#fratboy

He was still wearing those stupidly tight pants, and he was grinning like an absolute menace because now that the rink had cleared out, it meant that you were next. You had technically promised you’d finally let him teach you properly. Which should have been easy enough considering did ballet… but your issue was not athletic ability whatsoever.

You were simply scared to death. Like, you were utterly convinced you were going to fall, crack your head open, and die on the ice right infront of your crush. Uh huh. You had intrusive thoughts at the ripe age of thirteen! So fun.

“Up,” he said, tapping your shin with his finger, skating gracefully in-front of you as if it where nothing. “Bend your knees. You’re walking like a baby deer. Oh, if you could see yourself— Push, and then just glide. Err.. try not to look down… it doesn’t help.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” you hissed, wobbling as you held his hand tighter. “Hoonie, I’m gonna fall and crack my head open. So… so… just let me go sit back down, and I’ll watch you do your thing.”

I’ll gawk and admire you like a fangirl, more like. There isn’t a singular thing on earth you deemed cooler or more admirable than whenever he was on the ice. And you could easily watch him skate forever. He really was the best.

“I’m not going to let you fall, dumbass.”

Your cheeks went bright red, and you wanted to tell him he really cannot be saying things like that when you already like him too much. What actually came out of your mouth was, “Ew. Your hands are literally so sweaty.”

“Shut up.” he tutted, squeezing your hand anyway. “Just don’t let me go. And try not to panic.” 

You do panic, obviously. When your balance wavers enough for you to almost fall, he instantly grabs you and holds you upright.

“See?” he said. “I’ve got you.”

Halfway through the second lap, you caught movement by the boards in your peripheral. Then you turned to see your mother and Hana in their own world, with a smaller and rounder cheeked Heeseung sitting and watching the two of you with a giant bag of popcorn. 

“Why don’t you force him to learn?” you muttered, jerking your head in Heeseung’s direction.

“He is hopeless,” Sunghoon practically yelled at Heeseung’s direction. “And a big, big scaredy cat.”

“Hey!” Heeseung yelled with his mouth full. “I heard that! I’m not a scaredy cat!”

“Oh yeah? Then come on the ice and tell me that here,” Sunghoon yelled back, and you both giggled when Heeseung immediately acted dumb, as if he hadn’t heard that.

“I’m older than you two idiots, by the way! Just a reminder!” Heeseung yelled back very very poutily and angrily when the two of you kept pointing and laughing, which Sunghoon just stuck his tongue out to. That was always Heeseung’s defense card, though between the three of you, he always acted like the youngest. (When in reality, you were the youngest. The age difference between you and Sunghoon is barely even a year, though.)

“Keep your head up,” Sunghoon said, turning back to you. “Eyes on me.”

“What if I hate you right now?”

“You don’t.”

“What if I’m scared?”

He smiled. “Then look at me.”

You do. You always did. You follow him down the rink, and your knees shake less with every pass because you’re comforted by the thought of him always having you in more ways than one. 

“Okay. I think you’re ready now.”

“For what?”

“To let go.”

“Let go, Y/N. Let go!”

You remember thinking you were going to die, frantically gripping tighter onto him. “What? Nope. no. Hoonie, don’t you dare let go of my h—”

But you’d been fine. Yeah, your fear was practically crippling you in place, but with Sunghoon by your side, you were determined to do your best for him. Also you were kind of a show off of sorts, and you’d practically perfected it immediately.

Later, when you finally managed your first clean T-Stop, he clapped and cheered loudly for you like you were the one who won a gold medal that day, and you remember thinking his smile was the most beautiful thing you’d seen in all your thirteen years of living. You always thought that.

“You’re still alive. And I still got you, like always.” he said sincerely, holding your hand again.

When you were back by the edge, he stuck his hand out with a grin, waiting patiently. “Alright, I’ll take my payment now,” he said. 

“For what?”

“Private coaching, duh.”

Oh. That. You called over to your mother and asked her to dig through your backpack for it. It’s a scarf, one she taught you to knit over winter break while the two of you were holed up in one of your family’s ski houses. She is the coolest person alive and somehow knew how to do everything. Luxury designer, lawyer, business genius, and apparently also excellent at knitting. Your superhero, truly.

She pulls it out and hands it over with a knowing smile that immediately makes your cheeks go red.

Truthfully, you’d been carrying the scarf around since that morning and chickened out of giving it to him at least three separate times. It was a little lumpy and probably far too bright for a boy who dressed like a Ralph Lauren campaign at all times, but that was hardly your problem. He was the one who gave you full creative freedom, and really, what else was your thirteen year old self supposed to choose if not some cutesy bright reddish pink?

He’d made you promise the first one you knitted would be his, so he was stuck with it anyway.

“For luck,” you murmured awkwardly. “You can give it back if you hate it.”

He looked at it once, then at you, then at it again, and laughed. “It’s… definitely a scarf.”

“I hate you,” you said, and you try to grab it from him, but he holds it out of your reach.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t keeping it.” He laughed again and looped it once around his neck. 

You frowned. “You may as well have.” 

“It’s perfect,” he said, reassuring you sincerely. “There. How do I look?”

“Perfect,” you replied, shyly smiling.

It was later that afternoon when you walked out of the rink together, both of you red cheeked from the cold and from something you were still too young to name properly.

His driver was waiting like always, but this time his mother was there too, standing beside the door in a pristine coat and not a single hair out of place.

She didn’t smile when she saw you. She never really did.

You had not seen her at the last few competitions, which was strange because she used to come all the time. Then, little by little, she stopped showing up at all.

Sunghoon got along with his mother well enough from what you’d seen, but you had never known what to do with her because of well… the very obvious elephant in the room, aka how she despised your mother and barely tried to hide it. And considering your mother was the center of your universe, anyone who had a problem with her automatically became Public Enemy #1 in your world. Doesn’t matter who it was.

Mrs. Park’s eyes went straight to her Sunghoon. “Sunghoon, you are an hour late,” she said, rather irritatedly. 

Sunghoon shifted on his weight awkwardly. “I wanted to stay.”

Her eyes flicked to you, and her look is nothing short of cold. Then, she clicked her tongue. “You spend too much time with this girl.”

Before either of you could say anything, the arena doors opened and your mother walked out.  “Y/N, sweetheart, you— Oh, Jiwoo-yah,” she says politely. “I didn’t realize you’d made it.”

Mrs. Park looked at her, up and down, and still did not smile. “I didn’t. Things ran late.”

Your mom nodded once. “Well, you should’ve seen him. He was wonderful.”

“I’m sure he was,” she said, and her expression is still unpleasant as she stares at your mother. “You’ve always had such free time for these little things, haven’t you? Must be nice.”

Your mom did not take the bait. She merely smiled and shakes her head. “Actually, I don’t have much free time. But you make time for what matters.”

Mrs. Park did not answer her. She clicked her tongue again, and then her gaze shifted to the scarf still looped around Sunghoon’s neck, and her expression tightened a little.  “Take that thing off. You look ridiculous.”

“I like it,” Sunghoon muttered with a frown, not moving to take it off. He turned to look at you then, then at your mother. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Thank you for staying too, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

Your mom had told you not to take anything to heart with Mrs. Park as you watched them get in the car, but she hadn’t been looking at you when she said it. 

Memories like this piss you off. Which is a bummer considering there’s eighteen years worth of them. They used to comfort you, but now they just hurt so badly you’ve spent three years trying not to think of them at all.

I’d be a top paying customer at the eternal sunshine clinic, you think.

Just to erase Sunghoon. Him and that stupid bright red scarf he teased you about but never took off anyway. Not that day, not on the drive home, and not later either. He kept it folded in his bag for luck every time he stepped onto the ice, right up until he was eighteen.

You let him go with three years ago, but these days it’s been so hard to control your emotions because it’s forcing everything up.

Sunghoon was the first one who let you go and turned into someone who could stand still and never reach for you when you fell. And you truly hate him for that, and for everything he threw away.

Most of all, you hate him for being right about how you still saw that boy every time you were within his vicinity.

You almost laugh when you think about last night and how you actually told yourself you’d find him and tell him he could ruin you. 

As if he hadn’t already.

BY AFTERNOON, Wonyoung and Sunoo were at your door with drinks in hand, and shopping bags and little yummy treats. They hauled you out of bed, and steered you toward your big white leather couch in your pink and cream living room.

Now the three of you are sunk into the cushions with face masks on and sushi spread across the coffee table. You made them tell you about their weekends first because there is nothing you love more than the crazy events they’re up to (Wonyoung with her modeling, and then Sunoo with his cheeky side missions of sorts with Riki.) and then you told them everything, allllllllll the way from Friday night to Saturday night and Jake and that bastard. And yes, even how you almost hooked up with Sunghoon at Hana’s. At that, Sunoo sat up so fast at that part that his face mask flew straight into one of the sushi boxes, which delayed Wonyoung’s reaction by a full two minutes because it was her sushi box.

They’re your bestest friends in the whole wide world, and you cannot keep anything from them.

Except maybe one tiny lifelong detail… aka Sunghoon being your first and only love… which really is like thee biggest thing ever.

Though would you really call it keeping something from them when the real issue is that you just hate talking about your feelings and you had fully planned to tell them three years ago, but then you ultimately shut down and decided not to because everything went to shit…. Hmmmm. The jury is still out.

“Babe, you’re an actual freak,” Sunoo says to you, popping a salmon roll into his mouth. “Hooking up in public… with two different guys within twenty four hours… Girl, I think our combined prayers for you to finally get some dick confused the universe, so it just went HERE, DAMN! and gave you two at once—OW!” Wonyoung swats his arm with her chopsticks, and he pouts. “Why’d you do that for? I’m literally encouraging her. I’m so proud.”

Wonyoung snorts. “Since this is a safe space right now, I’d like to say that I think he’s the soft one,” she shrugs. “A fucking pussy, if you must. He keeps saying it would just be sex, and then he chickens out like that? Puh-lease. He’s projecting onto you.”

Sunoo points at you without looking away. “He doesn’t know what to do with all that. It would take the willpower of ten beasts to drag me away from this woman right here. We gotta give it to him, his self control is immaculate. Either that or my JakeHoon theory is correct.”

You giggle and shove him, but your tongue darts over your bottom lip before you can stop it.

Because (as much as you hate to admit it) Sunghoon knows exactly what to do with all that. Mind you, the shit that happened was only ten minutes with your clothes still on.

Heat crawls up your neck at the memory, but you shake it off fast and cringe at what you’d said to him that night. “I can never face him again. Oh my God, he’s going to hold it over my head forever. We have to kill him.”

Sunoo huffs a breath, tilting his head quizzically. “You’re saying that like he didn’t admit to jerking off to you. Hello? You have nothing to worry about, baby. God forbid a girl is horny and wants to get laid… even if it's with her sworn enemy… Which by the way, Hot! NO, no don’t hit—” he shrieks, giggling when you swat at him. “OW! But anyway, it was so obvious that he wanted you—WHO SAID THAT?” Sunoo looks around dramatically.

You poke him with your chopsticks. “Let’s change the subject now, actually. We’ve talked about men enough for now and I just… don’t know.”

Wonyoung reaches over and takes your hand in hers. “Hey, you don’t have to solve anything right now. Or literally, like ever, unless you want to. You know that, right?”

You nod along, easing into her gentle touch.

“Don’t worry about about Jake,” she goes on. “Or about… He Who Must Not Be Named… Especially that stupid headline and what happened at Heeseung’s or the thing about the screen in the car either. Whatever you do, just don’t beat yourself up about it. And if you do — cause I know your ass — Just talk to us about it, okay? Don’t bottle it up and keep it to yourself.”

“Here, eat.” Sunoo lifts the last salmon roll to your mouth with his chopsticks and waits until you take it.

Okay, you tell yourself. Just say it out loud to them.

“Um, one last thing. I need to tell you guys something. But just… don’t do anything.” you say very anxiously.

They look at each other immediately, and Sunoo presses his mouth into a tight line as he braces himself for what you are about to say, your chest loosening because they’re eyeing you with all the care in the world.

“Sunghoon was the… Sunghoon is the first boy I ever loved.”

Approximately five seconds of silence pass. 

Then Sunoo throws himself sideways on the couch like he’s dramatically fainting with one arm over his eyes. Wonyoung just blinks between you, until both of them start laughing, and it’s more so in relief than anything else (they tried to keep it in and failed terribly.)

You tilt your head. “What the hell is going on?”

“We know,” Sunoo said, to which Wonyoung conceded. “Baby, we’ve knownnnnnnnnn.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you whooshed a finger at them. “Since, uh, when?”

Sunoo picks up his chopsticks and points them towards you again. “There’s no way you just said that. Are you kidding? I mean, since forfuckingever, hello? But you’re… you. You always were in denial and got defensive when we brought it up… you know, like a cute angry bear. And we love our bear, which means we do not poke our bear.”

“But then the two of you fell out, and that was… yeah.” Wonyoung adds quietly.

It was indeed…. yeah. You literally do not want to think about that, like at all.

You shake your head. “I’m not an angry bear! And I’d like to think I wasn’t that obvious, okay?” you say defensively, folding your arms. (Oh, you know you were obvious in shit. But, well, denial!)

“Oh baby, you were as obvious as the sun is in the sky,” Wonyoung giggles. “Ok. I’ll tickle the bear slightly. But I do have to say I’m referring specifically to when we were younger, not this whole new asshole arc of his. Anyways, where do I start? Chronologically? You were literally always doing your little ‘He can have the last dumpling, I’m not hungry’ gimmick and then you’d turn bright red when he’d just insist on giving it to you instead. Anddddddd also you color coded his skate competition schedule—”

You cut her off. “Okay. Yeah, that’s enough. Oh my fucking god. But like… we were so… I mean, all of that could mean anything! He was my bestfriend, of course I’d care—” you stopped, running out of a way to defend yourself.

You’re really bad at lying. It’s diabolical, really.

“Well, why don’t I get his special treatment then?” Sunoo huffs sarcastically, teasing you. “I’d argue against your logic, but to be honest I don’t wanna poke the bear.”

Wonyoung ignores you and Sunoo bickering like Siblings and goes on. “I did doubt it for a second with the whole Jake thing. But… you always kept Jake at a distance and just fantasized about him, you know? I mean, you and Sunghoon were inseparable. Anyone could see it, and you hardly had to tell us anything. Even though, girl, your ass was constantly talking about him. But we just figured you’d drop the L bomb one day when you were ready yourself.”

You sigh. “I feel stupid.”

Wonyoung shakes her head. “You’re not stupid.”

“You’re our smart little angry bear, and we love you. And oh my fucking god. Wait. I have to FaceTime Riki later. That little shit and his dance classes. Ohhhh, he’ll actually lose his mind when I tell him you finally admitted to it.” Sunoo says cheerfully.

The three of you settle back into the couch again. Then, halfway through the movie you were now forcing them to watch (Sabrina, because of course it’s an Audrey Hepburn movie, duh.), Sunoo pauses it and turns toward you like he just remembered something life changing.

“Now that the S word is out there… I’m going to ask you something, and I mean this with respect… well, minimal respect as far as this topic goes. But I can’t hold myself back on this one. I need to know. So just tell me when to stop.” Sunoo said.

Wonyoung groaned immediately. “S word? Sunghoon? Stop what?”

Sunoo was now holding his hands about three inches apart. “So… is it this big?”

You then realized what he meant, and you bursted out laughing ridiculously. “Oh my god. SUNOO! NO.”

“Okay, not this much. Yeah, no, I figured. These are rookie inches.” He concentrated and widened the gap slowly. “Just say when.”

He kept going as you and Wonyoung stared at him in utter disbelief. That mind of his… “Stop it.” you huffed.

“Wait? Stop?” he wiggled his hands towards you, it looked about seven inches apart. “As in his dick is this big?”

You groaned and swatted his hands away, and you felt heat rushing to your cheeks because you were imagining his dick now. “No. I MEAN… Wait, I mean… If you don’t stop, I’m going to start measuring your life expectancy.”

Wonyoung picked up a cushion and threw it at him.

He ducked the pillow and ignored you both. “It’s bigger? Oh, okay! That's crazy. Just—” he kept spreading, “Are you…. Wait… seriously?” He spread his hands farther and farther apart. “You know you can say stop, right? Like I’ve heard things! I have sources that I need to confirm! Okay, now this is just not possible at this point. This could literally kill someone. I’m gonna start again.” He reset his hands.

“Sunoo—”

“—It's a public safety issue! I’m worried about my girl!”

Then you raised a brow. “Wait. What do you mean you’ve heard things? From where, exactly, would you even hear this from?”

Sunoo gave you that guilty little grin that meant you were not going to like the answer. “I may have overheard a few things from certain fraternities… from certain men named Yang Jungwon.”

“Oh dear God.” Wonyoung winces.

You press a hand to your forehead. “Why would… Do men just walk around talking about dicks? Is this a Euphoria locker room? Actually, you know what? I don’t even wanna know how he knows.”

Sunoo’s eyes suddenly widen. “Wait. KNOWS? KNOWS?! So you’re basically admitting that what they’re saying is true and he actually has a monster cock. Girl, no wonder you keep—”

You grab the nearest pillow and launch it at him, and this time it didn’t miss his head.

“Violence isn’t the answer!” he yells, ducking behind Wonyoung, who was doubled over laughing so hard.

When the laughter dies down after a while, Wonyoung reaches for your hand where it rests on your knee and threads her fingers through yours, and Sunoo (despite the beating he just received from you) reaches across and stacks his hand on top.

God, you love them so much.

ON MONDAY, Sunghoon didn’t come to class.

His empty seat beside you somehow got under your skin more than his actual presence probably would have.

Ugh. You tried very hard to remember Wonyoung and Sunoo’s advice from yesterday and not think too much. Not about him or about Jake… and definitely not about the way half the room had turned to look when you walked in.

Everyone is so fucking annoying and nosy, much to no one’s surprise. This campus was supposed to be yours in a way the rest of your life wasn’t. Yes, everyone knew who you were… that part was unavoidable. Having a last name like yours and a face people remembered was not exactly low maintenance.

It’s not like you hated it. You took pride in it, and you actually loved being the center of attention.

Good attention, though.

Sometimes it’s entertaining, but you loathe gossip. You just loathe people who think they have the right to talk about you as if they know you at all or as if they even have the privilege of twisting your beautiful name on their vile tongues. But then again, that’s unavoidable too. You learn to live with it, as angry slash anxious slash irritated as it makes you. But you don’t care what they say at all. You just wish some people had their right to perceive you revoked.

Point being, in this campus you mostly were focused on keeping your grades high, your circle small, and your business tighter. On better days, you could almost pretend you were just a normal girl with toooooooo many criminal law readings, not enough sleep, and no interest in being anyone’s gossip.

Today, however, wasn’t one of them.

In front of you, a girl two seats over pulled out her phone and angled it toward her friend. You knew that stupid photo by heart at this point — Jake’s jacket over your shoulders that the internet had somehow decided was Sunghoon’s, Sunghoon’s hands on your waist, and that awful, traitorous angle that made everything look worse. — You picked at your thumb again, mostly to ground yourself to prevent yourself from launching something at their morbid heads.

Halfway through the lecture, the door opened. And for one very second, you thought it was Sunghoon.

But it was Jake.

Your eyes met, and your throat tightened immediately, your heart racing along with it. You couldn’t even tell what exactly did it. The fact that part of you had actually wanted it to be Sunghoon, or the fact that it was Jake instead.

By the end of the lecture, you were already packing your things up before Dr. Kim even dismissed the class. 

All of a sudden, you turn to see Jake standing over your desk with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” Jake says softly. 

“Hi.”

“You look like you haven’t slept.” 

You pressed your mouth into a thin line. “I wonder why.”

“Shit, yeah. I’m sorry.” He rubs his hand on the back of his neck. “That’s why I’m here. How are you? If you need to… talk, or scream, or punch something — preferably not me — I’m around.”

You glance over his shoulder, and you spot two girls lingering near the door, whispering behind their hands as they look at the two of you. Your brows pull together, and that little knot of worry tightens at the base of your throat. 

Jake follows your gaze, then looks back at you. “Are you okay?”

“Can we go somewhere else?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “yeah, of course. Come on.”

Jake nods toward the door, and the two of you slip out of the lecture hall. You follow him inside an empty classroom down the hall, and you shut the door behind you.

“Much better,” you groan. “God, I can’t stand those annoying little shits.”

He leans against the edge of a desk across from you, watching you for a moment. Then he bites his lip. “I texted you this and it’s okay that you didn’t respond, take your time and all, but—I… I’m sorry I left early on Saturday. My father called for me and—” He stopped for a moment. “What I’m trying to say is that I should’ve said goodbye to you first. That’s on me.”

You immediately thought of the events of the car and if he’d truly cracked that partition open on purpose.

Okay… you could ask him about it right now, and then you could add it to the growing list of things gnawing through your ribs whichever way it goes. Lovely! But you won’t be doing that. It’s at the bottom of your worries, and today of all days, you just want five minutes where your chest doesn’t feel like it’s splitting in half.

“It’s fine,” you force another smile.

“I don’t want you thinking I… bailed. Especially after we… You know.”

“I didn’t think anything,” you tease, the corner of your mouth twitching. “I barely even noticed you were gone.”

He grins and takes a step closer. “Hmmm. Don’t act like you didn’t miss me.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s no weight behind it. “Who said I did?”

Jake’s grin deepens. “You didn’t have to say it.”

“You’re sooooo full of yourself.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” he says. “You even looked happy to see me when I walked in, saw you blushing and all.”

“I thought you were Sunghoon,” you say without really meaning to say it.

Oh. You don’t even realize what you just said until it’s too late. You’d just wanted to tease him… Well.

“Ouch,” he says, brows raising in slight disbelief. “Damn.”

You shake your head quickly and try not to react badly. “I didn’t mean— I meant in the sense that I was anxious it’d be him, cause I don’t want to see him or even remotely be seen next to him. Especially not after—” you stop yourself.

“Right. The news,” he exhales, nodding. “Yeah.”

That wasn’t what you meant by after. You meant after nearly fucking him, but okay.

Jake studies you for a moment, then he tilts his head and leans in towards you. “What about me, though?” 

“What about you?”

“Did you wanna see me?” he whispers.

“Hmmm. Depends. How bad do you want me to say yes?”

Jake grins slowly, eyes dropping to your mouth for a second too long before flicking back up to meet your gaze. “Bad,” he says. “Real bad.”

“Maybe I did. Who knows?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, pretty,” he shrugs playfully. “You know, ever since that night, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Jake.” you nudge him.

He lifts a brow. “What? I’m just being honest.”

Now you lift one. “It’s broad daylight, and we’re in a classroom.”

Jake bites his lip and laughs. “I didn’t say I was gonna do anything. But I’m thinking about it.”

Well, you kind of are thinking about it too now.

How he’d had his hands around your throat, how you’d whimpered into his shoulder (how he’d whimpered back), how he’d looked down at you and tilted his head back when you had his cock in your mouth— Oh, you’re horny. Great.

Fuck it.

You slide your hand into the back of his hair, and kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and not rushed, like he’s waiting for you to lead it, so you do. The second you deepen the kiss and open your mouth to let his tongue in, he groans lowly against your mouth and steps in closer, shifting to stand directly in front of you now with his hips between your legs where your knees fall open under your skirt. He lifts you up onto the desk, fingers wrapping tight around your thigh.

But you don’t, because maybe this is what you need right now. Just… let yourself be distracted. Just breathe. Just…

Not long ago, you would’ve let yourself fall into this without thinking twice. So you desperately cling onto that version of yourself for now instead of the one you’d buried that had been trying to come out for a while now.

But even then, there was always a shadow at the edge of it.

You kiss Jake even harder to try and ignore that very shadow looming at the edge of your mind.

He softly whines into the open mouthed kiss, and you spread your legs wider. You press your hips right into the hard bulge in his jeans, grinding right up against it with your pussy through your panties. Your thighs tense and close around his waist, locking him in, and he groans into your mouth needily. He breaks the kiss just long enough to glance down between you like he has to see the sight for himself.

“Fuckkkkk, look at you and your tight little body. Bet you’d cum so fast if I just—fuck, can I touch you? Please?” He literally sounds pussy drunk.

You raise your brows, leaning in to seductively kiss at his neck. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna do anything?” 

He moans when you suck on his neck. Whew, he truly is vocal. “You make it really hard,” he whines, then laughs once under his breath the moment the words leave his mouth. “Fuck. No pun intended — or actually, yeah. I’m so fucking hard.”

You laugh and lean in to kiss him again. Jake opens up for you and immediately pushes his tongue in. You gasp against him as he grabs your thigh and hitches it up tighter against his waist, grinding into you like a dog in heat.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he breathes against your neck, and then his mouth is kissing down, dragging open and wet until he reaches the top of your collarbone, and then—God—he licks up from the base of your throat all the way back to the spot just below your ear, then sucks on it hard.

You whimper at how good it feels. “I need you.”

Jake grins against your skin. “Yeah, keep making those pretty noises for me, baby.”

You reach down and fumble for his belt. “Take it off. I wanna feel you.”

“Shit. Okay, take 'em off,” He groans, so you do exactly that.“Fuck, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he mutters into your mouth.

“Then do it. Fuck me.”

You just want to feel something that isn’t shame and forget every single thing, even if it’s only for a bit. If this is what it takes then so fucking be it.

One of his hands slips under your thigh again then he positions himself between your legs more fully, spreading them wider, while his other hand slides along your hip, hooks a finger under the side of your panties, and tugs them down just enough for the elastic to give.

But as soon as you feel his teeth scrape your skin, the shadow in the corner or your head creeps up again vaguely.

At first it’s his hands.

Then his mouth.

Then it’s how his tongue was flicking circles on that exact spot just the other day, how he’d groan into your skin when you’d whine simply because of how he’d touched you.

Then you vaguely see his face and—

“Jake. Stop. Wait,” you breathe out suddenly.

Jake stops instantly, backing away while his eyes searching yours with confusion.

You feel the ghost of his mouth on your neck, the heat of it, the wetness, and the roughness… but it’s still Sunghoon.

You shake your head and take a breath like it might fix something, though it doesn’t do shit. “It’s just… I don’t think I’m ready,” you whisper. “We’re moving a bit too fast. I just don’t think this is a good idea. Not right now.”

Jake’s still staring at you. He doesn’t look angry or hurt, though his brows pinch together slightly, like he’s trying to read your face for something you didn’t say. Then he brings his hands up to cup your cheeks. “Okay,” he breathes. “Hey—look at me, hmm? It's okay.”

His thumb brushes softly across your cheekbone. It makes your chest ache. “I’m sorry.” you say softly. But it’s not an apology for what he thinks it is.

“Don’t be—fuck,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jake steps back and runs his hand through his hair, the other moving to fix his belt without looking down. You slide off the desk and slowly smoothen yourself out.

What the fuck just happened? You just almost used Jake to distract— You shake your head to stop the thought. You’re not that type of person. Are you? Err. You don’t think you are.

No judgment to the beautiful girls who can separate sex from meaning and live beautifully free lives, God bless them, but you are not built like that. Sex means far too much to you to hand it over to Jake on a bacteria infested classroom desk. Especially when you still cannot get Sunghoon out of your head. And especially when Jake is Sunghoon’s best friend.

Like yeah sure, the appeal is there. Fuck his best friend and be petty as hell. You are, to your core, petty and bitchy when it comes to handling men. As you should be.

But not when it comes to this. You didn’t do it for three years. Why the hell would you do it now? Also, it just wouldn’t be fair to Jake. All you’d think of would be Sunghoon.

Jake suddenly breaks the silence, looking a bit hesitant and sorry. “Y/N, about the other night in the van—”

“Jake.” You cut him off. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”

“Okay,” he says softly, then after a moment he adds, “I meant what I said, though. About being around.”

You let out a slow breath through your nose and reach for the strap of your Bottega, adjusting it over your shoulder. “You shouldn’t be,” you mutter.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be around me. You’ve seen what people are saying about me.”

Jake tilts his head. “Wait. Do you actually think I care about that?”

“You should,” you say. “Your father probably— no, definitely does.”

He laughed then, like the very idea was stupid. “So what?”He can care all he wants. I don’t. That shit doesn’t concern me.”

He says it without even a second of hesitation, and without a singular care to his family image, reputation, legacy, or whatever other miserable buzzword men love hiding behind. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip before you can stop yourself, because, wow.

That is… not something you’re used to.

Unlike stupid fucking Sunghoon, who always talked as if your last name weighed any differently than his.

Well, wait. That thought is sort of factually incorrect.

Because…. Ehhh, to be fair, Jake isn’t of the same stature as Sunghoon, seeing as PGI is… is PGI. The Park’s family comes with its own specially reserved level of scrutiny and horror. Jake is not quite that, but you don’t mean that in the incredibly passive aggressive tone Sunghoon had said before. It’s merely factual that Jake is the son of a very wealthy (and probably corrupt) politician… not the heir to one of the biggest empires in the world.

Unlike stupid fucking Sunghoon x2.

But yada yadaaaaa… Rich ass sons of powerful men are all cut from the same cloth. Different tailoring, same fucking entitlement and annoyingly narcissistic fathers. (This does not apply to your father or your brother, duh. God bless them. They are the loveliest men alive.)

“I like you,” Jake suddenly says. “A lot. And you don’t have to say anything right now.”

Your heart sinks. But you don’t really know what to say to that right now, so you don’t say anything and just smile. Does that make you bitchy? You don’t care.

It should feel good, right? Someone as soft and earnest and lovely and simple as Jake saying they like you, and they don’t care about the weight of anything attached to your name.

It does feel good.

But when you close your eyes, it’s still not Jake you see.

The shadow peeking at the edge has fully stepped forward now, and there is nothing vague about him anymore.

Sunghoon.

You see the way his hair falls into his eyes, and you remember how badly it used to make you want to push it back just to see all of him. You used to do that once, back when you were young enough to think touching him was still harmless.

Your thumb twitches like it still remembers the shape of his face. Him and his stupid constellation of moles that you used to trace when no one was looking…. The one on the bridge of his nose, the one beneath it, the one under his right eye, the faint one under his left brow… and then the teensy one hidden right under his eyelid. What are you doing? Stop.

Let go.

Then you realize you’ve spent far too much time in here, and it’s probably late. Your mom said she’d visit you first thing today when she flew back in from Milan. Shit.

“I need to get home,” you murmur.

WHEN YOU GOT back to your apartment, your mother was already in your living room.

So were two assistants and what looked like half a store’s worth of clothing racks in pale pink, more pink, and cream. (Your mother knows you so, so well)

She smiled at once when she saw you. “Sweetheart. You’re home.”

Her assistants bowed politely before getting right back to work, wheeling another rack filled with pink, pink and mooooore pink toward your bedroom very casually.

Your mother crossed the room and touched your cheek lightly. “I brought part of the new line with me,” she said. “I thought you should see it before anyone else.” Her eyes flicked toward one of the gowns. “There are a few pieces I pulled for you. And a few for Wonyoung, obviously.” She smoothed a hand over a pale pink dress, her smile turning softer. “I always think of you when I design in pink. It would be rude not to.”

“I mean, it is my color,” you hummed cheerily, admiring her work. “I missed you so much. Everything looks so gorgeous, unsurprisingly.”

“I missed you more,” she smiles, then she leaned in to kiss your cheek. “You look tired.” she eyed you with motherly concern. “I’m sorry that I haven’t carved out proper time for just us. Between Milan, Paris, London, and then Japan… Oh, I hate when work keeps me away from my little girl.”

You leaned into her touch. “You’re with me now.”

“I am.” she said softly.

Okay, technically, the first time you ever admitted out loud to someone else that you loved Sunghoon was today with Wonyoung and Sunoo.

But your dear sweet mother did not need a formal announcement, because

A) Hello? She’s your mother. And your first ever bestfriend.

B) Your mother had known loooooong before you even did.

Yuuuuup. Her and your diary were the only two witnesses to the full extent of your lifelong devotion to Park Sunghoon. But like that kinda feels unfair to the diary, because the diary never had to watch you sit in a hotel suite in Paris pretending to read while a skating broadcast played at volume one, only for you to go suspiciously silent and snap at literally everyone when a certain boy didn’t properly land cleanly on the ice. (You also showed visible signs that you’d struggle with anger issues at a very young age. Amen.)

So when she asked later softly, “How are you doing with all that’s been going on, baby?” and then, after the tiniest pause, “With Sunghoon?” you already knew your ass was doomed to bits.

Though, you did your best to be nonchalant, pretending his name did not send your pulse skidding out of rhythm. “I’m good.”

“Mm.” She could definitely see riiiiight through your bullshit. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Mom.” you whine, knowing that she is literally not letting this go.

“Hm?”

You let out a quiet groan. “Please do not say something horrifyingly perceptive right now. I literally do not care about Park Sunghoon.”

“Sweetheart, do you genuinely think I don’t know my one and only daughter?”

“Well, your motherly radar is very off. Maybe you don’t know me after all,” you shrug, trying very hard to deflect by lying. “What? I genuinely do not care.”

“Tsk. One day, when you have a daughter, I truly hope she’s not as difficult as you. Or maybe I do hope she is, just so you know what I went through, you little rascal.” She smiled and shook her head. “Ahhh. I remember the way you used to look at him whenever he landed a jump or did one of his little figure skating things… I used to think, wow. I haven’t even seen her look that proud at her own recitals.”

“Ughhhhh. I hate it here. Why is everyone out to get me today?”

She kissed your forehead, laughing as you dramatically whined. “We haven’t really talked about him since you told me the two of you stopped being… friends,” she said, and it’s almost like she was contemplating whether friends was even the right word to use at all. “And he started acting that way. But… I just want to know if my little girl’s heart hurts.”

You swallowed. “It doesn’t.”

Her brows lifted in a way that said Don’t lie to me, then you sighed.

“Okay, maybe it does a little.” you admit quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I loved him so much.”

Your mom eyed you sympathetically. “I know, honey. I know.”

She can tell how sad you are, so she immediately cheers you up, brushing her hand over your hair and changing the subject. “You know what… Let’s go back to the house. I’ll make you soup myself, and you’re telling me all about what I’ve missed, and we are not discussing Parks of any variety—ohhh, except for Park Jimin. Oh! I adore that boy. I wonder how he is.”

IT HAD BEEN three days since that stupid headline and since you trusted your parents when they told you everything would be okay and that their team along with Mr. Park’s were, wait for it… drumroll please for thee worst word ever: “handling” it together.

You had assumed that meant it was over, buuuut apparently not. Because here you were in one of Park fucking Jaejoon’s stupid hotel conference rooms with your parents, sitting under stupid bright lights, across from his stupid son and his stupid wife because his stupid self had called in an urgent meeting.

On the drive over, you felt sick anticipating what this meeting could possibly mean, and interacting with Sunghoon.

“And if at any point you want to leave during that meeting, you just squeeze my hand.” your mother had said in the car.

Sunghoon looked so uneasy right now, but whatever. You did not care.

Then, as you moved past Sunghoon to take your seat, the side of his pinky brushed your knuckle.

Your heart drummed in your chest on impact. Though you kept your eyes on the table like nothing had happened, your hand flexed before you could stop it.

The skyline behind Mr. Park beautifully puts Seoul into view, and even with how spacious this conference room in his hotel is, you still feel as though you’re going to suffocate right where you sit.

The only thing that makes you feel halfway normal is the smell of your mother’s floral, comforting perfume. La Tulipe by Byredo. She sat to your right in one of her perfectly cut cream Chanel sets, calm as ever. Across from you, Sunghoon sits between his parents, and you look at him once because you can’t help yourself. He is wearing a white shirt and a black tie, neat as always, and his expression is still uneasy and… just blank. (Girl, just stop looking at him.)

He did not look back.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Mr. Park said from the head of the table. “I know we’ve already spoken, but after reviewing the situation further, I thought it best that we meet face to face.”

Your father gave him that polite lawyer smile of his. “Of course. Though I was under the impression everything had already been settled, Chairman Park.”

You stared at your reflection in the glossy table. It was blurry, but at least it was not anyone else’s (The Parks) stupid face.

“It is,” Mr. Park said. “Mostly. The online reaction has quieted down, but as you know, public memory is short but not forgiving. In our world, reputation is delicate.”

No fucking shit, you thought. Maybe tell your son that. He was the one who got drunk and dragged you into this.

Your mother crossed one leg over the other. “I thought the withdrawals had already handled the worst of it,” she said smoothly. “What exactly is left to discuss?”

Mr. Park went on. “This is simply about making sure both families recover properly. The photos affected everyone involved. Our team has been working since that morning. Right now, it appears the images came from within the hotel system itself… somewhat of an internal breach of privacy. We are narrowing it down, but I would rather confirm before making accusations.”

Your father tilted his head. “So it was someone who works for you.”

“Possibly someone who used to,” Mr. Park said. “Either way, we’re handling it quietly. You have my word.”

Your father nodded once. “Good.”

Then Mr. Park leaned back in his chair. “What matters now is the long term image. Your daughter’s reputation reflects on yours. And your name, of course, is tied to mine as legal counsel. It would be unwise to let people think there is division between our families.”

“Publicly, perhaps. But there has always been division privately, Mr. Park.” your father said.

Mr. Park laughed once, and it sounded so fake it genuinely weirded you out. “Ah. Misunderstandings,” he said. “The past has a way of making fools of all of us, doesn’t it?” Then he turned slightly toward your mother. “You especially must forgive us, Mrs. Y/L/N. We have always admired your grace.”

He would almost sound charming, if you were stupid.

The man sat there talking like some generous saint when everyone in the room knew exactly what kind of person he was. As if his wife had not spent years being weird and unpleasant toward her for reasons that still made no sense to you.

As far as you were concerned, Park Jiwoo was just a bitch. (A very well dressed bitch, sure. But still a bitch.)

Your mother smiled. “Do you mean before or after your wife spent years telling half of Seoul I was beneath her?”

You smiled. If there was one thing about your mother, it was that she would always defend herself. Elegantly, of course.

Mrs. Park smiled too, and hers was just as fake as her husband’s. “Well,” she said with a tiny click of her tongue, “I was wrong, clearly. It’s her daughter who’s beneath my son.”

Your mouth almost drops open. Now what’d she say fuck you for?

God, you wish you weren’t you and you didn’t live where you lived, because you would love nothing more than to hand her a piece of your mind. But noooooooo. You and Sunghoon are just here as decorative little props while the adults do their talking. So you sit there, quietly and prettily and you take it. You’re very good at that. (Not in bed, obviously, because you are not a pillow princess, but still.) (God. Your mind is actually done for. Why would it even go there right now?)

Your mother turned to look at her, still smiling, though it was a warning smile. “Watch yourself, Jiwoo.”

Your father clicked his tongue. “You called us here so your wife could insult my wife and daughter under the guise of civility? I should’ve known better than to waste their time bringing them here.”

Besides, your parents had your back anyways. You didn’t need to speak.

It was always a little jarring seeing your father like this. At home he was all warmth and jokes and shameless softness… (that is to say, the biggest softie you know.) But in rooms like this, with how scary and serious he sounded, you’d never imagine he was like that. You almost smiled at the sight of it, even with that horrible, horrible feeling growing in your stomach.

“Nonsense,” Mr. Park said quickly, lifting a hand. “Let’s not drag the past into this, Mr. Y/L/N. As I said, emotions may have been involved before, and there may have been misunderstandings, but that is not why I asked you here.”

Very slowly, he looked at his wife again with a warning written all over his face. Her whole expression changed immediately, smoothing it down to something almost normal.

“Yes,” Jiwoo said. “My apologies for how I may have behaved in the past. It was uncalled for.”

Your parents did not even bother acknowledging her.

“Very well,” Mr. Park said, nodding to himself. “In any case, your daughter is a respected young woman, and your family name is one of the oldest in this country. I would never speak down on that. What matters now is that both our families move forward together.”

You looked at Sunghoon again, who had not looked at you once. You really hated that you were counting.

Mr. Park kept going, because he’s a fucking narcissist and loves the sound of his own stupid fucking voice, and God you hate him so much you could die.

“Once a story like this spreads, it stops being about the people involved and it becomes about the houses they come from…. Their legacies all the way down to their reliability. We’ve already seen a slight wobble with two overseas partners. It’s minor, but still there. I imagine you’ve received calls of your own. So I’ve been considering ways to prevent any further damage. And I do recall that your daughter and Sunghoon have always been close.”

Pause.

Is this man stupid?????!!!!!!!!! Like, actually.

He continued. “Our families go back decades. Before us, even. Your father worked closely with mine, Mr. Y/L/N. I remember how much he respected him. We’ve built things side by side since then, haven’t we?”

Your father shook his head slowly, already unimpressed, but his voice stayed perfectly polite. “Sure, but I’m not quite sure I’m following.”

Which is his polite way of saying just shut the fuck up and get to the point. (You agree with your father.)

Mr. Park smiled again, and it was still horrible to look at. “You and I have both seen what happens when the press decides a story for us. It is unpleasant, yes, but it is also an opportunity to rewrite the narrative.” His eyes flicked between you and Sunghoon. “And since the two of them already share a friendship, it seems only natural that we lean into that.”

— First of all, you wanted to get up and throw yourself directly out one of the windows.

— Second of all, why the FUCK did this man talk so much? And why the hell is he being so weirdly fake and polite? Is this somewhat of a simulation?

Shit. Shit. Shit. You knew exactly where this was going, and it made you sick to think about.

Is he about to fucking propose… that you and Sunghoon… Surely Not. Surely He Would Not Do That. (Your brain is malfunctioning, clearly.)

Your father furrowed his brows. “Lean into it how, exactly?”

“By making it official, of course. I’m proposing an engagement between our children.”

Your ears are ringing. For a second, no one said anything at all… and you thought that maybe you were in a simulation after all. Because surely that old bastard had not just said that out loud. You’re dreaming… this is a dream. No, it’s a fucking nightmare.

“Given the rumors being spread, an engagement reframes the story. It makes it clear there was nothing improper and it was merely a moment between two young people who were already promised to each other.”

Yes, that’s the case. This is a nightmare.

Then the silence settled in and reality hit, and it became very clear that no, he had in fact just said it. No fucking wonder he buttered your asses up that much.

Mrs. Park found her voice first. “You did not—”

“Quiet,” Mr. Park said without even looking at her.

This time, you couldn’t bite your laugh back. You genuinely could not help it. It was a very disbelieving burst (because the alternative was vomiting onto the conference table.)

Every head turned toward you except for Sunghoon’s. You knew that because you were looking right at him.

He was severely dissociating, it seemed.

Mr. Park’s smile faltered. “Is something amusing, young lady?”

“My apologies, Mr. Park,” you said, trying and failing to sound composed. “But surely you cannot be serious about this whole thing.”

Your mother turned to you then, and there was warning in her eyes that said What did I tell you in the car? Don’t talk back to that man, but more than that there was also concern.

Mrs. Park did not bother hiding her scoff this time. “It seems your daughter’s manners have not improved after all these years. Is this truly how you’ve raised her? To giggle while adults are speaking? She should be quiet and let us handle this.”

Your whole chest went hot. That’s rich coming from you, you hag, considering the only person at this table currently not being allowed to speak is your ass. Worry about that. — is what you would have said if this were a perfect freeing world and manners weren’t your number one priority.

Ooookay, you know what? Maybe you will give her a piece—

Your father spoke before you could. “I would suggest,” your father said calmly, “that you do not speak to my daughter again. I raised her to speak when something sounds ridiculous.”

Jiwoo’s face twisted with a wave of utter defeat, and something more… you couldn’t name it. It was gone immediately, though it looked terribly resentful.

Your father looked back at Mr. Park. “What exactly is the meaning of this? You are speaking about my only daughter as if she is part of a press strategy,” your father said, and this time there was nothing polite left in it.

Mr. Park’s expression tightened. “I am speaking about responsibility. Which my son is ready for.”

Under the table, your mother’s hand found yours. She turned your palm upward and pressed her thumb over your cuticle, stopping you from picking at the skin there.

“Ready?” your father repeated.

Mr. Park nodded. “My son knows his duties.”

You noticed that he had referred to PGI more lovingly in the last ten minutes than he had referred to Sunghoon at all, and it kind of made you feel sick.

Your father looked at you, then at your mother, then back at Mr. Park. “No,” he said. “Just… no. I refuse.”

Mr. Park’s face changed. He looked almost offended by the concept of being told no, as if it were a word his life had somehow never required him to hear. (Very likely the case. 100%). “I do not understand. Y/N would be cared for. It gives her certainty. It gives her—”

“Enough,” your father snapped.

You were startled, to say the least. You had heard your father angry before, of course, but never like… this. Has anyone ever gotten angey at Park Jaejoon, even?

“You are talking about her as if she is not sitting right here,” your father went on angrily. “If my daughter gets married one day, that will be her choice and hers alone. It will not be some arrangement drafted in a boardroom because you dislike a headline. I will not let something that severe… that delicate, be taken from her unless she asks for it herself.”

Since you seem to be the noticer of all things tonight, you also noticed the way Jiwoo looked away at that. Her eyes flicked toward the window, and something bitter and tired passed over her face before she tucked it away again.

Then your father looked at you. “Honey,” he said, softly now. “Is this something you want?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out… So you just shook your head no.

“That settles it, then.” your father said with finality.

Mr. Park opened his mouth, but your father did not give him the chance. “I appreciate your concern for our image,” he said, calm again now, though not kinly. “And for your…” His eyes slid to Sunghoon for just a second. “Company. But that is where this begins and ends… with your business. Not my family, so take care of it yourself.”

Mr. Park clicked his tongue, and for the first time tonight his polite mask slipped. “You have always been quite the family man, Mr. Y/L/N,” he said, in a tone men used when they thought love was a weakness. “The two of them are friends, are they not? It is practical and strategic. There is no need to make this harder than it has to be.”

“Strategic?” your father repeated. “Your son and my daughter have not been friends for quite some time, Mr. Park. And let me remind you that I refused this exact path when it was chosen for me. My parents gave me no one to speak for me, so I ran away. My daughter has me. I will not let you do this to her.”

You blinked, confusion flowing through you. Ran away?

That was new. You had always known your paternal grandparents had not exactly welcomed your mother with open arms, but this was the first time you had ever heard your father say anything like that. Which was crazy because you had been under the impression that you knew everything about your parents… seriously, Ran away?

Oh, you were for sure asking your mother about that later.

Mr. Park spoke again before you could even begin to process it. “I have tried to be pleasant. However, I do not understand your refusal. If this is about the past, the past is the past. I am extending my hand in good faith.” He said, impatience curling his lips. “My son is the successor to this entire legacy, Chairman Y/L/N. Everything I and generations before me preserved. And right now that legacy is being dragged through the mud because of one careless moment. Because of her.” His eyes flicked to you, slightly disgusted. “Surely you can understand what that looks like for him. For my company. It makes us look weak.”

Why the fuck was Sunghoon still sitting there like a zombie? Speak. Speak, you fucking coward. Say anything.

Your father scoffed. “So, just so I understand,” he said flatly, “you want me to marry off my daughter to your son because it would help your company save face.”

Mr. Park scoffed right back. “You say that as if it is absurd. As if you would not do the same.”

“I would never… ever put my children on the line to save my name,” your father said. “Not for a company. Not for anything.”

Under the table, you squeezed your mother’s hand once, just like she had told you to do as a signal to leave. She looked at you briefly, then turned back to Mr. Park. “Forgive me,” she started, then shook her head. “No, don’t. This is absurd, and I don’t see a single reason why we should be sitting here a second longer.”

Mr. Park clenched his jaw. “I assure you—”

“No.”

The room went still, and every head turned toward Sunghoon.

Mr. Park looked at him like he genuinely was not sure he had heard correctly. “What did you say, boy?”

Sunghoon finally lifted his eyes to his father’s as he rose from his chair. “I said no.”

His father’s face hardened at once. “Sit down.”

But Sunghoon did not move. You could see the vein in his neck twitch. “No, Father,” he said again. “I’m not doing this.”

Mrs. Park rose halfway out of her seat, alarm flashing across her face like she wanted to intervene… but then she pressed her lips together and sat right back down, looking between her son and her husband with something like dread on her face.

“You dare—” Mr. Park shook his head, stunned now more than angry. “You have no choice, and you wan— You knew this day would come. Why are you choosing to do this here? What is the meaning of this?”

“Not like this.” Sunghoon said. “Not with her. Anyone but her.”

And just like that, your skin felt too tight.

Maybe you preferred him when he was silent and just sat there motionless like a stupid fucking rock.

“You’re kidding,” you blurted out, seeing red, and your chair scraped as you pushed back.

Your mother’s hand came down gently but firmly on your arm before you could stand. She leaned in close enough that only you could hear her. “Don’t, honey,” she whispered. “Not here.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flick to you for a blinding second just enough for you to see the familiar softness there, the memory of a thousand tiny mercies he gave you as a kid, but it’s gone before you can grab it, and the look that follows is so cold and spiteful that it makes your stomach twist.

You wanted to slap him, and you wanted to scream your lungs out. Mostly, you wanted to climb into his head and drag out the reason he had just said that in front of everyone.

Because you remembered him at fourteen, at fifteen, saying it like a fact he hated but obeyed all the same… I can’t ever refuse my father. I can’t say no. You know how it works.

And now… you think It’s the first time he’s ever put those words between himself and his father, and it makes you feel sick. The one time he decides to speak up, it’s because it’s you he doesn’t want.

Because suddenly you’re the line he won’t cross… Not that you want him to cross the stupid fucking line anyway. You shake your head.

Mr. Park’s anger came back fast after that. “You dare have a say in this after making us look weak? After giving our competitors leverage? This is not about you, boy. This is about succession.”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw. “Then let me look weak alone,” he said. “Take my allowance, and my title. Just… take whatever you want. But don’t force me to marry her.”

“Sit back down, son.” your father said to Sunghoon suddenly.

Sunghoon’s head snapped towards him.

Your father held his gaze for a long moment, and something soft and so so kind washes through his expression. “You do not need to accept any consequences for standing up for yourself.” He nodded once towards Sunghoon’s chair. “So sit down. Let the adults handle this. No parent should make their child choose between obedience and self respect,” he says. “You said no, and that’s enough. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

The look on Sunghoon’s face—God—it’s not relief exactly. It’s something you can’t entirely name—gratitude? you’re not sure. And then he slowly sits back down.

Mr. Park clicks his tongue. “How touching. But children do not learn responsibility through comfort. They learn it through discipline. Otherwise they grow soft, entitled, and forget who built the ground beneath them.”

Your father’s mouth pulls into something that is not quite a smile. “That has always been the difference between us,” he says. “I don’t need my children to remember what I built. I just need them to know they are safe standing on it.”

Your throat tightens.

You turn to your mother. “Do something,” you whisper, voice cracking halfway through. “I want to leave. Please.”

She furrows her brows, thinking for only a second before leaning in. “Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

Thanks to your mother’s persuasion and genius mind, that is how you end up agreeing to something else entirely. Mr. Park had, of course, first acted like the very suggestion was beneath him. But eventually, after enough back and forth and enough arguing from both sides of your family…

“It doesn’t have to be a marriage,” your mother insisted. “We’re past that time, aren’t we? People are more open minded now. They’d rather see something young and modern than… so blatantly arranged. However, this headline has left a stain of sorts, and we all seemingly understand that. So… let them pretend to be in a relationship.”

Buckle up.

SUNGHOON’s collar felt too tight around his neck.

That, and his vision was blurring entirely. He dragged his fingers up to his tie and yanked it loose until it hung around his neck, then planted both hands flat against the cold marble wall and tried to get his breathing under control.

In.

Out.

In.

He pressed his thumb to the spot behind his sternum until it hurt, trying not to think about anything that had just happened in that goddamn room.

Not his mother’s face, which had gone cold the second he stood up… what his father might do when they got home.

Not the fact that he had just stood up to his own father for the first time in his life.

And definitely not you… not the way your eyes had found his and stayed there, asking for something he didn’t have the language for.

Not the way even thinking of you quietens the clamor in his head.

He had meant what he said in there when he said it did not want it to be you… in the same way you mean something to prevent someone from drowning.

Because you do not belong in his world.

That is a fact of a matter that had been solidified three years ago. So he forced himself to focus on that part only, which did not help much either because he hated ever thinking deeply about that and the details of it. Whatever, he thought. He started walking despite how his heart was still very much out to get him, thinking that maybe a cigarette would fix this. But then he took the corner too fast and—

He walked straight into you.

It’s just a stupid little turn in a hallway with bad timing. But the second he looked saw you there under the warm hotel lights haloing around you and tracing the line of your jaw and the curve of your mouth, everything in him shifted. The panic did not exactly disappear, but it loosened enough for him to breathe around it.

You were looking up at him with your brows drawn together, already annoyed.

And because he was still himself, and because being cruel had always come more easily than being honest, the first thing out of his mouth was (more like he said it before he realized it) was, “Watch where you’re going, darling.”

Your expression tightened all the more. “Don’t call me that.”

There was no snap in your voice or any hint whatsoever of your usual anger, and for some reason that bothered him more than if you had started screaming. Be angry, he thought. I deserve that. I know what to do with angry.

“Why not?” His voice came out smooth now, which was impressive considering he had been two seconds away from passing out against a wall. Though his panic was calming down by the second. “You should probably get used to it… you know, now that we’re a couple.” He tilted his head, studying you. “Unless you’d prefer sweetheart... or love? Or something filthier, maybe. Though you’ve always been really romantic and sentimental, so maybe not.”

Your face twisted into proper, full annoyance now. “You’re an actual asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he shrugged, dragging his eyes slowly down your body. “Mostly by you.”

Your fingers curled into a loose fist, and his eyes dropped there. He saw the raw skin at the edge of your thumbnail, and the thin line of blood that kept coming back. Holy hell. You had picked it open again to shreds again... He had watched you doing it under the table earlier, and he’d seen you pressing your thumb into your palm — in the way you habitually did whenever you tried (and failed) not to tear at your skin.

For one stupid second his hand twitched toward his pocket out of habit out of some old instinct kicking up. He shook the thought off before it could become anything softer.

Then you spoke. “What did you mean by that in there?” you paused, searching his eyes. “Why would you… say it like I was… like I was filth.” 

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched. “You heard me.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” you shoot back, brows furrowed. “Why the hell would you say something like that in front of my parents?”

“Oh. I see. Do you want me to spell it out for you, sweetheart?”

“I said don’t call me that,” you snap. “And stop fucking deflecting and hiding behind that stupid, fake ass cocky little smirk of yours. For once in your life, just answer me. I’m just trying to talk to you… me. Why?”

Damn. Read him to filth some more, why don’t you?

But you were still looking at him like that like he might say something that made sense, or like he might magically fix the last three years somehow. But that is not something he can do.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do, which is to say that he made it ten times worse.

“It means exactly what it sounded like,” he said, a faint smile pulling at his mouth that didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. “I would rather let my father marry me off to some random girl he picks than ever marry you.”

He stares past your shoulder like there’s something worth looking at, but obviously there isn’t anything.

There’s only ever you and the echo of your voice in his head. 

Hoonie.

A while of silence passes between the two of you, and he hates how you’re staring at him with such contempt even though it’s his fault.

“Wow,” you hiss. “After everything, that is what you say… then have the audacity to act like—what? that you didn’t spend that whole night just a few days ago whispering how badly you wanted to fuck me? You piece of shit. You don’t get to use people like that! and whatever… this isn’t about sex. It’s about us! About how yyou push people away and just say whatever you can to make yourself feel bigger. But that’s all it is… it’s all just you talking. You never actually fucking mean anything you say.”

“I meant every word I said in there.”

“Do you really fucking hate me that much?”

He doesn’t let himself think. “I could never be with someone like you.” He sees the flicker of sadness cross your face at that then something in him twists, and before he can stop it, he reaches for what’s familiar. “God. You really are so soft.” he scoffs.

Weak. Pathetic and weak, he thinks. But it’s not his own voice that rings in his head.

Your chin lifted immediately. “I’m not soft. Stop saying that. You don’t know me anymore.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” he said. “I don’t want to know you anymore. And you are soft. You’re standing here acting like anything that happened between us meant something. It didn’t. It was just sex. Or it would’ve been, if you weren’t like this.”

You laugh humorlessly. “No. You know what, actually, maybe I am soft. I’m a fucking human being! There’s nothing wrong with that, especially not after all we’ve been through. God forbid I have fucking emotions? It’s better than whatever the hell you are, and you know what you are? You’re a fucking coward, Sunghoon. And I feel sorry for you.”

“You said no too when your daddy so nicely gave you a choice.”

Your eyes narrow, and he notices how you swallow once before speaking. “That’s different, and you fucking know it.”

“How?” he badgers. “Go on.”

“I didn’t say anything, but your ass was ready to give up everything just because you don’t want it to be me—” then you stop and laugh again, though it’s not the laugh he grew up loving. “I’m over this. Fuck you.”

“Already tried.” His mouth curls wickedly. “Didn’t get very far, remember?”

“Stop it,” you hiss. “Stop talking like that. I mean it, Sunghoon. I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m tired. I actually think you’re doing this shit on purpose,” you laugh under your breath. “Remember the other night, when you told me to find you when all I had left to give you was hate? Well, Congratufuckinglations, because you finally got what you wanted because that is all I have left when I look at you right now… But I don’t even want you to have that. I don’t want you. Just—” you swallow hard, “stay the fuck away from me.”

“I can’t.”

You blinked, as if you didn’t hear him right. “What?”

“I said I can’t stay away from you.”

For a second, he almost let it sit there and let it mean what it actually meant. Then, in true, Park Sunghoon fashion he doubled down. “We’re supposed to pretend to be in love,” he added flatly, jerking his chin toward the glass doors down the hall. “They’re in there right now signing us into a very convincing relationship. It would be a bit embarrassing if we ruined it before it even started, don’t you think?”

You turned on your heel immediately. “I don’t care. I’m going in there and telling them I don’t want this—”

He immediately grabs your wrist to stop you, though he does so too tight and the contact makes you hiss, and both of you freeze. You look at his hand around your wrist first, then at him—

It reminds him far too much of his own parents, and he immediately wants to throw up.

He drops your wrist immediately. “I didn’t mean to— I would never—” he pauses, heart thrashing in his chest.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He looks at you again and tries to calm down, then he exhales. “You heard what they said in there. It’s only for a few months. That’s it. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

“Sunghoon.”

“You agreed,” he hisses. “I didn’t have a choice, and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. My father’s right for once. This won’t just go away… not when whoever is behind that shit clearly had a motive, leaking this after it’s been publicly announced that my father is to step down in the following years… and now they’ve spread it to the point of making me look like a goddamn liability to the company’s future. So just do what you do best and be the perfect little daughter that they can point cameras at and then… let go of me.”

“Fine,” you say finally after staring him down in anger, clearly weighing your options and probably coming to the same conclusion that his father would not be one to take the word of a young woman such as yourself. “But I’m setting some fucking rules.”

Sunghoon scoffs. Of course you are, he thinks.

“Rules?”

You start counting them off on your fingers while Sunghoon stands there and lets you, mostly because he deserves it and partly because watching you get bossy with him… is… Well, hot.

Here is what you said, all of which were very angrily huffed,

1. You don’t touch me.

2. You don’t talk to me unless someone else is in the room.

3. You don’t look at me like that night, or anything before that, ever happened.

4. You don’t call me any pet names. (Sunghoon didn’t like that one. Well, he didn’t like any of them.)

5. And you especially do not fucking whisper in my ear about how you want to fuck me.

Ehhh. It’s not like he plans on following through with any of them, anyway.

“Shut up,” you snap when he tells you you’re being stupid. “I’d sooner die than let you touch me again, Sunghoon. I swear to God, If you do anything more than what’s being asked of us… I’ll scream. I’ll scream and I’ll make sure your father’s entire company crumbles beneath your fucking feet, even if I go down with you. I don’t want to hear your bullshit right now,” you bite out when he tries to speak. “Just tell me you fucking understand me.”

He scoffs. “We’ll see about that.”

“That’s not what I asked, is it?” you snap, stepping closer. “Tell me you fucking understand me, or I’ll scream right here, right now. Do you think I won't? Like actually stand there and think about that in your head.”

Oh, he knows you will. His eyes drop to your mouth before he can stop himself… and he tells himself it’s just the adrenaline and rage of the moment that makes him do so.

He’s not proud of the thought that crosses his mind.

Which is to drag his mouth across your throat right here just to hear what kind of sounds you make when he shuts you up. He thinks of pressing your back into the nearest wall just to drag more of that anger out of your mouth until you’re panting too hard to spit another curse at him, to see if you’d still talk to him like that with his fingers down your throat.  Fuck, he hates this. He hates you, he tells himself.

“Fine,” he spits, shaking his head. “I understand.”

“Good.” you say before walking away.

None of this matters, he tells himself. It means nothing. It’s just a few contractual months, that’s all. It will end.

He also tells himself that it does not fucking matter that his father is suddenly acting like this is a brilliant idea, or that his mother is going along with it.

Sunghoon himself is not… because if he lets himself think about anything else beyond that, he is utterly fucked.

He’s furious with himself, and most of all with his father. So before his mind can turn on him again, he calls his bestest friend in the world — who always, always knows exactly what to say. Or sometimes not even say at all, just be there.

Heeseung picks up on the second ring. “Yo, Hoon?”

“Wanna drink?” Sunghoon says.

“Damn, what happened to hello? How are you, my handsome, sexy, funny brother? Not even an I miss you, hyung—”

“Heeseung.”

Heeseung exhales a breath, then whistles sarcastically. “Damn. First name type shit? My brotherrrrrrr is not playing around tooooonight.” There’s a pause on the other end, as if Heeseung is thinking. Then, he softly adds, “I don’t think drinking is a good idea, bro. Which is kind of an insane thing to come out myyyyyy mouth considering my ass is barely upright and sober, but like… you know it’s bad when i’m the one saying that shit, yo. You’ve been—” 

“I don’t want to go home tonight,” Sunghoon cuts in quietly, and his voice is more desperate than he’d like it to be.

“Is this about—” Heeseung stops. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I don’t know. Just…” Sunghoon exhales hard, running his hand through his hair. “Hyung, please.”

Heeseung sighs on the other end of the phone. “Alright, I’m at the frat.”

YOU ROLL OVER and shove your face deeper into one of your silk pillows because it is far too early in the morning, and whoever keeps calling you repeatedly can literally wait until you’ve had at least one coherent thought. Or have the willpower to wake up.

But your phone keeps on buzzing again.

And again.

And again, and again, and again.

It gets to a fucking point, really. You groan into the blanket and blindly reach toward your nightstand, knocking into a lip mask, a book, and then your fingers finally find your phone. You just double tap to hang up because surely that sends a clear enough message to any sane person.

However, it does not.

The phone starts ringing again immediately, and now you are irritated enough to sit halfway up very sleepily and glare at the screen.

Oh. There are so, so many missed calls.

Be it from your mother’s assistant, oh… your mom herself, then wonyoung…. then message banners after message banners.

Boy, what the fuck is going on? You squint harder and start scrolling, and then your heart jumps when you see one very mind altering text from your brother at the top.

TAEHYUNG: My little sister is getting married and she didn’t even tell me? Oh, okay.

TAEHYUNG: About damn time you two got together though hahaha. I knew it’d be him.

TAEHYUNG: (I’m still mad at you.)

TAEHYUNG: Call me when you see this.

See, you were not a morning person at all, however upon reading batshit insanity of that sort, you immediately woke up in full force as if you’d been electrocuted. Married? You? Who the hell is him? Always… knew…?

Okay, so obviously your bum brother has finally lost his mind. That has to be it. Or it’s probably one of his shitty ass millennial gimmick pranks he’s pulling on you, since he so very much deems himself to be funny. (You hate that he actually is. You hate it when men are funnier than you.)

You have bigger fish to fry than men being funnier, though, miss girl. Because then you see that there is a link underneath his text to an article.

[EXCLUSIVE]: PARK GROUP SUCCESSOR PARK SUNGHOON AND HAN EMPIRE HEIRESS Y/N Y/L/N CONFIRMED TO BE MEETING EACH OTHER WITH GOOD FEELINGS—ENGAGEMENT EXPECTED. Park Sunghoon personally addressed the rumors through an official statement released by Park Group International:

“What the fuck,” you shriek out loud to absolutely no one.

You drag a hand through your hair and try to think, but your brain is moving too slowly and too fast at the same time. You knew there was going to be a statement this morning. Fine. Yes. That had been discussed. But this shit was not part of the plan. Your parents would never agree to wording like this.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Of course Park Jaejoon’s satanic self did this.

You should have known better than to go to sleep thinking he would actually play fair. As if a man who practically owns half of the country and apparently half of hell itself would ever pass up the chance to twist something in his favor. He did not “agree” to shit yesterday… He got his opening and took it.

Your jaw tightens.

You know exactly what you have to do next.

You are going to kill Park Sunghoon.

FEEDBACK & REBLOGS ALWAYS APPRECIATED ( ˘⌣˘)♡(˘⌣˘ )

𝓝 ⟢ HOON POV DEBUT!!!!!! i hope i did him justice… also i abused the hell out of Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac while writing this. (I KNOW I COULD HAVE LOVED YOUUUUU BUT YOU WOULD NOT LET MEEEE! Gonna kms) ₍˶ˆ꒳ˆ˶₎♡ 🌷