Jake had been your boyfriend for almost five months and the apartment still felt half-foreign every time you stepped inside. Six other guys lived there: Sunghoon, Heeseung, Jay, Jungwon, Sunoo and Ni-ki and the place always smelled like a mix of cologne, laundry detergent and whatever takeout someone had forgotten on the counter. Jake was the loudest of them, the one who left his shoes in the middle of the hallway and sang in the shower like the walls weren’t paper-thin. He was also the one who looked at you like you’d hung the moon every single time you walked through the door.

Tonight the apartment was supposed to be empty. Sunghoon and Heeseung had gone to a late screening of some indie film across town. Jay and Jungwon were at the library finishing a group project. Sunoo and Ni-ki had disappeared to a friend’s birthday dinner that was supposed to run until well after midnight. Jake had texted you the second the last roommate left: House to ourselves. Come over. Bring nothing.

You showed up in one of his old jerseys and a pair of shorts that barely covered anything. The second the door clicked shut behind you he was on you, kissing you hard, hands already under the jersey, palms sliding up your bare back.

"Missed you" he murmured against your mouth, voice low and warm. "Missed this."

You didn’t make it past the living room. Jake backed you toward the big sectional, never breaking the kiss, until the backs of your knees hit the cushions and you both went down in a tangle of limbs. He tugged the jersey over your head in one motion and tossed it somewhere behind the couch. Your shorts and underwear followed just as fast. He sat back on his heels for a second just to look at you spread out on the cushions, already flushed, already wet for him.

"Fuck, look at you" he said, almost reverent. Then he was between your thighs, mouth hot and eager.

Jake ate you out like he was starving. Long, messy strokes of his tongue, then tight circles around your clit while two fingers worked inside you, curling just right. You grabbed a fistful of his hair and rolled your hips against his face. He groaned into you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. When he sucked hard on your clit and crooked his fingers at the same time you came with a sharp cry, thighs shaking around his head.

He didn’t stop until you were twitching and oversensitive. Only then did he sit up, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and grin at you with that bright, boyish grin that always made your stomach flip.

"Your turn" you managed, still breathless.

You pushed him onto his back and climbed over him, tugging his shirt off and shoving his sweatpants and boxers down just far enough. His cock sprang free, thick and already leaking. You wrapped your hand around him and stroked once, twice, watching his head tip back against the couch cushion. Then you leaned down and took him into your mouth.

Jake cursed under his breath, one hand settling gently in your hair. You took him deep, hollowing your cheeks, tongue working along the underside. He was loud: soft moans and broken little "yes, just like that" and the sound made heat pool low in your belly all over again. You pulled off with a wet pop and crawled up his body, straddling his hips.

"Want you inside me" you whispered.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He lined himself up and you sank down in one smooth motion, both of you exhaling hard at the stretch. For a moment you just sat there, full, forehead pressed to his, breathing each other in. Then you started to move, slow rolls of your hips at first, then deeper, harder, bracing your hands on his chest.

Jake’s hands gripped your waist, helping you bounce. The wet sound of skin meeting skin filled the quiet apartment. Every time you sank down his cock dragged against that perfect spot inside you and your breath hitched. He sat up suddenly, wrapping an arm around your back so he could thrust up into you while you rode him. The new angle was devastating. You came again with your face buried in his neck, muffled cries against his skin, walls fluttering around him.

He flipped you onto your back without pulling out, one of your legs hooked over his shoulder. The change in depth made you gasp. Jake fucked you hard and deep, the couch creaking under the force of it. His eyes never left yours. Sweat slicked both of your bodies. You could feel another orgasm building already, that tight coiling pressure that made your toes curl.

"Gonna come" he panted. "Want it inside?"

"Yes...please..."

He thrust a few more times and then buried himself to the hilt, groaning your name as he spilled deep inside you. The feeling of him pulsing pushed you over the edge again. You clung to him through it, shaking, until the aftershocks faded and he collapsed carefully on top of you, still joined.

For a long minute the only sound was the two of you catching your breath. Jake pressed lazy kisses along your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. His soft cock slipped out of you and you felt the slow trickle of his cum between your thighs. Neither of you moved to clean up. The blanket that usually lived on the back of the couch was half under you; Jake dragged it over both of your bodies and settled more comfortably between your legs, head resting on your chest.

That was when the front door opened.

Laughter spilled in first: Sunoo’s high and bright, Ni-ki’s lower and amused, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of multiple pairs of shoes.

"I’m telling you the noodles were not worth the wait-"

"Shh, maybe Jake’s asleep."

They walked straight into the living room.

Sunoo saw you first. His eyes went huge. Ni-ki stopped so abruptly Jungwon nearly walked into his back. Behind them Jay, Heeseung and Sunghoon piled in, all of them freezing in a messy cluster by the entryway.

You were still naked under the blanket. Jake was still half on top of you, also naked, the evidence of what you’d just finished doing impossible to hide. The smell of sex hung in the air. A wet spot was visible on the cushion near your hip.

Silence stretched for one horrifying second.

Then Ni-ki made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh. "Oh my god."

Jay clapped a hand over his eyes but peeked through his fingers anyway. "The couch. We sit there. We eat there."

Sunoo’s face was scarlet but he was clearly trying not to smile. "I told you they were loud. I told you."

Heeseung leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking far too entertained. "Nice form, Jake. Real athletic."

Sunghoon just stared, expression caught somewhere between secondhand embarrassment and reluctant amusement. Jungwon, ever the practical one, immediately started herding people toward the kitchen. "Everyone out. Give them thirty seconds. Now."

Jake finally snapped out of his frozen state. He yanked the blanket higher, covering as much of both of you as possible, and glared over his shoulder. "Get the fuck out of the living room!"

"We’re trying" Jungwon called, already pushing Ni-ki and Sunoo ahead of him. "Some of us still have eyes we want to keep."

Jay was the last to leave the immediate area. He pointed at the couch with pure betrayal on his face. "I’m buying a new one. You’re paying for it. Both of you."

"Deal" Jake said immediately. "Now leave."

Once the worst of the crowd had retreated to the kitchen, where you could still hear muffled snickering and at least one dramatic retelling, Jake helped you sit up. He kept the blanket wrapped tight around you while he located his sweatpants and your jersey. Your shorts and panties were nowhere in sight. You pulled the jersey on and nothing else, it covered enough for the short walk to his room.

The second his bedroom door shut behind you Jake pressed you against it and kissed you hard, half laughing, half mortified.

"I am never living that down" he muttered against your mouth. "Never."

You were still flushed, still a little sticky between the thighs and somehow the adrenaline had only made you want him again. You tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. "We still have a lock."

Jake’s grin returned, slower this time, darker. "Yeah. We do."

He carried you to the bed. This round was slower, quieter, almost careful, like he was trying to make up for the public disaster by being extra attentive. He laid you down and kissed every inch of skin he could reach: the hollow of your throat, the curve of your breast, the soft inside of your thigh. When he finally slid back inside you it was with a long, deep thrust that made you both sigh. He kept his forehead against yours, eyes open, watching every flicker of pleasure on your face while he fucked you in steady, rolling strokes.

You came softer this time, a long shuddering wave that left you clinging to his shoulders. Jake followed a few thrusts later, burying his face in your neck as he filled you again. Afterward he didn’t pull out right away. He stayed inside you, arms wrapped tight around your back, breathing you in.

From the living room you could hear the distant sounds of a game starting up and the occasional burst of laughter. Someone, probably Sunoo, yelled something about "the couch incident" and someone else told him to shut up.

Jake groaned into your skin. "They’re never going to stop."

You carded your fingers through his hair. "Probably not."

He lifted his head just enough to look at you, eyes soft despite the lingering embarrassment. "Worth it, though."

You smiled. "Definitely worth it."

A little while later hunger won out. You both got properly dressed this time: Jake in actual clothes, you in a pair of his boxers under the jersey and ventured into the kitchen. The second you appeared the teasing started up all over again.

Ni-ki pointed a chip at Jake. "Round two already? We heard the headboard."

Sunoo threw a napkin at him. "Leave them alone. They’re in love."

"Love looks a lot like naked wrestling on my couch" Jay muttered, but he was grinning.

Heeseung just raised his eyebrows and passed Jake a bottle of water. "Hydrate. You’re going to need it if this is becoming a habit."

Sunghoon, leaning against the counter, offered the driest observation of the night. "At least put a towel down next time. For the rest of us."

Jungwon, trying and failing to look stern, just shook his head. "New house rule: sock on the door. Or better yet: text the group chat first."

Jake pulled you into his lap on one of the dining chairs (definitely not the couch) and wrapped his arms around your waist. "Noted. Now can we eat in peace?"

Peace was relative. The teasing continued through the entire meal, but it was the affectionate kind, the kind that said they were never going to let either of you forget this, but they also weren’t actually upset. By the time everyone drifted back to their rooms the worst of the mortification had faded into something almost funny.

Later that night, after the apartment had gone quiet, Jake pulled you back into his bed for a third, much quieter round. This one was slow and sweet, full of whispered I love yous and soft touches. He made love to you like he had all the time in the world, like the earlier disaster had only made him want you more.

When you finally fell asleep tangled together, the last thing you heard was Jake’s soft laugh against your hair and a distant, muffled comment from someone else’s room about "never sitting on that couch again."

You smiled into his chest. Five months in, and things were already unforgettable.

🍊••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🍊

It all started when you were five years old. Little y/n had been looking for her clementines in her sparkly lunch box. Little did she know little Sim Jake had taken her beloved clementines! “Miss Lee! I can’t find them anywhere!” Little y/n squealed as Miss Lee comforted you. “Come on let’s go check the backpacks sweetie.” Miss Lee said softly as she led you to the backpack cubbies. The clementines weren’t there. You checked your desk. The clementines weren’t there. You even checked the school bathroom, thinking you may have misplaced it. The clementines still weren’t there. Little y/n gave up and ran to the back playground to hide your tears. No one ever went there. No one would bother you. “Y/n?” You looked up immediately wiping your tears as you glared at the little boy across from you. Sim Jake. Your neighbor, your family’s friend’s son, your frenemy. “What do you want Jake.” Y/n asked in the toughest way your five year old self could. “I ate your clementines.” Jake quickly said before turning around to sprint the other direction. “Sim Jaeyun! I hate you!” Little y/n screeched as she chased after him. From the day forward, you had a grudge against Jake.

🍊 ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🍊

Timeskip

You and Jake were both now seniors in high-school. It was the first day of the school year. As you were getting ready for school, you got overwhelmed as your eyelash curler broke. You were trying to fix your school uniform and your hair got stuck in your bra strap. “Y/n! We’re gonna be late loser!” Ni-Ki called from downstairs. “Shut up riki! You’re so annoying!” You yelled back at your younger brother as you fixed yourself heading downstairs. You fell down the stairs and screamed as you saw Jake on the couch. He was amused at your misfortune and you quickly stood up. “What are you doing here!?” You asked in an accusing tone. “Waiting for a ride?” Jake scoffed back rolling his eyes. You glared at Ni-Ki he confirmed that Jake would be riding to school with you guys for the whole week. His parent’s car had broken down and they didn’t have time to fix it for another week. You huffed shoving past them. You went to the kitchen to grab your clementines before walking to the car. Jake huffed. “She’s so annoying.” Ni-Ki rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

🍊 ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🍊

In Class

You turned around to shoot him a glare but Jake just flashed his signature smirk, making you scowl as you turned around. Jay and Sunghoon were presenting their quick slideshow about what they did over the summer as it was the whole class’s “icebreaker”. You dreaded your turn as you got paired up with Jake. He kept messing around and teased you about gaining 5 pounds from eating too many clementines. “Shut up Jake! I didn’t gain weight!” You whisper shouted not wanting to get caught bickering by Mrs. Yoon. Ni-Ki overheard your conversation and rolled his eyes knowing you both fought like kindergarteners

Jake laughed as you attempted to step on his foot ignoring your sulky mood. He was about to retaliate but got interrupted by Mrs. Yoon. “Jake and y/n! You both may present next!” She gleamed in excitement as she saw your awkwardness standing up. Oh how you hated that old lady. “O-over the summer I went to my grandma’s house a lot.” You stated anxiously reading off your note card as your hands trembled. You had never been good with presentations. Jake stepped in with his cheerful demeanor and gave you a smirk as you both sat down. You were already prepared for the teasing. Luckily the bell rang and before Jake could make fun of you, you rushed out the door with your backpack blending in with the swarm of people in the hallway.

You shut your phone off and took a deep breath as you opened your locker. You grabbed your gym clothes and went to the locker room to change. As everyone entered the gym, Mrs. Kang, the p.e teacher paired you and Jake together to do sit ups. “I’m not working with her!” “I’m not working with him!” You both protested in sync. Mrs. Kang gave you both a glare and you immediately got to work. “You’re so annoying! You’re not counting correctly!” Y/n said as Jake mocked her voice turning in the clipboard to Mrs. Kang. The bell rang and you stormed out of the class annoyed already. The first day of school was just a preview of what would happen the whole year.

🍊 ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🍊

A Few Months Later

You don’t know how or when it happened. You had caught feeling for Jake Sim. You even started a diary for him! You both bickered relentlessly but instead of getting upset, you held back a smile. Your family had gone over to Jake’s house to have dinner together. You had to go up to his room with Ni-Ki as your parents talked downstairs. Ni-Ki kept hitting your head to move you aside and you got annoyed hitting his arm. Before he could retaliate, Jake stepped in. Jake always either watched or joined in with the teasing. He never stepped in. Later that night, you wrote about how he defended you. Maybe you were being delusional, but you were starting to think Jake liked you back.

🍊••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🍊

The Next Morning

You got ready as you quickly put on ni-ki’s hoodie. You walked to Jake’s house as his house was right across the street. You rang the door bell and Jake opened it. You gasped seeing the basket of clementines and immediately hugged him before you could think. Jake froze. “O-oh sorry.” You muttered pulling away. “Um thanks for the clementines. Bye!” You said grabbing the basket trying to quickly walk away. You got stopped as a strong hand grabbed your wrist. “Wait y/n- I like you. Thats why i told you to come over. I’m sorry I’ve been so annoying. I really do like you y/n.” Jake stammered as he rambled more words you forgot to understand. Your heart skipped a beat as you took a deep breath. You felt overwhelmed as you had been dreaming of this day for months.

END

🍊 ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🍊

Bonus! 🫶🏽

“You don’t like Christmas?!”

When Jake Sim confesses this cardinal sin, you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he isn’t particularly fond of your favorite holiday. You nearly spill your cocktail but manage to catch yourself at the last minute. Jake merely shrugs like it’s not something that he really needs to consider. He acts like this season is nothing but another month to be forgotten about.

“It isn’t my thing. I’m not big on fanfare.”

“It’s not fanfare. It’s the snow. It’s the lights and decorations people put on their houses. It’s the cheesy holiday movies that are totally unrealistic but everybody gets their happy ending anyway. And I can’t forget about peppermint mocha.”

Jake laughs. “You really like Christmas that much?”

“She starts buying gifts early.” Heeseung chimes in and puts his elbows on the table, glancing at you and then back to Jake. “Last year, she designed t-shirts and bought a press to make them. The year before that, she made us holiday cards from scratch.”

Jake nods. “Wow, I’m impressed.”

“It’s so much more than being with your friends and family to me. Christmas goes way beyond whatever religious impositions people put on it. But for me, it’s another way of spending time with people I care about. How come you don’t like Christmas?”

He pauses for a moment as if to think about his answer, scratching the back of his neck when he looks at Heeseung. You sincerely hope you’re not putting Jake on the spot if he’d rather not talk about it, and you’re about to rescind your question when he begins talking.

“I don’t know if I have a specific reason. This time of year has never been super important to me and everybody I know is out of town by the time December comes around. I’ve never really spent Christmas with anybody since I moved to Korea, you know?”

“I think I understand. Everybody goes home for the holidays but a plane ticket to Brisbane is too expensive.”

“That’s right. It’s not that I hate Christmas. I’m just alone for most of it.”

That makes you frown. “I’m sorry for bringing Christmas up in the first place.”

“It’s okay,” he says with that charming smile that always makes you quiver in the knees. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

“You remember how we met, right?” Heeseung asks. “We were neighbors at the time and I heard him playing video games on Christmas. I was going to ask him to turn it down, but ended up inviting him to my family’s party when he said he didn’t have any plans.”

“I don’t hate Christmas,” Jake repeats. “I really don’t, I just think there’s so much going on in my life that I don’t think about it until it’s here.”

You lean forward and put both of your elbows on the table. “Maybe you need to see it with a fresh pair of eyes.” He smiles.

“Maybe.”

Jake is your ridiculously hot friend that you met two months ago at Heeseung’s housewarming party. Friend might be a little bit of a stretch, though. The only time you see him is when you’re with Heeseung or your other mutual friends and neither of you talk outside of that. The first time you saw him was inside of their kitchen surrounded by your friends and his hair, which had been light brown at the time, might as well have been glistening under the god-awful overhead light. It was almost as if there was a singular spotlight on Jake and your friends were practically nonexistent when you realized just how attractive your best friend’s roommate actually was.

Heeseung broke you out of your spell to grab the dish from your hands (banana bread and tiramisu, because Heeseung loved former and Sunghoon had threatened to un-invite you to the party if you didn’t make him any, which made no sense because he didn’t live with Heeseung, but you love him anyway). It must’ve felt like an eternity for you to come back to your senses because you were thrown off kilter so much that you had neglected to take your jacket off until Heeseung pried it off of your body.

When he introduced you to Jake for the first time, it felt like thunder bursting in your heart until it challenged the strings keeping you together. You’ve never felt anything like it, least of all with one of Heeseung’s friends, but Jake smiled at you like you were a longtime friend and made room for you in their makeshift circle by the alcohol. Sunghoon’s girlfriend had joined the party just after you arrived and Jake had said you seem like the life of the party when you returned to the conversation, which made you feel incredibly shy because on most days, you’d rather be at home watching a movie in your pajamas. But Heeseung is your best friend and you’ll always show up for him.

You don’t remember what was handed to you, but you remember feeling a little bit more relaxed once you were able to focus on anything other than the ridiculously attractive man standing in front of you. Playing it cool was at the top of your list and you were sure that Heeseung and all of your other friends could hear how you stuttered over your words and how you’d lost all ability to talk like a normal person, but everyone ended up getting too drunk to pay attention to anything other than the conversation at hand, and as the party went on, you started to feel a little more comfortable around Jake.

Would it be weird if you followed Jake on Instagram? You had asked yourself that the day after the housewarming party (after stalking his social media and obsessing over pictures from when he was in Australia, no less), but you decided against it, thinking Heeseung would find it weird if you looked up his roommate on social media. But really, you didn’t want to come off as desperate and give Jake the wrong impression. He was cool and very normal compared to Heeseung’s last roommate, and you didn’t want to scare Jake and make him think Heeseung was friends with creepy girls who liked to stare at hot guys.

Maybe you can’t get Jake out of your head because you’ve been chronically single the last three years and hookups don’t seem to work out in your favor for whatever reason. Heeseung has seen his fair share of nights spent crying over hot pot or sleeping next to you on your couch because a date had gone so poorly that he picked you up as soon as you called him.

But unlike these people, Jake is considerate. He’s the kind of person who will bring you trinkets because it reminded him of you, and when you’d fuss and tell him he didn’t need to spend any money on you, he’d smile and tell you to keep it. He’s never late to group hangouts and he’ll never leave anybody walking behind if the group is big enough for nobody to notice someone has fallen behind. Jake will be the first person to offer up his credit card at dinner and wait patiently for people to pay him back. That’s the kind of person Jake is, and he makes it that much easier to fall in love with him.

When the weekend comes around, you find yourself standing in front of the carnival entrance with your friends and Jake. He’s wearing a brown jacket that makes him look stupidly handsome.

“I want hot chocolate,” Sunghoon says from behind you. “Can we stop there first?”

Jay rolls his eyes and nudges his side. “You’re gonna get a stomach ache if you eat and get on the rides.”

“Not if I drink it really slowly.”

“I hope it burns your tongue.”

“I think we should pay for our tickets and then go inside, hm?” you ask rhetorically.

Jake smiles and nods. “I think that’s a great idea.” He stretches his steps until he’d caught up with you, leaving the other two behind. Heeseung’s already reached the gate and waits impatiently for the rest of you to catch up. Soon enough, the five of you enter the fair grounds and choose to wander around the festival instead of guiding yourselves from a map.

“I haven’t been to a Christmas festival in a long time,” Jake says from beside you with his hands in his pockets. “I think the last time I went was a few years before I moved to Korea. It’s also summer in Australia during December, so it doesn’t feel like Christmas.”

“We go every year. They always say I’m the one forcing them to go, but they always end up having a fun time.” You look to your left and see Sunghoon and Jay arguing about whether or not to stop for candied apples and laugh. “Yeah, they’re a bit of a handful, but they always have fun.”

“Are you the resident Christmas expert?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but I’m the one who loves this time of year more than them, for sure. I go all out.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“I love decorating my apartment with lights and winter decorations. Elf of the Shelf and things like that, you know? My space is a little too small for a big Christmas tree, but I make do with a small one that sits in the corner of my living room. My coworker’s brother runs a Christmas tree farm and gives me discounts, so it’s a win-win situation for me.”

“Wow, that’s really cool. Do you buy decorations often?”

“I have a lot that my parents used to use when I was younger and I took them with me because they know how much I love it. I try to buy a few things every year so I can spice it up, but I don’t throw away old decor, if that’s what you’re asking. I like when things have a bit of history to them. I like buying one ornament and decorating my tree with the ones I’ve collected in the past. Shiny, brand new things aren’t always the best.”

“I get what you mean, I think. This jacket used to be my brother’s but I stole it before I moved. I used to hate getting his hand-me-downs, but his clothes are the ones I treasure the most.”

“Do you miss Brisbane?”

“All the time,” Jake says with a fond smile. “I miss my family and I miss my dog. I miss this late night convenience store a block from my house because the owner used to give me free snacks from time to time. When I told him I was moving overseas, he gave me a minute to grab anything I wanted, free of charge.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“Australia’s cool and all, but it’s nothing like Seoul.” Jake glances at you and looks back in front of him. “I’m starting to like the colder weather and I love the people I’ve met here. I thought about going back once I graduated from university, but I loved the life I built here.”

“I feel the same way. I mean, I didn’t move from another country or anything, but my family doesn’t live close by. They’re close enough to where I can get to them in a day if I really needed to, but far enough where I can be my own person.”

“Exactly. I love Brisbane and it’ll always be my home, but…Seoul is where I’m supposed to be.”

"You're studying to become a physicist, right?” you ask him.

“Can’t decide if I’m making the right choice by devoting my life to being in school for god knows how long,” he says with a laugh that makes you smile. “But yeah, I want to work in research. Not sure which field yet, but I fell in love with physics during college and I can’t see myself doing anything else. And you want to be a writer, don’t you? I think you said that during the housewarming party, but I can’t remember.” The fact that Jake could remember such a small detail about you warms your heart.

“Mhm,” you mumble, trying to get your blushing cheeks to cool down.

“That’s really cool. What kind of things do you write?”

“TV shows, mostly. I loved TV growing up–still do–but I never saw anything that felt like me, you know? There’s nostalgia and guilty pleasures, but I’ve never watched anything that felt uniquely me. I’ve been writing since I was a kid but started taking it seriously when I was in university, and I’ve been trying to make that into my career ever since.”

“That’s really cool. I’ve never met anybody who wanted to do that. You’re so ambitious.” He looks so cute when he tilts his head and smiles at you. God, you need to get a grip.

“Thank you.” Your reply is a bit shy and the sudden praise makes your cheeks warm. “Life is too short to not even try to reach our dreams, you know? I can’t imagine a world where I’m not writing. I don’t even want to think about what the me of a parallel universe is doing.”

“I’m probably surfing somewhere. It’s summer in Australia right now.”

“Might even have a sun burn.”

Jake laughs. “I do need to get better at remembering to put on sunscreen.”

“Hey, we’re thinking of going on The Zipper,” Heeseung says from beside the both of you. “Does that sound cool to you guys?”

“Are you wishing for a death sentence?!” Jake exclaims a bit louder than he’d like.

“It’s not that bad, bro.” Sunghoon wears a shit eating grin and jabs Heeseung in the ribs. Jake gulps loud enough for you to hear but the other three focus their attention onto you.

“It’s my favorite ride. It’s not as bad as you think.”

“…Okay.”

You miss your friends’ short-lived cheers because you’re too busy trying to hide a smile from Jake when he looks down at you. The two of you manage to catch up with them eventually and follow them to the queue for the ride. You see him looking at the structure and part of you is enamored by the way he’s trying to push his fears down because of you. Jake falls a step behind when you turn around to look at him. He watches the zipcarts tumble over themselves in the air and looks temporarily frozen when you call out his name. Jake doesn’t hear you, and you make the executive decision to grab his wrist and pull him forward. He immediately looks at where your hand is and stumbles on himself as you pull him to stand behind your friends before anybody else could get in between. You drop his wrist when he looks back at you and turn away to hide your blush.

“You don’t have to go on it if you don’t want to.” Sunghoon would argue against you if he’d heard, but he’s too busy talking to Jay and Heeseung to notice.

“I don’t want to be the odd one out. It’s about time I conquer this fear.”

“You don’t want Sunghoon calling you a pussy later, huh?”

Jake grins sheepishly. “That too.”

“It’ll be fine no matter what you choose.”

“I guess I’m nervous about being up there. I’m gonna be thrashing around until my body hits another person.”

“It’s probably less scary if we go in separate carts—”

“Hey, they’re only letting up to three people in a cart,” Heeseung interrupts. “Is it cool if you guys get on your own since the three of us can fit into one?”

“Yeah, she and I can ride together,” Jake replies without missing a beat.

“What? Are you sure? We’re gonna bump into each other and that'll hurt more if we go separately.”

“I’ll be safer with you.”

His comment flusters you more than you’d like to admit. Jake doesn’t make a big deal of it and simply walks beside you until you reach the front of the line. You try not to think too deeply into it either because surely he just wants to be comforted and not because he might actually like you. No, that’s probably not what he meant. The attendant snaps both of you into the machine’s buckles and before you know it, you and Jake are floating through the air and crushing into one another.

His screams make you laugh so hard that you feel like you might be running out of breath. Jake laughs too and you both look at each other the entire time. He tries to tell you that looking at you is much better than staring at the ground far below beneath him, but he doesn’t fare much better than you and laughs until he’s trying to hold back several coughs.

By the time everybody’s back on the ground, you feel dizzy in more ways than one. Jake stepped off of the zipper cart faster than a lightning bolt but waited for you to walk off of the platform to let somebody else in line have a turn. The ride itself distorted your sense of reality and Jake looked like he was about to fall over until he held the edge of the railing and waited until you were next to him to fully exit the ride.

“See, not so bad, right?” You ask, laughing so hard that you can barely finish asking your question.

“Worst ride ever,” he replies with a laugh of his own, “but you helped me through it, so it wasn’t all that bad.”

“You’re just a wuss.”

He gasps and gently shoves your arm. “Am not!”

“Are too!”

“You’re an insane person who loves rollercoasters too much.”

“Oh yeah? And what about it?"

You both catch up with the rest of your friends who fare just as badly as the two of you. Sunghoon’s hunched over himself and you think he might actually throw up if he stands up too quickly.

“Sunghoon’s out of commission for a little bit,” Heeseung explains. “We’re gonna take it easy and look at some shops and maybe get food. Do you guys wanna join?”

“Nah.” Jake waves them off with his hand. “You guys go ahead. We’re gonna go on a few more rides.”

“Should we find a spot to meet up for lunch?”

“My stomach is empty,” Sunghoon announces. “I think I need to eat something or else I’ll throw up for real this time.”

Jake shakes his head. “Go ahead without us. We’ll meet up with you later.”

Nobody makes a fuss as Heeseung and Jay lead Sunghoon to an empty table near a handful of food stalls selling sweet and savory foods. But you’re freaking out on the inside because this is the first time you’ve been alone with Jake. It’s just the two of you walking around the carnival without the company of your other friends, who usually act as a buffer when you’ve become too shy around Jake to say anything that won’t make you sound like a complete idiot. The jacket you’re wearing feels far too warm and you’re hyper aware of the fact that Jake was the one who chose to separate the two of you from the rest of the group.

He did that because he knows you like rollercoasters, right? He probably did it to be nice. Sunghoon can be a bit dramatic when his vertigo kicks in and Jake probably wanted an excuse to stay away if he knew Heeseung and Jay would take care of him. It’s not like the two of you have ever expressed interest in wanting to hang out alone. He’s never given you an indication that you were anything more than just a friend he sees in passing or whenever Heeseung invites you over to their apartment. You’ve both become more friendly as the months have passed by, but it hardly breaches the territory of being anything remotely close to being friends. But, my goodness, you’re so nervous and excited that you almost forget how to walk. Jake waits for you after he’s taken a few steps and notices that you’ve lagged behind.

“Hope you don’t mind that I stole you from them,” Jake says in that casual tone of his that makes you feel like you’re going crazy. “I love them and all, but I’ve been around those three way too much in the past week.”

“Oh, um, not at all!”

“Are you sure? You don’t seem sure.”

“Totally sure.” You nod once for emphasis but Jake quirks an eyebrow at you and, somehow, your mouth runs faster than your brain. “We’ve never hung out just the two of us, have we? I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I’m this awkward mess who can’t say anything right. I’ve known those three long enough to know they’ll say things more idiotic than I ever will. But we’ve never spent time, just us two, you know? ”

Jake laughs. He pushes his head back and laughs in the air like someone’s forcing all of his laughter out of his body and you make a fact because you’re not really sure what he’s laughing at. God, you just feel a little stupid, like you’re overthinking everything. Which you probably are, because Jake hasn’t said anything bad. Yet.

“You’re hilarious, you know that?”

“I’d like to think I’m brave and opening up my heart and soul to someone I haven’t known for very long,” you say as a way of defending yourself. It’s all in good fun when you see Jake stand back to his height and smile at you.

“You’re funny.”

“And you’re funny looking.”

“Resulting to middle school insults, are we?”

“I can turn back around and hang out with our friends,” you threaten with the upturn of your mouth. Jake raises his eyebrow again like he’s challenging you to do it and you stop walking to look back at them. “I can walk away right now and leave you to face the rollercoasters alone.” Jake’s smile morphs from something mischievous to something much softer.

“I was laughing because you are funny. You’re not awkward at all. I’ve always thought you were confident and you always know the right things to say when you’re around people.”

“Really?”

“Really. You have this ability to make people open up and talk about themselves without knowing it.” You look up at him like you’re in disbelief and he must be able to tell because he keeps talking. “Do you remember when we first met at the housewarming party? You fit in with everyone in our group so well and included me into your conversation, even if I had no idea what you were talking about. I felt like we’d been friends for years at that point. I’ve never met anybody who explained a bunch of inside jokes to a stranger. Normal people wouldn’t do that.”

“I guess I’m not normal, then.” He shakes his head and continues walking.

“No, you’re not. But normal’s overrated.”

Jake sees another rollercoaster (a single loop ride) before you can formulate a response. He leads you to the back of the line while you feel like a fish out of water. It seems like you can’t think of anything to say back to him, but Jake looks preoccupied with weaving his way through the people around you, so you shut your mouth and follow him.

This line is a bit longer than the one for the previous ride. Part of you is quite nervous to be standing alone with Jake because he’s this incredibly good-looking guy who happens to be someone you’re friends with, and because, well, it’s been a while since you’ve felt this way about someone. First dates and casual hookups are a thing of the past because they’ve always left you feeling dissatisfied and incomplete. Jake checks off all of your boxes in ways that scare you half to death. Maybe you’re projecting your own qualities and standards onto him because he’s the first guy that’s actually managed to make you feel something in the last year or so.

“I can do this rollercoaster,” Jake says from beside you. “I think the other one was too much.”

“I told you it was okay to back out.”

He disagrees. “I conquered one fear today and got to make a new memory with you. Totally worth it.”

Damn Jake and his nonchalance. How he makes sentimental words seem so casual is something beyond what you can comprehend.

“So, Christmas.”

“Christmas.”

“Would it be too deep to ask you why you love it so much?” He asks. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Heeseung’s talked about it so much in the past few weeks and I guess I’m just a little curious.”

“It’s not really about the holiday itself. It’s way more than that to me. I love that the sky gets darker just a little bit earlier. As much as I love summer, I get really excited when the weather gets colder and when I can see the trees start to lose their leaves. It’s like I’m preparing for hibernation, even though that’s kind of silly and humans don’t hibernate. I feel like I’m physically and emotionally slowing down. Sometimes I think about how nothing really matters. The year is gonna end one way or another and I might as well enjoy it.

“Everything feels so much more beautiful to me. I love the lights and the fact that people put up decorations in their lawns. I love seeing my apartment become more festive with decor and other things that remind me of winter. The food people make during Christmas is fucking delicious, too. Nobody cares about counting calories or anything like that because everything looks way too enticing to give a shit about being ‘perfect,’ you know?”

You barely notice it, but Jake guides you in the line as he’s listening to you speak.

“And don’t even get me started about Christmas movies. They’re awful, Jake. Like borderline dogshit, awful.”

“If they’re so awful, why do you watch them?”

“Becuase they’re so funny. All of them follow some kind of plot–a small town waitress down on her luck meets a crowned prince and doesn’t realize who he is or that same small town waitress finds out she’s the heir to a small European country nobody’s ever heard of–and they’re all the same. Maybe some things are different, but the meat and bones of these movies all have the same meaning. And they all have happy endings. Everybody’s happy and justice is served.”

You laugh as if recalling a distant memory. “My mom and I used to watch them all the time as kids. She’d let me stay up late on the weekends and we’d laugh about how ridiculous everybody was. It was our form of spending time together. She’s a single mom, you know, so time with her was always scarce. I think I loved these movies so much because I got to watch her laugh instead of worrying about bills. She always worked on Christmas, too, so I’d have a marathon by myself with popcorn and peppermint bark. Watching these shitty movies takes me back to when everything felt so simple.”

“I get it, I think. Escapism is really enticing. I think about all the things that make me feel a little better about reality,” says Jake.

“Exactly! You get it. I don’t know, I wasn’t the happiest kid because there was a lot of uncertainty about stuff. It was just my mom and I, and I love her so much, but sometimes it feels like I had to grow up because of our circumstances. It wasn’t her fault, though, and I know that. I was a huge introvert when I was a kid and it was hard for me to make friends because I was so shy and probably a little too grumpy.”

“You don’t seem shy to me. I always thought you were pretty confident and talkative.”

“I guess I got so comfortable overcompensating to push my shyness away that I started getting better at making friends. Heeseung and I met in college. We sat next to each other in our last year of university and I was kind of awkward at first because he wouldn’t stop talking. My God, if he saw me on campus, he’d join me for lunch or walk with me until we needed to go in separate directions. I started talking with him more and the rest is quite literally history.”

“You two never…dated, right?”

You shake your head. “Oh, absolutely not. Heeseung and I are really close, but we’ve never had any interest in each other. He’s like my brother.”

“Oh, good. Good to know.”

“So anyway, movies were my biggest escape to forget about the bad days. We weren’t the richest, but we’d make do. She baked cookies ahead of time and when Christmas evening came, she and I would eat them until our stomachs got too full. And then moving here with virtually no friends made me feel like I was that small child who was always alone, even if I did have some friends here and there. Looking forward to doing all of these festive things felt like I could disassociate without feeling guilty about it. Pulling myself back to reality didn’t hit me as hard because I could always slip back into the fantasy and pretend everything’s alright. Like nothing bad can touch me.”

You come to your senses when you don’t hear much from Jake. He’s been silent beside you for the entire conversation and looking him in the eye makes you want to curl in on yourself. Jake doesn’t say anything right away and you’re silently begging him to. Did you talk too much? Did you overshare? Was he just being polite when he said nothing was off limits?

“You have a profound way of looking at the world.”

You nearly choke.

“People look at us and think we’ve got everything figured out just because we look like we’re doing well for ourselves. But they don’t see what we’ve overcome and how much effort it took us to get here, do they?”

You shake your head. “No, I suppose they don’t.”

“Sometimes I think living in delusion gives us hope. We can imagine what it feels like to have a big family or to live a life without stressing out about the past and try to imagine that for ourselves. I’ve never met anyone who’s thought that way.”

“I’m too scared to depend on people,” you admit. “I think it’s really hard to trust people fully. But I want to and I so badly wish I could be the type of person to trust freely. I think I might be a little too careful with my heart, or something. I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Although, I’m sorry about your childhood being rough. I can kind of relate to that. I was born here, actually and my family relocated to Brisbane for my dad’s work and it took me a long time to learn English. Everyone made fun of me for that. I’m pretty sure my classmates were laughing behind my back.”

“I’m sorry, Jake. That’s horrible.”

“Nah, what’s past is past. I can see why Christmas is your favorite holiday now.”

Your other friends text you both in the group chat after the ride. Sunghoon is ready to go on more rollercoasters, but you and Jake decide that it’s time for some food and drinks after he hears your stomach grumbling. You’re more than surprised when Jake tells you he’ll pay for everything, going so far as to snatch your wallet out of his hands so he could hand the cashier his card instead. Jake sees you blushing every single time and never fails to bring it up, making you even more flustered. You give up and he keeps smiling triumphantly.

“Do you want to get something warm and look around the shops?” Jake asks once he’s returned from throwing the dirty plates.

“I could go for something chocolate-y.”

There’s a stall not too far away. Jake orders first and before you’re able to get a word in, he orders a hot peppermint mocha with whipped cream.

“You said you were craving it on the way here,” he explains. Meanwhile, you’re too stunned to answer him.

“I think I’ve made you speechless multiple times today.”

You scoff and look away from him. “You just like being mean to me.”

“Mm, I can’t say that I don’t.” You laugh because this is all so unserious, and because Jake keeps smiling at you like he never wants to look anywhere else.

“I guess opening up to you wasn’t so bad.” A single sip of your peppermint mocha tastes like absolute heaven. “Sorry for dumping a bunch of shit on you.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I’m the one who asked. I like that you don’t see the world in black and white. There’s so much people miss because they’re too narrow-minded. It’s hard for me to find people I actually like because everyone’s either way too shallow or way too contrarian.”

“I wouldn’t say I don’t have any friends, but it’s so hard to find people who aren't pretending to be someone they’re not.”

“I totally get it. Heeseung and everyone else is like a breath of fresh air. My old roommate is one of those social climbing influencer types. Not my speed at all.”

“It’s super rare that I click with people. Heeseung was kind of fast. He was so persistent in the first month and I knew nothing I did could shake him off.”

Jake laughs. “He’s annoying like that, isn’t he?”

“The worst.”

“I’m the same way, too. I’d say I know lots of people but I think I could count my best friends on one hand. I’m not complaining. I just think about how many people I consider an acquaintance.”

“Sometimes it feels hopeless to make new friends when all of them are gonna leave anyway. I don’t remember the last time I felt something click.”

“We’re doing just fine, aren’t we?”

Jake surprises you with that question.

“Yes,” you say in a tone softer than you intended, “we are.”

***

You don’t get to see anybody for the next two weeks because work makes you feel like you’re drowning. Between your full time job and trying to finish everybody’s presents in time, you hardly have the capacity to see your friends. Heeseung and Jake are hosting a Christmas party since most of your group and their significant others are staying in town. And while you pride yourself as somebody who plans and budgets gifts ahead of time, Jake’s present is still unfinished.

A large scarf has been sitting on your couch for two months now. Ever since Jake started complaining about how cold the weather is back in mid-October, you picked up soft yarn in his favorite color and started crocheting him a scarf that you hope looks professional and wearable. You’ve been hunched over the project and turn Netflix on in the background to distract yourself as you crochet.

In the meantime, Jake texts you more often than before. Feeling like you embarrassed yourself by opening up too much was all for nothing because Jake texts you throughout the day and it’s never about anything that’s inherently important. He saw a video on TikTok that reminded him of you? He’d download or screen record the video and send it to you because you refuse to get on that demonic app. He just ate lunch? Jake sends you a picture of the meal beforehand. He stopped by a novelty store to find a present for his cousin who’s visiting town? He texts you a picture of a small hedgehog and Snoopy figurine where they’re both wearing Santa hats and buys it for you.

They’re such small gestures and yet they mean so much.

You haven’t had the time to think about why he’s been reaching out to you more often than not. Work keeps you busy, as does the homemade scarf, but in the back of your mind, you feel as though you’re going crazy when you start to wonder if Jake might feel the same way as you. But that’s crazy, right? How could someone like him be into someone like you? Heeseung always tells you to stop doubting yourself and to be more confident. And you are, to a certain extent, but Jake is the definition of the boy-next-door and you feel like the secondary character who was never meant to be picked.

Even still, Jake makes an effort to call you as you’re winding down for the night and ask you about your day. He tells you that he wants to hear everything with no detail unsaid. You ask him about his day too, and he manages to make a monologue out of everything, even the most minute details. Jake makes you laugh in ways you’ve never laughed before and these phone calls are starting to feel like the two of you have been building a routine. You know that if it were to stop, part of you would feel very empty for a while.

You carry a few bags with presents and Jay helps you put them by the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. Everybody greets you and you act as secondary host when Heeseung asks for help passing out homemade eggnog. He spikes it with an incredible amount of bourbon and cognac, and even though you pride yourself in holding your liquor, you’re pretty sure you’ll be tipsy by the first drink.

Jake looks so beautiful in dark wash jeans and a t-shirt. It’s hard not to stare at him or the way his hair looks perfectly sat atop of his head. He immediately sought you out once heard your voice from the hallway and hasn’t left your side since you arrived. You can feel his body heat the entire time. Sunghoon and his girlfriend keep making weird faces at you throughout the night and you have half a mind to ask them what their problem is, but Jake always pulls you out of your stupor and back into the conversation.

When everybody is tipsy and barely able to speak without laughing, Jake pulls the entire group together to open the gifts. Heeseung gives an incredibly corny speech about how the meaning of Christmas is love and friendship, and Jay threatens to puke in the bowl of eggnog if he doesn’t stop.

One by one, everybody opens their gifts. There’s a lot of oh’s and ah’s from the collective group because, somehow, everybody has given thoughtful gifts that don’t feel cheap or half assed. Heeseung receives a small scrapbook filled with photos and memories from your friendship with him (he swore he wasn’t crying but you knew better than to believe him). Jay received a custom notebook for him to use for writing songs because he’s been looking for the perfect one. Sunghoon received a month’s worth of new rolls of film. And everyone gets individualized gifts and presents because you love these people more than you love yourself.

When it’s time for Jake to open your present, you’re too anxious to hear the paper ripping. He pulls out your handmade scarf and holds it in front of him to admire the stitching.

“Did you make this?”

“Yes. I crocheted it every day after work for two months, I think?”

“This looks unreal. It’s so beautiful.”

“I didn’t know what to get you at first,” you admit sheepishly. “I know you’re not used to the cold even after all this time, so I wanted to make you something to keep you warm. I’m…also hoping that we'll get to know each other more so I can get you something you’ll really love.”

He puts the scarf in his lap and shakes his head. “This was perfect. I’m so touched that you thought about me. You made this!”

“Fuck, this is so warm,” Sunghoon says, touching the fabric until Jake swats his hand away.

He gives you your gift next and everyone watches you open a small box to reveal a silver charm bracelet with a single Christmas ornament on it. For once, Jake looks like he’s trying not to blush.

“I was trying to think of the perfect gift because I don’t think anything I get you could be enough since you love Christmas, and all. I was with my cousins and thought of you when I saw it. I didn’t know whether I should deck it out in charms but saw the ornament and remembered that you buy a new one every year to add to your collection. I thought you’d like it.”

“Are you kidding?!” you exclaim as Heeseung peers over your shoulder to look at it. “This is perfect, Jake. This is so thoughtful and I’m touched that you remembered.”

The next round of presents comes and goes. Everybody is far too drunk to function, so Jay turns the stereo back on and everybody goes back to talking and stuffing their faces with cookies. It isn’t until Jake asks if he can talk to you in private, and until Heeseung practically forces the two of you into the kitchen that you follow him.

“I haven’t been totally honest with you and it’s been eating me alive,” Jake says as he turns to look at you.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been keeping a secret from you for a long time and I think it’s time I come clean. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I kept this up after tonight?”

“Should I be worried?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing serious, but I don’t like keeping things from you.”

A million thoughts run across your mind. Is he moving away from Korea? Does he have to go back to Australia? Was he lying about liking the scarf you made him?

And, well, nothing quite compares to what he tells you next.

“I love Christmas,” Jake blurts out. “I love the holidays and I’ve never hated Christmas. I lied because I didn’t know how else to talk to you.”

“I….I don’t understand.”

He rubs the back of his neck and looks at the floor before looking back up to you. “When we first met back at the housewarming party, I felt like the room had slowed down or some cheesy shit like that. I was tongue tied. You looked so beautiful that night and I thought I fucked it all up because I never asked for your number and thought it would be weird to ask Heeseung for it. But he found out I thought you were cute and started dropping hints about how much you love Christmas. I didn’t get what he was trying to say until the time he told you I hated it.”

Jake says it all in one breath and you think he might choke.

“So you lied about liking Christmas because you liked me…?”

“When you say it like that, it seems kind of stupid, doesn’t it?” Jake says with a laugh. “I wanted to get to know you but didn’t know how. Heeseung said it was better this way and kept suggesting I let you try to convince me how great of a holiday it was. It didn’t go according to his plan since we were both busy with work. But he kept trying to separate us from the group at the carnival so I could make a move.”

You choke on your cocktail. “Make a move?”

“I feel like I’m making you uncomfortable," he says quickly, eyes darting around the kitchen. “I’m so sorry for lying to you. I never meant to hurt you, I’m just very awkward around pretty girls.”

“Okay, three things.” Jake closes his mouth and nods. “Firstly, Heeseung is a stupid idiot and you should’ve just asked him for my number. Secondly, you need to learn that trusting him when it comes to romance is never a good idea because his girlfriend is his gaming console.”

“And the third?”

You bite your lip and look away for just a second. Fuck it.

"I think you’re really pretty too.”

Jake opens his mouth, closes it, and repeats this process again.

“You think I’m pretty…”

“Yeah,” you say with a laugh. “So much so that I’ve also had this stupid crush on you since we met.”

“Hey, love birds,” Heeseung interrupts from the threshold of the kitchen. “Look up. Didn’t you notice the mistletoe I put up there?”

When you and Jake look towards the ceiling, a green mistletoe is haphazardly hanging from string taped to the wall above. Your best friend grins at both of you before he disappears around the corner and the only thing left is two heartbeats that, somehow, are starting to beat as one.

“Merry Christmas,” Jake whispers as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

He pushes his mouth against your own softly like he’s testing the waters until he feels you push back. Kissing him feels so right. Jake’s lips feel like an overbearing weight has been lifted off of your shoulders with every push and pull. His hands keep you caged in front of him with his palms on your waist as he moves you until your back hits the counter behind you. Jake’s kiss is nothing short of breathtaking. The wind has been effectively knocked out of your lungs and the world might as well be nonexistent with the way he kisses you.

When he does eventually pull away, Jake pushes his forehead onto your own and intertwines both of his hands with yours as if he’s afraid you’re a figment of his imagination who might slip away if he lets go.

“I’m going to ask you to be my girlfriend tomorrow,” he says as you both catch your breaths.

“Why tomorrow?”

“I’ll let you have Christmas. But the twenty-sixth is all about us. I’m selfish when it comes to you”

Jake gives you a short, sweet kiss while you smile through it.

“Tomorrow it is.”

And when you two walk out hand in hand, everybody smiles.

“This nice senior of yours keeps coming up,” you teased, scowling a little. “I wonder what Kevin thinks of him.”

Leila rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t even start. Kevin has been so overprotective lately. I mean, I get that he’s wary of that guy, but he’s really just a friend. I’m not even interested in him at all!”

She exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated. “He’s so annoying sometimes. But I kept reassuring him that nothing was going on. That guy’s just a friend. Heck, he even reminds me of J—”

Her mouth snapped shut, and your swing slowed down. The name didn’t come up, but you both heard it anyway.

Jake Sim.

For a moment, neither of you breathed. It had been six months since graduation—six months since he didn’t show up to the ceremony, six months since he vanished without a single explanation. Six months since you last saw him, since you almost said things you weren’t supposed to say, since he looked at you like he was thinking the exact same thing.

Leila sighed. “That moron.”

Despite being neighbors, even she had no idea why Jake and his entire family had left the night before graduation. She too hasn’t heard anything from him since.

“Leaving without even saying goodbye,” she muttered, smirking lightly. “It was so unlike him.”

You chuckled under your breath but didn’t say anything. Leila nudged your arm. “How are you holding up?”

“What would you ask me that?” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “I’m fine.” 

Before leaving for college, you had told her everything about the last time you saw Jake—how the two of you basically confirmed you had feelings for each other, despite not actually saying it.

“You’re not still stalking him on Instagram, are you?”

You choked on nothing, looking away and clearing your throat. “‘Course not. Ehem. I’m too busy adapting to college life and studying. I barely have time or space in my brain to think about him.”

That was a lie, and you were sure Leila saw right through it.

“It’s okay to be upset,” she said softly. “Honestly? I’m upset too. He’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were four.”

Leila went on, voice soft but steady, “Look… maybe he had his reasons. I’m not saying he didn’t. But whatever those reasons were, he still ghosted us. And that wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve that.” She huffed, kicking at the sand. “He could’ve messaged me. Or you. Or both of us. But he didn’t. And that’s on him.” 

She paused, then added, “And don’t give me the ‘he’s not on his phone much’ excuse. I know he doesn’t post a lot, but he still updates his socials. He has no excuse.”

You nodded, pretending to agree. Pretending you hadn’t already dissected all of this months ago, over and over again.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Lei,” you told her, smiling. “I’m fine. I have lots of more important things to think about. Jake’s not one of them.”

But later that night, lying in your bed, the ceiling glowing faintly from the fairy lights you never bothered to take down, you grabbed your phone and opened Instagram. Your thumb knew exactly where to go—Jake’s profile.

He didn’t post much, and you knew this because you’d been stalking him every night for the last six months. The pattern was predictable by now: one post every two weeks. Gym photos, food shots, random snapshots from campus, and every now and then, a picture of himself. Tonight, there was nothing new. It hadn’t even been a full week since his last update.

It was a photo of him with some friends. He looked good. He always looked good, which was annoying on multiple levels.

God, you missed him. You hated that you missed him, because you used to swear you’d rather chew glass than spend a whole day with him. You used to fight over the dumbest things—movie genres, food orders, even the correct way to pronounce words. But you still couldn’t forget the last time you saw each other. The way that night felt. The way his voice sounded. The way he smiled like it wasn’t the last time you were seeing each other.

You sighed, only then noticing how far you’d gone. You’d scrolled way past his recent posts, past the college ones, past the gym shots, all the way down to the high school era. And that was when you realized two things at the exact same time:

One, you were deep enough in his feed to require excavation. Two, at some point during your mindless scrolling, you had already pressed like.

Your heart dropped in panic.

You scrambled upright, tapping the screen with the speed of someone disarming a bomb. You unliked the post, muttering curses under your breath because you know doing so wouldn’t stop Instagram from notifying him that ‘so-and-so liked your post’. You then chucked your phone toward the far edge of your bed as if distance would undo the whole thing.

You flopped back onto your pillows, face burning. Maybe Leila was right. Maybe you did need to move on.

The rest of winter break went by lazily. You and Leila spent most days lounging around her house, stealing snacks from the kitchen, and laughing at all the ridiculous stuff that had happened since you’d left for college. It was a nice break from alarms, lectures, and looming deadlines that you’d been swimming in for the last six months.

But breaks don’t last forever. Soon enough, you were back at the airport, dragging your suitcase through security and pretending you weren’t the tiniest bit sad about leaving. College welcomed you back the only way it knew how—by punching you in the face with responsibilities.

Lectures, assignments, club meetings, and somehow way too many late-night ramen runs. The months blurred into a cycle of running from one thing to the next, sleeping too little, and trying not to completely forget what a “normal schedule” even looked like.

But it wasn’t all deadlines and readings. There were nights after major exams when the library emptied and you and a few classmates ended up at some pub, talking, laughing, maybe celebrating surviving the week. Group projects weren’t all work either. You met classmates over coffee, at the cafeteria, or at some sketchy pizza place, trying to plan presentations but ending up swapping stories about embarrassing freshie fails and ridiculous professors. Sometimes, you even went out just to unwind, walking the streets of the college town, sharing a bottle of cheap wine or a box of fries, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Those nights reminded you that, yeah, college was hectic, but it was fun too.

Every now and then, something small would remind you of Jake—a joke someone made in class, a guy on campus who laughed too loudly, a familiar song drifting out of someone’s speaker. The thought always passed quickly, but it came back often enough to be annoying.

And then, almost a year after high school graduation, Leila texted you about something you’d nearly forgotten.

Leila: let’s vote on where we should go for our friendship renewal

A year ago, you, Leila, and Jake had agreed to meet up once a year. That was the promise. One weekend every year, no excuses.  But Jake had gone radio silent. Not one message for you or Leila over the last year. Leila hadn’t heard anything from her mom’s side of the fence either—the Sim house remained empty, locked and untouched since the night they left.

Leila: looks like it’s just us this year You: whatever. It’s gonna be fun either way!

It stung a little that he wasn’t coming. Okay, maybe more than a little. But honestly? You were too busy juggling exams and group projects to spend too long sulking. The weekend wouldn’t be the same without him, but it would still be good. You and Leila? You always managed to make things good.

So that’s what you did. You shrugged, smiled, and started planning. Just the two of you. And somehow, even without him, it felt like everything was still exactly as it should be.

Soon enough, the semester was over. The weekend of your trip finally arrived. You were in the car, settling in, when Leila glanced at you with a sly smile. “Ready for our little vacation?”

“It’s only for a weekend. Hardly a vacation,” you chuckled. “But, yes I am!”

At the airport, the two of you were going through security, Leila chattering about flight schedules when you spotted a familiar figure waving across the terminal.

“Wait. Is that—” You stopped mid-step. Leila lagged behind you, following your gaze.

“Jake!” she called out excitedly, waving back. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach. It really was him. Jake Sim. Standing there, grinning like he hadn’t ghosted you and Leila for a full year, like he wasn’t the cause of half your nightmares and lingering what-ifs.

“Lei, what’s going on? Why is he here?” you asked quietly. “Did you know about this?”

“He texted me a week ago,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “He was asking about the trip and said he wanted to come.”

You spun to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you hissed.

“I—he asked me not to!” she shot back, raising her hands.

You turned back to Jake, who was casually strolling over, hands in his pockets, looking way too pleased with himself. “Surprise!” he sang, his smile wide and stupid.

Your mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. You took a tiny step back when he got closer, fingers tightening around your purse strap.

“You—what are you—why are you here?” you managed, sounding much more panicked than intended.

Jake shrugged. “It’s our friendship renewal. Figured I’d show up.”

“Figured you’d show up?” you repeated, incredulous. You took a deep breath, hoping to calm the rising anger in your chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jake blinked, glanced at Leila, then back at you. “I—”

You swung your purse at him before he could finish, and he yelped, throwing his hands up. You didn’t stop and just kept swinging. Backhand, side-swipe, the whole arsenal, with repeated shrieks of “Moron! Jerk! Asshole! Idiot!”

Jake, inexplicably, was laughing as he tried to block you. “Alright, okay—ow—! I missed you too,” he said between chuckles.

“You think this is funny?” you yelled, stomping your foot.

Jake straightened a little, still grinning but with that tiny flicker of guilt slipping through. “No. I mean—kind of? But mostly no.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. “You can’t just disappear for a year and then show up like this. What is wrong with you?”

Jake opened his mouth like he had a prepared speech, but then he hesitated. Instead, he said, “I wanted to surprise you.”

You blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then you swung your purse again.

Leila lunged forward, grabbing your arm mid-swing. “Okay, okay, that’s enough! We’re going to get kicked out of the airport at this rate!”

You let your arm drop, but didn’t take your eyes off Jake. He at least had the decency to look a little nervous now.

“I’m not going,” you announced, stepping back and crossing your arms. “Not with him. He can’t just waltz back in like nothing happened.”

Leila sighed. “Come on…”

“Nope,” you snapped. “He can go. You can go. I’ll go home and take a nap.”

Jake looked genuinely alarmed now. “Wait—what? No, hey—hold on.” He stepped closer, voice dropping a little. “Look, I know I messed up.”

You raised your eyebrows so high they nearly detached from your skull. “Messed up?”

“Okay, I really messed up,” he corrected quickly. “I’m not pretending nothing happened. I just… didn’t know how to reach out without making it worse.”

“Well, surprise,” you said, “you made it worse.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

Leila glanced between the two of you, then nudged your elbow lightly. “Come on,” she said softly, “We can talk about this when we get there.”

You glared at her. “Oh, yeah. You two talk it out. As for me, there’s nothing for us to talk about,” you said, glancing at Jake and hoping, knowing, he understood what you were implying.

“Please,” Jake murmured. He didn’t look smug, or pretentious. He looked—God help you—earnest. The worst possible thing he could be.

You looked away immediately, trying to make up your mind. Seeing his face was only gonna make it hard to decide. Meanwhile, the announcement speakers crackled overhead.

“Final boarding call for Flight 27…”

Leila immediately grabbed your wrist. “We are not missing this flight,” she said, dragging both of you forward.

“Leila—!” you protested, digging your heels in. “I’m not going. I’m sulking. This is called sulking!”

“Sulking can continue on the plane,” she said cheerfully.

Jake walked beside you, wheeling his suitcase with one hand and keeping a respectful distance, probably so he wouldn’t get hit again. “I can help with that,” he offered, voice small, pointing at your bags.

“No,” you snapped instantly.

“…Okay.”

You marched toward the gate with your head high, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge the loud beating of your heart that had nothing to do with anger, but all to do with the joy of seeing him again.

Jake Sim was back. And you absolutely weren’t ready for him.

The drive up the mountain should’ve been peaceful. It wasn’t. Leila was humming along to some playlist she found five seconds before starting the car, the windows were cracked just enough to let cold air nip at your face, and Jake—of course—kept making eye contact with you through the rearview mirror. Every time you caught him staring, he’d whip his gaze toward the trees outside, pretending to admire them like he hadn’t already looked at that same scenery four times since you left the airport.

Soon enough, you were all standing outside the resort’s lobby. The place was gorgeous, which only irritated you more. Clean stone walkways, warm wooden buildings, soft wind chimes playing in the background like the entire mountain was trying to tell you to relax. The kind of place that practically promised inner peace just from the exterior.

Too bad inner peace was not on your itinerary.

Staff members greeted you with mint tea and smiles. You hung back while Leila checked you in, arms crossed, eyes fixed anywhere that wasn’t Jake. He hovered near the luggage cart, hands in his pockets, pretending he wasn’t watching you. He was. You could feel it like a laser on the side of your head.

“Two-bedroom cabin, correct?” the staff member confirmed.

“Correct,” you and Leila said at the same time. Then she added, “And one extra guest, last minute.”

You shot her a look, and she cleared her throat.

The staff nodded. “No problem. It’s a spacious cabin. Two bedrooms, central living area, large balcony. Should be comfortable for a group of three.”

“Nice,” Jake chimed, probably delighted at hearing ‘comfortable,’ like he hadn’t been the human embodiment of discomfort for the last five hours.

The three of you were given your keycards and a map, and soon you were trudging up a path toward the cabin. The cabin itself was stupidly nice—warm lighting, soft blankets, that kind of rustic-chic design that’s meant to make you forget all your problems and embrace the serenity of nature or whatever.

You, however, could only think: This would’ve been perfect if someone wasn’t here.

You stepped inside. Two doors sat on opposite ends of the living room, clearly the bedrooms. Jake wandered in and paused, taking in the space. 

“Nice,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “This is way better than I expected—”

You spun toward him. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“I’m literally just standing,” he said quietly.

“You’re standing too close!”

Jake blinked, looked around him and the distance between the two of you. “We’re on both ends of the room.”

“Yeah, well, I’d prefer it if we’re on both ends of the planet.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Leila clapped her hands. “So! Originally, the plan was, one room for me, one room for you,” she said, pointing at you with her thumb. “But, uh… since someone showed up—”

Jake raised a hand. “Hi. That’s me.”

“—we kind of have to adjust,” she finished.

Jake nodded earnestly. “I can take the smaller one. Or I’ll sleep on the floor, I don’t care.”

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” you muttered before you could stop yourself.

Jake’s head whipped toward you like you’d just offered him a hug. You realized too late what you just said, but you managed to roll your eyes and pretend it didn’t mean anything.

Leila smirked. “Right, so that’s settled. Girls’ room, Jake’s room.”

You dragged your suitcase into the room you and Leila would be sharing. It was cute, one queen-sized bed, fluffy blankets, and a small dresser. You didn’t bother unpacking, and just flopped face-first on the mattress.

From the hallway, Jake’s voice floated in. “They have free cookies in the kitchen!”

You didn’t even look up. You grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it at the door.

Avoiding Jake proved to be tricky. Impossible, even. Because every time you left the bedroom, he was there.

You went to grab a glass of water—Jake was leaning over the mini-fridge, squinting at his phone. You walked to the balcony—Jake was already standing there, eyes closed, taking in the cool breeze. You reached for your charger on the couch—Jake walked past at that exact moment, froze, doubled back like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to cross your personal space.

After the tenth awkward collision, you turned to Leila, muttering, “He’s everywhere.”

She snorted. “It’s a cabin, not a mansion. And he’s trying, okay?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to. Your heart was already betraying you, tight and warm and annoyingly hyperaware that after a whole year of silence, Jake Sim was suddenly close enough to brush shoulders with.

Morning at the resort was peaceful, birds chirping, sunlight streaming gently through the curtains, the earthy smell of pine drifting in. It was as if nature was trying to personally apologize for your stress.

You would’ve appreciated it more if you hadn’t woken up to Leila shaking your shoulder and whisper-yelling, “We’re gonna be late for yoga! Get up!”

You groaned into your pillow. “Yoga? This early?”

“It’s called morning yoga for a reason,” she reminded you. “And you picked the time.”

Right. Because you didn’t expect to be sharing oxygen with Jake Sim on this trip.

Fifteen minutes later, you were trudging toward the outdoor yoga deck, a wide wooden platform overlooking the mountains. Several guests were already there, their mats unrolled, breathing deeply and warming up.

You and Leila found a spot near the back. You were stretching your arms when you saw Jake, rolling out his mat, and looking stupidly good. Of course, he looked good—he looked amazing. Even more amazing than the last time you saw him. A year away would do that. 

You’d never said it out loud before, because obviously you’d rather combust than say something nice about Jake, but he really is good-looking. You pretended to roll your eyes at the girls who were head over heels for him back in high school, but the truth was, you knew exactly what they saw in him.

He glanced up, spotted you, and froze for half a second like you’d caught him doing something illegal—like breathing in your vicinity. Then he lifted a hand in a small, hesitant wave.

You ignored it.

“Admit it. You’re glad he’s here,” Leila whispered, smirking as she nudged you. 

“Don’t start,” you warned.

“You can be honest with me, you know,” she continued, rolling her mat beside yours. “You’re still mad, and I support this attitude you’re giving him right now. But you’re also glad to see him again, aren’t you?”

You exhaled sharply, opening your mouth to respond but the instructor walked in just in time, all smiles and pristine posture. Everyone shifted into position. “Let’s begin with some deep breaths,” she said. “In through the nose… out through the mouth…”

You inhaled. Exhaled. Tried to clear your mind. Which was difficult, because Jake was directly in your line of sight. Intentionally or not, you didn’t even wanna know. You just kept your gaze elsewhere and avoided meeting his eyes.

He was looking straight at you, though. And at one point, you forgot you were avoiding his gaze and glanced at him. You looked away so fast, you were sure you pulled a muscle.

Then the instructor guided everyone into a warrior pose. You lifted your arms, tried to focus on your breathing. In front of you, Jake was wobbling slightly on his back foot.

You choked on air.

Jake glanced over, caught you laughing, smiled a little, and then immediately lost his balance entirely. His foot slid, his arms twisted, and he almost toppled into the person next to him.

You slapped a hand over your mouth. Leila was silently wheezing beside you. The instructor did not look amused. Jake regained his footing, cheeks pink, eyes darting away like he hoped no one was looking. Everybody was definitely looking.

He glanced at you, looking sheepish. You stuck your tongue out at him and pulled a ‘L’ sign with your hand.

Leila snorted beside you. “What are you, twelve?” You just rolled your eyes at her.

Then came the partner stretch. The instructor was clapping her hands, telling everyone to pair up with the person in front of them. You froze, staring at Jake, who was already picking up his mat.

“Oh no,” you muttered.

“Oh yes,” Leila whispered dramatically.

“Hi,” Jake said, now standing in front of you, mat under one arm. “We’re partners.”

“Lucky me,” you deadpanned, glancing at Leila, who was absolutely no help because she was already partnered with a sweet-looking grandma and mouthing, “Good luck.”

The exercise was simple: back-to-back breathing. Sit cross-legged, backs touching, steady inhale-exhale. Simple. 

Except nothing about sitting back-to-back with Jake Sim was simple.

When you sat, your spine pressed against his, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. He hesitated for a second, then gently adjusted so your backs aligned. 

“Is this… okay?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer at first. You couldn’t trust your voice to sound normal. “It’s fine,” you eventually muttered.

The instructor guided everyone through slow inhales, long exhales. Jake’s breathing was steady. A little shaky at first, then calmer. You felt the push and pull of each breath, the rhythm, the familiarity of someone you swore you didn’t miss but clearly did. Still do. Eventually, your own breathing synced with his. 

For a few seconds, the world felt calmer. And then Jake whispered, barely audible, “I missed you.”

Your whole body tensed. “Well, fuck you,” you said, standing up before he could say anything else.

You moved to the edge of the deck for the rest of the session, pretending you needed more space to stretch. But the truth was simple and obvious. You didn’t wanna be anywhere near Jake. Not with him sitting there, breathing like that, sounding like that, looking at you like he’d been waiting a whole year to explain himself.

Breakfast followed yoga. Then, after that, the resort staff led your group toward the start of the mountain trail. The hike was advertised as “easy and rejuvenating,” which really meant ten percent uphill, eighty percent pretty views, and ten percent stopping to take photos.

You walked ahead with Leila, very intentionally keeping distance from several tourists and one very persistent Jake Sim. Every time you heard his footsteps get closer, you sped up. You weren’t even pretending you weren’t avoiding him. Why pretend? He knew. You knew he knew. And you wanted him to know.

Leila nudged you. “You’re walking too fast.”

“I am,” you muttered. “I’m trying not to get caught by that person.”

Of course, fate—or the resort’s narrow winding trail—hated you, because soon the path got smaller, and the guide called out, “Single file from here!” 

Everyone shuffled into a line. Jake somehow ended up right behind you. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Can we talk later? Whenever you’re ready.”

You smirked, not even looking back. “Later or whenever I’m ready? Pick one and stick to it.”

“Well, maybe late—”

“Doesn’t matter. The answer is no.”

He sighed, but didn’t insist. You wished he had, so you could have the satisfaction of shutting him down twice.

When the group stopped at a lookout point, you moved straight to the railing. Jake stepped up beside you anyway, keeping a careful distance.

“You’re mad,” he said softly.

You snorted. “Am I? I didn’t notice.”

He opened his mouth again, but you stepped away, already heading back to where Leila was taking photos of a tree. A very average tree.

“Would you tell your other best friend to leave me alone?” you whispered.

She didn’t even look up. “I can’t tell him what to do. He’s a grown ass man.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at the tree she was oddly so interested in. “I don’t understand how you could forgive him so easily.”

“Oh, it wasn’t easy,” she replied, straightening up and tucking her phone back in her sling bag. “I gave him two days of hell before I let him explain himself.”

You frowned. “And what reason could he have that was acceptable enough for you to forget what he did and just move on?”

“I didn’t ‘forget’ what he did,” she chuckled. “I’m cutting him some slack. We’ve known each other for ages, and I understood that he didn’t do it all on purpose. We’re not kids anymore. I’m done throwing a tantrum over this.”

“Well, I’m not,” you said flatly.

“I know,” she said gently. “And that’s fine. But it would help if you two actually talked.”

You groaned and stalked off toward the next section of the trail. At one point, while everyone paused to let a family with kids pass, Jake appeared beside you again. “I really think we should—”

“Jake,” you interrupted sharply, “I am enjoying nature. Please let me enjoy nature.”

“You’re glaring at a squirrel.”

“It was looking at me funny! I have to show him I’m not someone to be messed with. This is how I enjoy nature.”

He let out a breathy laugh but stopped the moment you glared at him too. “Sorry.”

Finally, at a flat clearing where the guide announced a short break, Leila pulled the two of you aside and slapped her hands together.

“Okay,” she said, staring dead at the two of you, “that’s it. I’ve had enough of this.”

You blinked. “What?”

“No more running away,” she said, pointing at you. Then she pointed at Jake. “And no more puppy-dog eyes at her. Both of you, figure your shit out.”

Jake raised his hands. “Dude, I’m trying to.”

“I don’t want to,” you shot back.

Leila groaned into her palms. “Guys. This is supposed to be a fun weekend. It won’t be unless you talk. So please, for the love of God and my sanity, go over there—” she pointed at a shaded bench under a tree “—and fix whatever this is. I want peace. I want harmony. I want a nice photo for Instagram to celebrate our first friendship renewal trip.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Jake spoke first, voice gentler than you expected.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” he said. “I get that you don’t wanna hear me out. I just… I just wanna talk to you. After that, I’m done. Seriously. I won’t bother you anymore.”

You hated everything about this. The sincerity on his face, the way your chest felt tight, the way running wasn’t an option anymore, not without looking ridiculous in front of twenty hikers.

Finally, you sighed. “Fine. Talking. We’re talking.”

Jake let out a relieved sigh. Leila beamed like she’d just solved world hunger. “Great! I’ll give you some space.”

You shot her a look. “I’m surprised you don’t wanna hear this.”

She shushed you and leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Tell me later.” Then she pulled away, smiling at Jake. “Don’t fight, okay?”

You turned to Jake, heart thudding in that awful, familiar way it did when Jake was nearby.

“Okay,” you muttered. “Start talking.”

Jake didn’t jump straight into apologizing. He just stood there on the trail beside you, shoes half-buried in pine needles, fingers fiddling with the strap of his water bottle. “Can I—” He exhaled. “Can I explain?”

You crossed your arms, not saying yes or walking away. He took that as permission.

“The night before graduation,” he started, then stopped, swallowing hard. “My dad got a call. His mom—my grandma, she uh…”

He pressed his lips together, nodded once, as if confirming it to himself before saying it out loud. “She had a heart attack. We had to leave that night.”

Your breath hitched before you could help it. He wasn’t looking at you, but he must’ve felt it, because he rushed to add, “There was no time to tell anyone. I didn’t even grab half my stuff. We just drove to the airport and took the first flight.”

A bird chirped somewhere overhead. It felt too cheerful for the conversation.

“I kept thinking I’d text you,” he said, rolling the water bottle between his palms. “Or at least Leila. Just something. But then my grandma, she uh… she didn’t make it. And then the funeral happened, and the family was all over the place, and by the time things calmed down…” He shook his head. “It had already been weeks.”

He finally looked at you then, tired in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“And I swear, every day I told myself, ‘today.’” His mouth twisted into something like a self-deprecating smile. “But the longer I waited, the worse it felt. Like… the window had closed, and it was just too late to try.”

He shifted his weight, kicking lightly at a pinecone. “I know it sounds like I’m making excuses,” he said quietly. “And maybe I am. But that’s what happened.”

Then he was quiet. That was the end of his explanation, it seemed. You took a deep breath, still staring at him, and he was still unable to meet your eyes. Your anger hadn’t disappeared, but it loosened its grip just enough.

“Are you okay?” you asked, and Jake looked at you like he was surprised. 

“What?” he asked, blinking.

“Are you okay?” you repeated. “I think Leila mentioned once that you dearly loved your grandma.”

“Oh,” he muttered, huffing a sad laugh. “It was rough. But I’m okay now. Thanks for asking.”

You nodded slowly, looking out at the trees again, hands tucked under your arms. The anger wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t burning as hot anymore. Manageable. Understandable.

“Well,” you said finally, “I’m glad you’re okay now.”  Jake looked relieved for half a second—until you added, “But that doesn’t magically make everything else okay.”

He winced. “Yeah. I know.”

“And you should know,” you continued, staring him down, “that I understand now why you disappeared overnight. It was an emergency. Got it. And I’m really very sorry for your loss. But you left me and Leila hanging for a whole year without a single text.” 

Jake nodded, shoulders dropping just a little. “I know. That was the worst part.”

“I’m not trying to punish you,” you said, softer. “I’m just genuinely upset. You could’ve handled this better than you did. And if you had just reached out, I know I speak for Leila too when I say we would’ve been there for you.”

He let out a slow breath. “I know. Leila said the exact same thing. I’m really sorry, and thank you for listening.”

You shrugged, kicking at the dirt with your shoe. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m still mad at you.”

He huffed out a tiny laugh. “I can work with that.”

You didn’t smile, but something in your chest eased. You tutted, turning back to the group. “Let’s just… finish the hike.”

Jake nodded, his voice lighter now. “Okay.”

You both stepped away from the bench. He tried to fall into step beside you, and you whipped your head toward him. “Don’t walk too close.”

He immediately took a step back. “Yes, ma’am.”

The rest of the hike passed in a kind of shaky truce. You and Jake kept a polite distance, him occasionally glancing your way, you occasionally smirking when he nearly tripped over a root or bumped into a low-hanging branch. Leila flitted between photographing leaves and nudging you both like the mischievous friend she was.

When the group paused for a snack break beside a stream, you sat on a fallen log, stretching out your legs. Jake plopped down beside you and, without asking, grabbed the last granola bar. Your eyes narrowed instantly.

“Really?” you said, holding up the empty wrapper.

Jake’s cheeks went pink. “I—uh… I thought you were done eating.”

Leila rolled her eyes from across the stream. “It’s literally a granola bar, you two. Calm down.”

“Fine,” you said, straightening up and crossing your arms. “I’ll let this one slide. But don’t think this means you can get away with everything.”

Jake blinked at you, looking puzzled. “Everything?”

“You know,” you said, leaning against a tree, smirking, “the small stuff. Like stealing the last snack. Or… ghosting us all year.”

Jake froze mid-chew, granola crumbs threatening to escape his lips. His eyes went wide, and for a second, it looked like he might actually start crying out og shame. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then stared at you in horror.

You gave him a sweet smile—something that should have been endearing if he weren’t choking on his own guilt. Then you walked away, satisfied with the small victory, leaving him muttering under his breath, while Leila was in stitches, laughing her ass off.

By the time you all made it back to the cabin, your legs felt like cooked noodles. Leila kicked off her shoes the second she stepped through the door, sighing like she had just finished climbing Everest. Meanwhile, Jake held the door open for everyone.

Inside, it smelled like pine and whatever candle the resort staff had lit up before you came back from the hike. You made a beeline for the couch, collapsing with a grunt. Jake tossed his backpack and immediately rummaged in the kitchen like he knew what he was doing.

He did not, as it turned out. He was looking around like a headless chicken before giving up and asking, “Where are the bowls?”

“Try the cabinet. You know,” you said, waving a hand, “the thing that stores things.”

Jake paused, looked over his shoulder, and gave you the flattest expression known to man. “Ha. Hilarious.”

“Thank you,” you said, crossing your arms, “I learned it from the person who ghosted me for twelve months.”

He froze with his hand still inside the cabinet. “That’s n—okay. Yep. That’s… fair.”

Leila, sitting at the dining table scrolling through her phone, snorted so hard she nearly choked.

Forgive, never forget. That became the running theme of the trip. Things didn’t magically return to normal. You were still annoyed. Jake was still guilty. And Leila was still extremely Done™ with both of you.

But clearing the air brought back something familiar: you could talk to him again. Which, naturally, meant you could also bicker with him again. Except, this time, you have an ace up your sleeve.

Every time he got a little too smug, every time he tried to one-up you or threw a playful comment your way, you raised a single eyebrow and said, “Didn’t you ghost us for a year?”

And like magic, Jake Sim—tall, confident, annoyingly handsome Jake Sim—immediately shrank three inches.

“No, you’re right,” he’d mumble. “My bad.”

Leila watched this happen twice before cackling, “Oh, you are so abusing that power.”

“As I should,” you replied.

It wasn’t mature, sure. But it was fun. And after a year of radio silence, you deserved at least a little fun.

That night, staff invited you out to a bonfire activity. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and took a seat on the log bench, half-watching as Jake tried, and failed, to ignite the fire with a too-small lighter.

“Are bonfires supposed to be this cold?” you asked, sarcasm dripping in your tone.

“Just wait. I’ve got it,” he insisted, flicking the lighter again and again.

Leila leaned in, placing a hand near her mouth as if she was whispering but her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear when she said, “I’m not saying he’s hopeless, but if we were stranded in the woods I’d eat tree bark before relying on him.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t rely on him at all,” you replied, earning a laugh from the small group that had gathered around the firepit.

Finally, with the help of someone far more competent, the fire crackled to life. The glow made everyone look warmer. Even Jake, whose face lit up like a kid on Christmas. He sat across from you, knees drawn close, hands stretched to the heat.

Conversations began. People joked about the hike. Someone brought marshmallows. Leila began narrating Jake’s granola-bar theft like it was a true crime podcast.

Jake groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Can we not?”

“No,” Leila said sweetly. “Criminals must face justice.”

He peeked through his fingers. “…It was one granola bar.”

“It was the last granola bar,” you corrected. “And you didn’t even ask.”

Beside Leila, a girl leaned to ask, “What episode do they kiss?”

Leila made a show of sighing dramatically. “I’ve been asking myself that exact question for five years.”

You nearly threw your marshmallow stick at her. Jake choked on his own saliva.

The group eventually thinned out as the night deepened. Two people went to a hall to play board games with other guests. One couple retreated to their cabin. Leila stayed for a bit longer, then yawned aggressively and announced, “I’m gonna go before you two start passive-aggressively flirting again.”

“When did we ever—” you began.

“Goodnight,” she sang, skipping away.

Suddenly, the air felt quieter. The fire crackled. Crickets hummed. Jake nudged the dirt with his shoe, eyes focused on the flames.

“The hike was nice,” he said softly, like he wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to talk to you alone.

“Mm,” you hummed, staring at the fire. “The scenery was nice.”

“The scenery,” he echoed, clearing his throat. “So… not the company.”

You shot him a sideways look. “Don’t get me started with that.”

He winced, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Another moment passed. Not uncomfortable. Not exactly comfortable either. Jake cleared his throat again. “I really am sorry, you know. The whole time I was away. I was just too ashamed to reach out.”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “You updated your Instagram just fine.”

“Oh, that was my way of—” He stopped himself, sighed. “Never mind. Just another excuse.”

He hesitated, glancing at you, away, then back again with a flicker of something hopeful on his face. “I heard you’ve been checking in on me. On Instagram, I mean.”

Your brows furrowed as you put on an annoyed expression to mask the sudden flutter in your chest. “Did Leila tell you that?”

“Was it true?”

“That traitor,” you muttered. Your annoyance was mostly performative; he didn’t need to know that. “What else did she tell you?”

“She didn’t mean to. It’s sort of… a slip of the tongue.”

“That tongue of hers.”

“But,” he tried again, leaning just slightly closer, “was it true?”

You kept your eyes on the fire. “So what if it is?”

“Every day? The whole year?” 

“No,” you scoffed. “Only the first few months. I moved on eventually. There was no point waiting for something I wasn’t even sure was real.”

He straightened a little. “What does that mean?”

“You know what that means, Jake.”

And he did. You watched the memory hit him. You could see it in the way his shoulders softened, the way his mouth pressed into something regretful. He was remembering that night—the walk home, the confessions that weren’t confessions, the time when both of you knew exactly what was happening without saying any of it out loud. And maybe, if things had gone differently, something would’ve happened.

“I thought we had something going on,” you said, barely above a whisper. The words felt too vulnerable, so you looked at the fire instead.

“We had,” he said immediately, desperately. “I mean, we still have. Wait—do we… still have something going on?”

You stared at him, stunned at how he could ask you something so intimate when you haven’t even made up yet. “Did you seriously just ask me that? I’m giving you an inch and you’re taking a mile. Is that it?”

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t tell me your…” you grimaced, “feelings, or whatever you call it, still haven’t changed after all this time?”

He scoffed lightly. “After all this time? It’s only been a year.”

“Answer the question.”

He swallowed, then looked at you with conviction in his eyes. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No, it hasn’t changed,” he said, finally meeting your eyes. “I still think about you. I miss you every day. You have no idea how much I wanted to talk to you the whole time I was away.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced your expression to stay neutral. “Then why didn’t you? Why didn’t you reach out and talk to me? You could’ve done that.”

His face crumpled just slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Great,” you said, pushing yourself to your feet with a smirk sharp enough to hide the hurt. “You’ll get points for consistency if you’re still sorry tomorrow.”

Then you walk past him, not one glance back.

You woke up to sunlight filtering through the curtains, Leila’s soft snoring, and the vague memory of last night’s conversation replaying in your head. The fire, Jake’s confession, your own frustration spilling out.

You expected things to be awkward. Or stiff. Or at least normal Jake levels of annoying. Instead, you opened your bedroom door and found him already outside, leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting.

“There you are,” he said, suspiciously bright.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Just saying good morning.”

“No one says good morning like that unless they’ve done something shady.”

He snorted, straightened. “Okay, wow. Incredible vote of confidence.”

You blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“I—uh.” He glanced around, hands in his pockets. “Staff came to say breakfast is ready at the main lodge. I thought, since we’re all walking there anyway, that I could, like… walk with you.”

You stared. He smiled wider, but nervously. Behind you, Leila shoved her head out of the doorway, eyes squinting. She saw Jake, then paused. She looked at you, back at him, and then nodded like she’d confirmed something.

“Morning,” she muttered, pushing past both of you and heading straight to the bathroom.

Jake kept his eyes on you. “Should we leave now or do you need to get ready?”

You rolled your eyes, turned around, and shut the door to his face. Outside, you could hear him calling out, “I’ll wait for you here!”

You didn’t step out until Leila was back. You hoped she would take too long and Jake would just forget about walking with you. But when Leila came back and you both stepped out of your bedroom, Jake was still waiting there.

He walked with you to breakfast and pulled out a chair for you—a thing he’d literally never done. You stared at him in shock. He pretended not to notice, but you saw the little twitch in his jaw.

Leila shot you a ‘what is going on with him’ look. You shrugged back because honestly? You had no clue.

And then Jake went and got your plate. He just stood up, gathered your food preferences with concerning accuracy, and set the dish in front of you.

“You’re being weird,” you said.

He bit into his pancake, absolutely avoiding your eyes. “No I’m not.”

“You are. You’re being extremely weird.”

“Maybe I’m just… being nice.”

“You’re never nice to me,” you accused, hesitating to eat your food. “You’re mean and annoying.”

He just laughed, ignoring your statement completely and asking, “Did you sleep okay?”

“Fine.”

“Good. That’s good.” A few seconds of silence, then he asked, “Did you eat enough last night?”

“Stop it.”

“Okay,” he chuckledd. “Just checking. Jeez.”

You looked at Leila. “What’s wrong with your other best friend?”

Leila raised an eyebrow. “How would I know? He was with you last night.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “I figured you said something that made him all weird and cringey.”

“Don’t talk like I’m not sitting right here,” Jake cut in, chuckling. “And I’m really just trying to be nice.”

Leila narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, whatever, Sim Jaeyun.”

The group’s morning activity was a nature scavenger hunt. Mostly an excuse for people to walk around the forest while staff supervised from afar. You were given a list, a tiny cloth bag, and instructions not to wander out of bounds.

As soon as the group dispersed, Jake fell into step beside you again. You narrowed your eyes. “Are you planning to stick to me the entire day?”

“I mean… only if you want?”  He immediately winced. “I mean—not if you don’t want. But also if you don’t want, I could still—no, wait, that sounds wrong.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Jake.”

“Yeah?”

“Walk away.”

“Walking away.” He dutifully walked away, but not without shouting, “I’ll be back later.”

“Please don’t,” you called back, rolling your eyes before walking the opposite way.

True to his words, Jake came back beside you—not even ten minutes since you told him to walk away. You had spotted a smooth stone and bent down to pick it up. Before you could reach it, Jake was suddenly crouched next to you, offering another stone that was identical but flatter and shinier.

“I found a better one,” he said, smiling hopefully. “You can have this.”

“Better for what? Skipping across a lake?”

He paused. “Yes?”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself. “We’re not skipping stones, we’re collecting them.”

“Oh.” He tossed the stone without even thinking about it.

Leila appeared from behind a tree, laughing. “He is trying. Respect the effort.”

“He’s trying too hard,” you muttered.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Leila whispered. “Also, he ghosted you, so let him suffer some more.”

Jake blinked. “I can hear you.”

“I know you can,” Leila teased, already walking away.

He fell quiet after that. Not sulking, but trying obviously too hard to behave, which somehow made it even more unnatural. He handed you water without you asking. He carried your jacket when the sun came out. He made space on narrow parts of the trail like you were made of glass.

By lunch, you were convinced he was suffering from something. A fever, maybe. Or guilt-induced personality distortion.

“Okay, I’m not gonna lie. You’re being useful today,” you said when he fetched snacks for you without being asked.

“Thank you,” he chimed, sitting down on the log beside you. “Do you want my water? You can have my water. You can have this too.”

“Do you want his left kidney?” Leila deadpanned. “Pretty sure he’d give it up if you ask for it.”

You rolled your eyes, meeting Jake’s gaze when you did. He shrugged. “I mean… If you need it.”

“Oh my god. Just what is up with you today?”

Leila snorted. “He’s malfunctioning.”

Jake pouted. “You can say something nice to me, you know.”

“I could,” you replied, shrugging.

“You won’t, will you?” he asked, pouting harder.

“No,” you replied without missing a beat, even shaking your head.

The rest of the day was just lounging around and doing nothing. You liked the idea, but Jake wouldn’t stop hovering around you. He kept doing things that would have been sweet and thoughtful if it wasn’t completely out of character and odd of him. At one point, you realized you had to confront him about it. For real.

“Jake. Just stop.”

He blinked. “Stop what?” If he was genuinely confused or just pretending to be, you had no idea.

“Stop trying so hard,” you said, rubbing your temples. “You’re being weird.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. You added, “I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not working. Just be normal. The Jake I knew didn’t act like this.”

He blinked at you slowly, like your words were rewiring his brain. “Okay. I can do normal.”

“Good. Now give me some space.”

That night, the staff set up another bonfire, someone found a guitar, and the entire group fell into a classic bonfire karaoke where half the songs were sung off-key and the other half were from your childhood.

You sat wrapped in your blanket, warm and cozy. Jake stayed near, not glued to your side, but orbiting close enough that you could sense him even when you weren’t looking. Every now and then you’d catch him watching you, smiling a little before pretending he wasn’t.

Eventually people peeled off one by one. Leila lasted almost to the end, mostly because she was determined to finish her hot chocolate. When she finally stood, she pointed at the two of you with her mug and said, “I’m going to bed. Please don’t create problems while I’m gone.”

“We don’t—” you started.

“You absolutely do,” she said, already walking away.

You tilted your head, puzzled. “What’s with this odd sense of deja vu?”

Jake settled beside you. “That’s just your mind playing tricks with you.”

“You’re sitting too close.”

He glanced blankly at you and scooted closer. Close enough that your shoulders were touching. You leaned away, but couldn’t move because you were already at the edge of the log. “What are you doing?”

“You told me to act normal,” he replied casually, turning back to the flames. 

You scoffed, nudged him to move, but he ignored it. “This trip was fun. Despite everything.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t disagree. “Yeah,” you admitted. “It’s not terrible. You’re not terrible.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me on this trip.”

“Exaggerate more, please.”

He threw his head back laughing, making you grimace at the exaggerated reaction. Then, his laugh faded slowly and he looked at you when he said, “I missed you. Us, I mean. Arguing with you was always fun.”

Your heart flipped, and you smirked to hide it. “For me, it wasn’t. You were just genuinely annoying.”

He nodded. “Well, that’s the point. I was annoying you on purpose. People call it rage baiting nowadays.”

“I know what rage baiting is, thank you very much.”

Jake faked a gasp. “You do? Good for you. And here I thought all you ever did was bury your face in books.”

You scoffed. “I’m not that bad!”

“No, you’re not.” Laughing, He poked at the embers with a stick, then glanced at you with a small smile. “You were very smart, and still managed to balance your studies and your social life.”

You snorted. “Well, you were stupid. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you open a book. You’re always out partying or chasing after girls.”

“Wrong. I never chased girls. They chased me. You chased me too.”

“As if!”

“Want me to prove it?” he asked, and you raised an eyebrow as a challenge. But then he smirked and you got nervous.

Is he gonna bring up the time you went to his bedroom and asked him to have se—

“You kissed me in a closet once,” he said, silencing your thoughts. “Unprovoked.”

Your jaw dropped. “I was most definitely provoked at the time!”

Jake shrugged nonchalantly. “Doesn’t change the fact that you kissed me.”

“You kissed me back!”

“I had to. It was the first time I felt butterflies in my stomach,” he said casually, like he wasn’t dropping a bomb right at your feet. “One passive-aggressive closet incident and everything went downhill from there,” he added, shaking his head fondly. 

You didn’t say anything to that—not immediately. Your hands felt warm under your blanket, but your chest felt warmer because of the bomb he just dropped.

He glanced at you when he noticed your silence. “I’m saying that was when I started having feel—”

“Stop,” you blurted, looking away and hoping he couldn’t see the flush on your cheeks. “I know what you’re trying to say.”

You heard him chuckle, and then felt him lean closer. “I liked you, you know.:

“…Past tense?” you asked, unsure but also aware of what you were doing.

“I still do.”

The world stopped for a second, the air felt hot, and the space between you felt smaller. “Really?” you asked, glancing back at him only to realize how close his face was.

Jake’s gaze flitted to your lips. “Really.”

Something fluttered up your spine. And maybe it was the warmth, or the dreamy way the firelight was making his skin glow, or maybe it was just the both of you finally running out of excuses, but you leaned in first. Or maybe he did. It was hard to tell. The kiss was soft, gentle, almost uncertain, like both of you were waiting for the other to pull away. Neither of you did.

When you finally pulled back, he exhaled a laugh, like he couldn’t believe it actually happened. “You just kissed me.”

You rolled your eyes to cover the fluttering under your ribs. “You’re so dramatic.” That made him grin even harder.

Back at the cabin, you tried, like really tried, to go to your room. You even made it to your door. But then he reached for your hand, squeezing it lightly as he murmured, “Stay?”.

You really should’ve said no. You absolutely, definitely, objectively should have. Instead, you tiptoed with him into his room and climbed onto his bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. He wrapped his arms around you right away, warm and solid and stupidly comforting.

The next morning, you woke up warm against him, his arm heavy around your waist, his face buried in your hair like he had no intention of letting go.

But it was already morning, and you couldn’t risk having Leila wake up and find your spot in the bed cold and empty. So you slowly sat up, only to be pulled back down by Jake.

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t.” He tightened his hold like a stubborn child. “Stay. It’s still early.”

“No,” you whispered, struggling out of his hold. “I have to. I don’t want Leila to find out. Not yet, at least.”

Jake groaned, pulling you closer instead of letting go. “She doesn’t care. She already knows I’m in love with you.”

You froze, heart jumping to your throat. “Say that again?”

He fell quiet for a few seconds before eventually saying, “No.”

“Jake,” you sang, turning to face him. 

He saw your face and something flickered in his eyes. It almost looked like he was gonnasay it again, but he buried his face into the pillow to stop himself. “No. You heard me just fine. That’s enough.”

“Please?” you tried again, pulling some puppy eyes and tilting your head for added effect.

Jake peeked at you, then made an annoyed noise, the kind that meant he was absolutely giving in. “Fine. I’m in love with you. Whatever.”

You smiled. For the first time, you didn’t even think to hide it behind a witty remark or downplay the whole thing. You even giggled, which just made Jake groan louder and pull the blanket over his head.

You ran your hand through his hair. “That’s good to know, but I spent most of this trip being mad at you,” you whispered. “I can’t let Leila think I forgave you in five seconds.”

“I don’t care what she thinks.”

“Well I do,” you hissed, slipping out of bed. “She’ll never let me live it down.”

But the moment you stepped into the living room, Leila was already sitting on the couch, sipping coffee with the smuggest grin known to mankind.

“Good morning,” you said, trying very, very hard to sound normal.

Leila lowered her mug, eyes sparkling. “Oh,” she said sweetly. “I bet it was.”

You nearly turned around and walked straight back into Jake’s room.

After that trip, the two of you slipped into long-distance without ever officially deciding anything.  It just happened. You were in love, he was in love, and neither of you seemed particularly interested in pretending otherwise. Messages every day, late-night calls that stretched longer than planned, random selfies he sent at weird hours with captions that barely made sense.

One time, you bought a soft blanket on a whim and showed it to him on Facetime. The next day, Jake got the exact same one. Whenever you called, he’d pull it into frame like a cat showing off its catch.

Sometimes you’d do groceries together. In different time zones, but acting like you lived together and needed to coordinate groceries. You’d be walking around the store while on Facetime with him, offering ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to the items he kept showing you on the screen, while also picking out your own stuff.

Jake was coming home for the holidays this year, and you and Leila made an effort to make his house feel like a proper home again. Garland hung across the windows, twinkling lights draped over the banister, and the kitchen smelled of cinnamon and roasting pine nuts. Jake walked in and laughed like he couldn’t believe this was real. Then he dropped his bag and hugged you, like he’d been waiting months for the chance.

The holiday itself was warm in that soft and lovely way you never appreciated growing up. Christmas music played quietly in the background as you wrapped presents, Jake stealing bites of cookies whenever you weren’t looking. The house was empty except for the three of you, but somehow it felt warm and full. 

You cooked together, watched garbage movies, argued about who ate the last cookie even though it was obviously him, and let yourselves fall into a routine that felt embarrassingly natural. It was stupidly domestic and you loved it.

Then January came and the holidays was over. The two of you went back into the LDR pattern. Calls, texts, that steady stream of check-ins that made the distance feel less like a wall and more like something you just worked around. You got used to the part where he would disappear sometimes. Dropping off for a day or two, buried in course work or forgetting to charge his phone or getting distracted by something he never explained clearly.

You got annoyed sometimes, sparking little fights or bigger arguments, but he always came back with an apology and things would be okay again.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was working, and you were happy. Happier than you expected to be, considering how long you spent hating each other in high school. It felt real and constant, like something that could actually last.

Time passed quicker than you expected, and soon, it was time for your next friendship renewal trip. 

Aruba felt unreal the moment you stepped out of the airport. Hot wind, salt in the air, sunlight bouncing off every surface. The heat wrapped around you the second you stepped out of the airport, and you honestly thought you’d melt right there on the pavement. Jake only laughed when you fanned yourself with your passport, which was rude because he looked perfectly fine with his hair pushed back and sunglasses hanging from his shirt. Meanwhile, you probably looked like humidity had chewed you up and spat you out.

“You look excited,” you teased.

“You look beautiful,” he shot back without hesitation—still not used to the way he said things like that now. You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt warm anyway.

Aruba was stupidly gorgeous. The kind of gorgeousness that made you forget the long flight, and the fact that Leila had bailed forty-eight hours before departure with the most casual “You two will be fine!” text in the history of betrayal.

“Leila’s missing out,” Jake said as he slid your luggage into the trunk.

“Her loss.”

The resort was especially pretty. Every corner was postcard-worthy—white umbrellas, turquoise water, the smell of coconut sunscreen drifting around. Even the ocean sounded pretty. You barely got the door open before Jake launched himself onto the bed with a dramatic groan. Meanwhile, you stood there taking in the room, the balcony, the ocean view, and the stupidly fluffy pillows.

“Get up,” you told him, tapping his leg. “C’mon, we’re wasting Aruba.”

“We just got here.” His voice was muffled. “Let’s get some rest first. That flight was long.”

“Jake, we only have like five days here.”

“It’s okay, we have time,” he groaned, but he rolled up anyway, hair rumpled, eyes heavy-lidded and tired.

You crossed your arms and put on a stern face. Jake only grinned, then held out his arms. “Come here.”

You tossed a pillow at his face instead, but somehow you still ended up falling onto the bed next to him, laughing as he pulled you close and kissed your cheek.

“I hate to say this but, I’m kinda glad Leila isn’t here,” he admitted, making you scoff. He then crashed his mouth into yours before you could even say anything.

The kissing only escalated from there.

The first day melted into the second. You slipped into a routine without trying—late breakfasts, sunscreen that never rubbed in properly, you complaining about the sun, Jake insisting you’d be fine, you saying you didn’t wanna go out only to do the exact opposite. You swam until your arms felt like noodles and then laid on towels, half-asleep, listening to the ocean breathe. Or… Kissing.

Every morning Jake kissed you before you even woke up properly. Softly on your shoulder, the line of your jaw, then a little firmer when you mumbled something that sounded like his name.

He kissed you while handing you sunscreen. He kissed you while you waited for the elevator. He kissed you underwater, laughing when you accidentally inhaled half the pool.

One afternoon, on the beach, he leaned over your lounge chair to say something and ended up kissing you instead—because apparently your mouth was more interesting than whatever he was about to say. You tugged him down for another one. And another. And another, until a kid walked by and Jake pulled away with a guilty smile. 

“We should not traumatize the youth,” he said, but then he kissed once more anyway.

It was like your mouths had their own gravitational pull. But it wasn’t only the kissing. It was the tiny things that seemed so ordinary but actually sweet in retrospect.

Like when you were both floating on your backs in the water and he bumped your foot gently to keep you close. You feeding him fruit from a plastic container while he drove the rental too fast. The way he automatically reached for your hand whenever you crossed a street. How he'd press his lips to your shoulder whenever you spaced out for more than five seconds.

Sometimes you swore he was looking at you like he was memorizing you, the shape of your mouth when you smiled, the curve of your shoulder under your sundress, the way your fingers brushed the edge of your glass. Those glances always hit you in the chest, making you feel warm and giddy. You never said anything about it. Warm and giddy was becoming the norm of the entire trip.

And of course, the laughs. The stupid inside jokes. The way you’d both talk about nothing for hours and then fall into a comfortable silence that didn’t feel like silence at all.

But then there were odd moments when he dissociated. Not for long, maybe ten or twenty seconds, but it always felt longer. You’d be telling him something—something boring, something random, something about the guy at the bar who tried to flirt with you while Jake was in the bathroom—and you’d realize he wasn’t fully there. His eyes would go a little distant, expression softening in that way that wasn’t about you. Like he was wandering somewhere inside his own head.

Then he’d blink, shake himself back, and say something funny. “Sorry,” he’d say. “Brain went offline.”

“Again?”

“It happens. You’re too relaxing.” Then he’d kiss the top of your head.

But the thing about paradise is that it makes it easy to forgive your instincts for sounding alarms. You told yourself not to overthink it. You always got anxious when things felt too perfect. And this trip? It was dangerously perfect. This trip was borderline unreal.

One serene afternoon, Jake took you to the beach, sand sticking to your sunscreen, drinks in hand, waves crashing close enough to mist your legs. The sun was warm, the breeze gentle, and everything felt unreal in that pretty, golden way Aruba kept doing without trying.

Jake lay on the towel beside you, propped up on his elbows. “You’re not swimming?” he asked.

“I like the view from here.”

He grinned at you. “The view being…?” He pointed at himself like the answer should’ve been obvious.

“The ocean, dumbass,” you replied, kicking a small pile of sand at his foot.

He grinned, tilting his head like he didn’t believe you for a second.  Then he sat up and tugged his sleeveless shirt off in one smooth motion before flopping back down, chest and abs on full display.

“How about now?”

You tried, and failed, not to ogle him. You knew Jake saw the way your eyes traced the lines of his muscles, if the grin on his face was any indication. Still not giving him the satisfaction, you simply hummed and looked away.

“It’s alright,” you said casually, taking a sip from your glass.

He laughed, loud, unguarded, delighted by your stubbornness. “Me though? I love my view,” he said, eyes sweeping over your body without shame before he slipped on his sunglasses like he made a point and signed it.

You rolled your eyes and flung sand at his feet again.

Later, when you went into the water, he followed without hesitation, wading in beside you until you both floated, sun glaring overhead. A wave lifted you unexpectedly, and you reached out instinctively—but he already had his arms around you, firm and warm and close enough to feel his breath on your cheek.

The next few days passed in a blur of warm nights and lazy mornings. You ate breakfast on the balcony, took photos of each other you’d never admit you liked, wandered through the markets with matching coconut drinks because Jake insisted they “fit the vacation aesthetic.”

On the fourth night, you had dinner by the beach. String lights hung above you, swaying gently with the breeze. The air smelled like salt and something sweet drifting from the resort kitchen. Jake tapped his fork against his plate, staring at you with a look that made your stomach flutter.

“This feels like a date,” he said.

You scoffed, playing along. “It’s not. Don’t be silly.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, flashing a confident grin. “It’s okay to be honest. I know you’re secretly screaming and giggling right now.”

“Who? Me?” you snorted. “Don’t think so. If anyone’s excited about this, that would be you. Grinning so hard, one would think you won the lottery or something.”

Jake lifted his drink, swirling the ice around. “You’re projecting,” he said. “You’re the one who got all dressed up for me.”

“I got dressed up for Aruba,” you corrected.

“Right,” he said, nodding slowly. “Because Aruba specifically told you to wear that dress.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re getting bold.”

“I’m just telling the truth,” he grinned.  “You’ve been smiling at me all night too.”

“You mean I’ve been smiling in your general direction.”

“Uh-huh.” He pointed a finger at you. “That’s the same thing.”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to take the bait. But then he smirked. That specific smirk. The one you hated because it meant he thought he was winning. Which, technically, he was.

You sipped your drink instead of admitting it. He tilted his head, victorious. “See? You can’t even deny it.”

You inhaled through your nose. You’d been generous and patient. Letting him have his cute little moment. But it was time to end him.

“Careful. You ghosted me once. And I’m still keeping score.”

Jake froze. Exactly the result you wanted. He huffed out a laugh, his fork clinking against his plate as he set it down. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Absolutely not,” you replied, reaching for your drink and winking at him as you took a sip.

Jake dragged a hand down his face. “I cannot believe you still pull this card.”

“Oh, I’ll pull it every day until the end of time.”

He tried to glare at you, but he cracked first, the corner of his mouth lifting despite his effort to look offended. He leaned back, defeated but smiling like he didn’t mind losing one bit.

“Fine,” he said softly. “If it makes you happy.”

You hummed, smiling and enjoying your victory. Jake watched you like that for a while, a sweet reminiscent smile playing on his lips. Then you felt his feet nudging yours under the table.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, tilting his head toward the exit.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not even hiding your ulterior motives.”

Jake lifted his arms in surrender. “Do I really have to? It’s just you and me here, in wonderful Aruba.”

You lifted a brow at him, pretending you weren’t already halfway melted from the way he said wonderful Aruba.l “Fine,” you muttered, pushing your chair back.

Jake grinned like you’d just agreed to something he hadn’t even asked yet. He tossed a couple of bills onto the table—overpaying, because why not?—and stood up. When he extended a hand toward you, you rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling when you slipped your fingers into his. 

You walked barefoot along the shoreline, fingers laced with Jake’s, your heels dangling from his free hand. The sky was dark blue, stars twinkling overhead in clusters and reflecting on the calm water.

Jake kept swinging your shoes back and forth, humming some tune you recognized but couldn’t place. Every now and then, he glanced down at your feet to make sure you weren’t stepping on shells. Every now and then, he used even the smallest pebble as an excuse to tug you closer and steady you, which was ridiculous because you were walking on perfectly flat sand.

“How’s school been?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

You lifted a shoulder. “It’s alright, nothing new. Still hectic. Studio classes feel like they’re designed to kill me slowly. And club activities aren’t helping.”

Jake chuckled, that knowing look on his face making it clear this wasn’t the first time he’d heard the exact complaint. “You could just leave the clubs, you know. Focus on studying instead.”

“Yeah, no way,” you replied, shaking your head. “Those aren’t ordinary clubs. It’s where I’m building my network. Those people are gonna graduate and become successful professionals. I need to be acquainted with them.”

“Yes, but some of them could also become corrupt politicians and rotten businessmen,” he countered.

“I know. And I’m choosing my friends carefully, so you don’t have to worry about me,” you chimed, smiling up at him. “What about you?”

Jake shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Nothing much really happens in engineering.”

“Engineering?” you asked, genuinely surprised. “How come you never told me yuo were taking engineering?”

He froze mid-step. “You didn’t know?” His eyebrows shot up, offended in the most dramatic way. “Wow, you don’t love me at all.”

“That’s not true.” You laughed, but he was already shaking his head, hand on his chest like you’d stabbed him.

“No, it’s fine,” he said solemnly. “I’m just a random hot guy you Facetime every night.”

You slapped his arm so hard he stumbled. “Don’t start.”

He gasped. “I get it now. You were never interested in anything about me, except my body,” he said, hugging himself and leaning away.

“Jake,” you whined, tugging him back. You were already laughing again, cheeks warm. “I’m serious. I didn’t know. You never told me.”

He squinted at you. “I totally told you. Like—like four years ago.”

“You told us you liked ‘building stuff,’ not that you wanted to be an engineer!”

“That’s what I meant!”

“How was I supposed to interpret that?” you demanded. “You could’ve meant LEGOs!”

Jake looked personally wounded. “I did mean LEGOs. But also engineering!”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “This is ridiculous. It’s not that I’m not interested, Jake. It just never came up.”

He stopped, the offended act disappearing immediately. He straightened up and smiled at you. “I know. I was just teasing you.”

You huffed, pouting. “Our time was always short. Our time zones never matched. We always had just a few hours of video call. It… never felt like there was room to talk about the bigger stuff. It was always—” You gestured vaguely between you. “You have no idea how much stuff I want to talk about with you.”

He sighed, the relieved kind. Then he lifted your joined hands and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “We’re together right now, aren’t we?” he said. “So tell me everything you wanna tell me. All of it. What you want. What you dream about. And I’ll tell you mine too.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but it didn’t hide the smile on your lips. Not when he was looking at you like that. “Fine. If you insist,” you muttered, looking away.

He tugged you into a warm hug—arms around your shoulders, your face pressed against his chest. “And just so you know,” he murmured, voice low near your ear, “you can want me for my body. I get it. It’s a good body. I don’t mind being used.”

You shoved him, only managing to pull away for a second before he reeled you right back in. “Shut up.”

He chuckled lightly, placing his chin on top of your head, and patting your back. And then slowly, his hand moved lower down to your spine, stopping just above your backside. “So…” he whispered into your ear, kissing the side of your head. “How about using me tonight?”

You groaned and pushed him away, but this time, he didn’t pull you back in. He just stood there, grinning. That slow, awful, knowing grin, the one that meant he was up to no good.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned, already prepared to bolt.

He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “What?”

The sand kicked under your feet as you bolted down the shoreline. The breeze whipped your hair back, laughter ripping out of you before you could stop it. The ocean glowed silver in the moonlight, the breeze cool and soft. You didn’t even look behind you—you didn’t need to. You could feel him gaining on you.

“You can’t run from me,” he called, his voice light, breathy from holding back a laugh.

“Watch me!” you yelled, nearly tripping when the tide rushed over your ankles.

“Get back here!” Jake yelled, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“No!” you shouted back, half-laughing, half-screaming as his footsteps grew louder.

Then a hand wrapped around your waist. You squealed as he spun you, momentum sending you both stumbling into each other. His arms locked around you from behind, his breath warm against your neck. You twisted in his grip, breathless, trying to get away but he was stronger than you were.

“You wanna keep running?” he whispered, arms wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Your breath hitched. “No.”

“Good.” His hand slid up to your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “Because I really wanna do this.”

He kissed you hard. Like he’d been waiting for you to run, just so he could catch you. His hands slid up your back, yours curling into his shirt as he pressed you against him, the crash of the ocean roaring behind you. Then the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, as his other hand found your waist and drew you impossibly closer.

The world blurred around the two of you, your heart pounding as he kissed you like he’d finally caught something he wasn’t willing to lose again.

The next thing you remembered was stumbling into the hotel room together, still kissing, his hands at your waist as he pressed you up against the wall. His hands trailed along your waist, carefully and slowly, like he was taking his time reclaiming every inch of you. Your fingers threaded into his hair on instinct, bucking your hips forward to meet his, and the sharp exhale he let out against your mouth told you exactly how much he felt it.

“Do that again,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw now, “and we’re not making it to the bed.”

You shivered, because you knew he meant it.

You tilted your head sideways, letting him ravage the skin of your neck. His mouth trailed down the curve of your throat, slow kisses that grew firmer, teeth grazing your skin and sucking until your knees went weak enough that you had to brace your hand on his shoulder.

Jake grabbed one of your thighs, lifting it and wrapping it around his torso. His erection rubbing against your crotch made your entire body quiver at the sensation.

He lifted his head to look at you then, eyes dark, breath unsteady, like he was holding back only because he knew you liked when he did. His thumb brushed your cheek, gentle in a way that contrasted the heat between you.

“Tell me what you want,” he said softly, like he already knew but wanted to hear it from you anyway.

“You know what I want,” you whined, pressing yourself harder against him.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through you, then he kissed you again, holding you firmly as he carried you over to the bed. You expected him to lay you down, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat down, hands moving to your hips, then pulling away from the kiss just to look up at you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, reading clearly into that smile, and the way his fingers slid beneath the hem of your dress, easing it upward slowly and squeezing the skin underneath.

“Ride me?” he asked, still grinning, not even bothering to pretend he was begging. “Please?”

You scoffed, exasperated, but didn’t say anything. Instead, you placed a hand on his chest and he fell on his back at the lightest push. His eyes followed you, dark and hungry, as you lifted your dress over your head and tossed it aside.

Jake lay back on the pillows, breath already unsteady, watching you crawl over him with a look that made your skin prickle. His hands skimmed up your thighs as you straddled his hips, his touch warm, reverent, almost too gentle for the hunger in his eyes.

“You look so pretty up there,” he murmured, thumbs brushing the sensitive spots on the inside of your legs.

You leaned down, kissing him again, slowly and deeply. His hands tightened on your hips, guiding you closer, moving your hips against his, aching for some friction. You grabbed his hand to stop him, pulling away from the kiss to glare at him.

“My bad,” he chuckled, squeezing your thighs. “You’re not gonna make me work for it, are you?”

You rolled your hips just slightly, more of a tease than anything, and his breath stuttered. His head dropped back against the mattress for a second, jaw clenched, a curse slipping out under his breath before he looked up at you again.

“You like it when I do,” you whispered, confidence rising. “The same way you liked it whenever I called you a moron back in high school.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he breathed, almost instantly. “Does that make me a masochist?”

You chuckled, straightening a little, sitting up on his lap. Jake’s hands followed the movement, tracing up your sides, then back down in a slow, possessive sweep. He looked up at you like he was memorizing the sight—your breathing, your posture, the way you held yourself above him with so much confidence it made his chest rise in a sharp inhale.

“God, look at you,” he said softly. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

“Oh, I do,” you replied, rolling your hips against his crotch one more time.

His jaw flexed. “Get over here.”

He pulled you in for another kiss, deeper this time—his mouth hot and impatient, his tongue brushing yours in a way that made your whole body burn up. His hands slid under your thighs, urging your legs wider around him, then unbuttoning his own jeans and shimmying out of it.

You braced your hands on his stomach, feeling every muscle tighten beneath your palms. You lifted your hips slightly, dragging a breathy curse from him.

“Baby,” he cooed, reaching for your face. “Please don’t make me beg for it.”

“You’re already begging, Jake,” you chuckled, finally reaching down between your bodies, tugging his boxers down, and wrapping your fingers around his manhood. His head fell back with a sharp inhale.

That reaction made you smile, then you guided him to your sex with a soft, shaky breath.

Jake’s eyes snapped open, dark and blown. “Baby…”

You steadied yourself with one hand on his chest, the other gripping his shoulder. Then, slowly, teasingly, you lowered yourself onto him—inch by inch, breath by breath—until your head tipped back and a moan slipped out of your lips.

“Holy—” He cut himself off, eyes dragging up your body like he didn’t know where to look first. “Come here.”

You shook your head with a small, wicked smile, staying upright, keeping him exactly where you wanted him: beneath you, watching.

Your hips moved again, a slow grind that dragged a groan out of him so rough it sent heat straight through you. His hands shot to your waist like reflex, and you leaned back slightly, hands sliding over his stomach, feeling every muscle twitch under your touch.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice hoarse, “you’re gonna destroy me.”

“That’s the idea.” You leaned forward just enough that your breath ghosted over his mouth. “So don’t blink.”

Then you set the pace. Slow at first, enough to make him swallow hard, enough that your own breath hitched in your throat. Each rise and fall made your body tighten, every motion sending ripples of desire over your skin. The sight of him with his jaw clenched, and his eyes dark, only spurred you on. Your hips moved faster, smoother this time, picking up a rhythm that made his fingers dig hard enough into your waist to leave faint marks.

His voice dropped, low and ragged. “Baby—slow down—”

“No,” you gasped, the word barely formed.

You lifted your hips again, this time sinking down in one smooth motion that pulled a raw groan from him—deep, helpless, pulled straight from his chest. He looked wrecked already. And you weren’t even close to done.

You straightened your back, hands sliding to your own thighs for balance, and moved with an intensity that made the headboard knock faintly against the wall. He cursed under his breath meeting your movements with upward thrusts that nearly sent you over the edge. Your hands grabbed at his shoulders, nails dragging lightly down his skin as your rhythm faltered for just a moment.

His voice broke as he called out your name. “You feel…—damn it—keep going,” he gruntied, like he’s ffighting not to fall apart too fast

You leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “Don’t hold it.”

That drove him over the edge.

His breath stuttered, a sharp inhale—and then his hands clamp around your waist, hard. His hips pressed up once, deep enough that you nearly lost your balance and gasped, and then he was gone.

His whole body locked beneath you, a tremor running through him so intense you feel it everywhere—under your hands, between your thighs, across the space where your bodies meet. He buried his face against your shoulder like he was trying to hide the sound he was making, but it slipped out anyway—raw, guttural, and desperate.

The kind of sound that told you exactly how hard you pushed him. Exactly how just much he wanted you. Exactly how completely he was coming apart because of you.

He gripped you tighter, pulling you down against him as if he needed you there, needed the closeness, needed you to feel all of it. His breaths broke into uneven, shaking exhales as the wave passed, leaving him trembling and still holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear the second he loosened his grip.

When he finally looked up, he was wrecked—his hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide. He let out a slow, shaky breath, one hand sliding up your back, still inside you, still trying to collect himself.

You brushed his damp hair back from his forehead, and he leaned into the touch just before he collapsed on the bed with a groan, flinging an arm over his face like he’d just finished running a marathon.

He sighed out your name. “I love you so much.”

You snorted. “I think that’s your dick talking.”

He peeked at you from under his arm, eyes soft. “It’s not,” he said softly, reaching for your hand and tugging you down to his chest.

“And you better stay right here,” he murmured, thumb brushing your knuckles. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You lay tangled together, still naked under the sheets, with no idea what time it was but knowing damn well that it was already the early hours of the day. Your head rested on Jake’s chest, your body sore and tired. Meanwhile, Jake looked completely fine and energized, like he hadn’t spent the entire night making you tremble and cry out his name.

He was playing with your hair as he watched you talk about your dreams and plans for the future. You forgot what the conversation was before this, only that it was brought up after he asked your opinion on Aruban architecture.

You told him about your plans after graduation, the steps you were taking to slowly build it up. You told him your dream was to open your own firm and practice architecture as an art, rather than a means to an income. You told him you were a little embarrassed about the fact that your parents will obviously help you build your own company once you graduate, but you were grateful for it too. 

Jake listened intently, his eyes gleaming fondly as you talked. You could see, and feel, that he was proud of you through his eyes, and you couldn’t help your stomach from fluttering at his attention.

“What about you?” you mumbled, half-laughing, half-sinking into sleep. “What’s your dream?”

He was quiet long enough that you lifted your head to look at him. Jake reached up to cup your face. He was smiling, but the look in his eyes didn’t match it. Something shimmered there, tender but with a glint of something else. Something uncertain—fear, perhaps.

“I want you to be happy,” he said softly.

You huffed. “I am happy right now.”

His thumb brushed your cheekbone, then tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know,” he said gently. “But I want you to be happier. Happier than you are right now.”

There was nothing but sincerity in his voice, warm and aching at the same time. Like he meant it. Like he wished he could promise it. 

You rolled your eyes anyway, because his face was too serious for someone who was supposed to be cuddly and sleep-drunk. “Whatever. Boring,” you muttered, leaning forward to kiss him quickly. “I love you.”

He smiled against your lips. “I love you,” he whispered back, fingers sliding into your hair as he pulled you in for another kiss.

Those last days in Aruba passed beautifully. Lazy mornings tangled in hotel sheets, sunlight spilling across the bed while he refused to let you get up yet, mumbling something about “five more minutes” that always turned into twenty. Breakfasts that tasted sweeter just because he insists on feeding you himself. Long walks along the shoreline where you talked about anything and everything.

You spent most of the day at the beach—naps under the umbrella, his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek while the breeze moved through the palms above you. He smelled like sunscreen and salt. Every time you looked at him, he was looking back.

Nights were louder. Laughter echoing, drinks you didn’t finish because you got too caught up talking. His hand on the small of your back as he led you through crowded places, or the way he’d pull you close during slow songs at the nightclubs. 

You were seeing the world in gold-tinted glasses, and you could only agree when Jake once said, “Aruba feels like a fever dream.”

And somewhere between all of it, you kept getting this odd feeling in your chest. Like a gut feeling that some impending disappointment awaited you after your days in this sunkissed paradise was over. But you pushed it aside, told yourself you were anxious for no reason.

Jake was here with you. Even if this little vacation was over, he’d still be there for you—maybe not physically, but he’d still be a constant presence in your life. You love him, he loves you. This anxiety was unnecessary.

Befoe you knew it, you  were already walking through security. The airport was bright, cold, and noisy—a huge contrast to the island’s warm and peaceful glow. You kept close to Jake as you walked, your suitcase wheels rattling across the tile while his hand brushed yours every few steps, like he kept forgetting he couldn’t hold it the whole way.

His flight boarded first, and your chest ached at the thought of finally parting ways with him. The idea of going back to your mundane LDR setup was upsetting, but you knew you had to compromise.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” he murmured, kissing your forehead as he pulled you into a hug. “Be safe.”

“Call me when you land,” you demanded, looping your arms around his waist. “I’ll call you too. Even if it’s late.” 

“I love you,” he said softly, hand cupping your cheek. He looked close to crying, with his creased forehead and the glint of hurt in his eyes.

You laughed quietly, reaching up to touch his face too. “I love you more. And don’t cry. It’s not like we won’t see each other again.”

Jake didn’t say anything. He just smiled, then leaned in to kiss you—soft, careful, nothing like the frantic airport kisses you’d seen in movies. You wanted to say something else, something meaningful or witty or reassuring, but all that came out was, “Go. Before you miss your flight.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, stepping away but not quite letting go of your hand yet .He gave your fingers one last squeeze before finally letting go, stepping backward toward his gate with that small, uneven smile he only wore when he was trying not to fall apart.

“Don’t forget to text me,” you reminded him, waving a hand. “If you don’t, I’m blocking you.”

That made him laugh softly, breathily, a little sad. The boarding staff checked his documents, and motioned for him to proceed. He looked over his shoulder one more time, lifting his hand to wave before disappearing into the line of passengers. 

And just like that, the warmth of Aruba faded, replaced by the hollow brightness of the terminal and the loud echoes of boarding announcements.

Your own flight boarded shortly after. You spent the entire time staring out the plane window, replaying every moment from the past few days—the beach, his hand in yours, the way he looked at you that last night as if the future didn’t scare him yet. You already missed him.

The flight was long, but you barely remembered it. You slept through most of it, dreaming in pieces about his voice, his laugh, the feeling of his arms around you. Each time you stirred awake, your first instinct was to check your phone.

As soon as your plane touched down, your heart jumped. You turned your phone back on immediately, waiting for it to light up with a message from him. There was nothing, but you didn’t mind. You tapped his name and lifted the phone to your ear, excited to hear his voice again.

The call rang. And rang. Over and over, but there was no answer. You tried again. And again. Still nothing.

Fear began to creep into your chest.

You tried one more time, listening to the ring until it cut off, leaving a dead, hollow silence in its place. Your heart was sinking, but you tried to calm yourself, willing yourself to believe he was probably still onboard. Or that his phone battery had died.

“Right. That must be it,” you whispered, patting your chest as if it could ease the heaviness pressing against it.

You had no idea then that something beautiful had already died.

You kept trying to reach Jake even after classes started up again, calling whenever you had a free moment, sending messages he never opened. Days passed like that.

You kept telling yourself he was busy. Jet-lagged. Buried in schoolwork. Maybe he lost his charger. Maybe something came up. But deep down, a part of you already knew. You just didn’t want to believe it.

Still, you tried. You called in the mornings, at night, between classes, hoping that maybe this time he’d pick up and explain everything in that soft voice you’d fallen a little too hard for. But the ringing always stopped in the same hollow way, leaving you staring at your screen, heart sinking a little deeper each time.

Eventually, your phone finally stopped ringing altogether. When you tried to call again, the automated voice informed you that the number was no longer in service. Your heart dropped.

With numb fingers, you opened his socials—every account you knew, every platform he used, even the old ones he hadn’t touched in years, all of them were gone. Deactivated. Wiped clean like he’d never existed at all. That was when you finally accepted the truth. 

Jake had ghosted you again.

The days that followed were foggy. You barely moved from your bed. You didn’t eat unless someone insisted. You couldn’t focus long enough to read a single page of your notes. Even the thought of going to class felt impossible—like your body had forgotten how to stand, how to walk, how to be a person outside the hurt.

Every night, you cried yourself to sleep, then slept too much and still woke up exhausted. You hated how easily you broke down, how deeply the loss of one person managed to bleed into everything else. You hated how much you missed him.

But even at your lowest, some small, stubborn part of you refused to stay there. You were stronger than you looked, and your dreams were bigger than whatever fragile thing you and Jake had been trying to hold together.

So slowly, begrudgingly, you began to pull yourself back together. One morning, after lying awake for hours, you finally forced yourself out of bed. You showered. You ate something. You opened your laptop and stared at your assignments until your brain caught up enough to work through them. 

Nothing about it was easy—but it was movement. It was proof that you were still here. You reminded yourself of the future you wanted, and recalled the steps you needed to take toward it—classes, internships, goals, deadlines—slowly reminding yourself that your life didn’t end just because he walked out of it.

Jake had disappeared. But you weren’t going to. And though your heart still ached, you chose to keep going. Not for him, but for yourself.

Leila was furious on your behalf, pacing your dorm room like she wanted to fly to Korea and drag Jake out of whatever hole he’d disappeared into. But after the initial explosion of anger burned off, she looked at you and realized you weren’t falling apart forever. You were hurting, yes, bruised in a way heartbreak always leaves behind, but you were still you. Determined. Stubborn. Chasing the life you’d always wanted. She trusted you to make the right decisions, and she refused to let this ruin you, even when you had days where you wanted nothing more than to break.

Life didn't pause for heartbreak. Studio deadlines, rendering practice, group meetings, portfolio reviews—they all demanded your attention whether you could breathe properly or not. And somehow, the routine helped. It forced you out of bed, dragged you into classrooms, surrounded you with people who barely knew the ache you were carrying inside your chest. 

You threw yourself into your architecture classes like they were the only thing tethering you to the ground. Late nights in the studio became your comfort—your headphones on, your hands full of pencil smudges and tracing paper, your mind too busy calculating measurements to spiral into the silence Jake left behind.

But even while you were rebuilding your life brick by brick, you never stopped trying to reach him. It wasn't an obsession, more like a misplaced hope. You checked his socials, even though you knew they were gone. You contacted a few acquaintances who had interacted with him online, but all you got were apologies and confused messages saying they hadn’t heard from him either. You sent a letter to his home address in Korea once a month, each envelope containing something different—sometimes a long, heartfelt message, sometimes just a single line asking if he was okay. You never got a reply. Not once. Not even a returned envelope.

Still, your life didn’t revolve around your futile attempts. The world kept spinning, pulling you along with it. You grew. You learned. You blossomed. You found yourself taking on more responsibilities, chasing internships, building your network the way you always said you would. Leila cheered every success, dragged you out for weekend road trips across states. There were days when you forgot about him entirely—whole stretches of time where your head was filled with blueprints, parties, new friends, petty college drama.

And then there were nights where you stared at your phone again. Where you typed out a message and deleted it. Where you wondered if he was alive. Or okay. Or thinking of you.

You didn’t let those nights consume you, though. You let them pass. You let yourself feel the ache, let it wash over you, let it fade naturally. And then you kept going. Because your dreams were bigger than the ghost-shaped hole he left behind.

Two years passed like that, with bursts of joy and exhaustion and everything in between. And even though some part of you still carried the memory of him, it no longer held you back.

Graduation came faster than you expected. One moment you were drowning in finals and sleepless nights, and the next you were standing in a sea of gowns and flowers, sunlight hitting your face as your name echoed through the auditorium. People cheered. Cameras flashed. Leila screamed your name so loudly that strangers turned to look.

You smiled for the photos, accepted the hugs, tossed your cap into the air with everyone else. But beneath the celebrations, you could feel in your chest a painful hollow space where a boy with soft eyes and terrible timing used to sit.

Leila nudged you with her shoulder while your family fussed over your medal. “You okay?” she asked, too gently.

“Yeah,” you lied. 

She shot you a look that said she didn’t buy it, but she didn’t push. She just squeezed your hand and said, “He doesn’t get to ruin this for you. Not today.”

You nodded, because she was right. But even then, a stupid part of you wished Jake could’ve seen you walk that stage—wished he could’ve said, “I’m proud of you” the way he used to say it over the phone.

But then again, life goes on. It never stopped for anyone.

After graduation, you packed up your dorm room. Every object triggered a memory—some good, some painful. You found the seashell anklet you bought in Aruba, holding it up and feeling a surge of memories register in your mind—most of it hazy now. It has been a while after all.

You considered throwing it away, but you couldn’t. You tucked it deeper into your luggage instead. Then you wrote one last letter to Jake before leaving the city. You folded it neatly, placed it into an envelope, and dropped it into the mailbox even though you knew you wouldn’t get a reply. But you wrote it anyway. A goodbye of some sort, your own version of a closure.

Because your last goodbye didn’t come with a closure.

Moving to a new state felt like stepping into cold water. Shocking at first, but then you eventually adjust to it. The city welcomed you with hustle and bustle. Your new apartment was small but bright, and the first night you lay in bed listening to unfamiliar traffic outside your window, you felt both lonely and proud.

You called Leila often. “Send me your location so I can track you,” she’d say every day and her concern made it easier to breathe.

Your new job came with its own mayhem. Long hours, demanding clients, supervisors who pushed you harder than any professor ever had. But you loved it. You loved the challenge, the late nights sketching revisions, the thrill of seeing your ideas approved. Your college résumé opened doors quickly, and your passion kept you running through them.

You met people—talented, sharp, funny people. Some became friends. One coworker in particular seemed intent on becoming something more. He’d linger by your desk, bring you coffee, throw soft compliments your way.

One day after work he walked you to the train and said, “If you’re free this weekend… maybe we could grab dinner?”

You froze then, surprised though you already saw this coming. “I—um—I appreciate it,” you said, managing a smile, “but I’m not really… dating. Right now.”

He nodded, gracious and understanding, but the disappointment was there.

Jake was still in your heart like a stubborn tenant who refused to move out.

Still, you didn’t let yourself dwell on the past. You built routines, morning coffee from the shop downstairs, Sunday grocery runs, long nights drafting designs or reorganizing your bookshelf for no reason except that it was calming for you. You picked up sketching again, filling your notebook with facades and tiny corners of the city that caught your eye.

Months passed. Then a year. Then another. Some nights the silence felt cruel. Other nights it felt peaceful.

By the time your second anniversary at the firm rolled around, you handed in your resignation letter. You’d learned what you came here to learn. You’d grown, stretched yourself thin and then whole again. And now it was time to move forward with the plans you originally had for yourself.

When your coworkers found out, the office buzzed with farewells. People from different departments dropped by your desk, sad to see you go, shaking their heads like they couldn’t believe it. Your supervisor clapped you on the shoulder and said, “You’re going to do great things. Keep proving people wrong.”

The coworker who once asked you out handed you a small sketchbook. “For your ideas,” he said quietly. “You’ve got a lot of them.” You smiled, grateful in a way words couldn’t cover.

“Thanks,” you told him, genuinely grateful. “But I’m not officially gone yet. I still have like, two weeks to render.”

“I know. I just thought I’d give it to you in advance.”

That evening you came home after a long day, dropped your bag by the couch, and just stood there. Looking around. Your apartment was quiet and warm. The plants by the window were alive. Your framed certification hung straight on the wall. A stack of sketches sat on your desk. A half-finished project glowed on your tablet.

You built this. All of it. You survived something that once felt impossible. You built a life that didn’t rely on someone else showing up.

You sat down, breathed in slowly, and whispered into the silence—not to Jake, not to the past, but to yourself: “I’m okay.”

And for the first time, you truly were.

Leila was getting married. The news came through a late-night call, her voice practically vibrating through the speaker. “Kevin finally proposed,” she announced, breathless with excitement. You sat up straight in bed, heart swelling with happiness for her.

“Leila, oh my god. Congratulations!” you laughed, pressing a hand to your chest. “I’m so happy for you guys!”

“I’m not done,” she said, dragging out the suspense like she always did. “I want you as my maid of honor.”

Your throat tightened. “Thank you,” you murmured. “Seriously. Thank you for choosing me.”

“Who else would I choose?” she scoffed. “You’re my best friend since middle school.”

You told her you’d come, of course you would. Even though you’d resigned and were technically in between life chapters, you still had a project at the firm that you were determined to finish before officially letting go. You explained all that to her—how you might miss the preparations, how you’d try your best to clear your schedule.

“It’s okay. Just be there on the wedding day,” she said. “Oh, and… one more thing,” she added, pausing.

You could almost picture her hesitating, thumb pressed against her lips. Then finally, she said, “Jake’s coming.”

You froze, heart stuttering. For a moment, the world didn’t move. Your heartbeat clawed up your throat, the phone nearly slipping from your hand.

“What?” you whispered.

“Jake’s home,” Leila repeated, softer this time. “He’s back in town, living in their house again.”

Leila kept speaking, but you weren’t listening. Two words just kept echoing in your ears, again and again—Jake’s home.

“I’m coming,” you said immediately, almost cutting her off.

“What?”

“I’m coming,” you repeated, hanging up.

Impulse took the wheel the second you heard his name, and there was no stopping it. You opened your laptop with trembling hands and booked the earliest flight you could find.

The next day, you were in the air, anxiously hoping the plane would go faster.

When you landed, Leila was waiting for you outside baggage claim, her arms crossed, expression caught somewhere between relief and guilt. You rushed into her hug anyway, and she squeezed you tight.

“Okay,” she started as she pulled away, “before you yell at me—which I know you want to—I need to explain.”

“I’m not yelling,” you said, though you absolutely were about to. “I just… why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She winced. “Because I know you. And look what happened the moment I did tell you. You booked a ticket within ten minutes of hanging up.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, realizing she was right.

“It’s been over a month since he came back,” she continued gently. “I didn’t know until like, two weeks ago. I just saw him stepping out of their house to fetch some delivery.”

Your stomach twisted. “And? How is he?”

Leila’s silence made you nervous. She reached to squeeze your hand, her expression apologetic. “You should just see for yourself.”

You nodded, jaw tightening as a thousand emotions clawed up your chest—shock, anger, fear, hope, heartbreak

Leila warned you while on the ride to Jake’s. She said he was at a low point, that he was thinner, quieter, shut away from the world. His family went bankrupt, and his parents got divorced. All that he had left was his childhood home. She said you should hear the rest from Jake, but you should know what to expect. You felt a strange feeling of dread and relief as the car pulled over to Leila’s house and you spotted Jake’s next door. You’d been waiting three years for this, and now you were here.

Without hesitation, you walked over to their house and pressed the doorbell, arms crossed, finger tapping on your elbow as you waited for the door to open. Jake appeared not two minutes later.

He froze mid-step, eyes widening as if he couldn’t trust what he was seeing. He looked different, just as Leila had said. Thinner. A little ragged. Worn out from everything life had thrown at him these past few years. His hair was unkempt, his clothes rumpled, and yet, somehow, he still had that familiar air about him that made your chest tighten.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You simply stood there in the quiet while his gaze landed over you—taking in how much you’d changed, how much you’d grown. Then, with a small, almost breathless smile, you said, “Hi, Jake.”

He blinked, shook his head, and muttered something you couldn’t catch. The words weren’t important—the fact that his lips moved at all was enough. Your chest ached, and before you could overthink it, you stepped past him and into the house.

The door creaked shut behind you. You stopped, breath hitching at the sight. Dust-coated white sheets draped over furniture. The counters were littered with instant ramen packets and empty beer cans. Dishes piled high in the sink. The air smelled faintly of mildew and neglect.

Your heart twisted, but you forced a smile as you turned to him. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. You could see the surprise, the shame, the something that wasn’t quite an apology but wasn’t anger either, flickering across his face. He looked away, muttering, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you,” you replied, scoffing like the answer should have been obvious.

Jake’s jaw tensed. Still avoiding your eyes. “I’m not… in the right headspace for visitors right now.”

“I can see that.”

“Right, so please leave.”

You smirked, “Good to see you too,” you said and without waiting, you started picking up a stray packet of noodles, putting it in a bag.

“I’m serious, please leave.” Jake stood just inside the living room, hands at his sides, shoulders sagging.

You ignored him. You always had a knack for ignoring resistance.  Instead, you smiled and continued tidying. Stacking cans. Wiping the counter. Folding a dish towel over a chair. He called your name, making you pause by the sink. God—you hated and loved how hearing him say it made your heart skip.

“Are you gonna help?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder with a gentle grin. “If not, you can go rest for a bit. Take a shower, perhaps?”

Jake’s jaw tightened. He took a step forward, then stopped. You could feel his hesitation, the shame, the grief. You kept moving, sweeping the floor, stacking more beer cans neatly in the trash bag.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

“And you should eat something,” you countered lightly, “but all you have is ramen."

You spoke as though the years apart didn’t hurt, as though the months of unanswered messages and deactivated socials didn’t crush you, and somehow that display of indifference made him tremble.

Finally, his patience snapped. “I told you to leave!”

The shout startled you. Not because of the volume, but because you’d never heard him yell before, especially not at you. The emotion behind it made your heart ache, but it didn’t make you flinch.

You stopped moving, wiped your hands on a towel, and approached him slowly. When you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The first time in almost five years that you were this close, that you were able to touch him, and hug him again.

He froze at first. Not moving an inch, and looking like he wanted to push you away. You just tightened your embrace, hand rubbing his back worldlessly. Jake relaxed in your arms, his hands hovering, unsure, before finally wrapping around your waist. And then he broke down—his body shuddering as sobs tore through him. He clung to you, shaking, and you held him just as tightly, comforting not only him but yourself too

“Shh… it’s okay,” you murmured, blinking fast, swallowing your own tears. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t talk about the past, didn’t demand apologies or explanations. That can wait. For now, you just held him for as long as he needed. Until his breathing became steadier, until his shoulders stopped trembling. You just hugged him

“You need a shower, Jake Sim,” you teased softly, eventually pulling back just enough to look at him. “Go on. I’ll get dinner ready.”

He hesitated, looking at you like he didn’t deserve the care, and the concern. But then he nodded slowly, disappearing upstairs reluctantly, leaving you in the silence of the neglected house.

The moment he disappeared, your knees gave out. You sank to the floor, letting everything crash into you—the four years of silence, the ache of missing him, the relief of seeing him alive and real and right in front of you again. You pressed your hands to your face and sobbed, swallowing every sound so he wouldn’t hear.

Then you took a deep breath, wiped your face, and rose to your feet. There was work to do.

You moved through the kitchen, surveying the cupboards. Nothing but instant noodles, chips, and more beer. You laughed softly to yourself, ordered pizza, and began clearing every counter. You stacked dishes in the washer, wiped every surface, vacuumed the living room and pulled off all the sheets covering the furniture. Making the space feel like a home again.

As you worked, your heart felt a little lighter. This wasn’t a fix, but it was a start. You were here for him, and you wanted him to know that.

The pizza arrived just as he stepped out of the shower, a towel slung around his neck and droplets still clinging to his hair. You carried the box to the table while he lingered by the doorway, standing there like a guest in his own house. You pretended not to notice, sliding plates across the table, opening the box as if this were any normal evening and not the first dinner you’d shared in years.

He finally sat opposite you, shoulders stiff. You started talking about the most ordinary things—your last day at work, Leila’s upcoming wedding to her high school sweetheart, the delivery guy who recognized you. Your voice stayed light, almost cheerful.

Jake answered in short phrases, nodding too often, eyes drifting everywhere except your face. He kept wiping his palms on his shorts between bites, like he couldn’t get comfortable in his own skin. Every few seconds, he looked like he might say something, but each time, he swallowed it down and took another pointless sip of water.

You reached for him without warning, letting your fingers skim along his cheek. He froze for a half-second, before he exhaled and let himself lean into the touch. Your hand smoothed over his skin like nothing had happened. Like the past four years hadn’t existed.

He’d aged more than you expected. A little thinner, a little paler, the angles of his face drawn sharper. Time hadn’t been kind to him, it seemed. You let your thumb trace the stubble on his face.

“Growing a beard?” you murmured, half teasing, half studying him.

He cleared his throat. “No, not really. I—I just… nevermind.”

“Mmm. It doesn’t suit you,” you said softly, fond rather than critical. “You need to look good for Leila’s wedding or she’ll kill you.”

That made him laugh, though more reflex than amusement. “I know,” he said quietly. “She told me the same thing.”

Silence settled between you, warm on your side, uncomfortable on his. You picked up another slice, acting like the moment wasn’t fragile, like it didn’t matter that he couldn’t look at you for more than two seconds. He copied you because he didn’t know what else to do.

You went back to eating, letting the conversation flow again. But Jake wasn’t touching his slice anymore. He was staring at the table, breathing shallowly, jaw working like he was chewing on something painful.

Finally, he dropped his slice and pushed his plate slightly away, hands curling into fists.

“Can you please just yell at me already?”  he burst out, voice thin and cracking. “Or slap me. Anything. Do something. Say something. This part where you’re nice to me like I didn’t hurt you is worse.”

Your hand paused mid-air. Slowly, you set your slice down and looked at him fully. For the first time that night, you let him see the exhaustion in your expression.

“I don’t want to,” you said with conviction. “I’ve waited a long time for you, Jake. II’m not wasting any more of it fighting. It’s pointless.”

His gaze softened. For a moment, the guilt in his eyes was overwhelming—like he’d been bracing himself for a storm and instead found a tenderness he didn’t know what to do with.

You stayed at Jake’s that whole week, though you rarely saw him during the day. You were always out helping Leila with wedding preparations—shopping, rehearsals, fittings—only returning in the evenings to a house that still didn’t feel like a home.

Jake hovered quietly around you that first night, flustered and apologetic as he cleaned out the old guest room you and Leila used back in high school. The memory should’ve felt sweet, but it only left your chest aching. He refused to let you sleep anywhere else.

And so the days passed in a fragile routine. You came home tired, sometimes carrying takeout, sometimes bringing groceries. You made sure he ate. You reminded him to shower. You once got him outside the house for a short walk around the block.

He did his best to keep a polite distance. You did your best not to force anything more than simple kindness.

On Friday evening, after a long conference with the wedding planner, you got home and didn’t find Jake anywhere downstairs. 

“Jake?” you called, kicking off your heels. “You alive in here?”

There was no answer. You checked the backyard, the laundry room, even the garage. But he was nowhere. Finally, you walked upstairs. His bedroom door was slightly open, just enough to suggest he had been there recently. You hesitated. The two of you had been careful about boundaries all week.

But you had something to say to him, so you walked in. His room was surprisingly neat. The bed is made, the floor clean, and curtains pulled open to let the evening light spill across the space. Every part of the room was clean, except for the desk.

The desk was cluttered. Stacks of envelopes. Photographs spread across the surface. Pens without caps. Scraps of torn paper. You stepped closer, intending to tidy up a little while waiting for him.

But the second you got a good look of the clutter, your breath hitched.

Your letters. All the ones you mailed him through college. The ones you thought he never received. Every single one. Worn edges, creased folds, smudged ink as if someone had held them too tightly. You picked one up, recognizing your handwriting instantly, and feeling your heart clench.

You reached for the next stack of photographs. You and Jake in Aruba. You and him at prom in senior year. One from a school festival where you were both sweaty and sunburned, grinning like idiots.

On the back of each photo, scribbled in different pens, were notes. Replies. Entire paragraphs responding to things you’d written in your letters. Thoughts he never sent. Feelings he never said out loud.

“I kept this in my wallet the whole time. That way, I could look at it every day. Aruba really was a fever dream. If I could, I’d go back in time to when we were there. And I’d stay there forever with you.” “I thought I saw you today, even heard your voice. Spent thirty minutes running around the grocery store only to find out it was just someone who sounded like you. I miss you. So much so, I think I’m going insane.”“Congratulations on graduating. I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

Each photo, each note made your heart ache, so much that you had to clutch your chest. Tears were rolling from your eyes, blurring the words but you kept reading, picking up the photos one by one.

You picked up another. A cutout from an old high school group shot, jagged at the edges where Jake had trimmed everyone else out. Just the two of you left, laughing at something you couldn’t remember now. The note at the back was new, written the day you showed up at his doorstep.

“I dreamed about seeing you again last night. Like I do most nights. But nothing prepared me for seeing you for real today.”

Your heart squeezed painfully, hand flying over your mouth when a sob almost slipped out.

Jake’s voice called behind you so suddenly you jumped. You spun around to find him frozen in the doorway, a grocery bag in one hand, horror, guilt, grief all flickering across his face at once.

He rushed toward the desk, grabbing the letters, shoving photographs into drawers. “Don’t—please don’t look at those—just—just get out.”

You shook your head. “Jake.”

“Get out,” he repeated, voice rising. “Just get the fuck out!”

You flinched, startled. He snatched the photos from your hand, turning to shove them into the drawers of his desk. You didn’t say anything and just stared at his back.

“Go home,” he said, bracing his hands on the edge of the desk. “You’ve had your fun, so just go.”

“Why?” you asked softly. “Why did you keep all of this? Why did you choose to live like this instead of just… coming to me?”

He swallowed hard. His throat worked as he searched for something to say. He couldn’t look at you. You stepped closer, placing a hand on his back. “Why did you let me think you didn’t love me, Jake?”

He tensed under your touch. “Because you’re better off without me.”

You stared at him—this older version of the boy you once knew, worn down and trembling and convinced he deserved nothing. You saw him try to shrink into himself, as if he feared even being seen. And suddenly everything made sense. 

He didn’t abandon you. He had abandoned himself.

You let out a shaky exhale. “Do you love me? Still?”

Jake lowered his head, sighing out your name. “What does it matter?”

“Answer me, Jake,” you demanded, reaching to touch his back. He tensed under your touch. “Please.”

“There’s no use asking,” he muttered, head sinking lower when you tried to peek at his face. “You already know.”

You reached to touch his face, but he was quick to move away. Taking a deep breath, you stepped away from him, giving him space.

“I’m sleeping here tonight,” you declared, making his head snap to your direction.

“What? No. No. You have to go home.”

“What am I, crazy?” you smirked. “You think I’ll just leave after seeing all this? After knowing what I know now?”

He stared at you, exhausted and overwhelmed, like he was fighting a battle he’d already lost. He stepped aside, raising the white flag. Maybe it was because he was too tired to challenge your stubbornness. Or maybe because he didn’t really mean it when he told you leave. Either way didn’t matter to you.

That night, he slept on the far side of the bed. You slept on the other. Carefully separated, careful not to touch.

Two people, years of history and hurt between them, lying in the same bed again.

You and Jake still danced around the unresolved thing between you, but you were sharing a bed now. The first few nights, you stayed on your side, back turned the same way he was. You never said anything about it, and neither did he.

But then one night, you’d settled under the blanket, pretending to fall asleep before your thoughts could spiral. Jake moved behind you, the mattress dipping slightly with his weight. You thought it was just another night of him tossing and turning. Instead, you felt his fingers on your shoulder. Careful and trembling, like he’d been fighting the urge for days.

You held your breath. For a moment, you were so sure he’d pull you into him and your chest tightened in anticipation. But he didn’t. He withdrew just as quickly, hand curling back against himself as if he’d burned it.

So you made the choice he couldn’t.

You turned around slowly, and Jake froze instantly, like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t. Before he could retreat, you scooted closer until you slipped into the space against his chest, your forehead brushing his collarbone. His body went rigid, shocked, as though he truly couldn’t believe you wanted to be held by him.

You slipped an arm around his waist and nudged your nose into the warmth of his neck. It took him a full three seconds to breathe again. Then another to exhale. Then, finally, he gathered you in his arms. Hesitant at first, then tightly, like he’d been waiting for this for far too long.

Neither of you mentioned it the next morning.

But after that, things got better. You were still awkward. Painfully so at times, but you were talking more. The silences didn’t feel like walls anymore, just pauses you’d eventually fill. You found yourselves sitting closer on the couch, shoulders brushing without either of you moving away. Jake stopped flinching whenever your hands accidentally touched; sometimes, he even did it intentionally.

He hovered in the kitchen when you came home from Leila’s wedding prep, listening as you rambled about vendors and flower arrangements. Sometimes he teased you under his breath. Sometimes he laughed.

At night, you slid into the same bed. He held you without waiting for permission. His arm would find your waist automatically, your face tucked under his chin. He slept deeper like that. You felt it in the way he stopped tossing and turning.

For a few days, it felt like you were both crawling out of the darkness—slowly, carefully, but together.

The wedding day soon arrived. You spent the entire morning getting ready with Leila and the rest of the bridesmaids. You were the Maid of Honor, which meant you were everywhere at once—zipping dresses, fixing centerpieces, hunting down missing relatives, reminding the photographer that yes, Leila did want those candids, even if she said she didn’t.

By the time the ceremony started, you were exhausted but glowing with pride, watching someone you love step into a new life.

Jake showed up just five minutes before the procession started—something the old him would’ve done on purpose, but now it felt like he had genuinely tried. And he looked good. Better than he had this past week. His suit fit, his hair was neat, and he actually looked like he had slept the night before.

He scanned the crowd until he found you. And then he froze, eyes widening, breath catching, like seeing you in that dress knocked the air straight out of him. He tried to recover—cleared his throat, looked away, smoothed a hand over his hair—but it was too late. Anyone watching would’ve seen the way he stared.

You pretended to roll your eyes when one of the bridesmaids gave you a teasing nudge.

The ceremony flowed beautifully. Leila cried at that predictable-but-still-cute part of her vows. Her groom cried harder. Jake nudged you during the kiss, smirking under his breath, like you were in high school again teasing your best friend for being overly dramatic.

At the reception, you fulfilled your Maid of Honor duties, giving a speech that had half the guests laughing and the other half misty-eyed. You told stories Leila would pretend to be embarrassed by later, and ended with something heartfelt enough to make her wipe her eyes again.

Then it was Jake’s turn, not as Best Man—because he wasn’t, but as Leila’s other best friend with whom she spent more than half of her life with. He stood at the mic, awkward at first, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did.

He congratulated Leila, teased her about being a sore loser when they were kids, and said he was proud of the woman she’d become. It was short—Jake never did like crowds—but it was sweet. And the smile Leila gave him was unmistakably warm, the look you give someone who has been a constant in your life.

Jake behaved throughout the event. He smiled for photos. He clapped at the right moments. You caught glimpses of him laughing with old high school friends, gesturing as he told stories, even dancing—badly—with a flower girl who dragged him onto the dance floor. He looked alive and carefree. Almost like the man you used to know.

It made you weirdly happy. Proud, even. You left him alone to enjoy himself, hovering near Leila when she needed something, drifting around to greet guests, savoring the warmth of the evening.

Soon, it was time to leave. The honeymoon sendoff for the newlyweds was done. Your other duties were fulfilled. You were exhausted now, and Jake agreed to go home together without hesitation. 

But something was odd about him now. He was quiet the whole ride home, eyes fixed on the road and not even a glance your way. Whatever carefree warmth he carried at the wedding had been drained out of him and you couldn’t pinpoint exactly when or how or what had happened.

At his house, he opened the door and walked inside without waiting for you. You were kicking your heels off when you finally asked, “Are you okay?”

Jake paused by the staircase, reaching for the balustrade in what you assumed was an attempt to keep it together. Coldy, he said, “You should leave.”

You sighed. Not this again. “Jake, we’ve been over this.”

He spun around and started talking too fast. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice rising. “You—you deserve better than this. Better than me.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Wait, where is this coming from? We were fine just an hour ago.”

“No. Listen to me.” He ran a trembling hand through his hair, pacing toward you, hand reaching out but stopping just as he was near enough to touch you. He clenched his fist, as if to physically stop himself from touching you. 

“You should be with someone who has their shit together. Someone with a future. A real career. I don’t have any of that,” he ranted, stepping back. “Fuck’s sake, I didn’t even finish college!”

You tried to counter. “Jake, it’s fine. You’re a little lost right now, but you still have time to turn things around. Nothing about this is permanent.”

“It’s not fine!” He turned back to you, eyes wild with self-loathing. “I’m hopeless, okay? I’m fucking incompetent. I don’t have anything to offer you. I’m just holding you back.”

“You are not holding me back,” you insisted, getting exasperated now. “Why would you ever think that?”

Jake scoffed like he didn’t believe that for one second. “Then why are you here? Huh?”

You looked at him like he’d spoken in riddles. “I’m here for you.”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed. “You heard I was back so you left everything behind and came running to me. You left your nice home, and abandoned an amazing career. How is that not holding you back?”

“Where did you hear that from?”

“So it’s true then?”

“That’s ridiculous—”

“Okay, enough.” His voice cracked. “Can’t you see? You have no future with me. You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you. Not when I’m like—” He gestured vaguely. “---this!”

Your chest tightened. There it was. The line you’d heard a dozen times already, the excuse he clung to like it was salvation. It made something hot and sharp twist in your chest.

“You know what? You’re right,” you said quietly, “You don’t deserve me.”

Jake’s head snapped up, startled. It was as if hearing the same thing from your mouth somehow made it real to him.

“But here’s the thing,” you continued, stepping toward him. “You know that much. You know you’re not doing enough. But you’re not doing a damn thing to fix it.”

He blinked, stunned. He uttered your name, but you cut him off.

“So, yes, Jake. You don’t deserve me,” you said, a single tear rolling down your cheek. “And I’m done tiptoeing around your feelings. I’m done comforting you when you should’ve been at my feet, groveling and begging me to take you back.”

“Baby…” His voice wavered, soft and desperate.

“So what now?” you said, eyes burning. “You love me but you’re telling me to leave you alone? Fine. I’m leaving.”

You turned toward the door, and Jake broke instantly. 

“Wait—wait, no—” His voice cracked as he lunged forward, grabbing you from behind. His arms wrapped around you so tight it almost hurt, his breath shaking against your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he choked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just—I can’t—please don’t leave me.”

A sob tore out of you, but you swallowed the rest, one hand aggressively wiping the tears on your face. “You can’t tell me to leave and then beg me to stay, Jake,” you said, your voice shaky. “You have to pick one. And you have to stick to it.”

His arms loosened a little. You felt the hesitation. The fear. The indecision that had been running his life for years. And with that, it was clear to you that he still didn’t know what to do about this situation. He still didn’t know how to choose you.

You closed your eyes, exhaling slowly. “I’m not coming back unless you figure your life out, Jake.”

You pulled away from his hold, turning to face him. “You said so yourself, I deserve someone who got their shit together. So figure it out, and maybe I’ll come back. Or maybe you’ll find it in you to love yourself. Because that’s the only way you can love someone completely.”

And you walked out the door.

You didn’t come back.

Not after the wedding. Not after the awkward goodbye. Not after the weeks of waiting that stretched into months and then hardened into resolve.

You built your own firm—just like you said you would. Practicing architecture as art, not just a career step or a way to impress clients. It was exhausting, thrilling, and completely consuming. It kept you busy. Kept your mind off things that would only steer you off your path.

Jake became a memory you shoved to the very back of your mind. You didn’t hate him. You just let him go.

A year and a half passed, and your firm was making waves in the industry. Life was looking up. Your path was toward the future, fast and steady.

But of course, the universe had a sick sense of humor. On an early Monday morning, you walked into your conference room and found your past sitting there—hair longer, shoulders broader, eyes clearer. He looked healthy. He looked good. He looked like someone who finally had his life together.

“Jake?” you blurted.

He turned immediately. “Hey,” he said, standing up at once.

“What are you doing here?”

He smiled as he adjusted his glasses. “I’m here for the interview.”

Your brain short-circuited. Before you could say anything, the door swung open and your HR head—Julie, a friend from college—walked in.

“Oooh, good morning, boss. You’re here early,” she chirped, breezing past you as she sat across from Jake. “This is Jake Sim. One of the applicants we shortlisted.”

“Mr. Sim, this is—”

“Oh, I know her,” he replied, smiling. “I’ve heard a lot about her.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty popular these days,” Julie said, grinning with pride. She motioned to the empty seat beside her. “Shall we?”

You sat, keeping your face neutral and professional despite the chaos in your head.

You prided yourself on staying unshakeable at work—especially now, with your own firm, your own team, your own reputation. But nothing prepared you for the sight of Jake Sim in your conference room, sitting across from you, portfolio in hand, applying for a job under you like he wasn’t one of the first people who ever heard about your dream of building this very firm.

“Mr. Sim,” Julie began, scanning his resume. “Your internship supervisor had nothing but praise for you.”

“I worked hard,” he said, confidence glowing in his posture. “I wanted to prove I could handle responsibility.”

You weren’t sure if he meant the internship or everything else he’d dropped years ago. You cleared your throat, nodding at Julie to continue. 

“You graduated with distinction. That’s impressive considering you had to take time off from school,” said Julie, poring over his resume.

“Thank you.” His gaze softened. “I tried my best. And I was deeply inspired. Still am.”

You ignored the meaning buried under that. “Why this firm?” you asked, cutting Julie off.

He took a breath, choosing his words carefully. “Because it’s well-run. It has a clear direction. Strong leadership. And,” he paused, looking straight into your eyes.  “And I would love to work here… for you… if you’ll have me.”

Julie nodded eagerly, completely unaware that this was painfully layered. “So, you’re saying you wanna work here because of our boss?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. Jake laughed softly. “If you put it like that…”

“Oh, relax,” Julie teased. “You’re not the first engineer who applied here just because the boss is gorgeous.” She nudged you.

You shot her a warning look before turning back to Jake. “You’ll be on probation. Performance-based. Regularization isn’t guaranteed.”

“Of course.” His eyes never left yours. “I expected that.”

You clicked your pen. Needed something, anything, to do with your hands. “How soon can you start?”

“Anytime.” His expression brightened. “Today, if you want.”

You scoffed. “You can’t spring this on me on a Monday.”

Jake blinked. Julie blinked. You prayed for the floor to swallow you whole.

“I mean—well… you can start tomorrow, after I—err—we’ve had time to figure things out.” You cleared your throat. “We need to review your application first.”

Julie raised a brow. “Do we? Boss, he’s already shortlisted. We reviewed him. And we need an engineer ASAP.”

You turned to Julie with a knowing look. “We will review the application.

Julie stared at you, bewildered. Then at Jake. Then back at you. “…Right. We will.” She turned to him. “We’ll be in touch once we’ve processed everything.”

Jake stood and gathered his papers. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

Julie walked him to the door. Before stepping out, Jake paused and glanced at you. “It’s good to see you again,” he said with a smile, one that reached his eyes, one that melted your heart.

As soon as he was out of sight, Julie sat back on the chair beside you, eyes bulging out of their sockets. “That’s him? Jake Sim? Your first love?”

You pushed your chair back and stood. “I better not hear people gossiping about this in the office, Jules.”

Her eyes widened, hands flying to her mouth. “So it’s true!”

You ignored her and walked out of the room. You headed straight to the hallway and boarded an elevator. You pressed the button harder than necessary, heels tapping impatiently on the floor. You felt hot all over—shock, confusion, anger, something frighteningly close to excitement. The elevator doors opened and you rushed out, thinking he’d be long gone.

But Jake was still there. Sitting on one of the lobby chairs, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He stood up the moment he saw you, his face lighting up.

You crossed the lobby, stopping just a few feet away. “Why are you still here?” you asked, more breathless than you intended.

He swallowed, eyes never leaving yours. “I was hoping you’d follow me out.”

You let out a short, involuntary huff. Of course he was. And of course you did. A bitter part of you noted how neatly that aligned with what he once told you—that you always came running after him. To this day, despite your efforts to let him go, that fact remains true.

Jake stepped closer, not enough to corner you, but enough to make it clear he wasn’t hiding or retreating this time. “I’m not the person you left,” he said quietly. “I learned how to take care of myself. How to love myself. How to stand on my own two feet.”

Your heartbeat stuttered, but you kept still. “And now,” he continued, voice steady, “I’m taking another shot at happiness.”

“Why come here?” you asked.

He held your eyes as if this entire moment depended on honesty alone. “Because this is where my happiness is.”

You swallowed, your fingers curling slightly at your sides. He noticed. He stepped in gently, easing your hand open, coaxing your knuckles to relax. “And this time,” he murmured, “I came to you.”

You blinked slowly, steadying yourself. Your chest felt uncomfortably tight, like someone had reached inside and tugged at a thread you’d spent a year and a half trying to cut clean. The lobby around you faded. It was just him, standing in front of you with every intention to love you. No excuses, no fear, no pushing you away. He was choosing you, wholeheartedly, for the first time.

Part of you wanted to back away. Another part wanted to fall into him. Instead, you held your ground. You’re not about to forgive him that easily. Leila would kill you if you did.

“Probation,” you muttered, looking down at your joined hands.

Jake laughed under his breath. “I can work with that. I’ll do my best to get a permanent contract.”

“Permanent contract?” you asked, brows knitting. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“No—that’s not—I thought we were talking about—wait…” He paused, genuinely considering it. “Would you say yes?”

You scoffed. “You’re taking a mile a minute, Jake Sim.”

“You’re the one who brought it up!” he shot back, snorting.

As his laugh faded into the quiet lobby and his fingers laced with yours, you felt the echo of every version of yourself that ever loved him. You looked at him, at the hope in his eyes, at the decisiveness you once begged him to learn, and felt something loosen in your chest.

This was not a love story. It was a story of love—how it found you, shaped you, fractured you, nearly ruined you, and somehow circled back to you once more. And finally, finally, it looked like love was here to stay.