#hoon4lia

The boy who walked you home with headphones shared between you, who’d hum songs with his eyes closed and tell you he felt like he was made to do something bigger. The boy who never let you cry alone, who let you sleep on his shoulder during late-night study sessions and called you his “other half” like it meant something. You and Heeseung used to be inseparable , the kind of friends who shared secrets, inside jokes, and dreams too big for small dorm rooms. He was the constant you counted on, the person who made everything feel lighter even when your schedule was suffocating.

Now he barely even looks at you. You pretend not to care. You never imagined college would feel this empty. Not like this. But now? You didn’t know who he was anymore. It started small , missed texts, canceled plans, excuses that made no sense. Then the silence. You found out through others: Heeseung had joined a those popular kids, started throwing parties, gained a new crowd. The boy you once knew was buried beneath layers of popular kids, expensive cologne, and that reckless behavior.

Your friends—Yunjin, Sungchan, Sohee, and Karina,noticed your quiet frustration.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Yunjin asked one afternoon as you sat in the campus cafe, textbooks spread out but untouched. You looked up, biting your lip. “What’s the point?” Sungchan shrugged. “Maybe he misses you, too.” “Or maybe he’s too proud to say it,” Sohee added softly. You wanted to believe them. You wanted to reach out, to tear down the walls between you two. But the fear of rejection and the sting of being forgotten stopped your fingers every time they hovered over your phone.

—————

One evening, you caught a glimpse of him across campus. He was laughing with Jake, Sunghoon, and Jay,the usual crew now,backpacks slung carelessly, his denim jacket hanging off one shoulder. His eyes met yours for a split second. Something flickered there. Regret? Surprise? Or just recognition of a ghost from his past? You turned away quickly, your heart pounding.

The days after were filled with memories you hadn’t touched in months , that time he stayed up with you when you were sick, the late-night walks under flickering street lamps, the way he always knew exactly when you needed a friend. But there was also the sharp pain of abandonment.

At night, you found yourself scrolling through old messages, rereading the goodbyes that never came.

“Maybe,” you whispered into the darkness, “this is the kind of loneliness you only feel when you lose someone who once held your entire world.”

And still, the slow ache of wanting him back lingered beneath every breath. You finally fall asleep after overthinking about the whole situation.

—————

The first time you saw Heeseung after everything was in the library. You were buried in notes for your midterms, the quiet hum of students studying a comfort you hadn’t known you needed. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement.

Heeseung.

Same hoodie, baseball cap pulled low. He looked around, then sat down at the table across from you , but didn’t say a word. You swallowed hard, heart hammering. Should you say something? Apologize? Ask why? But your throat was dry and the words wouldn’t come.

He kept his gaze fixed on his laptop, pretending you weren’t there. You kept your eyes on your notes, the silence between you thick and loud.

You wanted to scream at him, “Why are you acting like I’m a stranger?”

But you said nothing.

—————

Weeks passed. Each time you crossed paths, it was worse.

In the crowded campus hallways, your eyes locked for a second, then he’d look away. At group lunches with your friends, he would barely nod in greeting, then turn his attention elsewhere. The cold shoulder was unmistakable.

Yunjin saw you retreating into yourself, one day pulling you aside.

“Heeseung’s probably dealing with stuff. Maybe it’s easier for him this way.”

“Or maybe he’s just pretending I don’t exist,” you whispered.

Sohee tried to cheer you up, but you couldn’t shake the ache. Every brush of his gaze felt like a fresh wound.

—————

It was evening, just as the sun dipped below the horizon and the campus lights flickered on, you were walking briskly near the student center, your backpack heavy with textbooks and your mind tangled in unfinished assignments. The cold air bit at your cheeks, making you pull your jacket tighter around yourself as you hurried to get home.

Suddenly, you collided with someone.

“Sorry,” you muttered quickly, your eyes instinctively dropping to the ground.

The person you bumped into stiffened immediately. You barely had a moment to register the tense energy radiating from him before a voice, low and clipped, sliced through the quiet air:

“Watch where you’re going.”

You flinched, not from fear exactly, but from the sharpness of his tone. It wasn’t the Heeseung you once knew,the warm, easy smile, the teasing lilt in his voice. This was something colder. Harder. His jaw was tight, his entire body rigid, like he was holding back a storm just beneath the surface.

Your cheeks flushed with heat,not just from the cold, but from the unexpected confrontation. You swallowed, trying to steady your breath, but your heart was already pounding, loud enough to drown out the faint murmur of passing students.

You didn’t dare meet his eyes. Instead, you focused on the rough weave of your jacket, your fingers twisting the strap of your bag nervously.

Then, just as suddenly as the harshness came, his expression shifted,softened,for a flicker of a moment.

You caught it: a flash of something raw and unguarded. Regret? Longing? Pain? It was there, lurking behind his eyes before he blinked and hardened his gaze once more.

He took a step back, like pulling away from a flame too close to touch.

Without another word, he turned and walked away. The sound of his footsteps echoed against the pavement, leaving a hollow ache in the space where he had been.

You remained rooted, caught in the swirl of conflicting emotions,confusion, sadness, and a strange pull you couldn’t explain.

For a heartbeat, you thought about calling after him, reaching out and breaking the wall between you.

But something stopped you,maybe pride, maybe fear, maybe the weight of all the unsaid words between you.

Instead, you exhaled slowly, your breath visible in the cold air, and forced yourself to keep moving forward, even as your heart dragged behind you.

—————

You hadn’t even meant to go to the campus café that afternoon,just wanted to grab a tea and find a quiet corner to finish your essay. You weren’t expecting anyone to be there. Especially not him.

But the moment you pushed open the door, the warmth of the café hit you… and so did the sight of Lee Heeseung.

He was there,sitting at the far window, one leg crossed over the other, headphones around his neck, lazily flipping through a notebook. His dark hoodie hung loose over his frame, a water bottle tucked into the crook of his elbow. He looked tired. Sharp. Untouchable.

And completely unaware of your presence. At least at first.

You froze halfway through the entrance, your fingers tightening around your phone. You thought about turning around, pretending you never walked in. But your name was already being called for pickup, and your pride had always been a little too loud.

So, you stayed.

You moved toward the counter, ignoring the way your stomach twisted in on itself. You could feel the moment he noticed you,the air shifted, like a static charge in the room. You didn’t look at him, but you felt his stare.

Your tea was too hot to sip, but you cradled the cup anyway and took the table near the opposite wall. Far enough to pretend it didn’t matter. Close enough that you could still hear when someone else sat down across from him.

Jake.

Their laughter felt too casual, too loud in the quiet space. Every now and then, you’d catch Heeseung glancing your way,quick, almost guilty flicks of his eyes before turning back to whatever Jake was saying.

You hated how aware you were of him. Of how close he was. Of how he hadn’t said a word.

You opened your laptop, pretending to type, but your mind was miles away.

He’s right there.

And still, he says nothing.

A full twenty minutes passed like that,silent, aching, your fingers idle on the keyboard as your tea slowly lost its warmth.

Then, Jake got up.

Heeseung didn’t.

He stayed seated, gaze fixed out the window now. His fingers drummed lightly on the table. His jaw was clenched, but his posture was relaxed,almost too relaxed, like he was forcing himself not to care.

And then, when you thought the silence might finally break, he stood.

He walked past you.

And he didn’t say anything.

But as he passed, his hand brushed the edge of your table,barely, just enough to knock your pen to the ground.

You reached down to grab it, and when you sat up again, he was gone.

You stared at the empty doorway, your pulse skittering.

Was it an accident?

Or was it the closest he could get to touching you?

—————

You didn’t even hear your name at first.

You were half-listening as Professor Yoon announced project partners at the front of the lecture hall, your head resting on one hand and your other hand idly doodling in the margins of your notes. You weren’t too worried,you usually ended up with Sohee or Sungchan in this class.

You heard your name at the exact same time as his.

You heard your name at the exact same time as his.

“Y/N… and Lee Heeseung.”

You didn’t even react at first. You just blinked, your lips slightly parted in disbelief.

You’d kept your head down all semester. You sat in the third row. You turned in your assignments on time. You weren’t loud, weren’t late. You didn’t ask for much.

So being paired with the one person you were actively trying to emotionally bury?

Cruel.

Across the room, Heeseung didn’t look up either. He just exhaled once, slowly, and leaned back in his chair like he’d been hit with the same cosmic joke.

Professor Shin finished reading off the rest of the partners, completely unaware of the emotional landmine she’d just created.

When class ended, Heeseung didn’t wait. He didn’t walk up to you, didn’t linger. He just brushed past you at the door without a word.

You didn’t know what hurt more,the silence or how normal it looked.

—————

You ignored him for two days.

No text back. No email. Nothing.

You worked around it. You opened the Google Doc and did the intro slides yourself. You picked a topic, formatted it, and outlined talking points. You left it open on purpose, hoping maybe he wouldn’t contribute and the professor would switch you.

But then, at :13 a.m. one night, your phone buzzed.

Lee Heeseung: We should talk about the project.

I’m free tomorrow. Don’t make me chase you.

You stared at the message for a full minute before locking your phone and tossing it across the bed.

You didn’t reply.

—————

The next day, he showed up where he knew he’d find you.

The study hall on the third floor of the humanities building. You always sat at the second table near the window, headphones in but music barely playing.

He didn’t ask permission. Just pulled out the chair across from you and sat down like you hadn’t spent the last several months actively avoiding each other.

You didn’t look up. Didn’t greet him.

He clicked his pen once. “You’re really gonna ghost me on the project?”

You glanced at him. “Didn’t know you cared.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I care about my grade.”

Of course he did.

You went back to typing, forcing your voice to stay level. “Topic’s already picked. Slides are halfway done. You can do the citations.”

He didn’t answer right away.

When you finally looked up again, he was watching you,like he was waiting for something more than a project breakdown.

He looked… tense. Jaw set. Hands folded, but twitching slightly, like he wanted to say something and couldn’t bring himself to do it.

You said nothing. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

He clicked his tongue once. “Fine. Just send me the file.”

“You already have access.”

And just like that, he stood up and left.

Not a thank you. Not even a bye.

You stared at the empty seat across from you for way too long after he was gone.

—————

Three days later, the Google Doc was filled with clean citations, some edits, and… one slide you didn’t write.

You opened it out of curiosity.

It was a mid-section transition slide. Nothing special.

But at the bottom, in a barely-visible font size 8, he’d written:

‘Didn’t know you hated me this much.’

You hovered your cursor over it.

But you did nothing.

You were allowed to hate him. Especially after everything he did.

—————

By week four, the deadline was approaching.

Your professor had sent out a reminder email:

All project presentations must be given in person, together.

No escape. No hiding behind shared Google Docs or sterile email threads.

You had to meet.

You stared at the email for a full ten minutes before opening your texts.

You: Library. Study Room 6. Tomorrow at 6.

Be on time.

Heeseung replied five minutes later.

Heeseung: Alright.

You read it once, then again. No sarcasm. No half-jokes. Just… compliance.

It almost pissed you off more.

—————

The next day, 6:05 p.m.

You were already there when he walked in , seated stiffly at the corner table, laptop open but untouched, your notebook blank save for a half-scribbled title. You weren’t working. You were just waiting. Bracing.

Heeseung entered like he always did. Effortless. Casual. Pulling the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows, like this was just any other study session. Like he wasn’t three months late to this conversation.

He didn’t say anything.

No greeting. No glance.

Just dropped his iced coffee onto the table with a dull thud, sank into the seat across from you, and opened his laptop like you were strangers forced into proximity.

Fine.

You didn’t look at him. You didn’t have to. The tension practically breathed on its own between you.

“We should finalize the intro,” you said, voice flat, eyes glued to your screen. “The visuals still need formatting. You can talk during slides four and six. I’ll do the conclusion.”

“Alright,” he said. Quiet. Neutral.

And that was it.

No small talk. No acknowledgment. No shared history.

Just silence.

Not the kind that settles gently. Not the type that means comfort.

This was loaded. Stiff. Thick with everything left unsaid.

The tapping of your keys echoed too loudly. His straw squeaked against the plastic lid every time he took a sip. The ice cracked. You clicked your pen twice,then again,just to keep your fingers moving because your hands had started to shake.

Twenty minutes passed like that.

Then his voice broke through, unprompted.

“You still hate me, huh.”

Your fingers stilled over your keyboard. The cursor blinked at you, waiting. You didn’t respond right away. You didn’t even breathe.

He wasn’t looking at you. Just staring at slide six like it said something profound. Like bullet points could distract him from what he really meant.

You finally blinked, slow and deliberate. “I don’t hate you.”

He turned toward you. Eyes searching. “You act like you do.”

You met his gaze now,unflinching, flat. “You act like I don’t exist,” you said, voice sharp, disbelief creeping in. “But I’m the one who hates you?”

Your throat tightened.

“And even if I did,” you added, “I’d have every right.”

His jaw tensed, but he said nothing.

“No explanation. No closure,” you continued, your tone rising. “You didn’t even have the decency to pretend we were ever close. You just left. Like I was disposable.”

Heeseung flinched,just slightly,but enough. The guilt cracked through for a second.

You slammed your laptop shut and shoved it into your tote. You were done.

At least, you tried to be,until his voice stopped you.

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

You turned, eyes blazing, stunned by the audacity.

“That’s such a cop-out,” you snapped. Your voice wasn’t just controlled rage anymore. It was breaking. “You didn’t think, period. You didn’t care. You just disappeared the moment things got good for you,Popularity, new friends, new image, a whole personality swap.”

He stood up now too, his hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, avoiding your stare like it burned. And maybe it did.

He didn’t speak.

You took a step closer, biting the inside of your cheek to keep it together.

“Was I just boring to you?” you demanded. “Compared to parties and getting laid and cheap fucking beer?”

That finally made him look at you. And this time, he didn’t hide the way his face fell.

His eyes,tired in a way that went deeper than sleep,locked onto yours.

“You weren’t boring,” he said softly, like the words were scraped from somewhere buried. “You were the only thing that felt real.”

And it hit you.

Because it was honest. Because it sounded like the truth.

But also,because it was too late.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, gaze dropping to the floor as you whispered, “Then why’d you leave?”

Silence.

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t apologize.

He just stood there,shoulders stiff, lips parted like he might say something.

But he didn’t.

And maybe that was worse than hearing a lie.

The room was quiet again, but not empty.

It was filled with everything that used to be.

And neither of you knew what to do with it.

—————

One Week Later

You didn’t go to class.

Not on Monday. Not on Wednesday. Not even the Thursday lecture you usually never miss.

Your professor had emailed once , a generic check-in , but you ignored it.

You weren’t sick. You weren’t busy.

You were just… stuck.

It had been a week since the project meeting. Since that conversation you hadn’t meant to have. Since Heeseung looked at you like he still felt something, and then left you with nothing.

You told yourself to forget it.

But then came the what-ifs.

What if he meant it?

What if he didn’t?

What if you said too much?

What if you didn’t say enough?

You hadn’t opened your laptop in days. Your notebook was still in your bag. The slides were done , the presentation had already passed. But that wasn’t what haunted you.

It was his voice.

“You were the only thing that felt real.”

It played in your head like a broken record, looping at the worst times. In the shower. While brushing your teeth. When you tried to sleep but couldn’t.

The days started blending. You stopped answering texts. Even Sohee’s relentless “u alive?” messages went ignored.

Until Friday.

There was a loud knock at your dorm door. Then another. Then,

“Y/N. Open the damn door,” Yunjin’s voice came through , sharp, worried. “We know you’re in there.”

You stayed still, curled up under your blanket, hoping they’d leave.

But they didn’t.

Karina’s voice chimed in next. “You haven’t shown up to class all week. You didn’t even reply when Sungchan offered to bring you notes.”

“Are you hurt?” Sohee added. “If you’re dead in there, I’m gonna cry and haunt you.”

Finally, you heard a quiet thud, like someone had sat down against the door.

It was Sungchan. You recognized the sigh.

“We’re not leaving until you talk to us,” he said softly.

You stared at the ceiling. Then at the blank wall. Then, finally, you got up , limbs heavy, stomach hollow , and opened the door.

They all looked up at you like you’d just walked out of a wreckage.

Yunjin’s expression fell first. “You look like shit.”

“Love you too,” you muttered, voice hoarse.

Karina stepped in, pushing past you gently. “Come on. Couch. Now.”

Sohee immediately opened the window blinds to let some light in. Sungchan brought in a tote bag full of snacks and something that smelled like takeout.

You sat on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, trying not to cry for no reason.

They didn’t say anything for a minute. Just… existed there with you.

And then:

“Is this about Heeseung?” Yunjin asked bluntly.

You froze.

Sohee sucked in a breath like he was expecting you to lie.

But you didn’t.

“I thought I was over it,” you whispered.

Karina sank to the floor in front of you. “What happened?”

You told them everything. Quietly. Hesitantly. Word by word, unraveling. The cold silences. The passive-aggressive project work. The way he looked at you that night , like something was still there, buried beneath the frat boy persona and the radio silence.

You told them about the line that broke you.

“You were the only thing that felt real.”

They didn’t interrupt.

Even Sungchan, who usually had something smart to say, just sat there with his hands folded, listening.

“I thought I wanted closure,” you admitted. “But hearing that? It just made it worse. Because now I don’t know what the fuck he wants from me.”

“You shouldn’t have to figure that out alone,” Karina said softly.

Yunjin scoffed. “You shouldn’t have to figure it out at all. He should’ve figured it out before disappearing like an asshole.”

“Did he try to talk to you again?” Sohee asked.

You shook your head.

Then Sungchan finally spoke. “You don’t have to decide anything now. You don’t owe him another minute of your time if you don’t want to.”

“But,” Yunjin added, looking at you closely, “if you do want to… that doesn’t make you weak either.”

Sohee leaned back against your desk chair, arms crossed loosely, expression calm but firm. “Feel however you need to feel. Be pissed, be confused, be fucking numb. But don’t carry it by yourself.”

Karina reached for your hand, squeezing gently. “We’ve got you.”

And just like that, the weight cracked.

Your throat tightened. Your chest clenched like it finally had space to feel all the things you’d been bottling for weeks.

“I’m just so tired,” you whispered, barely holding it together.

“I know,” Sohee murmured. “But you’re not alone.”

They stayed with you the whole night.

They didn’t push. They didn’t tell you to fix anything. They just made space for you to fall apart a little , and reminded you that even when someone walked away without warning, there were still people who stayed.

—————

“Did she present?”

Heeseung’s voice came out more abrupt than he meant.

Jake blinked at him over his laptop. “Huh?”

“For the psych elective. Group presentations were this week, right? Did Y/N go up?”

Jake frowned slightly, setting down his Red Bull. “I think her group presented Tuesday, yeah. Why?”

“I didn’t see her there.”

“Maybe she went on a different day?” Jay offered, but even he sounded unsure. “I haven’t seen her around either.”

Heeseung didn’t answer.

Because he knew.

She wasn’t there Tuesday.

He was.

He didn’t mean to be , he had no reason to walk into that class after their project was done , but something in him had pulled him there anyway. And when he didn’t see her? He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself she was probably just sick. Or skipped. Or busy. But now, four days later, knowing she still hadn’t shown up…

His stomach turned.

Why did he feel like this even when he thought his life was better without you?

—————

Later that night in Jiwoong’s party was loud since the boys were over.

Louder than usual.

Someone turned up the speakers too high, and there were bodies pressed against each other in every room, red solo cups dotting every surface.

Heeseung was supposed to be drinking.

Supposed to be having fun.

But instead, he was leaning against the hallway wall upstairs, his phone in hand , screen blank.

No texts. No notifications. Nothing from her.

You still hate me, huh?

You were the only thing that felt real.

Her words from that night replayed again and again.

And the way she looked at him , like she didn’t even recognize the person he’d become.

He ran a hand through his hair.

“Bro.”

Sunghoon suddenly appeared next to him, balancing a beer in one hand. “You’ve been standing in the same place for like ten minutes. You good?”

Heeseung glanced at him. “Yeah.”

Sunghoon raised a brow. “You thinking about Y/N?”

Heeseung said nothing.

Which was an answer.

“Dude…” Sunghoon sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “You really messed that one up.”

Heeseung didn’t reply.

Because yeah , he did.

And it was starting to hit him now.

Not just the guilt, but the absence.

The way her silence burned louder than anything she ever said to him.

He couldn’t explain it , why he needed to know if she was okay. Why it bothered him more than anything else lately.

But it did.

He pocketed his phone and pushed off the wall. “I’ll be back.”

Sunghoon blinked. “Where are you,”

“Just,I’ll be back,” he muttered, already heading for the door.

You couldn’t sleep again.

Even with the dorm lights off, the room was too loud with thoughts.

Your pillow was warm, your fingers curled stiffly under the blanket. All you could do was stare at the ceiling and replay everything.

You were supposed to feel lighter after talking to your friends.

But closure wasn’t linear.

And your mind was still stuck on that damn night.

How Heeseung didn’t even apologize. How he looked at you like he wanted to say something and then didn’t.

How he let you walk away , again.

You sighed.

Then suddenly, there was a knock.

Soft.

Careful.

You sat up, confused.

Karina never knocked. Sohee always texted. Yunjin banged like a cop. Sungchan wouldn’t come this late.

You padded to the door, cautious.

And when you opened it ,

Heeseung was standing there.

Hair a little messy. Hoodie sleeves pushed up like always. Eyes unreadable.

You froze.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you like you weren’t supposed to open the door.

Like maybe he came here without really planning to knock.

You swallowed. “What are you,”

“I heard you haven’t been to class,” he said.

Voice low. Tired.

You stared at him.

“So?” you replied, cold. “You checking attendance now?”

He didn’t flinch.

“I just…”

He looked down, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

“I don’t know. I thought you were,”

“What? Falling apart without you?” you snapped. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He looked up, sharp. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” you asked, stepping out into the hallway now, closing the door behind you. “You show up here like you get to care all of a sudden?”

“I do care.”

“You didn’t. Not when you dropped me. Not when you started acting like a stranger in every room we used to exist in.”

Heeseung looked like he’d been hit.

And for the first time… he didn’t defend himself.

“I didn’t know how to come back from it,” he admitted. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”

“Well, you were right.”

You turned to go back inside, hand on the doorknob.

But he spoke again.

“Then why haven’t you blocked me?”

You paused.

He stepped closer, voice quieter. “If I mean nothing now… why do you still let me stay on your screen?”

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

And the worst part?

He knew it too.

You stared at him for a long second, the weight of his words choking the space between you.

Then without saying anything, you turned the knob and walked back into your room , leaving the door open behind you.

Heeseung hesitated.

Then stepped in.

The air felt tight immediately. Too many memories crammed into a room that used to be just yours , that used to be off-limits to him. You sat on the edge of your bed, arms crossed, while he hovered awkwardly near the desk chair before finally sitting in it.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” he said.

“Too bad. You earned one,” you replied, bitterly.

He winced , visibly.

“Y/N…”

“No,” you snapped. “You don’t get to say my name like that anymore. Like it still means something to you.”

“It does.”

“Then why did you treat me like nothing?”

The silence was immediate. Thick. Full of all the things he should have said months ago.

“You changed,” you said, voice shaking. “You got into that frat, started partying, drinking, fucking whoever , and suddenly I was just some weird reminder of your pre-popular life. Of the version of you that actually had feelings.”

His jaw tensed. “That’s not,”

“You ignored me, Heeseung. You acted like I was invisible. I sat next to you in class and you didn’t even blink. Like we weren’t each other’s favorite person for two years.”

You stood now, pacing, words pouring out.

“You made me feel crazy for even wondering what I did wrong. Like I just imagined everything we were.”

He stood too. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why?” you shouted.

He finally cracked.

“Because I didn’t know how to be around you without feeling like shit!”

You froze.

He ran a hand down his face, frustrated with himself. “Because I was messing everything up and I knew it. And being around you reminded me of everything I was throwing away. Everything real.”

You looked at him, breath catching.

“I wanted to fit in,” he continued, voice lower now. “I wanted to feel… wanted. And the boys gave me that. The attention, the girls, the parties , it was easy.”

He laughed, but it was hollow. “You weren’t easy. You saw through all of it. You saw me. And that scared the hell out of me.”

You swallowed hard. “So you punished me for it?”

He looked down. “No. I punished myself. But yeah… you got caught in it.”

You stared at him.

This version of Heeseung , stripped down, not the frat boy, not the cocky party king , looked tired. Raw. Like everything he’d been burying was finally surfacing whether he wanted it to or not.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I needed you,” you said quietly. “And you disappeared.”

“I know.”

“That project was the first time I’d heard your voice in three months. And you were still cold.”

“I didn’t know how to stop being that version of me.”

“Then why are you here now?” you asked.

He finally looked up.

“Because I kept waiting for this feeling to go away,” he said. “The guilt. The regret. You. I thought if I ignored it long enough, it’d die out. But it didn’t. It got louder. Every time I walked into a room and didn’t see you. Every time I laughed at a party and thought about how you would’ve rolled your eyes at it. Every time I saw your name in the team group chat and wanted to text you but didn’t have the right to anymore.”

You blinked. And your eyes stung.

He stepped closer.

“But I’m not here to ask for anything,” he added quickly. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. For being a coward. For hurting you. For pretending you didn’t matter when you were the only person who ever did.”

The room went still.

Your heart was thudding so loud it felt like it echoed.

You didn’t know if you were ready to believe him. Or forgive him. Or even feel for him again.

But you couldn’t deny this truth:

He was finally standing in front of you.

Not perfect. Not fixed. But real.

You should’ve kicked him out.

Told him to go. To leave you alone. To take his late apology and shove it somewhere far away from the wounds he reopened just by walking through your door.

But instead, you stood there. Silent. Arms wrapped around yourself like they were the only thing holding you together.

And he just watched you.

You hated how his eyes still looked at you like that. Like he remembered every version of you. The soft one. The annoyed one. The one who used to wait up for his texts. The one who used to matter.

“I was angry,” you said suddenly, voice cracking. “I was so fucking angry, Heeseung. Not just at you , at myself. For still hoping. For checking your socials. For reading every caption like it was some hidden message just for me. I hated how even when you were out getting drunk or wrapped around someone else, I still wanted you to text me. To just… come back.”

Heeseung’s face crumpled. A crack in his facade. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. His throat worked around silence like it physically hurt to hold the words back.

Your voice was shaking now, but you didn’t stop.

“I used to stay up at night wondering what I did wrong. If I was too clingy. Too quiet. Too boring. I reread our texts so many times I started memorizing the punctuation. I thought if I could just figure out when you stopped caring, I could fix it. I could fix me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you brushed it away fast.

But he saw it.

And it shattered him.

“I never stopped caring,” he said hoarsely. “I just didn’t know how to deal with what I felt for you. Everything else was easy to fake. With you… it wasn’t. You made it real.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

Another tear. Then another. This time you didn’t bother wiping them away. You were exhausted. Tired of being the one who held everything in. Tired of pretending it didn’t destroy you.

“You ruined everything,” you said.

“I know.”

“I don’t even know who I am without resenting you.”

“I know.”

Your breathing was uneven now, like your lungs were collapsing under the weight of it all.

And Heeseung?

He looked like he was barely standing.

He took a step closer, eyes glassy. “I missed you every day.”

“Then why didn’t you act like it?”

“Because I didn’t think I deserved you anymore.”

The silence that followed that was the loudest of all.

You looked at him , really looked at him. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up, the way he always did when he was nervous. His hair was a mess, like he’d been running his hands through it all night. His jaw was clenched tight, but his eyes…

His eyes were pleading.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he said quietly. “But I want to try. Even if it takes months. Even if you never forgive me. I just want you to know,”

You interrupted him.

“Stop.”

He did.

Your voice was soft now, but strained. “You can’t say that to me and expect it to fix anything. I’m still broken from it. I’m still picking pieces of myself out of the mess you left behind.”

Heeseung’s breath hitched. He blinked fast , and this time, it was his eyes that shimmered.

And for the first time, you saw him cry.

Not the dramatic kind. Not loud. Just quiet, ashamed, wrecked.

He sank back down into the desk chair, covering his mouth with his hand like it could hold him together.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood there , torn between hatred and heartbreak.

You hated him. You missed him. You wanted him to leave. You wanted him to stay.

It wasn’t fair.

He wiped his face, breathing heavy now. “I know I never had the right to ask for anything from you. Not then, not now. But I… I think I was in love with you. And I still am.”

That broke you.

Because somewhere under all the hurt…

You were too.

But it wasn’t that simple.

Not anymore.

You turned away, breathing hard, heart collapsing in on itself. “You should go.”

You didn’t look at him when he got up.

You didn’t look when he paused by the door.

You didn’t look when the silence stretched like a wire about to snap.

But you did hear him whisper one last thing before he left.

“I’ll wait.”

And then the door shut behind him.

You collapsed onto your bed and cried harder than you had in months.

Because even now, with all the pain…

A part of you still wanted to believe him.

—————

Two nights after the argument with Heeseung

You were lying on your side, staring at the uneven shadows cast by your desk lamp, when the knock came.

Three short raps.

You didn’t even say anything , just got up and opened the door. Sungchan stepped in with a bag of snacks and two cans of iced coffee.

He took one look at your face and sighed. “Yeah. You’re not okay.”

You gave him a flat look. “Hi to you too.”

“Sorry,” he said gently, brushing past you. “Hi. I missed you. You look like shit.”

You huffed a weak laugh as you closed the door. “Thanks.”

Sungchan sat on your bed, setting the snacks down and cracking one of the iced coffees open. He held it out to you.

“Drink. Then talk.”

You took it wordlessly and sat beside him, both of you leaning back against the headboard. The cold can was comforting against your palms. The silence sat there for a while , not heavy, not tense. Just quiet.

“I saw him again,” you said finally.

Sungchan didn’t ask who.

He already knew.

You stared at your lap. “He came over. And… things came out.”

“What kind of things?”

“The kind you can’t take back.”

Sungchan didn’t speak for a second, just let you process. Then he said, “Do you still care about him?”

You swallowed. “I wish I didn’t.”

He nodded, eyes on the ceiling. “You know, when you first told me about him last semester… I thought you were overreacting. I thought,he’s a popular boy now, who doesn’t cares, move on. But seeing how much he still affects you… I get it now.”

You looked at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t think he’s just some guy from your past. And maybe he never was.”

You blinked hard. “That doesn’t mean I want him back.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not still hurt. Or that you don’t miss what you had.”

You stayed quiet.

“I know what it feels like,” he added, voice softer now. “To care about someone who doesn’t show up for you the way they should. You start to think maybe you’re the problem. Maybe you were too boring or too sensitive or not cool enough to keep up. And that shit sticks.”

Your chest tightened. “Why do you get it so well?”

He looked at you then , really looked at you. “Because I’ve been watching you go through it. And I hate that he gets to take up this much space in your heart when he didn’t even fight to stay.”

You turned your face away.

“I just wanted him to try,” you whispered. “Even once. To say something when he started slipping away. To say he doesn’t just miss me, that he needs me. That I mattered.”

Sungchan’s voice dropped, almost like he was scared to say it. “Would you have taken him back?”

You paused. “Back from where? We were never even anything. Just… friends who felt like something more.”

“Sometimes those are the hardest to lose.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak.

He didn’t push. Just leaned in and pressed his shoulder against yours, grounding you.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “If you want to talk, cry, scream, or just lie here all night. I’m here.”

You blinked away tears. “Thanks, Chan.”

He smiled a little. “Of course.”

Sungchan stayed with you the whole night, even slept on the floor.

—————

The next day you decide to go to your classes.

You weren’t planning to run into Jay.

He’d always been the most level-headed of Heeseung’s friends, even back when you used to hang around with them, back when things were easy. He wasn’t the type to get involved in drama, but when he spotted you walking out of the student center, earbuds in and head down, he didn’t let you pass.

“Hey.”

You paused, halfway down the stairs. He looked like he was debating whether to even say anything.

“Have you talked to him?” he asked.

You blinked. “Talked to who?”

Jay gave you a look. “Don’t make me say it.”

You adjusted the strap on your bag, keeping your voice cool. “Why would I?”

He studied you. “Because he’s not doing great. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but… I thought you should know.”

You didn’t say anything.

Jay sighed. “Look, I’m not taking sides. But whatever happened between you two,it’s killing him.”

You laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “He left me first. I’m just returning the favor.”

Jay nodded slowly. “Fair. But… you’re not okay either.”

You didn’t respond, because you couldn’t lie.

Because it was true.

That evening you sat at your desk, staring at your laptop, trying to edit the last few slides of your assignment. But the words wouldn’t register. You’d reread the same sentence four times and still couldn’t focus.

Jay’s voice echoed in your head. He’s not doing great.

Why did that still matter to you?

Why did the thought of Heeseung hurting , even after what he did , still twist something in your chest?

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard.

You opened your phone.

You stared at his name.

Lee Heeseung.

Still saved in your contacts. Still there.

You didn’t text him.

But you didn’t delete it either.

—————

Campus Café, 9:47 PM

You were sitting by the window, your laptop glowing in front of you, an untouched croissant on the plate beside your drink.

Sungchan sat across from you. Leaning back, smiling softly. He looked at you like he always did , calm, patient, like he was listening to everything you weren’t saying out loud.

It was peaceful.

Until Heeseung walked in.

He wasn’t looking for you. He didn’t expect you. He was just there to grab a late-night coffee before locking himself in the library. But when his eyes landed on your face, his whole body went still.

He didn’t move. Didn’t order. Just stood there for a second too long, frozen like time had reached out and grabbed him by the throat.

And maybe he could’ve looked away.

Maybe he could’ve pretended he didn’t care.

But then you laughed.

It wasn’t even loud , just a soft little breath that slipped out when Sungchan made some dumb joke.

But it shattered him.

Because he hadn’t heard that laugh in months.

Because that used to be his.

And you weren’t crying anymore.

You weren’t looking for him in crowded lecture halls.

You weren’t even sparing him a glance.

You were moving on.

And it hit him harder than any fight, any scream, any goodbye ever could.

He left before you noticed.

Didn’t even get his coffee.

And before he knew it he was at his dorm, Jake wasn’t back, he was still in class.

Heeseung slammed the door shut harder than he meant to.

The sound echoed off the walls, but he didn’t care. His hands were still shaking , not from anger, but from something uglier.

Jealousy.

Loss.

The ache of watching you smile at someone else like he’d never existed.

He threw his backpack onto the floor, kicked his sneakers off with barely a thought, and collapsed into his desk chair. The room was dark except for the desk lamp’s soft orange glow. His laptop was still open on a half-finished lecture slide, the cursor blinking, waiting for input. Like everything else in his life.

He ignored it.

His head fell into his hands.

All he could see was you , the curve of your lips when you laughed, the way your eyes sparkled, the casual brush of your arm against Sungchan’s. It wasn’t even romantic. It didn’t need to be.

It destroyed him anyway.

Because you never smiled like that around him anymore.

Because the only time you looked at Heeseung was when your eyes were sharp and guarded, like you were trying not to flinch.

And that hurt more than yelling. More than anything.

He pressed his palms into his eyes. Hard.

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

You’d been skipping class. You looked tired, thinner. And for days he convinced himself it wasn’t his business anymore. But it was. It always would be.

He could feel it , in the hollow pit in his chest, in the gnawing guilt every time your name came up in a conversation and he had to pretend he didn’t care.

And tonight?

Tonight broke something in him.

Heeseung stood up suddenly, knocking his chair over. It hit the floor with a thud, echoing across the quiet dorm.

Then he just stood there.

Hands clenched.

Breathing uneven.

He wanted to text you. Call you. Bang on your door and say something. Anything.

But he didn’t even know who he was to you anymore.

Not a friend. Not someone you trusted. Not someone you needed.

He leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor.

He didn’t cry.

Didn’t scream.

Didn’t move.

He just sat there.

Still.

Like his body was there, but everything else had checked out.

Because what was left to say?

He’d spent months pretending it didn’t matter. Pretending you didn’t matter.

Now you were right there , smiling at someone else, looking okay without him , and suddenly, it all hit him at once.

The way your eyes used to light up around him.

The way they don’t anymore.

And worst of all , the way you looked happier without him in the picture.

That was what gutted him.

Not the jealousy. Not the guilt.

The fact that you seemed fine.

And he wasn’t.

So he sat there, back to the wall, legs stretched out on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling like it held answers.

It didn’t.

His mouth was dry. His heart was loud. He didn’t reach for his phone. Didn’t try to fix it.

Because deep down, he knew,

There’s only so many times you can rip something apart before it stops being something you can put back together.

Because he couldn’t fix what he broke.

And the worst part was, he wasn’t sure if you’d ever let him try.

—————

The next day at Jay’s place, the boy started to notice how off Heeseung was.

“Okay, what the hell is up with him?” Jay asked, finally breaking the silence.

Heeseung was slumped on the couch, hoodie over his head, scrolling on his phone with the screen dimmed like he wasn’t even reading it. His knee bounced. His eyes were red-rimmed, not quite bloodshot, but tired , like sleep had been something he stopped trying to chase.

Jake looked up from his spot at the kitchen counter, raising an eyebrow. “You mean more than usual?”

“No, seriously,” Sunghoon chimed in, tossing a ping pong ball at the table and missing completely. “He’s been acting weird all week. Didn’t come out Thursday, skipped beer pong last night, didn’t even say anything when those girls from the club showed up.”

“That’s when I knew it was serious,” Jay muttered.

Jake leaned over the island, arms crossed. “Heeseung. Bro.”

No response.

Heeseung kept staring at his phone like it held the answer to a question he was too afraid to ask. A screen full of untouched texts and empty drafts. His thumb hovered over your name , the chat thread still stuck on a dumb meme from months ago.

“Earth to Heeseung?” Jake said louder this time, walking over. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Heeseung muttered, dragging his hood further down. “Just tired.”

Jay frowned. “You’ve been ‘just tired’ for a week. That girl from your econ class literally offered to walk you home the other night and you didn’t even blink.”

Sunghoon’s voice lowered a bit. “Is this about her?”

The silence was all the answer they needed.

Jake sat down next to him with a sigh. “So… something happened?”

Heeseung didn’t answer at first. Just let his phone drop onto the couch next to him. He stared straight ahead at the TV, which wasn’t even on.

“She was with Sungchan.”

Jay leaned back, eyes narrowing. “Like, with Sungchan? Or just walking with him?”Heeseung gave a humorless laugh. “Doesn’t matter. She looked happy.”

Jake’s brow furrowed. “Okay, but that’s not new. You’ve been acting like she doesn’t exist for months. What did you expect?”

“I didn’t expect it to hurt this much,” Heeseung snapped, then immediately looked away. His voice was too raw, too loud , too unlike him.

The room fell silent. Sunghoon sat down on the arm of the couch, finally serious. “Do you still like her, as a friend or more?” Heeseung didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

Jay spoke up after a long pause. “You never told us what happened. One day you two were always together. Then suddenly you were throwing parties every weekend and ignoring her like she didn’t exist. And you expected that to not backfire?”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched. Jake glanced at him sideways. “You could just talk to her.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because she looked at me like I was a stranger,” Heeseung said quietly. “Like I was someone she was trying to forget.” They all fell quiet again.

Sunghoon finally muttered, “Then maybe stop giving her reasons to.” Heeseung didn’t respond. He just sat there, unmoving. Unwell. Like someone who realized too late that the silence he built to protect himself had become the very thing keeping him away from the only person he wanted to hear from.

“That’s enough, bar night?” Jake asked

“Hell yeah, and yes your going Heeseung” Sunghoon said, looking at him.

They made sure Heeseung got dressed and went with them

Fast forward

“Heeseung, slow down,”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re really not.”

Jake glanced at Jay, who just shook his head in frustration, then at the empty glass Heeseung had just slammed down. It was his fifth drink. Maybe sixth. He’d stopped keeping count after shot number three. His words were slurred now, hoodie pushed off, hair a mess, and that cocky play-boy grin he usually wore like a shield?

Gone.

“You didn’t even eat dinner, dude,” Sunghoon muttered, steadying him when Heeseung nearly tripped getting off the bar stool. “You’re gonna throw up.”

“Good,” Heeseung laughed bitterly. “Maybe I’ll feel something other than”

He stopped himself. Head tilting up, eyes fluttering closed like he was trying to stop the room from spinning. But his voice dropped, quiet and hoarse.

“She was smiling with him.”

Jay stared. “Dude.”

“She never smiled like that with me. Not lately.”

Jake sighed. “That’s because you ghosted her. For months.”

“I know that,” Heeseung snapped, louder now, nearly stumbling backward as he turned to pace. “I know I’m the asshole. I know I fucked it all up. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

“We’re trying to stop you from drinking yourself into a coma, idiot.”

But Heeseung wasn’t listening anymore. He was somewhere else. Somewhere in the past , maybe in your dorm, maybe that project meeting, maybe back in the hallway that day when he bumped into you.

He leaned against the bar, eyes glassy, voice barely a whisper.

“I still care.”

And that’s when Jake looked at Jay.

Jay was already pulling out his phone.

“Don’t,” Heeseung muttered. “Don’t call her. Don’t drag her into this.”

But the moment Jake saw your name in Jay’s contacts, his fingers were already moving.

Because Heeseung was too far gone.

And you were the only person he’d ever softened for.

1:30 AM

Your phone lit up just as you were about to crawl into bed.

Jay <3: hey… this is random but can u come get heeseung? he’s way too drunk and keeps talking abt u and we don’t think he’s okay.

You stared at the message, heart dropping. Then it buzzed again.

Jay <3: do us this favor, just once. I’ll buy you matcha tomorrow.

And for some reason , despite the ache, despite everything , you got up.

Pulling on your sweater, grabbing your bag and heading out.

1:47 AM

When you got there, it was worse than you expected.

Heeseung was sitting on the curb, hoodie back on but unzipped, sleeves not pushed up this time. His head was tilted back toward the sky like he was trying to ground himself in something real. Jake stood beside him, arms crossed. Jay was nervously checking his phone, and Sunghoon visibly relaxed the second he saw you.

“Thank god,” Jay muttered. “He won’t even let us call an Uber.”

Your gaze flicked to Heeseung.

He looked… empty.

And when his eyes met yours, something inside him shifted.

He straightened, but swayed a little. “You came.”

You didn’t say anything.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Then why did you keep saying my name?”

He looked at you like he didn’t have the energy to lie. His voice cracked. “Because you’re the only one who ever gave a shit.”

You closed your eyes for a second, trying not to flinch.

Jake hands you his phone “He needs someone he trusts. That’s you.”

“Sure whatever, I don’t.” you murmured.

“Maybe not,” Jake said quietly. “But he still wants to try.”

You crouched in front of him, slow and cautious. “Can you stand?”

Heeseung nodded, but when he tried to get up, he faltered , and instinctively, your hands reached out to steady him.

He didn’t let go.

You and Heeseung grab a uber that the boys called after you came to get Heeseung.

Heeseung slumped against the backseat window, quiet.

You sat on the other end of the seat, arms folded tight across your chest, as far from him as the small space would allow. Your bag was in your lap, phone gripped so tightly it ached. You weren’t looking at him. You refused to.

But you could feel him.

The tension. The weight of everything that hadn’t been said.

He didn’t speak either , not until the car turned onto campus roads.

“…Sorry.”

Your eyes flicked toward him.

He wasn’t looking at you. Just out the window, lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His jaw was tight.

“I didn’t want them to call you.”

“You didn’t stop them either.”

Silence.

Then, quieter , “I didn’t want anyone else.”

You turned away. Jaw clenched. Because it hurt. It hurt so fucking much, and you didn’t know how many more times you could hear things like that without unraveling.

1:57 AM

The hallway was dim when you reached your door. Heeseung stumbled once, and you caught his arm without thinking , quick, steady. He looked down at where your hand wrapped around his hoodie sleeve, but said nothing.

You let him in first.

The second the door shut behind you, the air shifted.

Your dorm smelled like vanilla and laundry detergent. Soft light spilled from the lamp on your desk. Your laptop was still open, your textbook still flipped to the same page you’d been rereading all week and not absorbing.

Heeseung stood awkwardly in the middle of your room, blinking.

It was the closest he’d been to you in months. Really been to you. Not across a table. Not passing by. Not hiding behind everything he turned into to forget who he used to be.

“You can sit,” you muttered, setting your bag down and kicking off your shoes. You walked to your closet, pulled out an old blanket, then tossed it on the edge of the bed without looking at him. “You’re not sleeping here, just staying until you’re sober enough to walk back. Got it?”

He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving your face.

But the second he sat on the floor , back against your bed, long legs stretched out in front of him , something in you stuttered. Because he looked tired. Not just physically. But drained. Cracked open and hollow.

And you hated it.

You hated how even now, after all the silence, you still felt him.

1:08 AM

Neither of you spoke.

You pretended to scroll through your phone. You weren’t.

Heeseung let his head fall back against the edge of your mattress. His hoodie had slipped off one shoulder. His eyes were closed. For a second, you thought maybe he’d fallen asleep.

Then,

“You stopped wearing your bracelet I gave you.”

You froze.

It was barely above a whisper, but you heard it clear as day.

You turned your chair slightly. “Why are you looking?”

“I never stopped.”

Your heart cracked down the middle.

You stood up fast , too fast , walking over to grab a glass of water from your nightstand, pretending like you didn’t hear him. Like the way he said it hadn’t lodged itself in your ribs.

When you turned back, his eyes were open.

And he looked at you like he was seeing something sacred. Something distant and aching and untouchable.

“I kept everything you gave me,” he said. “Even if I didn’t deserve to.”

You didn’t speak.

You just handed him the water and sat back down , this time closer.

But not close enough.

The water glass sat untouched in his hands. Heeseung stared at it for a while like he forgot why you gave it to him in the first place.

You were sitting on the edge of your bed now, legs down and crossed and so did Heeseung.

Neither of you had spoken in a few minutes. But for once, the silence didn’t ache.

It just… settled.

Gentle. Unsteady.

You glanced over.

He was looking at you again , not like earlier, not drunk and sloppy , but with something fragile behind his eyes. Like he didn’t want to blink and risk losing this.

And maybe that was what finally cracked something open in you.

Because you spoke first.

“You looked sad when they brought you to me.”

Heeseung’s gaze flickered toward you, guarded at first , like he wasn’t sure if you were trying to start something. But you weren’t.

You were just… honest.

“You weren’t stumbling or wild like they said. You just looked… empty.”

He stared at his hands. The silence between you stretched until it started to ache.

Then he spoke, voice low and unsteady.

“I didn’t want to be there.”

Your lips parted slightly, unsure what to say. But his next words came quicker.

“I kept thinking about what you said that night.” His jaw tightened. “About how I left. How I made you feel.”

He finally looked at you.

“And I guess it hit me. What I did… what I lost.”

Your chest ached.

Because this was the version of him you hadn’t seen in so long , the one who let his guard down, even if it hurt.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

Heeseung looked like he hated himself for saying all of it. Like the words had scraped their way out of him, raw and unpolished. And maybe that’s what made them feel real.

You swallowed, shifting slightly on the edge of your bed. “You didn’t just lose me, Heeseung. You pushed me away.”

“I know.”

“And it wasn’t just one moment. It was every time you ignored me. Every time you looked through me like I didn’t matter anymore.”

“I know,” he said again, quieter now. “I was… trying not to feel anything. It was easier.”

“Was it?”

He didn’t answer.

Because you both knew it wasn’t.

You exhaled shakily and looked away, but then , he moved.

Not dramatically, not suddenly. Just close enough to sit beside you, knees brushing. His head hung low between his shoulders, like he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes again.

But when he finally did, it was devastating.

“You were the only person I ever felt safe around,” he said, voice fraying at the edges. “And I still fucked it up.”

You blinked hard, throat thick. “You did.”

And that honesty,made his jaw clench. But he didn’t run from it. He just nodded once, like he was bracing himself.

Silence followed. But it wasn’t cold anymore.

It felt fragile.

Tentative.

His knee brushed yours again. Neither of you pulled away.

“I don’t know if you’ll ever trust me again,” he murmured, eyes tracing the curve of your jaw like it hurt to look. “But I never stopped thinking about you. Not for one second.”

You turned to him slowly. Your face was unreadable. Quiet.

Then, barely above a whisper:

“Then why did you let me go?”

Heeseung’s lips parted, but no words came out.

He looked like he wanted to give you an answer , a real one. Something that would finally make sense of all the silence and distance and bruised pride. But he couldn’t.

Instead, he leaned in.

Cautiously. Gently. Like he didn’t deserve to want this.

And you could’ve pulled away. You could’ve stopped him.

But you didn’t.

His lips met yours , soft, tentative, as if he was asking a question with the way he kissed you.

You kissed him back , slowly, with the ache of everything unsaid still burning in your chest.

It wasn’t a make-up kiss.

It wasn’t forgiveness.

It was grief. Confession. Years of wanting tangled in apology.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads stayed pressed together, breaths shallow and uneven.

No words.

Not yet.

Just the heavy, quiet knowledge that something had shifted.

Maybe not enough to fix things.

But enough to crack something open.

You didn’t know who moved first.

Maybe it was you. Maybe it was him. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Because the second your lips met again, it was different.

No longer careful. No longer tentative.

Heeseung kissed you like he’d been holding his breath for months and finally exhaled. His hands found your waist, warm and trembling, and yours tangled in the hem of his hoodie, curling in the fabric like you needed something to hold on to.

The kiss deepened.

You felt it in your chest. In your fingertips. In the soft sound he made when you tugged him closer, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

You could feel the weight of everything between you , resentment, yearning, hurt , dissolving into the spaces where your mouths met. Where your breaths mixed. Where your bodies pressed just barely too close to be innocent.

Heeseung’s hand slid beneath your shirt, not boldly , just resting on your bare waist like he was grounding himself. His thumb brushed slow, reverent circles against your skin, and you shivered.

“You can tell me to stop,” he whispered against your lips. “I don’t want you to,” you whispered back. And it was true.

Even with everything unspoken. Even with your heart still pieced together with questions. Right now, you wanted this, the ache in his kiss, the way he held you like you were something delicate and holy.

Your back hit the mattress, his weight following but never crushing. He hovered, eyes searching yours.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, voice low, thick with restraint.

You nodded. “I’m sure.”

He kissed you again, slower this time. Softer.

Like he was memorizing every second.

His hands never roamed too far. Just your hips, your ribs, the curve of your jaw , like he was worshiping more than touching.

And when he pulled back just enough to see you again, his voice cracked slightly. “I missed you so much it made me sick.”

Your throat tightened. You reached up to cup his cheek.

“I know.”

Heeseung’s hand cupped your jaw gently, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him this close again. Like he was afraid to break whatever fragile thread held the two of you together.

But your fingers curled in his shirt and you didn’t let go.

Not when his lips traveled to your neck. Not when he whispered your name like a prayer, like he was trying to say sorry without saying it. Not when his hands slipped under your shirt and he paused, looked at you , really looked , like he needed your permission to do anything.

You nodded.

And that was all it took.

Heeseung kissed down your chest, your stomach, slow and reverent like he’d been waiting forever for this. Every touch, every press of his lips was careful , not out of hesitation, but intention. Worship.

When his fingers hooked in the waistband of your shorts, he glanced up again, eyes dark, voice wrecked.

“Still okay?”

Your heart was hammering, breath uneven. “Yeah. Please.”

He kissed the inside of your thigh first, soft and maddening. Then again, closer this time. You gasped when he finally dragged his tongue through your folds, slow and thorough. Your hips twitched, and his hands came up to steady you gently.

“God,” you breathed, already coming undone.

He didn’t rush. Heeseung took his time , learning you, responding to every breath, every stuttered moan. He sucked lightly at your clit and you whimpered, one hand flying to his hair without thinking. He groaned when you tugged, the vibration making your eyes flutter shut.

You felt every flick of his tongue, every gentle curl of his finger when he slid one inside you. Your thighs trembled and he tightened his grip, keeping you right there as your back arched, the pleasure climbing fast and hot through your core.

“Hee,” you gasped, falling apart beneath him.

His cock getting harder just from you moaning.

Your whole body tensed before releasing all at once , breathless, shaking, his name still lingering on your lips. He didn’t pull away until your thighs relaxed, until the aftershocks faded and you slumped back onto the mattress.

He kissed your inner thigh once more. Then your stomach. Then the corner of your mouth as he crawled back up beside you.

You didn’t open your eyes.

Heeseung didn’t stop for long.

Not after the way your body trembled under him. Not after the way your breath hitched every time his mouth found a new spot that made you melt.

His eyes lingered on you as he moved back down, slower this time , like he was savoring the moment. You were still bare and sensitive, your thighs parted willingly, your chest rising and falling in uneven, dizzying rhythm.

“Can I keep going?” he asked, voice low and raspy, lips brushing against your hip.

You nodded, too dazed to speak, but he waited.

“I need to hear it,” he murmured. “Please.”

“Y-Yeah,” you whispered. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

He dipped between your thighs again, his hands splayed warm and steady on your hips, thumbs stroking gentle, grounding circles into your skin. His tongue slid over your folds with more purpose now , firmer, deeper, messier. Like he was making up for lost time. Like he couldn’t get enough.

Your fingers flew back into his hair, your hips arching off the bed. “Oh my god,Heeseung…”

He moaned softly into you, the vibration sparking sharp pleasure up your spine. He sucked on your clit now, slow pulses between licks that made your legs tremble. He pulled back only to kiss you again, messily, then dive in harder.

It was too much. Not enough.

His name spilled from your mouth over and over, broken and breathless, as he slid a finger inside again , then a second. He curled them just right, his tongue working in tandem like he already knew every part of you by heart.

The coil in your belly tightened fast , impossibly fast , and when he added just a little more pressure, you cried out, thighs clenching around his head as another orgasm crashed into you. Your hands were gripping his shoulders now, pulling him closer even as your body trembled with overstimulation.

He didn’t stop right away. He kept licking gently through it, easing you down from the high with soft, languid strokes until your legs finally relaxed and your breathing slowed.

He kissed your inner thigh again. Then again. Then the soft crease of your hip, murmuring something against your skin , a whisper you couldn’t hear but felt all the way in your chest.

When he finally looked back up at you, his lips were wet, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes held something raw.

Something worshipful

Heeseung’s hands were gentle as they slid beneath your shirt again, lingering on your waist like he was anchoring himself to you. His fingers moved in slow, reverent circles, the warmth of his touch sending shivers racing along your skin.

His lips found the curve of your neck, soft and tentative, as if afraid to disturb anything fragile between you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, voice thick with something unspoken.

You closed your eyes, tilting your head to give him better access, breath catching where his lips grazed your pulse.

You felt him pause, looking up at you with those intense eyes, searching.

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice husky and quiet

You nodded, unable to trust your voice, heart pounding loud in the stillness.

He smiled , small, almost shy , before he slowly slid your shirt off, inch by inch, letting every movement linger. You felt the cool air against your bare skin, and the contrast made the warmth of his hands even more electrifying.

He hesitated, breath shallow, then leaned down to kiss the soft skin of your chest. His lips were feather-light, sending sparks that made you gasp softly.

He traced lazy patterns on your nibbles with his tongue, every lick slow and deliberate, as if he was memorizing your body.

“H-hee..” you whimper out, moaning everytime he licks your nipple.

Your hands found his hair, fingers weaving in gently, urging him closer without a word.

When he finally looked up, his eyes dark and shimmering with need, you felt exposed and safe all at once.

He kissed you deeply, hands pressing into your hips, holding you steady as he lowered himself between your legs.

His tongue found your sensitive folds for the third time, moving slow and tender, exploring every inch with a worshipful care that made your knees tremble.

Heeseung’s fingers lingered at your hips, tracing gentle circles as he met your gaze with quiet intensity. His breath was steady but thick with something deeper , need, care, and something unspoken.

He paused, searching your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, heart pounding hard but steady. “I’m sure.”

With the softest of smiles, he leaned down to kiss you, slow and lingering, as if memorizing the taste of your lips one last time before moving forward.

His hands slid lower, cupping your thighs and spreading them carefully. The air between you thickened with anticipation, every nerve ending alive.

his cock sprang free from his sweats and boxers, hard and leaking, the head flushed red. he hovered over you, eyes dark and hungry, but still searching your face for any doubt.

you shook your head, barely, heart racing. you wanted this. wanted him.

his fingers slid through your folds again, slow and teasing, making sure you were soaked for him. then he lined himself up at your entrance, the tip brushing against you, hot and steady.

“tell me if it hurts,” he whispered, voice low and rough against your ear.

you nodded, breath caught in your throat.

he pushed in slow,inch by inch,careful, gentle, like he was trying to remember the way you took him. the stretch made you whimper, but it felt good, so good. his forehead rested on yours, breath heavy.

you held onto his shoulders, legs trembling as he paused once he was fully inside, letting you adjust.

then he started to move. slow, deep thrusts. not rushed, not rough,just steady and full of tension, like he didn’t want to miss a single second. his hands gripped your hips, grounding himself in you.

h-hee, fuck! i can’t, s’ too much!” you cried out, nails digging into his back as your body trembled under him.

he groaned, eyes locked on yours, filled with heat and something almost tender.

“yes you can, baby,” he murmured, thrusts slow but deep, dragging against your walls just right. “take it like a good girl, yeah?”

his hand slid up your thigh, squeezing gently as he pushed in deeper.

“you’re doing so good for me,” he whispered, voice like a low hum in your ear.

“so fuckin’ perfect like this. taking all of me.”

your back arched when he hit that spot inside you, a gasp ripping out of you.

your fingers curled into the sheets. his hips rolled in again, slower this time, dragging the pleasure out.

“fuck… you’re perfect,” he breathed against your lips, voice thick and shaky.

your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and he took the hint,his thrusts got deeper, needier, your name slipping from his lips between moans.

the sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mixed with soft gasps and breathy whimpers.

your stomach tightened, that familiar heat building fast.

“come for me,” he whispered, lips brushing your neck.

you came hard, body shaking, walls clenching around him as you moaned his name like a prayer. he fucked you through it, slow and sweet, letting you ride it out.

when he came, it was with a deep groan, hips pressing all the way in as he filled you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he said softly.

You could only blink at him, still catching your breath, completely undone.

And for the first time in what felt like months, your heart didn’t feel so heavy.

You just whispered, soft and shaky, “You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he said. His voice cracked. “You don’t get it, do you?”

You blinked at him, still hazy. “Get what?”

Heeseung exhaled hard, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

“You never stopped being the only one I wanted.”

You weren’t sure how long you lay there , your body still warm and humming, skin flushed and buzzing with the aftershocks. But you felt him before you saw him.

Heeseung was climbing up beside you, wordlessly. The heat of his chest brushed yours as he reached for the blanket at the foot of your bed, pulling it over you both with care. You heard the sound of your laptop shutting closed, the click of your lamp being turned off until only your soft string lights glowed above.

Then he turned back to you. You were wearing his hoodie.

His touch was feather-light as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, throat dry. “Yeah.”

His eyes searched yours like he didn’t quite believe it. “Tell me if anything hurts. Or if you feel weird. Or… I don’t know. If you need anything.”

You reached out and touched his wrist , gently. “Heeseung.”

That stopped him.

“I’m okay,” you said again, firmer this time. “I promise.”

He hesitated, then let himself relax. His hand slid into yours and stayed there.

A quiet fell over the room again. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just full.

He lay beside you, eyes tracing your face like he didn’t want to forget anything , like he was afraid this would disappear the moment he blinked.

You turned toward him slowly. “Why did you call me tonight?” Heeseung looked down, his expression softening. “I didn’t mean to. Jake did.” You almost laughed, but the sound died in your chest. He looked back at you. “But I think I would’ve. If they didn’t… I think I would’ve eventually.”

You swallowed. “I didn’t think you’d want me anymore.”

“Y/N.” His voice cracked. “I never stopped wanting you. That was the problem.”

You looked at him now , really looked , and something in your chest ached all over again. He still looked so broken, like guilt and longing were battling behind his eyes.

So you leaned closer.

Your forehead pressed to his.

His breath stuttered.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer until your chest pressed to his, and he breathed you in like he’d missed the way you felt against him. Like he was terrified he’d wake up and it’d all be gone.

“Stay,” you murmured. Heeseung looked at you, blinking slow. “You want me to?” “Just for tonight,” you whispered. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

He shifted with you until you were tangled together under the covers, your cheek pressed to his chest, his fingers tracing small, idle shapes across your back. And for once , for the first time since things fell apart , it felt like breathing didn’t hurt. You didn’t know what tomorrow would look like. You didn’t know if this was closure or a beginning. But for now, wrapped in his arms and in the quiet warmth of something long-missed, it was enough. He held you like a promise.

And you let him.

—————

The next morning , 7:44 AM

The dorm was quiet, sunlight creeping lazily through the blinds. Heeseung unlocked the door softly, stepping inside like he didn’t want anyone to hear.

Too bad they already had.

“Look who finally came home,” Jay’s voice called from the couch, way too smug for this early. “Was it a walk of shame or…?”

Heeseung blinked, startled. “Why the hell are you all awake?”

“Because unlike you,” Sunghoon chimed in from the kitchen, “some of us didn’t disappear for twelve hours after getting blackout wasted.”

Jake walked out from the hallway, toothbrush still in his mouth. He looked Heeseung up and down, eyes narrowing like he was analyzing a crime scene.

“Same clothes,” Jake mumbled around the toothbrush. “No hoodie. Hair looks like you got mauled. Definitely didn’t sleep here.”

“Not when you’re this obvious,” Jay smirked, arms crossed. “So? What happened?”

Heeseung kicked off his shoes with a grunt and muttered, “Nothing.”

Jake scoffed. “Nothing? You disappear all night, come back wearing the same clothes, but without your hoodie, looking like you’ve been through an emotional car crash, and you want us to believe nothing happened?”

Heeseung avoided their eyes, brushing past them toward the bathroom. “Drop it.”

But Sunghoon leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “You were with Y/N.”

It wasn’t a question.

Just fact.

Heeseung froze for a beat,just long enough to give himself away.

“I said drop it,” he muttered, voice lower now. Less defensive. More… tired.

Jay exchanged a knowing look with Jake, who tilted his head and said, “So… are we talking closure or something else?”

Heeseung didn’t answer.

Didn’t flinch.

Just closed the bathroom door behind him.

Softly, this time.

There was a long silence outside.

Then Sunghoon exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn.”

Jake flopped onto the couch, still staring at the closed door. “Whatever it was… it got to him.”

Jay nodded, more serious now. “He’s been holding that shit in for months.”

Sunghoon laughs. “But he definitely got some pussy”

—————

Heeseung was gone.

You sat up slowly, fingers clutching the blanket still warm with leftover traces of last night. The sleeves of his hoodie hung past your wrists, soft and oversized, carrying the faintest hint of his cologne , mixed with alcohol, familiar, like something you’d spent months trying to forget.

It was warm around you, but not enough to calm the way your chest ached. Heeseung was gone. Your chest tightened. You hadn’t expected him to stay. Not really. But still… some part of you had hoped.

The vulnerability, the confessions, the softness in his voice , it all felt too real to just be temporary. Too raw to be another mistake. You reached for your phone on the nightstand. No texts. No missed calls. Just the time: 10:13 a.m.

You rubbed your eyes and leaned back against the pillows, breath shaky. You rubbed your eyes and leaned back against the pillows, breath shaky. The fabric of his hoodie still clung to your skin, the sleeves long enough to hide your trembling fingers.

It felt too intimate. Too temporary. You forced yourself to move, throwing the blanket off and planting your feet on the cold floor, grounding yourself. You stood, the oversized hoodie slipping down one shoulder as you padded toward the mirror.

Your reflection looked softer than you remembered. Tired eyes, lips still a little swollen, a flush that hadn’t quite faded yet. You swallowed hard and reached for your hairbrush, trying to steady your thoughts as you started getting ready. Your fingers paused as they hovered over the small jewelry dish on your desk. Among the tangled earrings and rings, it sat there… the bracelet.

The one he gave you months ago. Thin, silver, and understated. The clasp is a little loose now, worn from you taking it on and off too many times. But it still gleamed in the morning light, catching on memories you weren’t ready to name.

You picked it up.

Your hands didn’t shake this time. And as you clasped it around your wrist, something settled in your chest. Not closure. Not clarity. But the quiet beginning of something else. And just as the clasp clicked shut around your wrist, your phone lit up with a familiar name.

Heeseung.

You froze. For a second, you just stared at the screen , thumb hovering, heart thudding a little too loud for the morning stillness. It had only been a few hours since he left, but something about him calling now felt heavier. Like the night wasn’t over yet. You swallowed hard and answered, voice softer than you meant.

“Hey.” There was a pause. You could hear his quiet breathing on the other end. Then, finally, “Did I wake you?” he asked, voice low and rough with sleep, like he hadn’t been up long either. You shook your head, forgetting he couldn’t see. “No. I was just… getting ready.” Another pause. A longer one this time.

“I don’t really know why I called,” he admitted, and you could tell he meant it. You didn’t say anything. Because you knew. And maybe he did too. He exhaled like the silence answered for you. “I didn’t wanna go, you know. I just… I didn’t know what to do.”

Your fingers curled around the edge of the desk. “I know,” you said quietly. “Me neither.” The line went quiet again. You could hear Heeseung shift,like he was pacing, or sitting at the edge of his bed, uncertain. Then, softly: “Can I see you?” Your breath caught. He didn’t rush to explain. Didn’t fill the silence with excuses or backpedal like he usually would. He just… waited. Like he needed this, like he was holding onto the thread of whatever last thing the two of you still had.

“When?” you said, barely “Now. Or, whenever you’re free,” he said, almost too quickly. “I just… want to talk. Not about last night. Just… us.” Your eyes flicked down to the bracelet on your wrist. You shouldn’t want this. But you did. “…Okay,” you whispered. “Yeah. Okay.” You hesitated, glancing around your room like it held the answer. Then you brought the phone back to your ear. “…Where do you wanna meet up?”

Heeseung was quiet for a beat. You could hear the low hum of traffic behind him, like he was already outside. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Somewhere not loud. Not crowded.” You nodded slowly, even though he couldn’t see. “The café by the library?” A soft sound of agreement came through the phone. “Yeah. That’s perfect.” you said with a smile even though you can’t see him. “I’ll meet you there in ten.”

“Okay,” he murmured. Then, quieter: “Thank you.” You grabbed your bag, heart thudding louder than your footsteps as you left your dorm. The air was cooler than expected, your fingers curling into your sleeves as you walked. The campus was quieter now, the late afternoon sun stretching shadows across the pavement. Every step toward the café felt heavier , like you were walking straight into something you couldn’t take back.

When you finally pushed the door open, the soft chime above your head barely registered. He was already there. Sitting in the far corner booth, hoodie sleeves rolled up, one hand cradling a paper cup. He looked up when the door opened, eyes catching yours instantly , like he’d been waiting for just that. And for a second, everything around you blurred. Just you and him. You walked over without a word, sliding into the seat across from him.

Heeseung stared for a moment, something flickering in his gaze when he noticed the bracelet on your wrist. “You kept it,” he said, voice low. You looked down at it, then back at him. “Yeah. I did.” The silence that followed was soft. Not cold like before. Just careful. Heeseung exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around his cup.

“There’s a lot I need to say.” You met his eyes. “Then say it.” He swallowed hard, gaze dropping to the table for a moment before he looked back up at you. There was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there in a long time,uncertainty. Not the cocky, careless look he wore around everyone else. Just raw, unfiltered Heeseung. “I don’t even know where to start,” he said quietly. “There’s no excuse for how I acted. For what I became. For how I treated you.” You didn’t speak. Just let him keep going.

“I thought…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I thought if I buried everything , the past, you , maybe it’d hurt less. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a fucking mess every time I saw you walk into a room.” You looked at him, searching for honesty. “And did it help?”

He let out a humorless laugh, bitter and small. “Not even for a second.” The weight of it settled between you. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward , it was full. Full of what had been unsaid for too long. “I saw you with Sungchan that night,” Heeseung said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “And it hit me harder than I thought it would.” Your brows knit slightly. “Why?”

“Because he looked at you the way I used to.” His voice cracked, just a little. “And you let him. You let him see you. And I realized… I haven’t in a long time.”

You exhaled, fingers tracing the edge of your sleeve. “You left,” you said, voice steadier than you expected. “You let yourself become someone else. And I kept waiting for the version of you I knew to come back, but he never did. So I stopped looking.”

Heeseung looked like you’d just hit him in the chest. He nodded slowly. “I know I don’t deserve anything from you. Not your forgiveness. Not even this conversation. But I needed you to hear it, from me. Not from Jay, not from anyone else.”

You stayed quiet for a long moment. Letting the words linger. Letting them sink in. “You hurt me, you made me feel like I didn’t exist.” “I know,” he whispered. Your throat tightened, but you didn’t cry. Not yet. “So what now?”

Heeseung leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table like he needed to be closer to breathe right. His eyes searched yours, desperate and soft all at once.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t expect things to go back to how they were. I don’t even know if they should. But I just… I wanted you to know I never stopped caring. Not really. I just forgot how to show it.”

You looked away, staring out the café window, heart beating too loud in your chest.

And for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The coffee between you went cold.

But his presence didn’t feel like a wound anymore. It felt like a scar that might finally be healing. Heeseung’s eyes lifted slowly at your words, like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. Your voice was softer this time, but steady. “We can try it out.” He blinked. “Try…?”

You nodded, heart thudding in your chest. “This. Us. I’m not saying we pick up where we left off. I don’t even know what that would look like. But I felt something last night,” you breathe before counting… “if you mean what you said, then maybe we don’t have to figure it all out right now. Maybe we just… see where it goes.”

He stared at you like you’d just let sunlight into a room he’d been trapped in for months. And then his lips parted, a quiet breath leaving him like relief and disbelief all at once.

“You mean that?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You offered the smallest smile. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

Heeseung leaned back in his seat, his shoulders dropping for the first time in what felt like forever. He looked at you the way he used to,like you were the only person in the room. Like he could breathe again.

“We can start off as friends again. Then see where it goes.”

“I won’t mess it up this time,” he murmured. “I’ll take it slow. Whatever you need.”

You raised a brow. “Even if I make you wait three business days to reply to your texts?”

He grinned, eyes lighting up with something boyish and real. “I deserve that.”

“I missed you” you said looking at him.

His eyes lit when you said that, “I missed you more than you think, really y/n. I really appreciate you trying this again, we’ll go at your pace.”

You laughed, and something in your chest loosened.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t everything.

But it was something.

And this time, it felt like a beginning.

He was the youngest CEO the company had ever seen—cold, brilliant, and terrifyingly focused. His suits were always perfect. His temper? Not so much.

And somehow, you had ended up as his personal assistant.

You were hired six months ago. Quiet, capable, organized. But Jay quickly realized something else about you:

You weren’t scared of him.

You weren’t intimidated by the way his voice cut through the office, or the way interns nearly cried when he walked past. You didn’t flinch when he barked your name across the floor. You didn’t tremble when he told you to stay late.

Instead, you gave him attitude. Smart comments. Playful looks that lingered too long.

You were the only one who talked back. The only one who ever dared to tease.

And worse—he let you.

You noticed it in the small things at first.

Like how he always called you into meetings even if they didn’t involve your department.

Or how he hovered behind you when you bent to grab files, gaze burning into your back.

Or how his voice dropped an octave when he said your name.

And then there were the accidents.

His hand brushing yours when you handed him his tablet.

His fingers grazing your waist as he passed behind you.

The time he caught you by the hips when you slipped on the marble floor outside his office.

“Careful,” he murmured then, lips too close to your ear. “Wouldn’t want to fall for me.”

Your heart practically stopped.

He didn’t even smile—just let go and walked away, like he hadn’t just ruined your day.

By now, the tension had built so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

And today?

He was already in a bad mood.

Meetings had run late. A deal overseas was falling apart. Half the board was complaining.

You didn’t even get to say good morning before he snapped.

“Where the hell is the updated presentation?”

You placed it on his desk calmly. “Just emailed it to you.”

“Next time, don’t make me ask.”

You raised a brow. “Next time, try saying please.”

Jay looked up from his laptop. Dead in the eyes. His jaw flexed.

And just like that—game on.

You spent the whole morning testing him.

You sat a little too close during meetings.

You called him Jay instead of Mr. Park in front of other execs.

You “accidentally” handed him the wrong report—twice.

By the time it was 3:30 PM, he looked like he was seconds from snapping.

You walked into his office unannounced again, this time with a new folder in hand and a teasing smile.

He didn’t even look up. “You’re getting on my nerves.”

You stepped closer. “That’s funny. You’re always so tense, I thought you liked it.”

He finally lifted his gaze. It was sharp. Dangerous.

“You have ten seconds to walk out of this office.”

You didn’t move. Just tilted your head.

“I think you like it when I get under your skin.”

That was it.

His chair scraped back.

Jay stood, eyes dark, voice low and deadly.

“I’ve let you run your mouth for way too long.”

You backed up slowly as he approached, heartbeat thundering.

“And you’ve been dying for me to do something about it.”

Your back hit the glass wall behind his desk, breath catching.

Jay towered over you now. His voice dropped to a growl.

“So what is it, Miss Y/N? You want to keep acting like a brat…”

His hand landed on the wall next to your head, caging you in.

“Or do you want me to make you behave?”

You weren’t sure what was louder—your heartbeat, or the silence between you.

Jay didn’t touch you. Not yet. But his body was right there, crowding into your space, his palm flat against the wall by your head. His scent—clean, sharp cologne and tension—wrapped around you like static.

He looked at you like he was trying to decide whether to fire you… or fuck you senseless.

“You like playing this game?” he murmured. His voice was low, rich, like warm whiskey. “Pushing me until I snap?”

“I think you’ve already snapped,” you said, breathless.

He didn’t smile. Not really. But his mouth twitched, just enough to feel dangerous.

“I have a company to run,” he said, voice harder now. “People to manage. Deadlines to hit. And then there’s you—” his eyes dropped to your lips, then lower “—wandering around this office like you want me to lose control.”

You swallowed. “Maybe I do.”

That did it.

His hand left the wall and wrapped around your waist in one motion, yanking you flush against him. You gasped softly at the feeling of him—hard, furious, holding back so much.

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

“I do,” you whispered. “And I want it.”

Jay didn’t wait.

He spun you around and pushed you toward the desk. Not rough—but firm. Final. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do to you hours ago.

And now?

You’d finally given him permission.

Jay pressed you against his desk, your hips hitting the cool surface. One hand gripped your waist, the other tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough for his mouth to reach your neck.

“You really don’t know when to shut that mouth, do you?” he growled against your skin.

Your breath caught. “Maybe I like when you shut it for me.”

That earned you a sharp smack—right on your ass. You gasped, half from shock, half from the heat it sent shooting through your spine.

Jay’s mouth curled against your neck. “You like acting like a brat. So now, you’re gonna take what you’ve been begging for.”

He shoved your skirt up without ceremony, bunching the fabric at your waist. You felt the drag of his palm down your thigh, fingers sliding up to hook in your panties.

“These are cute,” he murmured, then ripped them off in one quick motion. “But you won’t be needing them.”

You moaned, breath trembling, hands clutching at the desk as he kicked your legs open wider.

And then—his fingers.

Two slid between your folds, slow and teasing, finding you already soaked.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Look at this. Wet just from mouthing off in my office?”

You whined, rocking your hips back against his hand. “Jay—”

“No,” he snapped, withdrawing his fingers. You whined in protest. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Not when you’ve been acting like a spoiled little thing all day.”

He unbuckled his belt with one hand, the metallic clink sharp in the quiet room. The sound alone made your knees weak.

“Bend over,” he ordered, voice thick. “Hands flat on the desk. Don’t move.”

You obeyed instantly, heart pounding, cheek pressed to the cold wood as you heard the zipper go down.

Then you felt it—him. Thick, hot, rubbing right against your entrance, slow and deliberate.

Jay leaned over your back, lips right by your ear.

“Beg for it.”

You trembled. “Please, Jay… please fuck me.”

He sank in one slow, punishing thrust.

You cried out, your back arching, nails clawing at the desk as he filled you inch by inch—no warning, no mercy.

“God, you’re tight,” he groaned. “So fucking tight, wrapped around me like this…”

He didn’t move at first—just held himself there, letting the stretch overwhelm you. Letting you feel everything.

Then he pulled out halfway and slammed back in, setting a bruising rhythm that made your breath stutter.

Your moans turned to sobs, hands scrambling for grip.

Jay grabbed your hips, fucking you deep, hard, relentless. “You wanna test me at work? Walk around like you don’t know what that pretty mouth does to me?”

Another thrust—harder. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you cried, back arching. “Yes, I—I needed this—”

“You needed to be ruined.”

He reached around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles.

You screamed, body shaking as your orgasm slammed into you without warning. Jay didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, chasing his own high, thrusts getting messier, rougher.

“Fuck—gonna cum inside you,” he growled, gripping your hips like he owned you.

And then he did.

His hips snapped forward once, twice—then stilled. You felt him twitch deep inside, warmth spreading as he filled you up.

He collapsed over your back, both of you breathing hard, the room spinning in silence.

“…You’re still on the clock,” he finally muttered against your shoulder, voice wrecked.

You snorted, half-laughing. “This wasn’t in my job description.”

Jay pulled out slowly, and you whimpered at the sensitivity.

He smacked your ass once more. “It is now.”

You’re both still catching your breath, your body aching in the best ways, your legs trembling from how hard he just took you.

Jay’s sitting now—half-sprawled in his massive leather office chair, shirt unbuttoned, belt undone, eyes hooded with heat. He looks wrecked. Flushed cheeks, sweat-damp hair, the barest smirk tugging at his lips.

But he’s still hard.

You glance down.

Still thick, still glistening, resting against his thigh.

Your mouth waters.

Jay catches the look in your eyes and chuckles, low and dark. “Don’t tell me you want more.”

You kneel between his legs without a word.

His breath catches as your hands slide up his thighs, slow and teasing, fingers brushing over his sensitive skin. His cock twitches slightly—still heavy, still waiting.

“I think you deserve a break,” you murmur, voice thick with mischief. “Let me take care of you this time.”

Jay’s head is tipped back, one hand white-knuckling the armrest of his office chair, the other still tangled in your hair—but it’s trembling now. His thighs are tense, abs twitching with every slow swirl of your tongue around his tip.

“You’re… fuck,” he breathes, voice barely holding steady, “so good at that.”

You moan around him again, deliberately slow, letting him feel the vibration in your throat.

His cock twitches, and he whines—low, strained, like he hates how much he loves this.

Jay always acted in control. Power was his language. Cold, sharp suits. Terse meetings. Your name said like a command.

But right now?

He was falling apart. All because of you. On your knees, looking up at him with those innocent eyes while you slowly, filthily, swallowed him down.

“God, baby,” he groans, hips twitching when you suck harder. “You’re gonna make me—”

His breath catches. He looks down at you, eyes dark and glassy. His brows furrow as you work him deeper, letting spit drip down your chin.

“You’re not playing fair,” he mutters, voice strained. “I’m supposed to be in control.”

You smile around him, just barely.

And then you take him to the base, lips pressed against his skin.

Jay’s entire body jerks—his hips lift off the chair with a choked gasp. His hand tightens in your hair, but it’s not guiding you anymore—it’s anchoring him. Holding on for dear life.

“Shit—fuck, sweetheart, I—”

He moans again, high and breathy, his composure cracking.

“Please…” he whispers. “Don’t stop. Just like that—don’t stop, please—”

That was it.

The mighty, cold CEO, begging, voice trembling, legs shaking. Trying to hold it together while you pulled every last sound out of him.

You pull back just a little, working the tip with your mouth and tongue. Your hand slides up to stroke him slowly, matching your pace.

“You gonna cum for me, sir?” you murmur against his skin, lips brushing the sensitive head. “Wanna make a mess for me?”

Jay swears, shuddering under your touch.

“You’re dangerous,” he pants. “Too good—fuck, I can’t—”

His hips buck again. Once. Twice.

And then he’s gasping—head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut as he cums hard with a strangled, broken moan. His thighs tremble, hand still clutching your hair like he’s grounding himself, as you let him ride it out slowly, tenderly.

You swallow again, lips still brushing him softly, licking him clean like it’s nothing. Like you didn’t just make the most powerful man you know beg for it.

Jay finally opens his eyes, looking completely dazed.

He lets out a soft, breathless laugh.

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. “You win.”

You smirk as you stand, brushing your lips with the back of your hand.

“I always do."