own…but, you know, I was.”

His leg shook as he continued, his fingers nervously tapping together as he continued. “And I’m not gonna tell you how I regretted everything I said as soon as you walked out the door, because that’s just bullshit- I mean, it’s true! But it doesn’t really mean anything. Because I didn’t stop you from leaving. And I never really…made much of an attempt to reach out. I was stupid.” He sighed, planting his face in his hands, discreetly ridding his eyes of the tears that threatened to fall. “I thought that if I gave you some time, you’d like…calm down, and reach out to me first. That was stupid. That was…really really stupid. For whatever reason, it didn’t occur to me that I should be the one to reach out first. Even though I was, one thousand percent, the asshole here. Not even just an asshole…I hurt you so so deeply-”

He cleared his throat as his voice cracked, his tone wavering intensely as he attempted to hold back his tears. “I was scared that you would leave me. That’s pretty much it. The whole time. Even in the beginning- everything that Minghao said about us being too young, about how we might not love each other the same way ten years down the road- it scared the shit out of me. That thought just stuck itself in the back of my mind. I was scared to commit because of the thought that you might leave me at some point…” He took a deep breath, a pitiful attempt to level his shaking voice. “And then in the end, my fear of you leaving, my fear that we might fall out of love with each other, my fear of commitment, my selfishness…it’s what made you leave.”

The end of his speech left the room in silence. You hadn’t noticed the hot tears that had begun streaming down your face, matching Seokmins as the two of you quietly cried on opposite sides of the small couch. Five years of blind hatred towards him. Five years of wincing at the mere mention of his name. Five years of daydreaming about all the insults you would hurl his way if you ever saw him again. And now here you were on his couch, listening, understanding…and forgiving.

You…somehow…forgave him.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. But his words made it feel like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. It was odd how one speech could make five years of anger dissipate so quickly. But you knew deep down, you were never really angry. Just hurt. But you knew that you’d hurt him, too.

“...Can I say something?”

Seokmin nodded, attempting to wipe away the constant stream of tears with the palms of his hands. You shifted in your seat, palms folding in your lap as you struggled to verbalize your thoughts. “I…am sorry.”

You avoided his gaze, but you could practically feel the confused way he looked at you. “I’m sorry that it took me five years to sit down and listen to your side. I mean, neither of us really reached out, but I was just so blinded by my own hurt that I didn’t even think to hear you out. We were both stupid and young. I’m just sorry…and I do forgive you, by the way.”

Silence washed over the room once again, the two of you sitting awkwardly stiff on your respective ends of the couch, deliberately avoiding each other's gaze. Seokmin sniffed, nodding his head as your words settled on him. “So…I mean, I obviously…forgive you, too. That feels weird to say, but I do…so what do we do now?”

You shrugged your shoulders, still refusing to look at his face again, keeping your eyes trained on your hands as they lay resting in your lap.

“Because…and I hate to bring it up this way, or at all, really. But you did kind of jump my bones earlier.”

“Oh, god.” Your face flushed, burying it in your hands at the mention of your actions earlier that night. Your nervous laugh was muffled by your palms as your brain struggled to come up with an excuse. “I don’t…uh…I don’t know what came over me.”

“That’s okay. Just…I know I’ve said it a lot tonight, but you know I still love you…and I didn’t mind it.”

You peeked up at him through your fingers, his face just as red, if not more so, than yours. Somehow, despite everything, you always were so nervous around each other when it came to things like this. “Oh…okay.”

You had just noticed the way your bodies had inadvertently drawn closer together, your knees nearly touching. Despite your years apart, it was like your bodies were drawn together like magnets, like muscle memory, your hand found his at it rested on his lap, your fingers entwining with his.

You should have known it would happen again. Whether you knew it or not, you lived to breathe him in. That moment in Hansol’s bedroom earlier that night was the most alive, the most connected to your own self that you’d felt in years. Deep down, you needed him like you needed air. Life without him was like living in black and white. But as you touched him again, it was like you could feel the color seeping back in.

The second your lips met his, the veil of haze that had been draped over your world was finally lifted. His arms quickly wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap for the second time that night. His hands went to the sides of your face, his thumbs gently running over your cheekbones as your hands wandered all over him, eventually finding their place with one on his chest and the other in his hair.

“I love you. I love you. My pretty girl.”

Neither of you paid any mind to the tears that ran down both of your faces as you pulled away for air, resting your forehead on his as you breathed heavily. “...I love you, too.”

You didn’t miss the grin that broke out of his face before he started attacking your face with gentle, fleeting kisses. Your hands went to his cheeks, holding his face in place so you could look at him- really look at him for the first time since the night you left. Your eyes dancing over the freckles scattered across his face, his tan skin glowing in the warm lamplight, his cute ears, his chocolate brown eyes, and his long nose, which you loved so much.

You could feel his eyes observing you just the same, the smile never leaving his face as he memorized every freckle, every blemish, every little detail of your face. You leaned in to lay a gentle peck on his forehead, then between his eyebrows, then the bridge of his nose. Seokmin let out a small giggle as you gently bit the tip of his nose before planting a kiss on the same spot.

Seokmin sighed, leaning his head back, the smile still on his face, though a wrinkle formed between his brows. “...What are we gonna tell Hansol and Minghao?”

You groaned, already dreading all the potential ways your friends would react to yours and Seokmin’s sudden reunion. You shook your head, leaning over to attach your lips back to his. “Let's worry about that tomorrow.”

Seokmin’s smile grew, his arms wrapping around your waist again, pulling you close as he could. “Sounds good to me.”

As late night turned into morning, you ignored the buzzing of your phone as the numerous texts from your two friends questioning your whereabouts started coming in. The only thing on your mind was making up for the five years you’d spent apart from the only one you ever truly loved. Your Seokmin. Your soulmate.