#jay soft thoughts

“dear students, this semester we’re doing the baby project,” you hear a loud sigh coming from the back. she rolls her eyes, a little smile on her lips. “yes, mr. kang, the one you’ve all heard horror stories about. you’ll be paired randomly across grade levels. and you'll be given one electronic doll per pair. it cries, it needs feeding, changing, burping, playing — on a completely random schedule, including nights and weekends. just like a real baby,” she explains as she walks around the class. “you’ll keep a shared digital logbook. your combined grade depends on how well you cooperate and how high the doll’s health score stays by sunday night next week.”

“but ms. choi,” yunjin starts, raising her hand. “we're so busy! the drama club is starting rehearsals on monday, and it's 2 hours every day. how can i take care of the baby if i'm supposed to be singing?“

“yeah, same with the debate club. we're going on a tournament next weekend.” sunoo adds.

“and what about the football team?” jay, one of the seniors sitting on the back, cuts in, leaning back in his chair but clearly tense. “nationals are in three weeks. scouts are going to be there.” he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “if i mess that up, i can kiss my scholarship goodbye.”

then, the chaos starts. everybody is talking. there are so many voices in the room you can't even tell what they're saying.

ms. choi claps her hands once, sharp enough to cut through the noise. “alright, alright — everyone, that’s enough.”

the room slowly quiets. she softens her expression slightly.

“you’re all proving my point for me. you’re busy, stressed, juggling a hundred things… welcome to real life, where responsibilities don’t wait until it’s convenient. this is exactly why you’re doing this project. life doesn’t pause when things get busy,” she continues. “you learn how to manage responsibility alongside everything else.” she gestures toward the class. “and just to remind you — this is a paired assignment. so instead of complaining to me, start discussing how you’re going to handle it with your partner.”

yunjin opens his mouth, ready to say something.

“no 'but's,'” she cuts her. “my decision is done. now, let's go with the pairs!”

a collective groan rolls through the room. someone in the back actually whispers “please no.”

ms. choi ignores it and picks up the small bowls of folded papers.

“again, the pairs will be randomly assigned. one junior, one senior. and before you ask, mr. sim, no, there won't be changes accepted.”

“but mr. choi,” you hear jake, one of the seniors, speak. “i'm sure sunghoon and i would make great parents! look at us, handsome, funny, and very good at ta—”

then there's a loud sound, like a smack on the back of his head. then an “ouch!” coming from jake's mouth.

“seems like mr. park. doesn't agree,” ms. choi laughs, shaking her head. “let's keep going then. now, please, when i call your name, come sit with your partner at the front tables so we can go over the rules together.”

your stomach twists. you hate the idea of group projects. even more if you can't go with one of your friends. even more if you have to interact with a senior, as you don't know any of them personally. you glance sideways at kazuha, who is already giving you a sympathetic look from two seats away.

you watch ms. choi rummaging through the papers of each bowl. then, names started getting called.

“kim sunoo and kang taehyun.”

“nakamura kazuha and kim gaeul”

“huh yunjin and park sunghoon.”

you gasp, and yunjin’s eyes go wide.

park sunghoon is the captain of the football team, the 'popular guy.' he's the acclaimed king of the whole school. he's everything, and he can get everything he wants — for example, permission to celebrate private football events at the the covered courtyard behind the school. and yunjin, the president of the drama club, who had been trying to convince the director for months to be able to perform the christmas play at that exact same spot, can't stand him. at all.

you mouth “good luck” at her while she stands up, shoulders squared like she's heading into battle.

then, more names.

you don't pay attention to them. you just glance around the room, making a quick mental list of every single senior who hasn't been named yet.

you see ningning, one of the head cheerleaders. she isn't exactly mean — in fact, she gifted you her lipstick once, saying 'it suited you better' — but she just doesn't talk too much with others outside her friend group. there's jisung, known for being the president of the dance club. he's charismatic, and, according to yunjin who once shared a class with him, very responsible. he'd make a good partner, you think. even tsuki, the bubbly girl from the art club would be a better partner than some irresponsible football player who only thinks about running behind a ball!

but you hear your name, and time stops.

and then—

“…and park jongseong.”

your heart drops straight to your shoes.

park jongseong.

known as jay.

you know the name, of course. everyone does. senior. football player. not the captain — that's sunghoon — but still one of the core guys. tall, dark hair that always looks a little messy after practice, quiet confidence that makes him stand out without trying. he's sitting two rows behind you, same aisle. you have never once spoken to him. not a single word in your entire high school career.

you hear the scrape of a chair behind you. then footsteps.

when you turn, jay is already walking toward the front tables, hands in the pockets of his school jacket. his expression is calm, almost neutral, unfaced, but you catch the tiniest furrow between his brows. like he's processing the same information you are.

ms. choi points at the two empty seats side by side.

“go ahead and sit together.”

you stand up on autopilot, legs feeling a little unsteady. when you reach the table, jay is already there, pulling out the chair next to his. he doesn’t say anything at first — just gives you a small nod.

you sit.

up close he smells faintly like fresh laundry and the mint gum he probably chewed between classes. his knee accidentally bumps yours under the table and he pulls it back quickly.

“uh… hi,” he says, voice low so only you could hear. “i’m jongseong. but you can call me jay.”

you swallow.

“i know,” you answer, then immediately regret how that sounded. “i mean— hi, nice to meet you.”

he gives you a tiny half-smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “nice to meet you, too.” he pauses, staring at you.

after some seconds, you realize he's waiting for you to introduce yourself. “shit, sorry,” you laugh and tell him your name.

when she finishes making the pairs, ms. choi starts explaining the rules to the whole group again, but you can barely focus. the doll will be handed out first thing monday morning. you and jay will have to figure out a schedule for who takes it home each night. the logbook has to be updated every single time the baby needs care — with timestamps and who did what. if the doll’s “health” drops too low, it affects both your grades. no exceptions, even for football practice or club activities.

“cooperation is the whole point,” ms. choi says cheerfully. “this isn’t about being perfect parents. it’s about learning how to work with someone you might not know.”

you risk a glance at jay. he's listening, jaw set, fingers tapping once against the table. when ms. choi finishes and tells everyone they can talk with their partners for the last ten minutes of class, he turns toward you.

“so… we’re doing this,” he says, almost like he's confirming it to himself.

“yeah,” you breathe. “looks like it.”

an awkward silence stretches for two whole seconds.

“i can take it— well, him? her? i don't know, the baby,” you both laugh. “friday night and saturday next week if you want,” he offers. “i have a game on sunday morning, so i can give you the baby then.”

you nod a little too fast. “that works. i can do sunday night. no problem.”

“cool.”

another pause.

“i think i’ve never actually talked to you before,” he admits quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “sorry if this is weird.”

“it’s okay. i haven’t talked to you either.”

he lets out a short laugh under his breath. “great. we’re starting from zero then.”

the bell rings before either of you could say anything else.

you stand up quickly, slinging your bag over your shoulder. jay does the same, hesitating for half a second like he wants to say more, but then just gives you another small nod.

“see you monday, then.”

“yeah… see you monday, jay.”

you practically run outside the classroom.

the second you step into the hallway, yunjin is already waiting, kazuha and sunoo right behind her like backup.

“oh my god,” yunjin says, eyes sparkling with pure chaos. “you got paired with jay? that jay? senior football jay? he’s on the team with sunghoon, right? you know how much i hate that cocky, arrogant guy. and now i have to deal with him for a whole week because of this stupid doll.” she sighs. “he’s probably going to act like the baby is beneath him or something. i swear if he tries to boss me around i’m going to lose it.”

sunoo grabs your arm, practically bouncing. “i've heard he’s so handsome up close, is that right? did he smell good? tell me he smelled good. but also — taehyun already told me we’re both screwed. he said he doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby, and that we are going to tank the grade if the doll starts crying during his football practice or something.”

“you looked like you were about to pass out when ms. choi called your names.” kazuha is quieter, but her lips are twitching into a smile. “for my part… at least gaeul seems really nice — she’s super calm and organized. we were already talking about making a schedule right away. she even offered to take the first night so i can finish my dance practice.”

you groan, covering your face with both hands. “i literally never talked to him before today. he said ‘hi i’m jay’ like we were meeting for the first time at a funeral. and now i have to figure out nights and weekends with a senior who’s worried about scouts and nationals.”

yunjin laughs loudly. “this is going to be the best week of my life. you should’ve seen sunghoon when he realized it was me. he looked traumatized. good. he deserves it after stealing the courtyard spot from drama club twice.”

the four of you start walking toward the lockers, your friends still peppering you with questions.

meanwhile, on the other side of the building, jay is leaning against the wall outside the senior lockers while his friends immediately swarm him.

jake throws an arm around his shoulders, grinning like an idiot. “dude. you got paired with that quiet junior girl. she seems normal enough.”

“you better get along with her, man. nationals are in three weeks and scouts are coming,” sunghoon raises an eyebrow, arms crossed. “you can’t afford to lose points on some dumb project. if that doll messes with your sleep or makes you miss extra training, your scholarship is on the line.”

taehyun smirks, leaning against the locker. “exactly. i already told sunoo we’re both screwed if you don’t figure out how to keep that thing quiet during practice. coach is not going to care that you’re playing house.”

jay shoves jake’s arm off, but there’s no real heat in it. his ears are a little red.

“shut up. it’s just a project. we’re not even friends. she seems… normal. nice, i guess. i’ll just make a schedule and get through it. i can’t let this mess with training.”

“still,” sunghoon says, more serious now, “make it work with her. we need you sharp for nationals. don’t blow the scholarship over a fake baby.”

jay rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “you guys are the worst. it's just a doll. it can't be that bad, can it?”

still, as he walks toward the parking lot for practice, he can’t stop replaying the short conversation in his head — the way you’d looked a little nervous but tried to play it cool, the soft way you’d said his name.

he shakes the thought away.

it's just a week taking care of a fake baby.

nothing more.

-------

MONDAY. DAY 1:

the alarm on your phone goes off way too early, but you are already wide awake, stomach twisting with nerves. monday morning. baby project day one. you stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror while brushing your teeth, trying to convince yourself it's just a stupid doll. nothing to freak out about. you grab your bag, double-check you have a charger and your notebook, and head to school.

the hallways are louder than usual — everyone buzzing about the pairings from friday. you spot sunoo waving frantically from across the corridor, but you only manage a weak smile before slipping into ms. choi’s classroom.

the seats have been rearranged overnight. instead of the usual rows, there are double desks pushed together. a small sign on the board reads “sit with your assigned partner — no exceptions.”

your eyes find jay immediately. he's already at the desk near the middle, one leg stretched out, scrolling on his phone. his hair looks a little damp from morning practice, and he's wearing the school hoodie with his jersey number on the sleeve. when he notices you, he straightens up and gives you a small nod.

you slide into the seat next to him, bag dropping to the floor with a soft thud.

“good morning, partner,” he says quietly, voice still rough from sleep or maybe from shouting on the field earlier.

“morning,” you reply, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “ready for this?”

“not even a little.” he lets out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “are you?”

“i barely slept. i kept imagining the baby crying at 3 a.m. and my mom killing me.”

before he can answer, ms. choi walks in carrying a stack of papers and a large box that definitely has the babies inside.

“good morning, parents,” she announces cheerfully. the whole class groans. “yes, i said parents. you’re sitting with your partners because today we start officially. first, fill out this information sheet together. it helps you treat the project seriously. you need to know your child before taking care of them.”

she passes the sheets down the rows. you take one and lay it flat between you and jay.

the questions are exactly as expected, printed in neat black ink:

fill out the birth certificate! 1. name of the parents: 2. is your baby male or female? 3. what is their name? 4. how did you pick out the name? 5. include a picture of the baby with each parent!

jay leans closer to read it, his shoulder brushing yours for a second. “okay… so we need a name. any ideas?”

you shrug, trying not to overthink how close he is. “i don’t know. something simple? like… minjun if it’s a boy, or jiwoo if it’s a girl?”

he nods slowly. “jiwoo sounds nice. easy to say when it’s screaming and crying at midnight.”

you both laugh a little, the sound awkward but genuine.

ms. choi starts handing out the dolls one pair at a time. each comes in a soft gray carrier with adjustable straps and a small blanket tucked inside. when she reaches your desk, she places the carrier in front of jay.

“here you go. treat her gently.”

the second the doll leaves ms. choi’s hands, it lets out a loud, realistic wail — high-pitched and demanding.

jay’s eyes go wide. “holy shit—”

he fumbles with the carrier, nearly knocking it over. you react fast, reaching over and gently lifting the doll out. its tiny plastic face scrunched up, mouth open in another cry. you rock it automatically, the way you saw in those parenting videos online over the weekend.

“shh, it’s okay,” you murmur, bouncing it lightly against your shoulder. the crying stops after a few seconds, leaving only soft cooing sounds from the speaker inside.

jay stares at you, impressed and a little relieved. “you’re good at that.”

“i have a cousin who’s two. lots of practice.” you carefully place the doll back in the carrier, adjusting the blanket. “your turn next time it cries, though.”

he gives you a mock salute. “yes, ma’am.”

ms. choi claps to get everyone’s attention again. “now, while you fill out the sheet, i’ll go over the basics. you must bring the baby to class every single day. you also need to cover the basics. feeding: there’s a bottle in the carrier. hold it at the right angle or the sensor won’t register. diapers: the back panel opens — velcro, very simple. burping: pat the back firmly but gently after feeding. the doll will let you know when it’s done. and, in case you were thinking about it, no, mr. sim, the baby is neither a football ball nor a maraca,” some students laugh. “you can't shake it, play with it, or whatever strange things you're thinking about. you'll lose points for that.”

“what if it doesn't stop crying?” kazuha asks.

“well, you can try a lot of things for that! babies get sleepy, hungry, gassy… you never know! you can also try to get others to stop the crying,” she walks as she explains. “however, if it's too much and you just can't stop it, there's a hidden button on the battery's case. if you press it, the baby will shut down completely. however, it'll mean the project is over, and you'll be penalized for that.”

you look at the baby in the carrier. you don't exactly need a good grade, but it'd help you with . a lot. and, according to what jay mentioned the other day, he needs to get his scholarship. and that involves his grades. so… yeah, shutting the baby down early isn't an option.

“any questions?” ms. choi looks around the class.

sunghoon raises his hand from the back. yunjin, by his side, scofs as she tries to calm the baby. “what if it cries during nationals warm-up?”

ms. choi smiles sweetly. “then you learn to multitask, mr. park. life doesn’t stop for football. and miss huh won't be there to help you all the time.”

jay mutters under his breath, “great. exactly what i needed.”

you both turn back to the sheet, grabbing a pen.

you write down your names as the parents' names.

2. is your baby male or female? female 3. what is his/her name? jiwoo 4. how did you pick out the name? we wanted something simple and easy to say when she’s crying at 3 a.m. and we want to bury her in our backyards

you laugh as jay writes. “you can't say that! we're supposed to be loving, responsible parents!” he hands you his pen. you cross it and write down:

5. how did you pick out the name? we wanted something simple and easy to say when she’s crying at 3 a.m. and we want to bury her in our backyards it just felt right 6. include a picture of the baby with each parent!

jay pulls out his phone. “we should take the pictures now so we don’t forget.”

you nod. he holds the carrier between you while you both lean in. the first photo is awkward — you look tense, jay’s smile is too forced. the second picture comes out better: you are smiling softly at the doll, and jay has relaxed, one hand resting on the edge of the carrier like he's already protecting it.

“that one’s good, way better. we look more… parent-like,” he says, showing you the screen. his thumb hovers near your shoulder in the frame.

you feel your cheeks warm. “yeah. send it to me later? so i can print it out and all that.”

“sure, no problem.”

ms. choi continues explaining the logbook app everyone had to download on friday. “update it every single time. who fed, who changed, how long it took. wednesday’s class will be a parent support group — each pair shares one challenge and one win from the first days. be honest.”

the rest of the period passes in a blur of demonstrations. you practice feeding jiwoo with the bottle while jay times it. he changes the first pretend diaper, cursing softly when the doll makes a fussy sound halfway through. by the end, both of you are laughing more than you expected.

when the bell rings, you pack up quickly. jay lifts the carrier.

“i’ll take her first period. you can have her after lunch. is that okay?”

“sounds good.”

you both head for the door. the second you step into the hallway, jiwoo starts crying again — louder this time, like she's testing you.

“oh no—” jay shifts the carrier, trying to rock it while walking. some students turn their heads to stare at both of you.

you took over, bouncing her gently. “shh, jiwoo, it’s okay. we’re right here.”

the crying doesn’t stop. you and jay end up standing against the lockers for a full five minutes, taking turns rocking and patting her back. by the time she quiets, the hallway is almost empty.

“we’re late,” you say, checking your phone.

jay grimaces. “yeah. coach is gonna kill me if this happens during practice later. come on — i’ll walk you to your next class.”

you end up sitting together again in the shared second-period room. you hold the carrier the entire time, heart racing every time jiwoo makes even the smallest sound. jay keeps glancing over, ready to help, but the doll stays quiet. his friends who also share this class — jake and taehyun — are sitting a few rows back and keep whispering jokes you can’t quite hear, but jay shoots them a glare that shuts them up.

lunch is the real test.

you decide to have lunch together. “just in case the baby decides to cry more,” jay says.

you find an empty table near the windows. jay sets the carrier between you, and you both stare at the food on your trays like it's a peace offering.

“so,” he starts, poking at his rice, “how’s your morning been besides the crying?”

“terrifying. i kept thinking she was going to start during the quiz in history.”

he chuckles. “same. i had her during math and she made this little whimper right when i was solving an equation on the board. the whole class turned around.”

before you can reply, jake walks closer, sunghoon and kai trailing behind.

“look at the happy little family,” jake teases, leaning on the table. “jay, you holding up okay? or is the scholarship already crying?”

sunghoon smirks, arms crossed. “don’t drop her during practice, man. coach said no excuses.”

“she’s cute though. jiwoo, right? suits her. loud like you on the field.” kai grins.

jay rolls his eyes but there's no real annoyance. “go away. we’re trying to eat.”

your friends appear seconds later. yunjin slides into the seat next to you, carrying her own baby, eyeing the boys warily.

“everything okay here?” she asks, voice loud enough for them to hear. “need me to scare them off?” she grins. “by the way, sunghoon, sunghoon jr. says he wants his dad to change his diaper. right now.”

“the baby can't even ta—”

“i said right now.” yunjin's expression is serious. sunghoon rolls his eyes but takes the carrier. “he says 'thanks, daddy!'” she smirks.

kazuha sits more gracefully, glancing at the carrier with soft eyes. “she’s quiet now. good job. gaeul has our baby, so i'm off-duty. for now.”

sunoo plops down across from you, already pulling out his phone. “can i take a picture for the group chat? you two look like exhausted parents already.”

“sunoo, no.” you groan, trying to stop him.

but he snaps one anyway, jiwoo sleeping peacefully between you and jay.

the boys eventually wander off after more light teasing, leaving you and jay alone again with your friends hovering protectively nearby.

“they’re not that bad,” you say quietly once they were gone.

jay raises an eyebrow. “they’re idiots. but yeah… they mean well. they're mostly worried about nationals. scouts are coming, and i can’t afford to look sloppy because i’m sleep-deprived from a doll.”

you nod, understanding more than he probably realizes. “that makes sense. i… didn’t know the scholarship part was so serious.”

“it is. football is my way out — better college, better future. my dad travels all the time for work, so it’s mostly on me to make it happen.” he shrugs, but his eyes stay serious. “that’s why i was stressing in class on friday. if this project tanks my focus…”

“we’ll make it work,” you say softly. “i don’t want to mess it up for you either.”

he looks at you then — really looks, like he's trying to decipher something — and his expression softens. “thanks. most people would just complain about the extra work.”

the rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. after lunch, jay takes jiwoo to his remaining classes. you keep checking your phone for updates in the logbook app. he is surprisingly diligent — every feeding and diaper change logged with short notes like “took 8 minutes, she calmed down fast” or “almost dropped the bottle when jake scared me.”

when the final bell rings, you meet him by the main entrance. he is waiting with the carrier slung carefully over one shoulder, looking a little tired but steady.

“hey,” he says. “are you done for the day?”

“yeah.”

he hesitates then, shifting his weight. “look… i drove here today. my car is in the lot. if you want, i can give you a ride home. so you don’t have to take the baby on the bus. it’s probably loud and crowded.”

you blink, surprised. “really? you don’t mind?”

“not at all. plus, it gives us time to figure out the rest of the week’s schedule without rushing.”

you nod before you could overthink it. “okay. thank you.”

the walk to the parking lot is quiet at first. jay carries the carrier the whole way, checking on jiwoo every few steps. his car is a simple black sedan — nothing flashy, but clean inside. he opens the passenger door for you, then carefully places the carrier in the back seat, buckling it in like it was a real child.

once you are both settled and he starts the engine, the silence feels heavier.

“so,” he says after pulling out of the lot, “real talk. how are we actually doing this? i have practice every day after school until six or seven. sometimes later if coach is pushing us for nationals.”

you turn slightly in your seat to face him. “i can take her most school nights if you need to stay late. but weekends might be trickier. you have that sunday match, right?”

“yeah. early morning. i can do saturday daytime if you want the evening.”

you pull out your phone and open the notes app, making a quick shared schedule. “okay… you take friday night and saturday like we said. i’ll do sunday night. then we can switch off during the week depending on practice.”

he glances over at you, one hand on the wheel. “you’re really organized about this.”

“i overthink everything,” you admit with a small laugh. “plus, i don’t want to be the reason you lose sleep before scouts come.”

jay is quiet for a moment, eyes on the road. “i thought you’d be annoyed getting paired with some random football guy. most juniors don’t really talk to us.”

“i thought you’d be annoyed getting paired with a quiet junior who doesn’t know anything about football.”

he smiles at that — a real one this time, small but warm. “you’re not what i expected.”

“what did you expect?”

“someone who’d complain the whole time. or… try to flirt to make it less awkward.” he shrugs. “instead you’re just… calm. you calmed jiwoo down like it was nothing this morning.”

you feel your face heat up. “i was panicking inside.”

“it didn’t show.”

the conversation flows easier after that. he tells you about how he moved here four years ago, how football became his main focus because it gave him structure when his dad was always traveling. you share how your parents work long shifts, so you are used to handling things on your own. how your small friend group — yunjin, kazuha, sunoo — is basically your second family.

“yunjin’s already plotting how to survive sunghoon,” you say, laughing. “she keeps saying he’s going to act like the baby is a football he can just hand off.”

jay chuckles. “sunghoon’s actually decent when he’s not being captain mode. he’s just stressed too. we all are. scholarship stuff hits different when you’re the one who has to make it happen.”

you nod. “i get that. i’m not on any big path like that, but i still stress about grades and what comes after high school. this project feels like a sneak peek at how messy real life is.”

“exactly.” he pauses at a red light and looks over at you. “thanks for not making it weird. or at least… for making the weird parts manageable.”

“same. i thought you’d be all stuck-up jock energy. but you’re actually… nice. and you care about the project even if it’s because of football.”

he rubs the back of his neck again, a habit you are starting to notice. “yeah. can’t let a doll ruin my shot. but… it’s not just that anymore. it’s kind of fun figuring it out with you.”

the light turns green. he drives on, but the air in the car feels lighter somehow.

when he pulls up in front of your house, he parks but doesn’t unlock the doors right away.

“i’ll text you the log updates tonight if she wakes up. and… thanks for the ride. seriously.”

“anytime.” he reaches back and carefully hands you the carrier. jiwoo is sleeping soundly. “see you tomorrow.”

“see you tomorrow, jay.”

you step out, carrier in hand, and watch him drive away. your heart is beating a little faster than usual, but not from panic this time.

maybe this week won’t be so bad after all.

-------

TUESDAY. DAY 2:

the soft glow of your phone screen cuts through the darkness of your room at exactly 2:07 a.m. jiwoo’s cry blares through the speaker — sharp, insistent, and way too real for a plastic doll. you groan, rolling over and fumbling to grab her from the carrier beside your bed. your eyes are blurry, your hair is a mess, and every muscle protests as you sit up.

“shh, jiwoo, please,” you whisper, rocking her gently against your shoulder while you tap the feeding button on the app. the doll quiets for a few seconds, then starts up again. you try burping her next, patting her back with careful, practiced motions. it takes almost fifteen minutes before the crying finally stops and the logbook updates with a green checkmark.

you snap a quick screenshot of the timestamp and the note you type in — “2:12 a.m. — fed and burped, took 14 minutes, i handled it” — and send it to jay with a simple text.

you: jiwoo decided 2 a.m. was party time. screenshot attached. hope you’re sleeping better than me.

no reply. his status shows “last seen 11:47 p.m.” he is probably dead asleep after practice. you sigh, set the phone down, and try to drift off again, but jiwoo fusses twice more before your alarm finally goes off at 6:30 a.m. by the time you drag yourself out of bed, you feel like you have already lived a full day.

the morning air is crisp as you walk to school, carrier strapped across your chest like a tired parent. jiwoo stays mercifully quiet for the walk, but your eyes are heavy. you spot your friends near the main gate and wave weakly.

kazuha stands there first, her posture still graceful even with dark circles under her eyes and the carrier holding baby eunchae balanced on her hip. she offers you a small, exhausted smile.

“morning,” she says softly. “or… whatever this is.”

you let out a tired laugh. “exactly. jiwoo woke me at 2 a.m. and then again at 4. how’s eunchae?”

kazuha adjusts the blanket around her doll. “she was perfect until 3:30. gaeul texted me the whole time though. she said she'll take her tonight so we take turns. she’s really good at this. we even made a shared playlist of lullabies last night.”

sunoo appears next, practically dragging his feet, baby carrier slung over one shoulder like it weighs a thousand pounds. his usually bright face looks pale and puffy.

“taehyun is the worst,” he announces dramatically, flopping against the wall beside you. “he had the baby last night and barely slept. he texted me at 1 a.m. saying ‘how do you make it stop’ with like ten crying emojis. i had to walk him through feeding and burping over voice notes while half-asleep. this morning he looked like a zombie in the hallway and told me we’re both going to fail if this keeps up.”

you wince in sympathy. “at least he tried. jay didn’t even answer my text at 2 a.m. since he was probably dead asleep.”

yunjin storms up last, her carrier bouncing with every angry step. baby sunghoon jr. — he had insisted on the name yesterday just to annoy her — is tucked inside, quiet for once.

“that idiot sunghoon,” she starts immediately, voice rising. “he promised he’d meet me right at the school door this morning to take the baby for first period. i waited five whole minutes like an idiot while sunghoon jr. started fussing. nothing. no text, no sign of him. when i finally found him near the lockers he just shrugged and said ‘practice ran late, sorry.’ sorry? i had drama rehearsal notes to review! i’m so tired i could cry, and he’s acting like the baby is not a demonic object capable of breaking your eardrums.” she huffs, crossing her arms. “we’re supposed to be a team and he’s already dropping the ball. literally.”

kazuha places a gentle hand on yunjin’s shoulder. “i mean… at least you got through the night. gaeul and i split everything evenly. it actually felt… nice? like we were figuring it out together.”

sunoo nods, yawning widely. “taehyun kept apologizing in the chat this morning. he said he’ll take extra nights this week to make up for it. still, i feel like a single parent already.”

you adjust jiwoo’s blanket, smiling tiredly at their complaints. “jay at least offered to take her during his morning classes. but yeah… 2 a.m. hits different when you have to be functional by 8.”

the four of you stand there for a few more minutes, trading war stories like exhausted parents at a playground. yunjin keeps muttering threats about making sunghoon do all the night shifts, sunoo dramatically reenacts taehyun’s panicked voice notes, and kazuha quietly suggests making a group chat just for “surviving the project” tips. the conversation feels comforting in its shared misery, and for a moment the weight of the carrier on your chest feels a little lighter.

the morning classes drag. you sit with jay in mr. kim’s room, but he arrives a minute late, hair still messy from rushing. he slides into the seat beside you, eyes apologetic.

“sorry about last night,” he whispers as soon as mr. kim starts talking. “i crashed hard after evening practice. saw your text this morning — you handled it like a pro.”

you shrug, keeping your voice low. “it’s fine. she settled eventually. how did your night go?”

“pretty good, slept a lot. but… i took care of everything on the app. when you fed jiwoo, when you changed her, the whole thing. logged it all.” he pulls out his phone and shows you the app. “see? i even added a note that you did the 2 a.m. burping.”

you smile despite the tiredness. “thanks. teamwork, i guess.”

he nods, but his expression turns more serious. “i’m trying not to let this mess with training. coach already warned us about distractions before nationals.”

throughout the rest of the morning, your phone buzzes every so often with texts from jay.

jay: she’s being good in history. just made a small fuss during the quiz but i rocked her under the desk.

you: lucky. she’s sleeping now but i keep checking the health score every five minutes.

jay: same. we’re at 92%. not bad for day two.

jay: by the way, are you free after lunch? i have optional practice at 1 but i can skip if we need to handle something.

the messages feel easy, almost natural now. you catch yourself smiling at your screen more than once.

right before lunch ends, disaster strikes. you check the app while walking to your next class and freeze. jiwoo’s health score has dropped sharply to 76%. a red warning flashes: “baby showing signs of illness — needs immediate care and rest.”

your stomach sinks. you text jay quickly.

you: jiwoo’s sick. health at 76%. what do we do?

jay: meet me at the lockers after the bell. we’ll figure it out.

when you reach the spot, he is already there, carrier in hand even though it is your turn. his face is focused, brows drawn together.

“the app says she needs quiet time and extra feedings today,” he explains, voice low. “if we ignore it, the score keeps dropping. i already told coach i’m skipping the 1 p.m. optional session. i’ll make it up at the 6 p.m. full practice — extra sprints or whatever he wants.”

you bite your lip. “i was supposed to go to foreign language club. but i can skip too. we can take her somewhere quiet.”

he nods, relieved. “music room is usually empty after lunch. let’s go there.”

the two of you spend the next hour tucked away in the small practice room at the end of the arts hallway. jiwoo fusses on and off, but you take turns holding her, feeding her the special “medicine” drops from the kit, and logging every action. jay sits cross-legged on the floor beside you, back against the wall, gently rocking the carrier with one foot while you update the logbook.

“this feels weirdly real,” you murmur after a while, watching jiwoo’s lights finally shift back toward green. “like we’re actually worried about her getting better.”

jay chuckles softly, running a hand through his hair. “tell me about it. i keep thinking if her score drops too low it’s going to look bad on my record. but also… i don’t want to let you down either.”

you glance at him, surprised by how honest he sounds. “you’re not. we’re both trying.”

he offers a small smile. “yeah. we are.”

by the time the health score climbs back to 89%, the afternoon is half gone. you both head to your separate classes, but the shared worry lingers like a quiet thread between you.

after school, jay finds you near the exit.

“practice is at 6,” he says, shifting the carrier to you. “but come watch if you can? the field’s open. you can bring jiwoo and hand her off to me after. that way i get some time with her before the real session starts, and you don’t have to wait around alone.”

you hesitate only a second. “okay. i’ll be there.”

the bleachers are mostly empty when you arrive, just a few other students scattered around. you sit a few rows up, carrier beside you, watching the team warm up. jay spots you almost immediately and jogs over during a water break, sweaty and breathing hard but grinning.

“you came,” he says, wiping his face with the bottom of his jersey. up close you notice the way his shoulders look broader in the practice gear, the small scar on his nose you had never noticed before.

“figured it was only fair after you skipped optional practice for her,” you reply, carefully handing over the carrier. jiwoo is quiet for now, lulled by the fresh air.

he takes her gently, adjusting the straps like he has done it a hundred times already. “thanks. i’ll bring her back after this set. coach is letting me sit out the last drills if i do extra conditioning later.”

you watch as he jogs back to the field, carrier carefully set down near the bench where the manager can keep an eye on it. the boys notice immediately. jake yells something teasing across the grass, sunghoon shakes his head with a smirk, but jay just flips them off without missing a beat. seeing him balance football and the doll makes something warm settle in your chest.

practice runs long, but right at 7:30 jay waves you down. he is breathing heavily, hair sticking to his forehead, but he looks energized rather than exhausted.

“we’re done for now,” he says, slinging his duffel over one shoulder and taking the carrier with the other. “my house is closer than yours. do you wanna come over? my mom’s home and she’s been dying to see the baby everyone’s talking about. plus we can eat something real before i drive you back.”

you agree before the nerves can talk you out of it. the walk to his car is short, and soon you are pulling up to a neat two-story house on a quiet street. jay parks in the driveway and kills the engine.

“warning — my mom is going to be excited,” he says with a sheepish smile. “my dad is traveling again, so it’s just us.”

the second you step inside, the smell of something warm and savory greets you. mrs. park appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, eyes lighting up the moment she sees the carrier.

“oh my goodness, you must be her!” she exclaims, voice bright and welcoming. “jay told me all about the project. come in, come in. and this must be little jiwoo!”

she coos over the doll immediately, asking to hold the carrier while you both take off your shoes. jay watches with an embarrassed but fond expression, rubbing the back of his neck.

“mom, please stop acting like that's a real baby. and please, don’t scare her away on day two.”

“nonsense. this is my grandaughter now. and that poor girl is already surviving parenting with you — i'm sure she’s tough.” mrs. park winks at you. “you two look exhausted. sit down. i’ll heat up some ramen. real food, not that cafeteria stuff.”

jay leads you to the living room, where you both collapse onto the couch. he takes jiwoo for a bit, rocking her absently while you text your friends quick updates. the house feels lived-in and comfortable — football trophies on a shelf, family photos on the wall, a stack of textbooks on the coffee table.

“this is nice,” you say quietly, watching him with the baby. “different from school.”

he glances up, a softer look in his eyes. “yeah. at school everyone sees the football guy. here it’s just… me trying to cook the best ramen ever.”

true to his word, he heads to the kitchen a few minutes later and returns with two steaming bowls of instant ramen, perfectly prepared with an egg and green onions on top. he sets one in front of you, then sits close enough that your knees almost touch, still holding jiwoo in one arm.

“here. eat before she decides it’s crying time again.”

you take the bowl gratefully, the warmth spreading through your tired body. “thank you. seriously. i didn’t expect any of this today.”

he shrugs, but his smile is genuine. “neither did i. but it’s not so bad having someone to do this with. makes the scholarship stress feel a little less heavy.”

you talk while you eat — about his upcoming match, your favorite subjects, the way yunjin is plotting revenge on sunghoon, how taehyun apparently sang lullabies badly over voice note last night. jay laughs more freely here, in his own space, the reserved jock facade melting away into someone thoughtful and a little shy when he catches you watching him.

after dinner, mrs. park insists on taking a photo of the three of you — you, jay, and jiwoo — for her own memories. jay protests half-heartedly but ends up smiling anyway.

when it is finally time to leave, he drives you home through the quiet streets, windows down just enough to let in the cool evening air. jiwoo sleeps in the back the whole way.

“thanks for today,” he says as he pulls up to your house. “skipping practice, coming over… all of it. i know it’s extra for you.”

you unbuckle, turning to face him. “i wanted to. you're… pretty nice, actually.”

he meets your eyes, something soft and new flickering there. “you’re pretty nice, too.”

the moment stretches for a second longer than it should. then jiwoo makes a small sound in her sleep and the spell breaks.

“text me when you get her settled tonight,” you say quietly.

“i will. goodnight, sleep well.”

“night. try to sleep.” you laugh softly.

you step out and walk toward your house, watching his taillights disappear down the street. your heart feels fuller than it did this morning, the exhaustion mixed with a quiet, growing warmth. day two is over, but something between you and jay has quietly begun to shift — slow, steady, and surprisingly real.

-------

WEDNESDAY. DAY 3:

the morning light filters through your curtains as you get ready for school, jiwoo’s carrier already waiting by the door from last night’s hand-off. jay had taken her after he dropped you home yesterday, and you had fallen asleep surprisingly fast, knowing she was with him. your phone buzzes with a single text from him at 7:12 a.m.

jay: on my way to school. jiwoo survived the night. barely. see you in class.

you smile at the message, a tiny flutter in your chest that you quickly brush off as leftover tiredness. you grab your bag and head out, the carrier feeling lighter today for some reason.

when you walk into ms. choi’s classroom for first period, jay is already there, slumped a little in his seat at your assigned double desk. his eyes have dark circles underneath, his hair is messier than usual, and he is rubbing his face with both hands like he can wipe the exhaustion away. the carrier sits between your spots, jiwoo quiet inside for now.

you slide into the chair next to him, setting your bag down gently.

“morning,” you say softly, studying his face. “you look… really tired.”

he lets out a low chuckle, voice rough and sleepy. “yeah. i didn’t sleep much. jiwoo decided 1:30 a.m., 3:45 a.m., and 5:20 a.m. were all perfect times to scream. i fed her, changed her, burped her — the whole routine. at one point i had to knock on my mom’s door and ask for backup because she wouldn’t settle. mom rocked her for like twenty minutes while i logged everything.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “why didn’t you text me? i could’ve talked you through it or at least stayed up with you over messages.”

jay shakes his head, offering a small, genuine smile that makes the tiredness in his eyes soften. “i thought about it. but you handled the 2 a.m. shift on monday night, and you have her all day today. i wanted you to actually sleep. you’ve been good about this whole thing — didn’t seem fair to drag you into another rough night when i could handle it.”

you feel a warm pull in your chest at his words, something gentle and considerate that you hadn’t expected from the quiet football senior. “that’s… really sweet of you. but next time, text me anyway. we’re supposed to be a team, right?”

he nods, leaning back in his chair. “yeah. a team. i’ll remember that.”

before you can say more, ms. choi claps her hands at the front of the room, her usual bright energy filling the space. the desks are arranged in a loose circle today, pairs sitting side by side.

“good morning, everyone! welcome to our first parent support group session. today we’re going to share — honestly — one challenge and one win from the first two days of the project. no sugarcoating. this is about learning how to communicate and support each other through real-life messiness. we’ll go around the circle. volunteers first, or i’ll pick.”

the room fills with a mix of groans and nervous laughs. sunoo raises his hand immediately, looking like he has been waiting to vent.

ms. choi nods at him. “kim sunoo and kang taehyun — go ahead.”

sunoo sighs dramatically, gesturing to taehyun who sits beside him with equally tired eyes. “our challenge is that we’re both terrible at this and might actually fail. taehyun had her monday night and texted me panicked voice notes because he couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t stop crying. i had to guide him like a customer service rep at 1 a.m. last night she woke up three times and we both barely slept. we’re worried we won’t make it to the end of the week without the health score tanking.”

taehyun rubs the back of his neck, adding in his calm but deadpan voice, “yeah. the challenge is sleep deprivation and my complete lack of baby instincts. the win is… we’re still at 84% health and we haven’t thrown the doll out the window yet. small victories.”

the class laughs lightly. ms. choi smiles encouragingly. “honest. good. next?”

yunjin jumps in without waiting, her voice sharp but tired. baby sunghoon jr. rests in the carrier between her and sunghoon, who looks mildly guilty.

“challenge: my partner thinks the baby is an optional accessory he can pick up when it fits his football schedule,” yunjin says, shooting sunghoon a pointed look. “he promised to meet me at the door yesterday morning and didn’t show. i waited, the baby fussed, and i had to handle it alone before rehearsal. he’s great on the field but apparently coordination off it is a struggle.”

sunghoon clears his throat, voice low. “challenge accepted. i messed up the hand-off. win is that last night i took a night shift so she could sleep, and the health score actually went up. we’re learning… slowly.”

yunjin huffs but there’s a tiny reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “fine. that part was decent.”

next come kazuha and gaeul. kazuha speaks first, her voice calm and measured as always.

“our challenge was the random crying during my dance practice yesterday, but we worked around it. win is that we actually enjoy teaming up. gaeul is super organized — we made a shared calendar and even a playlist of soft songs for when the baby gets fussy. health score is at 95%. it feels nice working together.”

gaeul nods, smiling warmly at kazuha. “exactly. no big drama, just steady progress. we’re both getting better at reading the cues.”

more pairs share — some funny stories about dolls crying in the middle of tests, others about late-night arguments over whose turn it was. then ms. choi’s eyes land on you and jay.

“go ahead — your turn.”

you glance at jay. he gives you a small nod, like it’s okay if you start. you take a breath.

“challenge… the nights are harder than i thought. jiwoo woke me at 2 a.m. monday, and jay had a rough one last night too. we’re both tired, and balancing it with classes and his football schedule is tricky. but the win is that we’re actually communicating. he skipped optional practice yesterday to help when she got ‘sick,’ and we got the health score back up together. we’re… managing. better than i expected.”

jay leans forward slightly, voice steady but quieter than usual because of how worn out he is.

“yeah. challenge is the sleep and making sure this doesn’t mess with nationals prep — scouts are watching. win is she’s really good at calming jiwoo down fast, and she’s been flexible with the schedule even when i have practice. we’re figuring it out as a team. health at 89% this morning. not perfect, but we’re not failing.”

ms. choi nods approvingly. “honest and balanced. that’s what this is about — supporting each other when life gets busy. good work, you two.”

the support group wraps up with a few more pairs, and then ms. choi reviews some tips for the rest of the week. the rest of the morning feels lighter after the sharing session. you and jay sit together in the next class, trading quiet comments about the other pairs’ stories. he looks less weighed down now that he has talked about the rough night.

lunch arrives, and instead of sitting with your separate friends, you both naturally head to the same table near the windows again. jay carries the carrier this time, setting it carefully between you. jiwoo stays mostly quiet, and he handles a small fuss with surprising ease — rocking her gently while you unpack your food.

“you’re getting really good at that,” you say, watching him pat her back with the right rhythm.

he shrugs, but there is a small proud smile on his lips. “practice makes perfect, i guess. last night was rough, but this morning she only cried once and settled fast when i fed her. mom helped with tips too — she said i was holding her too tense at first.”

you laugh softly. “your mom seemed really excited about the project yesterday.”

“she is. keeps asking for updates like it’s a real grandkid.” he pauses, glancing at you. “she liked you, by the way. said you seem kind and level-headed. high praise from her.”

your cheeks warm a little at that. “tell her thanks. the ramen was good too.”

the conversation flows easily over lunch — about how sunoo and taehyun are dramatically bonding over their shared exhaustion, how yunjin is slowly warming up to sunghoon despite her complaints, and how kazuha and gaeul make the whole thing look effortless. jay talks a bit more about football, the pressure of the upcoming match, and how skipping optional practice yesterday actually made him focus better in the evening session because he wasn’t resenting the project.

“it’s weird,” he admits, taking a bite of his food. “i thought this would be a total distraction, but having someone to share the load with makes it feel less like a chore.”

you nod, feeling those small butterflies again as you watch him interact with jiwoo. “same. i was nervous about being paired with a senior i didn’t know, but you’re… easy to talk to.”

he meets your eyes for a moment, something soft flickering there before he looks back at the carrier. “you too.”

the afternoon classes pass without any major jiwoo meltdowns. you take her for most of them while jay attends his, but he texts you updates and silly memes about tired parents whenever he can. by the final bell, the day feels surprisingly nice — productive, calm, and warmer than the chaotic start of the week.

as you pack up for the last class of the day, jay appears beside your locker.

“i’ll walk you,” he says simply, taking the carrier from you even though it is your turn.

you blink. “it’s out of your way though. your class is on the other side of the building.”

he shrugs, adjusting the straps on his shoulder. “doesn’t matter. we can talk a bit more. plus, jiwoo’s been good all afternoon — i want to make sure she stays that way until the hand-off.”

you fall into step beside him, the hallway buzzing around you but feeling distant. the conversation stays light — favorite snacks for late-night study sessions, funny stories from his team practices, how you and your friends sometimes do convenience store runs at midnight. every so often his arm brushes yours when he shifts the carrier, and each time a small spark of butterflies flutters in your stomach.

when you reach the door of your classroom, he stops and hands the carrier back carefully.

“here. she’s all yours for the rest of the day. text me if she gives you trouble.”

you take it, fingers brushing his for a brief second. “thanks for walking me. and for last night… even if you didn’t text.”

he smiles, that half-smile that is becoming familiar. “anytime. see you tomorrow.”

“see you tomorrow, jay.”

you watch him walk away down the hallway, shoulders a little straighter despite the tiredness. as you step into class and sit down, the butterflies linger — quiet, unexpected, but definitely there. the project is forcing you two to spend time together, but the way he chose to let you sleep, the way he walks you even when it is inconvenient, the easy conversations… it is starting to feel like more than just a shared grade.

wednesday ends on a gentle note, the kind that leaves you replaying small moments in your head long after the final bell.

-------

THURSDAY. DAY 4:

the night passes smoother than the previous ones. jiwoo only wakes you once, around 1:40 a.m., with a short, fussy cry that you handle quickly. you feed her, burp her, and rock her back to sleep in under ten minutes, logging everything neatly in the app before crawling back under the covers. when your alarm goes off in the morning you actually feel somewhat rested — a small win that makes the walk to school feel lighter.

you meet jay at the usual spot outside ms. choi’s classroom. he looks better today, the dark circles under his eyes faded a bit, and he gives you a genuine smile when he sees you approaching with the carrier.

“morning,” he says, voice still a little husky from sleep. “how was she last night?”

“surprisingly good,” you reply, handing the carrier over for his morning classes. “only one wake-up and she settled fast. i think we’re getting the hang of her patterns.”

he nods, adjusting the straps carefully. “that’s a relief. i had a decent night too after the rough one yesterday. thanks for taking the full shift today — practice is going to be brutal later.”

the morning classes go by without any major incidents. jiwoo stays mostly calm in your care, and jay texts you occasional updates from his side, including a funny photo of her “sleeping” on his desk during a break. the shared logbook fills with small notes back and forth, and the health score hovers steadily in the high 80s.

by the time lunch ends and afternoon classes begin, the schedule clash becomes obvious. jay has mandatory football practice starting at 6 p.m. — right when jiwoo’s app starts giving warning beeps about needing attention. you check your phone during the last period and see the health score dipping slightly. you make a quick decision.

after the final bell, you grab the carrier and head straight to the football field instead of going home. the late afternoon sun is warm on your back as you walk across the grass, the distant sound of whistles and shouts growing louder. a few players are already warming up, stretching and jogging drills.

you spot jay near the bench, helmet off, talking to coach. he turns when he hears footsteps and his face lights up the moment he sees you — eyes widening slightly, shoulders relaxing, a bright, surprised smile breaking across his face.

“hey,” he calls, jogging over immediately. sweat already dots his forehead, and his practice jersey clings a little to his chest. “you came all the way here?”

you shrug, trying to play it casual even as your heart does a small flip at how happy he looks. “the app said she needs care soon, and your practice clashes. figured i’d bring her so you can take a turn during water break. didn’t want the score to drop because of timing.”

he takes the carrier gently from you, his fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary. “you’re a lifesaver. seriously. coach is strict about focus today, but water breaks are every twenty minutes. i can handle her then.”

before you can respond, sunghoon and jake wander over, helmets tucked under their arms, matching grins already forming.

“well, well,” jake says, voice loud and teasing. “look who decided to bring the baby to practice. jay, you lighting up like that when she shows up? that’s new.”

sunghoon crosses his arms, smirking as he eyes the way jay is carefully adjusting the carrier on his own shoulder. “yeah. i’ve never seen you smile that big during warm-ups. usually you’re all focused and grumpy. now one junior with a doll shows up and suddenly you’re glowing.”

jay rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears turn pink. “shut up. we actually care about this project. unlike some captains who can’t even meet their partner at the door on time.”

sunghoon laughs, not bothered. “touché. but seriously, man — you two are starting to look like actual parents showing up to support each other. it’s cute.”

jake wiggles his eyebrows. “cute and dangerous for your focus. coach is gonna notice if you keep glancing at the bleachers every five seconds.”

jay shoves jake’s shoulder lightly, but he is smiling despite himself. “you two are the worst. go run laps or something.”

the teasing intensifies for a few more seconds until coach blows the whistle, calling everyone back to drills. jay hands the carrier back to you for now, giving you a quick, grateful nod.

“i’ll come find you at the next water break. thanks again for coming.”

you find a spot on the lower bleachers, close enough to watch but not in the way. practice is intense — sprints, tackling dummies, passing routes. you keep an eye on jiwoo, feeding her when she starts to fuss and logging it right away. the health score climbs back up steadily.

during the first water break, jay jogs straight over, breathing hard, grabbing his bottle with one hand while reaching for the carrier with the other. he handles jiwoo with surprising gentleness for someone who just finished running drills, rocking her lightly while taking quick sips of water.

“is she good?” he asks between breaths, sweat dripping down his temple.

“yeah. she calmed down fast when i fed her. you’re getting really natural with her now.”

he grins, tired but proud. “thanks to you. team effort, remember?”

the break ends too soon, and he hands her back before jogging off again. you watch him rejoin the team, noticing how sunghoon claps him on the back and says something that makes jay shake his head with a laugh.

the second water break comes, and this time ningning — one of the head cheerleaders — walks over just as jay approaches you. she is in her practice uniform, ponytail swinging, bright smile on her face. she stops right beside jay, barely glancing at you or the baby.

“hey jay,” ningning says, voice sweet and flirty, tilting her head. “you looked really good out there today. that last route you ran? impressive. maybe after practice you can show me some tips? i’ve been wanting to get better at… coordination.”

she steps a little closer, ignoring the carrier in your hands and the way jay is clearly focused on you. a tiny, unexpected spark of jealousy flares in your chest — sharp and warm at the same time. you hate how it feels, but you can’t stop it. ningning is confident, popular, the type who fits perfectly with the football crowd. you are just… you, standing here with a fake baby like an awkward parent.

jay barely hesitates. he shifts closer to you, one hand lightly touching the edge of the carrier as if to anchor himself.

“thanks, ningning, but i’m good,” he says politely but firmly, voice steady. “i've got practice, then i have to handle this project with her. we’re kind of busy with the baby schedule.”

ningning’s smile falters for a second, her eyes flicking to you and then to jiwoo. “oh… right. the doll thing. well, if you change your mind later—”

“i won’t,” jay cuts in gently but clearly, offering her a small nod. “but good luck with your cheer stuff.”

she walks away with a little wave, but the flirtation is obviously shut down. jay turns back to you immediately, expression softening.

“sorry about that,” he says quietly, taking the carrier again for the last few minutes of his break. “she’s always like that. doesn’t mean anything.”

you swallow, the jealousy fading as quickly as it came, replaced by a warmer flutter. “it’s fine. you didn’t have to… i mean, you could’ve talked to her.”

he shakes his head, looking at you directly. “nah. we’re doing this together. plus, i’d rather figure out how to keep jiwoo’s score up than worry about cheer tips right now.”

coach’s whistle blows again. jay hands the carrier back, his fingers brushing yours once more.

“stay if you can? after practice i’ll drive you home again — unless you have plans.”

you nod, heart beating a little faster. “i’ll stay.”

the rest of practice drags on, but you find yourself watching jay more than the drills — the way he moves with focus and energy, the quick smiles he shoots toward the bleachers when he thinks you are looking. when practice finally ends, he jogs over, hair damp with sweat, grabbing his bag and the carrier in one smooth motion.

“ready?” he asks, voice tired but content.

“yeah.”

as you walk toward the parking lot together, the teasing from sunghoon and jake echoes faintly behind you — “look at the happy family leaving together!” — but jay just laughs it off, shoulder bumping yours lightly.

thursday leaves you with a quiet realization: the jealousy you felt was small, but real. and the way jay shut it down without hesitation makes those butterflies feel a little stronger, a little harder to ignore.

-------

FRIDAY. DAY 5:

the night slips by in a haze of quiet routine. jiwoo wakes only once, around midnight, with a soft whimper that you soothe almost instantly. you rock her against your shoulder in the dark, whispering nonsense words until she settles, the carrier lights blinking green again. the logbook entry feels routine now — “12:07 a.m. quick rock and burp, settled in 4 minutes.” you fall back asleep faster than you have all week, the exhaustion from earlier days softening into something almost manageable. when morning comes, the house is quiet, your parents already gone for their shifts, and you feel a strange sense of calm as you prepare for school.

friday had left a lingering warmth in your chest — the way jay had shut down ningning so quickly at the field, the easy way he had handed jiwoo back with that soft half-smile, the texts that kept coming even after practice. you catch yourself replaying those moments while you walk to school, the carrier light on your chest. your friends are waiting at the gate again, their faces a mix of tired smiles and dramatic sighs.

“jiwoo was an angel last night,” you tell them, adjusting the blanket. “only one wake-up and it was over fast. i actually got decent sleep.”

kazuha nods, her own carrier steady. “same with eunchae. gaeul and i are in a good rhythm now. she even sent me a good-morning text with a lullaby suggestion.”

sunoo groans theatrically but grins. “taehyun took her again and only panicked once. he’s starting to brag about his burping technique. it’s cute in a chaotic way.”

yunjin crosses her arms, though her eyes sparkle with reluctant amusement. “sunghoon actually texted me at 11 p.m. asking if the baby needed anything before he crashed. progress? maybe. but he still calls her ‘the tiny distraction’ when he thinks i’m not listening.”

the conversation flows easily as you all head inside, trading more stories about night shifts and health scores. the shared exhaustion has bonded the group in a way that feels almost familial now, and you laugh more than you complain. the morning classes pass in a blur of notes and occasional glances at your phone. jay texts you a couple of times from his own classes — short updates on jiwoo’s schedule and a silly meme about sleep-deprived parents that makes you smile in the middle of english.

by the time lunch arrives, you meet him at the usual table near the windows. he looks focused but relaxed, the carrier already between you as he rocks it gently with one foot while eating.

“was she good for you last night?” he asks, voice low so the nearby tables don’t overhear.

you nod, taking a bite of your food. “yeah, really calm. only one quick fuss. you?”

“perfect. slept straight through after practice. thanks for handling the full day yesterday — it helped a lot with an essay i had to hand today.” he leans in a little closer, eyes meeting yours. “we’re actually doing okay with this, aren’t we?”

the question feels heavier than it should, laced with something unspoken. you feel the tension from yesterday’s field visit linger in the air between you — the teasing from his friends, the way he had chosen to stay focused on the project, on you. “yeah,” you reply softly. “better than i expected. you’re not as bad at the dad thing as you thought.”

he chuckles, the sound warm and low. “don’t give me too much credit yet. tonight’s my full night with her, right? after practice.”

you confirm the schedule you had texted earlier. practice is running late again — coach pushing hard for nationals — so it will end around 8 p.m. jay offers to pick you up from your house once he’s done, since he will be taking jiwoo for the night anyway. the idea of seeing him after dark, outside of school, sends a quiet thrill through you that you try to ignore.

the afternoon drags a little, jiwoo staying mostly cooperative in your classes. you update the logbook diligently, and jay keeps the texts coming — casual questions about your day, a photo of his lunch tray with a caption about missing “family lunch,” and a reminder about the pickup. each message builds the tension a little more, the easy rhythm between you feeling less like a forced project and more like something you both look forward to.

when the final bell rings, you head home, jiwoo in the carrier. you do homework, help with a few chores, and wait for the evening to unfold. around 8:15 your phone buzzes.

jay: just finished. showered quick. heading your way now. still okay if i pick you up?

you reply instantly. the wait feels longer than it is, your heart picking up pace when headlights finally sweep across your driveway. you grab the carrier — jiwoo quiet and ready for the hand-off — and step outside. jay’s car idles at the curb, him leaning over to open the passenger door from inside.

“hey,” he says as you slide in, the familiar scent of his mint gum and fresh laundry filling the small space. he looks tired from practice but his eyes brighten when they land on you and the carrier. “she been good?”

“perfect,” you answer, buckling in while he carefully takes the carrier and secures it in the back. “how was practice?”

“brutal but good. coach had us running extra for conditioning. nationals nerves are real.” he pulls away from the curb, the streetlights casting soft shadows across his face. “i was thinking… instead of just dropping you off right away, do you want to grab dinner somewhere? nothing fancy — there’s that 24-hour diner a few blocks from here. we can eat quick, update the log together, and then i’ll take her for the night.”

the invitation catches you off guard in the best way. the tension that has been building all week — the shared glances, the protective way he handled ningning, the easy conversations — tightens in your chest. “yeah,” you say, trying to keep your voice casual. “that sounds good. i’m actually hungry.”

he smiles, that small half-smile that makes the butterflies stir stronger. “cool. my treat. you’ve been carrying a lot of the load this week.”

the drive is short, filled with light talk about practice drills and your last class quiz. jay parks near the diner, a cozy spot with neon signs and the smell of burgers and coffee drifting out. he insists on carrying the carrier inside, his free hand brushing yours accidentally as you walk through the door. the place is half-empty at this hour, soft music playing in the background.

you slide into a booth across from each other, the carrier placed carefully on the seat beside you. a waitress drops off menus and water, cooing briefly at jiwoo before taking your orders — simple burgers, fries, and shakes for both of you.

conversation flows naturally at first. jay talks more about the scholarship pressure, how scouts will be at the sunday match, and how the project has surprisingly helped him manage stress by forcing him to schedule everything better. you share stories about your friends’ drama — yunjin slowly softening with sunghoon, sunoo and taehyun turning their panic into a running joke. the food arrives warm and comforting, and you both eat while taking turns glancing at jiwoo, who stays peacefully asleep.

halfway through the meal, an older woman at the next table leans over, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the carrier. she has kind wrinkles around her eyes and a gentle smile.

“oh, what a beautiful little family,” she says warmly, clasping her hands. “you two look so young to have such a precious baby. how old is she?”

the question hangs in the air. you open your mouth to correct her — “oh, no, she’s not real, it’s a school project” — but jay speaks first, his voice smooth and playful, leaning into the moment with surprising ease.

“she’s almost a month old now,” he says, reaching over to gently adjust jiwoo’s blanket with careful fingers. his tone is soft, almost proud. “our little jiwoo. she’s the most precious thing ever — keeps us up at night but we wouldn’t trade it for anything.” you can't help but laugh quielty.

the old lady beams, eyes crinkling. “she has your eyes, young man. and you, dear, have such a gentle way with her. new parents are always so sweet together. cherish these moments — they go by so fast.”

you feel heat rush to your face, the tension spiking sharply. your heart pounds as you glance at jay, expecting him to laugh it off or explain. instead, he just nods along, that soft smile still in place.

“we will,” he says sincerely. “thank you. she really is everything to us.”

the woman wishes you well and turns back to her own table, leaving a charged silence between you and jay. you stare at him, eyebrows raised, the butterflies turning into something heavier, warmer, more insistent.

“what was that?” you whisper once she is out of earshot, half-laughing, half-flustered. “i was about to tell her it’s a doll for school.”

jay rubs the back of his neck, but his eyes meet yours without embarrassment. “i know. sorry— it just… felt harmless. she looked so happy thinking we were this cute young couple with a real baby. i didn’t want to disappoint her. plus…” he pauses, voice dropping lower, the tension thickening the air around the booth. “it wasn’t entirely weird to play along. we’ve been doing this all week — the hand-offs, the late texts, the worrying together. it kind of feels like we are figuring out the parent thing. even if it’s fake.”

his words settle over you like a blanket, heavy with implication. the project has forced proximity, but moments like this — the field visit, the car rides, now dinner — are turning it into something more. you feel the pull stronger than before, the way his gaze lingers on you a second longer than necessary, the way your skin tingles when his knee brushes yours under the table.

“you’re quite dangerous when you decide to be charming, aren't you?” you murmur, trying to keep it light even as your pulse races.

he laughs softly, but there is a new intensity in his eyes. “only with you, apparently. the project’s messing with my head a little. or maybe it’s just making me notice things i didn’t before.”

the rest of the meal passes in a haze of charged conversation — lighter topics mixed with quieter admissions. he asks about your plans after high school, you ask about his football dreams beyond the scholarship. every shared laugh, every accidental touch while reaching for fries, builds the tension higher. jiwoo stays quiet, almost like she is in on the moment, her presence a constant reminder of the fake life you are building together.

when the check comes, jay pays despite your protest, waving it off with “you’ve earned it after all the night shifts.” outside the diner the air is cooler, the streetlights casting a soft glow. he drives you the short distance home, the car filled with comfortable but electric silence. jiwoo is secured in the back, ready for her night with him.

he parks in front of your house but does not unlock the doors right away. the engine hums low, and he turns slightly in his seat to face you.

“thanks for tonight,” he says quietly. “dinner, the company… all of it. i know it’s late and you could’ve just handed her off at the door.”

you unbuckle slowly, heart still racing from the old lady moment and everything unsaid. “i had fun. even when you decided to play happy family with a stranger.”

he chuckles, but his expression turns more serious, eyes searching yours in the dim light. “about that… i wasn’t completely joking. this week has been weird, but in a good way. being paired with you — it’s made me realize i like spending time with you. not just for the grade or the schedule. more than that.”

the confession hangs there, raw and tentative, increasing the tension until it feels almost tangible. you swallow, the butterflies now a full storm in your stomach. “i… feel the same. it started as awkward, but now it feels like we’re actually connecting. the project’s forcing us to be honest in ways we probably wouldn’t otherwise.”

jay nods, his hand resting on the gear shift close to where yours lingers on the console. for a moment it seems like he might reach over, close the small distance, but he holds back, respecting the slow pace you both seem to need.

“get some rest,” he says finally, voice gentle. “i’ll handle jiwoo tonight and text updates.”

you step out, the cool air hitting your flushed cheeks. “night, jay. drive safe with her.”

“night.”

he waits until you are inside before pulling away, taillights fading down the street. inside your room you collapse onto the bed, replaying every second of the evening — the old lady’s assumption, jay’s easy play-along, the quiet admissions in the car. the tension has shifted tonight, no longer just friendly cooperation but something deeper, sweeter, full of possibility. the fake baby has cracked open real feelings, and as you drift off, you wonder how much longer you can both pretend it is only about the project.

the week is winding down, but whatever is growing between you and jay feels like it is just beginning — slow, tentative, and impossible to ignore.

-------

SATURDAY. DAY 6:

saturday morning arrives with a silence that feels almost foreign after a week of being woken by high-pitched digital wailing. when you finally blink your eyes open, the sun is streaming through the curtains in long, dusty bars of gold. you reach for your phone instinctively, your thumb hovering over the baby app before you remember: jay has her.

you scroll through your notifications and find a string of texts from him, sent in the quiet hours of the early morning.

at 3:14 a.m.:

jay: she’s finally out. took her twenty minutes to settle after a diaper change. why does she look so peaceful when she’s been a menace for two hours?

jay: also, i think i’m hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but i’m pretty sure she just made a sound that sounded like 'ball.' she’s going to be a star athlete.

then, the last one, sent at 8:30 a.m.:

jay: morning. we’re alive. barely. i’m caffeinated and jiwoo is currently staring at a wall. park at 11 still on?

you smile into your pillow, typing back a quick confirmation. the butterflies that settled in your stomach at the diner last night are still there, humming a low, steady tune.

the park is halfway between your houses, a sprawling green space filled with families and dogs catching frisbees. you spot jay almost immediately, leaning against a large oak tree near the pond. he’s wearing a simple black hoodie and joggers, the baby carrier strapped to his chest. he looks like he belongs in a catalog for 'world's most attractive tired dad.'

when he sees you, his face breaks into that wide, genuine grin that always makes your pulse skip a beat.

“look who it is,” he calls out as you get closer. “jiwoo, look, your mom is here to save us from this boring tree.”

you laugh, stepping into his space. the scent of his laundry detergent and a hint of coffee hits you. “morning. how are the 'star athlete' and her exhausted father doing?”

“she's being suspiciously quiet today,” jay says, looking down at the doll. “it’s like she knows it’s the weekend. she’s been in 'easy mode' since 9:00 a.m. i’m actually a little scared she’s plotting something big for later.”

“maybe she just wants us to have a nice day,” you suggest, reaching out to adjust the tiny hat on jiwoo’s head. your fingers graze the fabric of jay’s hoodie, and for a second, your gaze catches his. the air between you feels thick and sweet.

“i’d like that,” jay says softly.

you spend the next two hours wandering the paved paths of the park. without the pressure of school hallways or the rush of practice, the conversation feels effortless. you talk about everything and nothing. he tells you about his favorite childhood dog — a golden retriever who was terrible at fetching — and you tell him about the time you tried to dye your own hair in middle school and ended up with a patch of neon orange that took months to fade.

“no way,” he laughs, his shoulder bumping yours as you walk. “i need to see pictures of that. please tell me your parents have evidence.”

“buried deep in the family archives,” you say, shaking your head. “you have to earn the right to see the orange hair phase, park jongseong.”

“oh, so we're on a points system now?” he teases, his eyes sparkling. “how do i earn points? do i get some for being a solo parent last night?”

“maybe a few,” you admit.

eventually, you find a wide, flat stretch of grass away from the main crowd. jay drops his duffel bag — which you realize is filled with both baby supplies and football gear.

“alright,” he says, pulling out a well-worn football. “since we have some peace and quiet, and since you've spent all week watching me run around a field, it's your turn. i’m going to teach you how to throw a proper spiral.”

you eye the ball skeptically. “jay, the last time i threw something, it was a crumpled piece of paper at a trash can and i missed by three feet. i don't think this is a good idea.”

“trust me,” he says, stepping closer. he stands behind you, his presence warm and grounding. “it's all about the grip. here.”

he reaches around, his hands covering yours as he guides your fingers onto the laces of the ball. his chest is inches from your back, and you can hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. your heart is doing triple-time against your ribs.

“fingers on the laces,” he murmurs, his voice right next to your ear. “don't grip it too tight. you want a little space between your palm and the ball. see?”

you nod, your voice feeling trapped in your throat. his hands are large and calloused, a contrast to the gentleness of his touch.

“now, bring it back by your ear,” he instructs, moving your arm with his. “step forward with your opposite foot, and when you release, flick your wrist. like you're pointing at the target.”

he steps back, giving you space to try. you take a breath, step, and throw. the ball wobbles through the air, traveling about ten feet before thudding unceremoniously into the grass.

jay lets out a snort of laughter.

“don't say it,” you warn, pointing a finger at him.

“i wasn't going to say anything!” he says, holding his hands up in defense. “it was... a very brave first attempt. the target was the ground, right? because you hit it perfectly.”

“you're the worst,” you laugh, picking up a handful of grass and tossing it at him.

“hey! i'm the coach!” he jogs over to retrieve the ball. “again. focus. imagine ningning is standing right where the ball lands and you're trying to— no, wait, that's mean. imagine there’s a scout there. or just imagine i'm there waiting to catch it.”

the next twenty minutes are a blur of laughter and terrible throws. jay is patient, constantly encouraging you, and eventually, you manage a throw that actually spirals, landing right in his outstretched hands.

he let out a loud “yes!” and jogs back to you, lifting a hand for a high-five. “see? natural talent. scholarship is basically in the bag.”

“i think i'll stick to my day job,” you pant, your face flushed from the exertion and the fun.

“which is?”

“come on. i'll show you.”

you lead him to the far edge of the park, where a small, hidden trail winds through a patch of dense trees. it opens up into a tiny clearing overlooking a quiet creek. there’s an old, sun-bleached wooden bench tucked under a willow tree.

“this is it,” you say, sitting down and patting the spot next to you. “my quiet spot. i come here to read when everything feels a bit too loud.”

jay sits, careful of jiwoo in the carrier. he looks around at the dappled sunlight on the water and the way the willow leaves sway in the breeze. “it's nice,” he says, his voice dropping to a softer register. “it's really peaceful. i get why you like it.”

“it’s the only place i can actually hear my own thoughts,” you admit.

“what are your thoughts saying today?” he asks, turning his head to look at you. the light catches the amber flecks in his eyes.

you feel the weight of the question. your thoughts are currently a chaotic loop of his hand felt warm on mine and i don't want this project to end.

“mostly that i'm glad we got paired together,” you say, choosing the safest version of the truth. “even if ms. choi is a madwoman for doing this to us.”

jay laughs, but it’s a quiet, thoughtful sound. “yeah. she’s definitely crazy. but i think... i think i owe her a thank you note. i don't think i would've ever had the guts to just come up and talk to you otherwise. i always saw you in the halls, and i thought you seemed... cool. but you were always so quiet and had that 'don't bother me, i'm reading' look.”

“i do not have a 'don't bother me' look!” you protest, nudging him with your elbow.

“you totally do. it’s intimidating,” he insists. “but i’m glad i got past it. i like the 'bothering you' part of my day the best now.”

the afternoon fades into a soft orange glow. eventually, hunger wins out, and you head back to his house. mrs. park is out running errands, so the house is quiet and cool.

you end up in the kitchen again, making simple sandwiches while jay gives jiwoo a “bath” (wiping the doll down with the designated kit wipes). it feels domestic and easy. you find yourself humming a song as you plate the food, and jay catches your eye, a small, knowing smile on his face.

“what?” you ask, feeling your face heat up.

“nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “just... you're a good mom, jiwoo. your dad is lucky.”

“jay!”

“what? i'm just stating facts for the logbook,” he teases.

after eating, you sit on his living room floor, surrounded by textbooks you’re both pretending to read. in reality, you’re mostly talking. the conversation shifts to tomorrow — the match.

“it's at 10:00 a.m.,” jay says, his expression turning a bit more serious. “the scouts from the state university are going to be there. it’s the biggest game of the season so far. i’m... i’m actually pretty nervous.”

“you'll be great,” you say firmly. “i've seen you practice. you're the most dedicated person on that field. they'd be idiots not to see that.”

“will you really be there?” he asks, his voice low. “even though you don't have to be? the project is technically 'at home' on sundays.”

“i'll be there,” you promise. “front row. i’ll even bring a sign if you want, although sunghoon might try to steal the spotlight.”

“please don't bring a sign,” he laughs. “but just seeing you there... it'll help. a lot.”

as evening settles in, he drives you back to your house. the car ride is quieter than the one to the park, a comfortable, heavy silence filling the space. he pulls into your driveway and kills the engine, but neither of you moves to get out.

the streetlights are just starting to flicker on. jiwoo is asleep in the back, her little electronic breathing the only sound in the car.

jay turns in his seat, his arm resting on the back of yours. he looks like he wants to say something — his mouth opens, his brow furrows slightly, and his eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“hey,“ he says, his voice barely a whisper.

“yeah?“ your heart is thundering.

he reaches out, his thumb catching a stray lock of hair near your ear and tucking it back. his touch is lingering, his hand staying near your jaw for a second too long. the tension is so thick it feels like a physical thing between you, a cord pulling you closer.

“i...” he starts, his gaze dropping to your lips and then back to your eyes. he looks almost pained, like he's fighting an internal battle.

he stops. he swallows hard, his hand dropping back to the steering wheel.

“i'll... i'll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, his voice a bit strained. “10:00 a.m. don't forget the 'medicine' drops for jiwoo, just in case she gets fussy in the stands.”

you feel a wave of disappointment, followed by a rush of affection. he's chickening out. but in a way, it's endearing — the confident star athlete, reduced to nerves by a quiet junior.

“i won't forget,” you say, reaching for the door handle. “good luck tonight with her. and good luck tomorrow. you've got this.”

“thanks,“ he says, his eyes still fixed on you as you step out of the car.

you walk to your front door, feeling his gaze on your back. when you get inside, you watch from the window as his car pulls away. your heart is still racing, the memory of his hand near your face burning on your skin.

tomorrow is the last day. the project ends, the doll goes back, and the 'fake' family is over. but as you look at the last text he sends you before you go to bed — get some sleep, partner. see you at the kickoff — you know that whatever this is, it isn't fake at all.

-------

SUNDAY. DAY 7:

sunday morning arrives with a sky so blue it feels intentional, a backdrop designed for a series finale. you wake up before your alarm, the silence of the room feeling heavy now that jiwoo is with jay for the final morning. today is the day. the last day of the project, the big game, and the unspoken deadline for whatever has been growing between you and park jongseong.

you dress carefully — denim jacket, comfortable shoes, and your hair done just the way you know he likes it, even if he hasn’t said it out loud. your heart is already doing a nervous dance in your chest as you grab your bag and head to the stadium.

the high school bleachers are already filling up when you arrive. the air smells like cut grass, popcorn, and that electric, high-stakes tension that follows the football team everywhere. you spot the junior-senior crew almost immediately. yunjin is there, wearing a drama club hoodie but sitting suspiciously close to where sunghoon’s jersey is draped over a seat. sunoo is waving a literal foam finger, and kazuha is looking calm as ever, baby eunchae resting in the carrier between them.

“there she is!” sunoo yells, beckoning you over. “the woman of the hour! how are the nerves?”

“awful,” you admit, sliding into the seat beside them. “where’s jay?”

“down by the locker rooms,” yunjin says, nudging you with her elbow. “he’s been looking at the entrance every thirty seconds. you better go say hi before he pulls a muscle from craning his neck.”

you laugh, but you don't need to be told twice. you head down the bleachers toward the gated area where the players are doing their final warm-ups. jay is easy to find. he’s in full gear — jersey number tight across his shoulders, pads making him look even more imposing, cleats clicking on the pavement. he’s holding the carrier in one hand, looking slightly out of place amongst the hyper-masculine energy of the pre-game huddle.

when he sees you, the focused, 'footballer-mode' mask he wears completely shatters. his eyes light up, and he breaks away from a conversation with jake to jog toward you.

“you’re here,” he says, his voice a little breathless.

“i promised, didn’t i?” you smile, your heart doing a somersault.

he holds out the carrier, looking relieved. “coach said i have to hand her off now. i was worried you’d get stuck in traffic or something.”

you take the carrier from him, the weight familiar and grounding. you look down at the doll, then back up at him. a bit of mischief sparks in your brain, fueled by the adrenaline of the morning. you lift the carrier slightly, tilting jiwoo’s head toward jay.

“alright, jiwoo,” you say, pitching your voice into a high, silly, muppet-like squeak. “tell your dad what we practiced.”

jay blinks, a surprised laugh bubbling out of him.

you wiggle the carrier’s handle so the doll bounces. “you’re gonna do great, daddy!” you squeak in the cute voice. “go kick the ball really hard! make sure the scouts see how fast you are! we believe in you!”

jay is clutching his stomach, laughing so hard his ears have turned a bright, endearing shade of red. “oh my god, stop. you’re killing me.”

“we have a bet with sunghoon jr. that you’ll score two goals!” you continue, the muppet-voice getting even more ridiculous. “don’t let us down, big guy!”

jay reaches out, his hand covering yours on the carrier handle for a brief, warm second. his laughter subsides into a soft, glowing look that makes your breath catch. “thanks, jiwoo. and thanks... for being the weirdest, best partner ever.”

“go,” you say, your normal voice returning, soft and encouraging. “we’ll be right there in the front row.”

“watch me,” he says, and it feels like a promise.

the game is a blur of noise and color. you sit with the carrier on the seat beside you, your hands clenched in your lap. every time jay gets the ball, the crowd erupts, but your world narrows down to just him — the way he moves with a blend of power and grace, the way he communicates with his teammates, the sheer determination in his stride.

halfway through the second half, the score is tied. jay breaks through the defense, the ball a blur at his feet. he maneuvers past two defenders, the stadium holding its collective breath, and then — thud. the ball hits the back of the net.

the roar is deafening. jay is swarmed by his teammates, jake jumping on his back, sunghoon ruffling his hair. but as the team head back toward the center line, jay turns. he scans the bleachers with a frantic intensity until his eyes land right on you.

he raises a fist in the air, a bright, triumphant grin directed straight at your section. you’re blushing so furiously you feel like you might actually catch fire, but you’re cheering louder than anyone, holding jiwoo up like a tiny trophy.

by the time the whistle blows, they’ve won. the field is a sea of people, but you stay in your seat, waiting. you watched the scouts talk to him, watched his mom hug him, watched the team celebrate. slowly, the crowd thins out. your friends head to the parking lot, yunjin giving you a knowing wink as she drags sunoo and kazuha away.

“we’ll see you tomorrow at the hand-off!” she calls out.

finally, it’s just you, sitting in the quiet of the cooling afternoon, with jiwoo resting in her carrier. the shadows of the goalposts stretch long across the grass.

you hear the gate creak. jay is walking toward you. he’s changed out of his jersey into a simple school tee, his hair damp from a shower, his jacket slung over one shoulder. he looks exhausted, but there’s a glow about him that has nothing to do with the win.

he climbs the bleachers and slides into the row behind you, sitting so his knees are right next to your shoulders.

“hey,” he says, his voice low and intimate in the empty stadium.

“hey, star player,” you turn slightly to look at him. “the muppet-voice worked, i think.”

he laughs, a tired, happy sound. “it definitely did. i kept hearing it in my head every time i got near the goal.” he reaches down, his hand resting on the back of the seat next to yours. “scouts seemed happy. i think... i think the scholarship is safe.”

“i never doubted it,” you say softly.

the silence that follows isn’t awkward; it’s heavy. it’s the silence of a countdown.

“so,” jay says, his voice dropping an octave. “tomorrow morning. 8 a.m. ms. choi’s room. we give back the doll, she checks the final health score, and that’s... that’s the end of the project.”

“yeah,” you swallow. “back to normal life. no 2 a.m. logs. no shared calendars. no medicine drops.”

jay stares out at the empty field for a long time. his fingers trace the edge of the bleacher. “i was thinking about that. the 'back to normal' part.” he looks back at you, his expression guarded, shy in a way you’ve never seen him. “i don't think i like it.”

your heart starts to thud against your ribs. “you don’t?”

“no.” he lets out a sharp breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “this week was supposed to be a nightmare. i was so stressed about nationals and my grades, and then i got paired with this quiet girl i’d never spoken to, and i thought... great, another thing to juggle.”

he leans forward, his face closer to yours now. the scent of his soap — something clean and citrusy — drifts over you.

“but then we started talking,” he continues, his voice steadying. “and i started looking forward to the 2 a.m. texts. i started looking forward to walking you to class. i even liked the weird dinner at the diner where we pretended to be a real family.”

he pauses, his eyes searching yours, searching for permission to keep going. you can’t speak; you just nod, your pulse racing.

“i know the baby was fake,” jay says, his voice barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “the project was an assignment. the schedule was a requirement. but... i don’t think what happened between us this week was fake. i don't think the way i feel right now is part of the grade.”

you feel a tear prick at the corner of your eye — a mix of relief and overwhelming warmth. “jay...”

“i really like you,” he says, the words coming out in a rush, raw and honest. “not as a partner. not as 'the girl who’s good with dolls.' just you. i don’t want to go back to being the senior who only sees you in the hallway. i don’t want to stop having an excuse to talk to you.”

you reach out, your hand finding his on the bleacher. his skin is warm, and his fingers immediately lace through yours, tight and grounding.

“i was so scared,” you admit, your voice trembling. “i thought as soon as we handed jiwoo back, you’d just... go back to being the popular football guy and i’d be the quiet junior again. i didn’t want the week to end either. i like you too, jay. so much.”

the tension that has been building since monday — the accidental knee bumps, the car rides, the protective glances — finally snaps. jay leans in, his free hand reaching up to cuppe your cheek. his thumb brushes over your skin, his touch so gentle it makes you melt.

“is it okay if i kiss you?” he asks, his eyes searching yours one last time, his breath warm against your lips.

“yes,” you whisper.

he starts to lean in, his eyes fluttering shut. you close yours too, leaning forward, the world falling away until it’s just the two of you in the quiet stadium—

WAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAH!

the sound is like a physical blow. you both jump, nearly knocking heads. jay yelps, his hand flying back to the bleacher, while you scramble to look at the carrier.

jiwoo is screaming. not just a little fuss — this is the full-volume, 'i-haven't-been-fed-in-years' digital tantrum. her red lights are flashing like a police siren.

“no!” jay groans, throwing his head back and laughing in pure, frustrated disbelief. “not now! jiwoo, are you serious right now?”

you’re laughing too, doubled over, the tension broken by the sheer absurdity of it. “she knows! she’s jealous! she wants the attention back!”

“she’s a cockblocker,” jay mutters, though he’s grinning. “a plastic, electronic cockblocker.”

you fumbled for the bottle in the bag, clicking it into the doll’s mouth. the screaming stops, replaced by the aggressive, rhythmic sucking sound of the sensor registering the 'feeding.'

jay leans his forehead against your shoulder, still chuckling. “i can’t believe her. we were this close.”

“well,” you say, looking down at the doll, then back at the boy who just confessed his heart to you. “it’s part of the project, remember? 'responsibilities don’t wait until it’s convenient.'”

jay lifts his head, his eyes soft and bright. he reaches out, taking the bottle from you to hold it himself, his other hand moving back to your waist.

“fine,” he says, his voice low and playful. “we’ll finish the feeding. we’ll finish the project. but tomorrow, after we hand her back...”

he leans in again, this time stopping just an inch from your ear.

“...i’m taking you on a real date. no dolls. no logs. just us. and i’m going to finish what i started.”

you shiver, a smile spreading across your face. “i’d like that, jay.”

the sun disappears behind the horizon, leaving the stadium in a soft, purple twilight. as the doll makes a satisfied burp sound, jay pulls you into a hug, his chin resting on top of your head. the project is almost over, but as you sit there in the quiet together, you know that the 'real life' ms. choi talked about is just beginning. and for once, you aren't nervous about it at all.

-------

MONDAY. THE PROJECT ENDS:

monday morning feels different. the usual heavy dread that accompanies a school week has been replaced by a strange, bittersweet hum of finality. you stand in front of your mirror, adjusting your uniform one last time, and for a moment, your room feels too quiet. the gray carrier is gone — jay had it for the final night, even though you had originally planned on taking her — and the absence of that small, plastic weight on your chest feels like losing a limb.

as you walk to school, you see other juniors and seniors trudging toward the entrance, all of them carrying their respective 'babies' for the last time. the atmosphere in the hallways is a chaotic blend of relief and mourning. sunoo passes you near the lockers, looking like he’s aged ten years in seven days, but he’s wearing a triumphant grin.

“we’re free!” he shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “taehyun and i checked the score at midnight. 86%! we survived the apocalypse!”

you laugh, but your eyes are already scanning the crowd for a specific messy-haired senior. you find him standing right outside ms. choi’s door. jay is leaning against the wall, the carrier slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the star player who just won a game — relaxed, confident, and glowing. when his eyes land on you, that lopsided half-smile appears, the one that makes your heart do a triple-backflip.

“morning, partner,” he says, his voice low and warm as he steps away from the wall to meet you.

“morning,” you reply, feeling your face heat up as you remember what happened on the bleachers. “how was the final night?”

“she was an angel,” jay says, looking down at jiwoo. “i think she knew it was moving day. she stayed quiet all night. either that, or she felt bad for ruining the moment at the stadium.”

you giggle, nudging his arm. “don’t blame the baby. maybe she was just giving her dad some space to think.”

jay’s expression softens, and for a second, the bustling hallway fades away. he reaches out, his pinky finger hooking into yours for a brief, hidden moment. “i did a lot of thinking. and i’m ready for this to be over. the project, i mean. not the rest of it.”

the bell rings, sharp and insistent, breaking the spell.

ms. choi’s classroom has been transformed. the double desks are back in their original rows, and a large table at the front is lined with empty cardboard boxes, waiting to receive the electronic residents. ms. choi herself is practically vibrating with energy, wearing a bright floral dress and holding a clipboard like a trophy.

“alright, parents! settle down, settle down!” she claps her hands, the sound echoing with finality. “it’s the day we’ve all been waiting for. the day of liberation! please, bring your children to the front and place them in their respective bins. and don’t forget to leave your shared logbooks on my desk.”

the room erupts in a flurry of movement. it’s a parade of tired teenagers. jake and sunghoon walk up together, looking like they’ve just returned from a war zone.

“she called me ‘handsome’ in the logbook,” jake whispers loudly to ms. choi as he hands over his doll. “i think she’s going to miss me, ma'am. can i get a visitation schedule?”

ms. choi laughs, shaking her head. “sit down, mr. sim. your ‘child’ needs a factory reset, not a visit.”

you and jay walk up together. you place the logbook — filled with a week’s worth of late-night notes, frantic updates, and the occasional silly doodle jay had added during history — onto the stack. then, jay carefully lowers jiwoo into the box. for a second, he lingers, his hand resting on the doll’s head.

“see ya, kid,” he mutters.

as you head back to your seats, ms. choi starts pulling up the final data on the projector. the room goes silent as the health scores and participation metrics flicker across the screen.

“i have to say,” ms. choi begins, her eyes scanning the class with genuine pride. “i am incredibly impressed. every single year i do this project, and every year i expect chaos. but this group? you’ve shown remarkable maturity. even those of you i was… shall we say, concerned about.”

she looks pointedly at sunghoon and yunjin, who are sitting as far apart as possible while still sharing the desk.

“ms. huh, mr. park… a final health score of 82%. considering you spent half the week arguing over courtyard permits in the comments of your logbook, that is a miracle. i’m glad to see you could put aside your differences for the sake of your ‘son.’ although, sunghoon, perhaps next time don’t try to use the doll as a football? it was logged as a ‘high-impact incident.’”

the class roars with laughter as sunghoon turns a bright shade of red. yunjin just smirks. “he tried to teach him a header, ma’am. i had to intervene. i worry about sunghoon jr.'s safety.”

“and mr. kim, mr. kang,” ms. choi continues. “the most frequent loggers in history. 400 entries? i didn’t realize a doll could be fed every fifteen minutes. but your dedication to communication was top-tier.”

she moves down the list, teasing each pair with a mix of affection and wit. then, she stops. she looks at the top of the chart, where one pair sits with a staggering 96% health score.

“and finally… our star parents.” she gestures toward you and jay.

you feel every eye in the room turn toward you. jay shifts in his seat, clearing his throat, but he doesn’t look away.

“96%,” ms. choi muses, a playful glint in her eye. “not only was the health near perfect, but the logbook was… well, it was a narrative. i particularly enjoyed the entry where mr. park explained the history of football to a doll at three in the morning to get it to stop crying. and the photo of you two at the diner? very authentic.”

she leans against her desk, her smile turning soft. “it’s clear that some of you took the ‘life skills’ part of this assignment very seriously. you didn’t just manage a doll; you managed each other. and i think,” she looks between you and jay, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, “that some of those skills might translate quite well into the real world. wouldn't you agree, jay?”

jay rubs the back of his neck, his ears turning pink, but he catches your eye and winks. “best partner i could’ve asked for, ms. choi.”

“well!” ms. choi claps her hands again. “the grades are posted. you are all free to go. but remember — life doesn’t stop being busy just because the doll is gone. keep looking after each other.”

as the bell rings, the room explodes. people are hugging, high-fiving, and sprinting for the door. it’s a mass exodus of relief.

you and jay take your time packing your bags. the silence between you is heavy again, but it’s a good kind of heavy. the “fake” part of your life is officially over, and the “real” part is waiting outside the door.

“so,” jay says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “no baby. no logbook. no ms. choi breathing down our necks.”

“yeah,” you say, looking up at him. “what now?”

jay reaches out, taking your hand in his — not for a moment, and not hidden. he laces his fingers with yours right there in the middle of the empty classroom.

“now,” he says, his eyes focused on yours with that same intensity from the stadium. “i take you to the courtyard. we sit in the sun. and i don’t have to check a phone once.”

the walk through the hallways feels like a victory lap. you see jake and sunoo arguing about who had the harder night shifts, and you see yunjin and sunghoon actually talking — really talking — near the drama hall. the school feels smaller, friendlier.

when you reach the courtyard, the spring sun is warm on your skin. you find a quiet bench under a cherry blossom tree, the petals beginning to drift down like pink snow. jay sits close, his shoulder pressed against yours, his hand still holding yours tightly.

“it’s weird, isn’t it?” he asks, looking out at the grass. “not having to worry about a crying sound every five minutes.”

“it’s a little too quiet,” you admit. “i keep thinking i hear her.”

jay pulls your hand up, resting it on his knee. “i’m glad we did it. even the 3 a.m. shifts. it was the best week i’ve had since i moved here.”

“even with the football stress?”

“especially with the football stress,” he says, turning to face you. “because i wasn’t doing it alone. i’ve spent four years trying to be the guy who has everything under control by himself. the project showed me that... i’m better when i’m half of a team.”

he reaches up with his free hand, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw, just like he had at the stadium. but this time, there are no bleachers, no crowds, and no electronic babies waiting to interrupt.

“i really meant it, you know,” he whispers, his face inches from yours. “what i said yesterday. i don't want to go back to how things were.”

“me neither,” you breathe, your heart pounding a rhythm of pure, unadulterated joy.

jay leans in, and this time, the world stays silent. when his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft, tentative, and tastes like the mint gum he always chews and the promise of something real.

when he pulls back, he’s grinning, his eyes bright. “ninety-six percent health score,” he mutters against your forehead. “but i think the relationship score is a hundred.”

you laugh inevitably, leaning your head on his shoulder as the cherry blossoms fall around you. the baby project is over, but as you sit there in the sun with jay, you know that the real work — the beautiful, messy, wonderful work of being together — is only just beginning.

© jongst4r, 2026

he has never been late— not to school, university, work, anywhere— unless we’re talking about the blind dates his grandmother sets him on.

you make payment hurriedly while simultaneously texting someone. he snickers at the almost mess that you are ( although, you do look pretty nonetheless but he doesn’t need to admit that. )

jay just hopes you collect your order and leave.

but then your order gets called and you turn too quickly and slam straight into him.

“oh—shit—sorry—!”

and it happens fast.

too fast, gasps mingling in the air. the lid of your cup pops and suddenly— green, everywhere.

cold matcha soaks into the crisp fabric of his suit jacket, dripping down the front in slow, unforgiving streaks.

it’s quiet, almost like the entire cafe seemed to pause to see how incredibly you’ve fucked up. as if you weren’t having a hard time already— and your day hasn’t even properly started.

worse, he doesn’t even say anything. he just looks down at his charcoal suit— now with wet, green patches— then looks at you.

you freeze for exactly half a second before your brain catches up. “oh my god—i’m so sorry—wait—”

you grab a handful of napkins, dabbing at his jacket uselessly, making it worse, spreading the stain instead of fixing it. “i didn’t see you, i was—god, i’m so sorry—”

jay exhales slowly and you swear you feel anger radiating off him. and by the looks of it, he seems like someone who can have you killed within hours.

“this,” he says, very calmly, much to your surprise. “is brioni,”

you stop, blinking in confusion. “…okay?”

and the silence that follows after is way louder than the sirens going off in your head just a second ago. his scrutinising gaze and you stare back.

because genuinely— what does that even mean?

“brioni,” he repeats, slower this time, like that’s supposed to help, as if to make you understand the gravity of the situation and ruining a brioni suit.

“yeah,” you nod quickly, still patting at his sleeve. “i heard you. i just, uh, don’t know what that is,”

and he genuinely looks thrown off, like someone insulted his life’s worth of hardwork. jay doesn’t get it— how can someone be a complete mess and clueless? there has to be something wrong with you.

“you spilled matcha,” he sighs in utter disbelief and surprise. “on a brioni suit,”

“and i said sorry,” you shoot back, already checking the time on your phone again. “like, multiple times,”

your attention being on your phone and not on the matter at hand is already ticking him off. before he could say another thing, you cut him off, panicking— but not about the suit.

“look, I really have to go,” you mumble, shoving the useless napkins into his hand. “i’ll pay for the dry cleaning, okay? just—”

you glance around, grabbing yet another tissue and a pen from the counter while he watches, slightly stunned, as you scribble something down in messy and rushed handwriting.

and you shove it right into his palm.

“my number,” you say. “text me the price,”

and then, you’re gone. just like that, while he tries to process whatever the fuck just happened.

the bell above the cafe door jingles once as you leave, and the cold air rushes in behind you.

jay stands there, matcha stained, speechless, confused— he looks at the crumpled tissue with your number and lets out a groan.

what a great start to the day.

he always makes it on time, or before, managing to buy her favourite snacks to surprise her on the way back. the mothers talk while he waits in his chic black maserati, they smile to themselves when they see her run to him with saccharine giggles and he scoops her up.

jay— ideal employee and father— was convinced he was second to no one.

but today, god, he might be just speeding beyond limits, frantically looking at the time and at the road alternatively. he’s scared his darling daughter would be crying. he is never late— well, except once. it was a year ago, he was still new to managing work with her school days. she was sitting in the empty classroom alone with the teacher working on the side. the look on her face that day felt like a knife through his heart, and he promised to her that he would never be late again.

but then, today was the second time and he doesn’t know if his car is racing faster or his heart as he pulls up in front of the kindergarten. hurrying out of the car, he basically runs through the entrance, silently hoping and praying she doesn’t look lonely like the first time. he stops, taking a deep breath, eyes falling wide at the sight of his daughter.

she’s giggling, trying to kick the football. she looks up at you for validation at her poor attempt, a toothy grin adorning his face when you clap your hands. his lips erupt into an involuntary smile at the sight of you exhibiting a defeated frown— albeit dramatically— when jiyu scores a goal.

his heart skips a beat, she is his entire world, and she is happy, laughing, enjoying herself, and then it’s you— jiyu’s pretty teacher and his, well, dream girl. he doesn’t know why his heart has sped up anymore.

“papa!” the cute, little voice pulls him out of his trance, and his lips curl into a fond smile as he gets on one knee to embrace his little princess, greeting her with a kiss on the temple.

“hi, princess,” he caresses her cheeks, eyes going over the mess she has made out of her clothes. it’s going to be a tough time getting all that dirt and paint out but gosh, anything for her. with jiyu’s head on his shoulder, his eyes settle on you, and his face heats up again. “sorry for being late,”

he gives you a slight nod, a wordless thank you for looking after jiyu and a quiet apology for keeping you occupied. and when you return the smile back, he starts going crazy. even after having a fair share of women in his life, you have managed to bewitch him with pretty eyes and the ability to make his daughter smile.

actually, he has been crazy about you since day one, even before he had seen you, known you, heard you. he remembers how jiyu would eat his ears off while rambling about how pretty you are— she still does, except he listens and agrees with her like he has never heard any truer words in his life.

before, he got up early and dressed her up for school because education is important. now, it’s because he’s just as excited as jiyu to see you. education is still there— you have simply managed to make it seem less important.

“it’s fine, we had fun together. right, lovebug?” you assure, tickling jiyu’s sides as she yelps while swatting your hand away playfully.

and his heart aches in the best way when she gets out of his embrace to play with you. jay can swear he could melt into a puddle with how cute you both are, your laughs music to his ears, like a melody he has been missing for years. you can call him out on his lack of responsibility for being fashionably late to picking his daughter up and he would listen to it all with a fond gaze.

he stands up, holding the grayish-blue blazer in his hand, unable to take his eyes away from you, only to blink back to reality when jiyu tugs on his trousers.

“papa, i scored two goals today!” she chirps, eyes wide and gleaming in expectation for some compliments from her beloved father.

“really?” she nods proudly and jay grins like he is the one who made the goals. he is far too proud of his little girl. ronaldo should be glad jiyu is more interested in hello kitty colouring books. “let’s buy some treats to celebrate,”

“treats!” she exclaims before immediately getting distracted by a butterfly, running off to the side.

and it’s quiet again.

his hands are sweating, butterflies cartwheeling in his stomach. you’re telling jiyu to be careful not to trip and jay, he has already fallen for you once again. words can never be enough to express how much he appreciates you taking care of her.

the way wind blows through your hair makes him sigh in adoration, your eyes the brightest thing in existence, even more than the stars. and jay has never been the one to get sappy but he would write sonnets for you.

it’s getting awkward, aside from jiyu’s attempts to catch the butterfly and the visible concern written in your face. with a deep inhale, he musters up all his courage, the thump in his chest getting louder. “thank you for looking after her,”

and when you look at him with a warm smile, eyes crinkling up in crescents, he wants to melt in your hands the very moment. “no worries, it’s my job,”

even your voice resonates of a song sung by angels— he can’t believe he is thinking all that at his grown age. he wants to slap his face or bang his hand on the wall to pull himself together. but again, you make him want to write letters in your name. he’s a hopeless case.

“she likes you a lot,” i do too, he wants to add, but he controls. he is a grown man, for god’s sake, and here you have him blushing and swooning like a teenager having the first encounter with love. it’s crazy— just a month ago he was losing his mind over his daughter fawning over you and now, he’s doing the same.

his next words are interrupted by his dear daughter’s stubborn whines. he knew she would give up on the butterfly soon, stomping her tiny feet back to him. she’s already sold to the treats and nothing can calm her before she gets her hands on them.

“papa, let’s go! i want treats!” and jiyu, she is relentless, pulling his hand towards his car while he looks at you helplessly. patience is all he has ever taught her and she is everything that reminds him of his late wife.

he shoots an apologetic smile in your direction and lets her drag him to the car, knowing he can never say no when she gives those doe eyes to get him to fulfill her demands. her tiny hands grip around his fingers that taught her to walk and pull him in one direction while his heart gravitates in another— and this is just the beginning.

jay has been thinking.

with slow hands stirring the soup, his wandering mind has once again decided to go back to you. he can feel jiyu’s curious eyes scanning his face— she sighs like a middle aged adult— and he clears his throat with intention.

“so…what does your pretty miss like?” he is cautious, obviously trying to play it cool as if it’s completely normal for a parent to ask that. he does not want to show his exact intentions, at least not yet.

jiyu looks up from the colouring book in confusion, crayons scattered above the kitchen counter. she presses her lips together, as if having a deep thought. “um hello kitty! and strawberries!” a pause, she tilts her head to the right. “why?”

why.

good question, a damn good question with no answer. even he is wondering why. does he like you? everyone does, he’d be crazy to find you unlikeable. does he want you? yes— no! he slaps himself mentally.

he looks over at his daughter and she is humming one of her favourite rhymes while colouring the unicorns. it reminds him how you were holding her hand to guide her over the outlines, teaching her how to fill the colours properly. he also remembers how you had kissed her cheek since she did a good job, and he almost wanted you to kiss him too— jay wants to bang his head into a wall.

he wants to stop thinking about you, to save himself from spiralling into madness. it is clearly not working, so he goes back to his initial mission.

“can you ask what her favourite flower is?” his voice is a little more cautious this time, eyes fixed on the soup as if he doesn’t want to throw away everything and only talk about you.

she looks up again. “why?” and he groans internally.

gosh, do her questions ever end?

“it’s good to know your teacher,” he is trying so hard to make it sound weird. he turns off the stove, one hand on the counter as he leans against it. “and you can give her flowers to make her happy! you like her, don’t you?”

jiyu doesn’t respond, completely engrossed in her messy crayon drawing with the tongue sticking out in concentration.

and then, a quiet whisper follows. “i think papa likes her more,”

he winces internally at her words, not wanting to hear those words from her, out of all people. it makes him sound like he is in denial and trying to avoid the topic— even though he is, but he is not going to admit it.

is he being that obvious? he has barely known you for a little over a month— that too, only at school pickups and boring parents teachers meetings that he now loves to attend. yes, he accepts that he looks at you a little longer than he looks at everyone else. he doesn’t look at anyone else, only you. and it was going to be just you for a very, very long time.

“what no— i mean yes, but no!” he is panicking, losing his mind. the words are jumbled inside his head and the look on jiyu’s face tells that she knows his poor papa is having a quarter life crisis.

of course, he likes you. he likes your smile, your soft voice while you’re talking to the kids, your eyes and the way they sparkle all the time as if they hold the stars. jay likes you a lot, he’s just not ready to admit that out loud, especially not to his tiny, nosy, love-struck little matchmaker.

and unfortunately enough for him, she’s not waiting for a ‘yes’ from him. “you do! you get red when you see her! and you smile at her videos!” jiyu claims with full confidence— she is right.

his eyes crinkle up in crescents whenever he comes across one of your baking videos. when jiyu told him about your baking channel for the first time, he pictured his future with you. he thinks it’s destiny— he loves to cook, you love to bake— it’s a match made in heaven, a written in the stars type of love story.

his heart flutters at your cute cutelery, the pretty ceramics and adorable bowls. it’s adorable. he can’t even see your face, just the sound of your soothing voice is enough to ease his mind.

“that does not mean i like her, darling,” but jay is a father, first and foremost, before a loverboy lying to his daughter about his feelings. he doesn’t need his six year-old walking special agent to know about the feelings bubbling in his chest.

at least, not yet.

jiyu gets back to her colouring book, shaking her pretty little head like a tired parent. it’s unbelievable that he refuses to accept it even after she has called out his red face whenever you are around. raising a dad is hard, she would say, he is always in denial.

and she is definitely going to do something about it. “lilies are pretty,” she mumbles, not looking up from her colouring book but she knows she has all his attention. “you like lilies too!”

it makes hundred percent sense in her tiny brain that’s working overtime.

jay likes lilies, he gives you lilies, you end up liking lilies too— she hopes you will— you both bond over lilies and get closer and kiss. it’s the perfect scheme ever, she has seen it in one of the princess movies. well, not exactly, because the flowers were magical but nonetheless, she hopes the lilies do the work.

she’s devising a masterplan and jay— he knows just where to get the flowers from. he doesn’t need to be asked twice. pretty pink lilies wrapped in a bouquet with a ribbon. he’s already trying to come up with words to add onto a little note by the side.

pink lilies are for admiration. yeah, this is a great start.

jiyu is on a mission.

tiny hands holding a pot of lilies, brows furrowed, she looks at her father who is crouching in front of her. “give this to pretty miss,”

her shoulders are heavy with responsibility, she absolutely cannot mess this up. her tiny hands hold the small plant, and also jay’s pipeline to a love story with you but let’s not dwell into the details.

she nods firmly, way too interested in this little cupid act that she has gotten into. this has to be the most important day in her whole six years of life. her hold tightens on the pot, and she speaks with resolution. “will do!”

he sighs, fixing her ponytail. “and what do you say?”

“flowers are good and make you happy!” and dear heavens, jay has never been so proud of this little angel he has. honestly, he does feel a little silly for dragging her into his mess, but it was impossible to keep her out. she suggested the lilies and he knows she wouldn’t shut up about them until they have reached you safe and secure.

she has eyes as keen as an eagle and he is an open book.

she waves him goodbye, walking through the pink and blue entrance of the school and frowning at everyone who tries to touch the flower. her steps are laced with determination, wanting to do this right and make her father proud.

she walks to the class, flaunting the brand new hello kitty keychain on her bag pack. she was going to brag about it later. now, her eyes land on you as you arrange the books, and she approaches you with the puppy dog eyes that make the stars sigh in unison.

“pretty miss!” her cute voice makes you turn on your heel, a gasp falls off your lips as she holds the pot up and gives you her characteristic toothy smile. “for you!”

she’s shooting sparkles with her eyes that are looking at you eagerly for a reaction. it’s making you feel so many things at once, are you even supposed to take a gift from a student? you’re not sure, but you don’t have it in you to reject her surprise when she is looking at you with that grinning face.

“for me?” you look at the plantlet, and then at the excitement on her face as she hands it to you, her adorable eyes brimming with anticipation that you would like the gift. “why?”

“flowers are good!” she is beaming with cheerfulness, hands together and lips curved into the brightest smile. she is so proud of herself, almost imagining her dad patting her back and giving her all the chocolates. “papa told me to— oops!”

and the next second, her tiny hands fly over to her mouth, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. a gasp, she tries to blink the surprise away, gears turning inside her little head to come up with the best excuses. she cannot afford to mess this up. it’s about her papa and her pretty teacher— better than any princess story she has ever read.

you giggle at her innocent slip-up, the way her fingers fidgeting together in nervousness. you crouch to her level, gently placing the pot of lily on your work desk. “your father sent these?”

this is like her nightmare coming true. she can already see her father sighing disappointedly— no more spying, no more missions— her bottom lip is quivering at the mere thought of it.

“no!” and she shakes her head vigorously, try her very best to prove that it is not the case. “it’s a secret,”

you can barely enquire more before she runs off to her seat, successfully getting distracted by her friend’s cinnamoroll keychain. meanwhile, your eyes settle on the plant, the single flower that’s still about to reach its full bloom. there’s a bud next to it, small stars painted intricately on the ceramic pot. there’s a hello kitty sticker too— you know exactly who put it there.

you can hardly stop yourself from smiling, even when you’re supposed to go over the basic mathematics right now. your eyes inadvertently fall upon the beautiful white flower kept in the sunlight, the sight causing a slight flutter in your chest as warmth crept up your cheeks.

frankly, you have never thought about a parent of your students in such a way. it’s a little bashful, not to mention, unprofessional. although, something about jay makes you want to forget all those things and throw the cognition out of the window.

you see reflections of him in jiyu— the lovely smile, the way her eyes close when she laughs, her mannerisms, the slight raise in her brows when she is focused, and she is confident just like him, walking in as if she owns the room.

you don’t like working overtime but staying a little longer to look after jiyu is out of the equation. she’s cute, after all, and so is her dad, who shows up with an apologetic smile and tousled hair to pick her up. his eyes speak of exhaustion yet never running out of the love he harbours for her. his suit jacket is always on his forearm, tie a little loose and messy.

it doesn’t escape your attention the way his ears go red while talking to you and he avoids meeting your eyes. at this point, you don’t know if you’re staying late to look after jiyu or to catch a glimpse of her very attractive dad.

you continue with your duties, which certainly don’t include looking forward to meeting a certain someone but you end up counting down the minutes until the school hours end. parents teacher meetings are draining but when it’s with him, you find it oddly enjoyable. getting distracted was rather usual now, it was impossible to stop thoughts about him from flooding into your mind.

one quiet moment and your thoughts go back to him. it certainly didn’t help that jiyu mentioned him every few minutes— ‘my papa is the best—’ yeah, and you think so too.

much to your disappointment, you get caught up in a conversation with another parent to even see him, and it really pained to bid jiyu goodbye all alone and not walk her to the exit. it’s as if the universe isn’t on your side either because he arrived on time to pick up his little angel— fifteen minutes earlier in fact.

you could only watch him from a distance as he scooped her up in his arms and showered her with kisses, barely able to focus on the conversation at hand. and it melts your heart at the way jiyu waves you goodbye before resting her head on his shoulder as he carries her to his car, disappearing in the crowd of cheerful kids and yearning parents.

his hands are full of promised snacks and a surprise chocolate mousse patisserie that she loves to death. he can imagine his late wife scolding him for spoiling their daughter, but he can’t say no when she is looking at him with the very eyes he fell in love with ten years ago.

he shakes his head with a sigh, following jiyu’s tiny steps inside the house, calling out from behind. “careful!”

she’s a menace through and through, a treats monster on tiny feet that seemingly never gets tired even after school. he’s closing the door behind him and she stumbles on the way to the couch— his heart leaps out of his chest. even after six years, nothing can get him used to her energetic spirit that rules the entire house and has him dancing on her palms.

“snacks!” she claps her hands together, bouncing on the couch with happiness. it’s all she cares about, he doesn’t have to know about her little blunder in the plan. she can’t wait to have her papa-jiyu playtime where they both have snacks and share secrets.

and then she jumps down from the couch, restlessly running to him as she pulls her sparkly purple bag from his arm and shuffles through the colouring books and notebooks to pull out a pink envelope, basically shoving it into his face. “pretty miss gave this for you,”

his pulse increases at the simple mention of your name, and the fact that you send him an envelope— it feels like setting fire to his nerves. his shaky hands hold it cautiously, as if it’s worth millions. actually, to him, it does.

jay tilts his head— it’s exactly where jiyu gets that habit from— and he blinks at the sunflower sticker on top of the envelope. it makes him smile, you’re way too similar to jiyu when it comes to cute stickers and the colour pink.

he pulls out a small card from inside, and written on it is a small note which he can’t even read since the words are falling blind to his eyes. he is way too busy admiring your handwriting, the slight cursive that is just so you.

‘thank you for the lilies. they’re beautiful. ps. jiyu is bad at keeping secrets.’

and it happens again.

the jumbling of words inside his mind, heart beating relentlessly. he doesn’t know if he should consider his plan a success or failure— at least you have the lilies, he reassures himself, trying to hide his face behind the card that he knows is going to the safest locker in his cupboard.

and jiyu looks at him in confusion. “papa, you’re red again,”

OO2 TOOTH & NAIL

“papa,” she whispers in her cute voice, gesturing to him with her tiny hands to bend down to her level. “he gave her coffee,”

it’s not a known fact but jay and jiyu can pass for spies, or maybe they became one after he picked her up and saw another man approach you with what seemed like coffee.

this isn’t how things were supposed to go, but life is unpredictable. it was going to be an afternoon full of healthy vegetable sandwiches followed by ice cream and a movie of jiyu’s choice. well, that is until a certain someone reached you out with coffee right in front of him and jay felt like he was being challenged for a duel.

even she is engrossed— eyes squinted and fixed, she is judging that man with all her four feet and two inches. her face scrunches up— he’s not even that good-looking, not more than her prince of a father. no amount of spy missions to find cookies in the kitchen with her dad ( that he hid, by the way ) could measure up to this moment.

this just might be the most important mission of her entire life.

“come on, sweetheart. we should go home,” he buckles her seatbelt and turns on the ignition, and she nods like a commander in action.

she turns to her dad, eyes determined. the mission is clear— you’re a princess in danger, needing to be saved from the monster who lures people with coffee. her dear papa is the knight in shining armour, it’s exactly how the stories go. “are you going to fight?”

and jay scoffs, contradictory to the rules of disney. he huffs like this entire thing has nothing to do with him, even though his knuckles turn white with how firmly he is gripping the steering. “what? no!”

jay is indeed going to fight. tooth and nail.

he feels stupid for having these emotions— the butterflies, a crush, and the jealousy that seeps through his skin, drop by drop, every time he thinks about what happened earlier. the picture of you with he who shall not be mentioned is ingrained in his mind. eyes open, eyes closed, he sees you and him, and the thought that follows leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

‘do you like him? is he your boyfriend?’

jay prefers to ignore the latter.

you did look happy when he gave you the coffee and your lips had curved up in the same beautiful smile that melts his heart every single time, even in his wildest dreams. he has never been so restless and nervous. his mouth is going dry as the seconds pass— tick-tock, tick-tock— she inhales sharply, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

jay— the epitome of confidence and composure, is losing his cool because you interact with other men.

you and him are barely anything, and even if you were, you can talk to anyone you want. he knows that in all the right corners of his mind, even though his thoughts probably make him seem like a madman. hell, even he is surprised but he gets crazy when you’re the one driving.

his eyes go over the counter again— flour, sugar, eggs, vanilla, blueberries, baking powder, spatula, butter, milk, some more— all check. and then he gets to the matter at hand.

“do you think she likes cookies?” he asks jiyu, who is once again sitting on her high chair at the counter, making puzzles. “or muffins. everyone likes muffins,”

and she doesn’t even look up, tongue sticking out as she’s trying to figure out which piece goes where— a quiet mumble falls off her lips. “you can ask her,”

“no!” he shrieks and almost drops the spatula. “that’s a no, princess,”

the thought of you being aware of his stupid plans haunts him.

jay cannot think about asking your likes and dislikes without cringing on the inside and dying a little. you’re jiyu’s teacher, for god’s sake, even though that hasn’t stopped him from imagining you had his girlfriend and giggling under the blanket.

well, he hopes you like muffins. you have made a video about it, the one he watched religiously last night. it wasn’t in his best plans to woo you with his impeccable skills in the kitchen, but jay absolutely cannot let another man win you over while he sits with his hands tied.

he purses his lips in deep thought while absentmindedly tracing the rim of the bowl with his finger, and jiyu notices it all. she sees the way her dear father sighs every few seconds, wiping his sweaty hands on the apron.

the puzzle is gone, long forgotten. instead, she puts her elbow on the counter and rests her pretty face on tiny hands— an interrogation. “papa, are you scared?”

he scoffs.

he whips his head in her direction.

sacred? he is offended, it’s written all over his face. jay is the hero of all her midnight action stories, he is her spiderman who saves her from the monster octopus and superman who defeats carrots and capsicums.

he hasn’t been scared in years— okay, well, he did have a first hand encounter with fear every time he was late to pick jiyu up from school— but that is all. he has told her all about his great acts of bravery ( bungee jumping, swimming and riding a rollercoaster ) and it is like a dagger to his heart to hear her say that him, out of all the people, is scared.

he puts his hand over his heart that just cracked a little because his lovely daughter thought he was scared. a beautiful woman with pretty eyes and adorable smile hasn’t got anything on him.

sacred wouldn’t even be the last word he would use to describe himself.

“papa is never scared, darling,” he leans over the counter to boop her nose, lips flaunting a prideful grin.

and jiyu tilts her head adorably, the stars in her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “are you going to kiss pretty miss?”

jay feels the flutter in his chest again.

the thought of kissing you, you— his hands are shaking already. it is a dream come true for him. you look like an angel bestowed upon the earth, he would fall apart a thousand times before his lips touch yours.

and when they finally do, he would turn into angel dust blessed by your touch.

god, he is writing poetry about you in his head, seeing you in the flowers and the stars, in every beautiful thing in existence. jay is putting shakespeare to shame with his devotion, even though he can’t believe this is who he actually is.

he shakes his head, hands on waist and all, his squinted eyes shooting playful glares to his lovely daughter. “where are you learning all this from?”

“princess story! the prince and princess kiss and they live together!” and she is ever so excited, almost jumping on her seat. her grip tightens over her bunny plushie with anticipation. “if you kiss her, will she live with us?”

her words strike a certain cord in him— he is feeling a lot of things at once.

it’s yearning, perhaps, a longing for something he wants, something that he had before and lost through the cracks in his very palms that promised a happy future. jay was sure he would never fall for anyone else but here he was, already on the ground for you. he was scared for jiyu but she felt the safest with you, as if she had known you for an entire lifetime.

all his questions lead to you, all his answers are in you. his mind pushes him into pits of doubt while his heart pulls him out by the mere thought of you.

his hands are still shaking— but, he swears to hold yours ever so tenderly with his hesitant fingers. he would hold your heart like it’s glass and surrender himself to you.

that is, if you let him.

“i don’t know,” he sighs, adding extra choco chips to the batter. “that’s for her to decide, angel,”

after all, jay can only hope and pray.

“more glitter!” jiyu has the entire apartment up her shoulders, her tiny yet assertive voice ordering jay around like a poor employee under a cold-hearted boss.

he looks at the clock in worry, his little boss has no concept of time. “angel, that’s enough—”

“no, you have to make it pretty!” she exclaims with her glittery hands, grabbing yet another sparkly pen from her collection. “we need more glitter and heart and hello kitty stickers,”

the entire bed is filled with stickers, colourful pens and whatnots. he feels the headache approaching— he did not wake up an hour earlier than usual and cleaned the entire bedroom only to do it again after makes a mess of everything again.

jay isn’t quite sure if he should be worrying or not, she refuses to get ready for school without finishing their super secret ‘operation : save pretty teacher’ formulated by the one and only, park jiyu.

he only watched in defeat as she decorates the card— more glitter, more stars, more hello kitty— her tongue is poking out in concentration. jay thinks it’s genetic.

and then she shoves the paper in his face, wanting honest feedback, which means lots of compliments in her language.

“we should write a note,” jay presses his lips together, trying to come up with something. nothing too weird or forward, just nice and sweet like you.

jiyu claps her hand, chiming “say you want to marry her!” like it’s the best thing she has come up with in the six years of her life. it is, in fact, the most brilliant idea her tiny six year mind has thought of.

“stop it,” his heart is racing again— he is almost imagining you in a wedding gown already. he clears his throat as if jiyu’s words didn’t make his brain short circuit for a good few minutes. “okay. write ‘have a good day, pretty miss,”

and jay thinks he is smart.

making jiyu write his words in her adorably messy handwriting to make you believe that this was definitely not his idea and he certainly did not sit through the whole process of her making a greeting card for you. he was never the courageous one, not while confessing to his late wife, neither to you. although, he does feel a little more certain this time— it’s simply your magic.

she finishes up writing and he slides the pink card in the envelope ever so effortlessly— both of them sharing a prideful grin.

mission, half successful.

jiyu is on a mission once again.

part two of the same, truthfully. she strides forward with purposeful steps, confident that she is not going to mess this up like last time.

a spy never discloses secrets of their partner. she is going to have her mouth zipped up, locked.

she places the box of muffins and the envelope on your desk with her tippy toes, finding satisfaction in the way your face morphs from confusion into pleasant surprise.

“again?” you marvel at the fragrance of freshly baked muffins and she stands with hands on her sides, proud and victorious. “you don’t want to share them with your friends?”

“no! papa said this is only for you!” and it happens again, her brows rising up in shock. it doesn’t hit her until her small hands are over her mouth, wanting to take her words back. “that was a secret…”

you fail to bite back a giggle as her precious face flushes red, eyes moving all around except at your face. she cannot believe she screwed the missing again— she might just not get that hello kitty merch now.

you take a look at the pastel yellow box of muffin again, the cute marshmallow design bringing a smile to your lips. it’s evident that jiyu picked it herself. you know her enough to know she is just three things— hello kitty, marshmallows and strawberries— mostly.

“thank you, sweetheart,” you ruffle his hair, the pout on her lips only making you want to pull her into a hug. too bad, you have a job, otherwise you wouldn’t mind spending the whole day simply admiring her adorable face.

it’s the same process all over again— the envelope on your desk, jay’s handsome face in your mind, and the secret not-to-be-told that had slipped off jiyu’s lips ringing in your ears. your hands are itching to open the envelope, with utmost care, nonetheless. you would go over every crease and fold with a smile, maybe even kick your feet under the duvet while you’re giggling at every other word and scribble like you did last time.

jay has you falling for him just as deep as he has fallen for you, if not more.

butterflies house in your chest at the mere thought of him. it’s utterly unprofessional and disgustingly cute, and you haven’t even had a proper conversation with him where he is not jiyu’s father and you aren’t her teacher.

you don’t think you know him anymore than jiyu brags about— his maserati, the fact that they both have matching hello kitty headbands and that he is very, very good in the kitchen. you do want to know him more. perhaps, his favourite colour, or the book he likes.

maybe, how his hand would feel in yours— you drop the chalk amidst thinking about jay and spelling a word on the blackboard. you are going crazy, and you don’t think you want to get better anytime soon.

by the time school hours end, you make it your goal to walk jiyu to her dad yourself. the simple thought is making your heart race so fast, you can hear it echo in your ears.

and then you see him— gray suit, black locks slicked back. he is frantically trying to fix it as he catches your sight, and you chuckle under your breath, not missing the shy smile on his lips.

jay shines like gold in the setting sun, or perhaps it’s his own glow drawing you in. you are like a planet to the sun, always finding yourself revolving in orbits around him. you feel a similar flutter in your chest when he hugs jiyu like she’s his entire world— which she is.

and your breath gets caught up in your throat when his eyes finally meet yours. you notice the way he fumbles a few words again, you wonder if he knows you’re no better either.

“thank you for the muffins,” you manage to say, soft and sweet, it sounds like melodies to him. “how did you know blueberry is my favourite flavour?”

“just a lucky guess,” he says, trying to play it cool, knowing very well he scrolled through your channel to know your preferences. he knows you don’t like pineapple while chocolate is your second favourite. you’re trying to learn how to make mousse cakes and lobotomy wouldn’t even touch him because in his head, jay is already picturing the two of you baking it together.

“papa stayed up all night to bake! i helped too!” jiyu chimes in with a proud smile while jay is actively trying to disappear into the floor. she stayed up despite his hesitation, he did not want to risk her getting late to school. and now, it’s dreadful as well, because she can recite his crashouts from the night before word to word.

you grin at her words, ruffling her hair and almost melting at the contact when she leans into your touch. “no wonder they were delicious,”

“he also said your handwriting is pretty and it made his heart do a funny beat—”

and his hand flies over her tiny mouth that can’t keep secrets at all, while his face is red from the way you are looking at him. “don’t mind her,”

you swear, your heart just did a funny beat.

it’s the way he pulls her back and hushes her frantically that has you laughing under your breath. you shake your head at the pout on jiyu’s lips while he scolds her in the softest voice. he’s freaking out while trying not to be obvious about it and it’s the cutest family scene ever.

jay barely waits for another second before offering you a polite bow and walking towards his car.

“jay,” and you can hardly think before his name rolls off your tongue as if it has become a habit. “do you have something to say?”

you don’t know what you’re aiming for here.

maybe, you’ve been watching too many romcoms and reading too much into his little actions— it sounds stupid to you, even. the lilies, muffins, glittery cards and scribbled hearts can mean only one thing.

you still want to hear it from him to relieve all your doubts.

and before he could ever find words, jiyu already had a big grin on her face and eyes gleaming with impatience. “yes! papa likes—”

jay wants the earth to explode or something.

“would you look at the time? we should get going,” he drags his dear daughter to the car, ears red, cheeks flushed, barely having the courage to look you in the eye after the stunt jiyu pulled.

nonetheless, it told you exactly what you wanted to know.

you big goodbyes to other kids once the two of them are out of sight, and jay exhales heavily with his hands on the steering wheel as if he made it out of a death ring by an inch.

he looks over at his daughter who is sitting with her tiny arms crossed over her chest and the cutest frown dancing on her lips. jay knows he might have to buy an entire bakery to make it up to her.

it’s moments like this that remind him that she is much like her mother when it comes to mannerisms. she would have showered her in kisses as an apology but for now, jay will stick to bribing her with sweets if it means he can save image in front of you.

“never, ever, and i mean ever, say that in front of her,” he’s firm, soft, but also says it like a plea, like his whole life depends on that small mouth that holds big secrets.

“but it’s true! you like her!” she retorts, loud and proud. simply hearing it from her gives him a mini heart attack. “you tell her that and kiss and we live together— it’s easy!”

and jay had spent afternoons bickering with his wife that their daughter would take after him in some aspects. now, it’s biting him back since she inherited his stubborn attitude and refusal to give up.

he shifts the gears, hitting acceleration. “you’ll know when you grow up, little miss,”

and she huffs, brows furrowed. “i’m a big girl!”

OO3 MASTERPLAN

jiyu does believe she is a big girl. she’s six, big number, she can do additions in her mind and help her dear father write love letters because he is too much of a scaredy cat.

she has her lips zipped, not speaking a word about him to you for the next few days. no, she isn’t upset. it’s all a part of her big, masterplan. he didn’t spend the saturday night with a torch light under her space blanket for nothing.

the crumbled sheets of her drawing copy still lie in the trash can in her room, titled with ‘papa insert a poorly drawn heart pretty teacher’ and then scribbled off when she couldn’t devise a plan.

she didn’t give up, though, that word does not exist in her not so vast vocabulary yet. she stayed up all night looking at the glowy stars on her ceiling, lips pressed together, and then finally fisting her tiny hands with determination.

jiyu is tired of her dad fumbling every chance so she takes matters in her own tiny, glittery hands.

it’s just another busy afternoon at work for him and he’s picking jiyu up late again, warm coffee in hand, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled. he still remembers the first time he had arrived late and she was sitting alone, small legs dangling off the bench.

it was before you had joined and even though he knows you would sit next to jiyu the whole time while she’s waiting for him, it still doesn’t do much to ease his worries. if there’s one thing he hates, it’s to keep his little girl waiting.

you’re kneeling beside her cubby helping her zip up her hoodie, when he hurries inside with heavy breaths and a relieved smile at the sight of you next to jiyu.

“sorry,” he almost forgetting to breath when you smile at him, finding it hard to think straight when your eyes are on him. “i hit every red light,”

“all good,” you stand up, laughing when jiyu runs up to him and wraps her arms around his legs. “we were just having a fashion crisis,”

“papa,” jiyu says suddenly— her voice high, sweet, dangerously casual. there’s a certain glint in her eyes and god, it sets his heart off on a nervous journey. “did you know that pretty miss’ new video got so many views!”

he was almost expecting her to say something risky again— she can’t keep secrets for the life in her. although, her words bring a wave of relief to him. at least she isn’t planning to pull any stunts— for now. jay tugs her backpack over one shoulder and tilts his head. “did it?”

and he does it so innocently as if he wasn’t one of the earliest viewers in your new video, clicking the notification as soon as you posted it. he had already imagined your pretty face morphed in happiness when he saw your new video reach above a million views by the morning— yes, he opened youtube as soon as he got up.

“yes!” she exclaims, a little too excited, her ponytail swaying as she turns to you with a big grin. “papa is a big fan,”

you blink. “what?”

jay freezes, palms sweating as realisation dawns upon him. jiyu looks way too happy with no sign of wanting to stop on her face. her sharp tongue knows no bounds and he is already shaking his head in your direction to save whatever little image he has in front of you.

“i am not—” he starts, voice cracking slightly.

“yes you are!” jiyu intervenes brightly, pointing fingers and shooting daggers with her sweet giggles. “you watched the muffin video many times while making dinner, and you said you liked her voice and then you got all quiet and weird,”

the muffin video, god, jay wishes he could go back to that night and put his detective of a daughter to sleep. he thinks he’s hopeless, truthfully. he had no reason to watch your tutorial on baking muffins— he knows how to bake. he knew the ingredients even before you had gone over their names and proportions, and he remembers exactly how he had gone from sitting on the couch with his legs crossed to curling up in the corner with a cushion in his arms.

his little grin stayed hidden behind the cushion, one that grew wider every time you had smiled. you haven’t even done a face reveal on your channel but he can hear your pretty smiles flowing in your honeyed voice. you have him hooked, he scrolls through your videos even at work. jay can bet his secretary thinks he needs professional help because he keeps smiling while looking at the plain, white walls.

you stare at jay, wide eyed and at a loss of words.

and he stares at the floor like it personally betrayed him. it’s so over for him. his hand flies to his face, a heavy sigh falling of his lips, and he looks at you with pretty eyes brimming with panic. “i— okay, that’s not what happened,”

“you smiled in it,” jiyu continues, still cheerful, not wanting to stop anytime soon. she has one job— expose her lovely father because he is too much of a coward. “and he was smiling at the phone. papa is so silly!”

he can’t even look at you right now, just wanting the ground to swallow him whole or something. the sun can explode and he wouldn’t even mind. silly is not even on the list of words he would want you to describe himself as but maybe, that’s who he is— silly, some sort of loser who is hopelessly in love and impossibly shy to admit it to his crush.

you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “very silly,” your words are like a gentle jab to his heart, still not wanting to believe silly is what he is to you. “but kind of sweet,”

okay— now, he is not sure if he wants to disappear or melt at your feet. you called him sweet, it sounds like wedding bells to him. he looks over at you, you don’t look that upset at this revelation. you don’t look upset at all, not even a sliver of disgust on your face. maybe, this isn’t the end of the world. perhaps, he has a chance, or perhaps, you’re going to sit and make fun of him with your friends later over some drinks and chips.

his eyes widen, jay lets out a noise like a dying animal at the mere thought of that.

he looks over at his daughter, who is finding amusement in his misery and laughing under her tiny palms over her mouth. it’s like a game to her, one that she is winning by sacrificing her father.

“i’m gonna ban all screen time in our house,” he mutters, grabbing her arm to pull her out and away from here and just take her home. today’s father-daughter evening was going to be about an elaborate discussion on how to not embarrass your father in front of his crush. so much for big girl talks.

but jiyu pulls out of his grip immediately, helplessly adding “he gets shy when i talk about you,” with a giggle in her chirpy voice, loud and excited. “he says you have the prettiest laugh,” and at this point, he isn’t even doing it deliberately.

words flow out of her mouth like the poems she had learnt to recite to her grandparents. her eyes shine the brightest at this moment, followed by the smile that has you hooked to everything she says. jiyu had waited for this moment since forever, wanting to talk about him and you— the greatest love story in the making.

he exhales with a flare— or a plea. “jiyu,”

she shoots him glares as if it makes her pretty, doe eyes any less adorable. and you’re covering your mouth now, shoulders shaking, not sure whether to laugh or awe at his red face. your hands are aching to hold his flustered face in your palms and tell him so softly how much you want to kiss him.

jay gives you a look— half-mortified, half-defeated. his hair is tousled from the amount of times he has ran his fingers through them. “she’s lying. she’s six. no one believes six-year-olds,”

and jiyu gasps, tilting her head at him with an exaggerated pout. “you also said you like miss—”

“okay,” jay cuts in, clapping his hands and pulling her back by her bagpack. he was not going to let her drop the bomb like that. “time to go. say goodbye. we’re getting late,”

you’re barely keeping it together at their back and forth. he is basically pulling her towards the door and she keeps resisting, fighting with her pouty lips and squinty eyes.

you almost want to stop her and confront him yourself, wanting to see him squirm and stutter under your gaze until he has turned into a puddle. it’s cruel, you feel like the villains in his fake princess stories that jiyu tells you about. the idea is tempting, but you end up waving at jiyu. “bye, lovebug.”

“bye, pretty miss!” she sings sweetly, hello kitty keychain dangling off her bagpack. “tell papa you like him back!”

jay groans, practically scooping her up and backs out of the room. he can never face you after this. he’s already thinking about other good schools he can transfer jiyu to.

honestly, if it wasn’t for jiyu, you would think jay and you would still be exchanging muffins like highschoolers. unlike him, this is probably the best day you’ve had at work, and you call out to them to make it even better. “tell him his face is red again!”

and jay groans audibly down the hallway, not wanting to believe he’s still breathing through all this— and unfortunately so.

OO4 TO BELONG

jay thinks he is the unluckiest person alive.

absolutely doomed by the heavens, not even the higher deities are on his side. resigning from his job and moving to the countryside would be better. at least, he wouldn’t have to face you after the majestic event his daughter pulled the last time he saw you.

frankly, he has been avoiding you the whole week. he arrives at the school pickup on time, waiting until his little girl comes running and then he drives away with her before you can even approach him. it doesn’t make him feel any less shitty than he did for not attending the parents teacher meeting. he bailed out with some work excuse— he’s sure you’re perceptive enough to catch his lies.

jay wasn’t going to avoid you forever. he’s simply waiting for the right time. and timing be damned, because he had to have an important meeting on a weekday and his fingers were shaking over your contact. cherry on top— jiyu’s nanny had to get sick today and the neighbours had to go on a family dinner when he needed them the most. he is so sure this is an elaborate scheme to ruin his life.

this was a bad idea. yeah, why would you want to do anything with him after what happened last time? you probably think of him as some crazy, obsessed freak. it’s probably your courtesy that he doesn't have a restraining order on him yet. he’s highly expecting it anytime soon.

‘this is a bad idea,’ he thinks, but then freaks out when he clicks on the call button. worse— it connects immediately and his mind haywires, forgetting the entire concept of words and vocabulary.

“jay?” he gulps at the sound of your voice, looking at the potted plant in his office as if that succulent was going to start speaking. “jay, are you there?”

“uh— ” he wants to rip his hair out because of the weird sound he just let out. he shifts in his leather seat, fingers clutching around the phone like a lifeline. “hi,”

great.

he’s pretty sure his voice is nothing less than that of an animal shrieking in pain. he cannot believe it’s this same mind that signs off million dollar deals and can’t even hold a normal conversation with a beautiful woman.

okay, jay, breathe. this is not the end of the world. you’re just another woman— he wants to marry you, but that’s another story. besides, there’s always an option to move to the countryside and have a corn farm.

“i hate to ask this but i’m stuck in a meeting,” a pause, he’s testing the waters. a reply, anything, from you that tells him that you’re still with him. and when you don’t speak, he simply continues with dread setting deeper in his chest. “it’s going to take the whole evening. would you—?”

“of course,” you say immediately and he thinks you’re god. “i’ll take her to my place. you can rest assured,”

he practically melts in his work chair, letting out a breath that he has been holding for the past twenty minutes. you’re his saviour, like the light at the end of the tunnel. and for some reason, he feels more assured than he did when he left jiyu with anyone else before you.

he thinks he might have fallen for you once again.

he sighs in relief. “thank you— and i’m sorry for putting this on you on such a short notice,”

“it’s fine, i don’t mind spending time with her,” and you sound like you are in a hurry. you’re at the school, after all. you probably have some toddlers at each other’s hair judging from the cry he heard in the background. “i have to go— i’ll text you my address so you can pick her up later,”

“yeah—” he can barely finish his words before you hang up, and he only stares at the black screen in admiration with a dreamy smile, mumbling to himself. “thanks,”

if jay had to choose a superpower, it would be time control.

yeah, they’ve gone over this before— him and jiyu— she had picked invisibility so she could steal all the cookies. as childish as it sounds, he really wishes superpowers were real. if you hadn’t already started disliking him for his poor tricks to hit on you, he is so sure you would hate him for his absolute disaster of time management.

a blazing horn, tires screech, he whips the steering to the right— a near miss. his heart échos in his ears while his leg is still resting over the brake. the last thing he needs today is to see his death. it has to be the worst day he has ever had.

even finally pulling up in front of your apartment complex doesn’t make things better. he almost forgets to lock his car. seventh floor, unit 723— he remembers that like the back of his hand. jay barely has any time to lose before he barely waits for five seconds in front of the lift before deciding to take the stairs.

jay is convinced this is bigger than any gym workout he has ever done. hell, the two-hundred meters race on father’s day at jiyu’s school feels like a joke. he can barely feel exhaustion setting it, the urgency to see his dear princess lies second to none, even if his legs are starting to feel like jelly.

he feels like he has aged three years while running up seven floors, and simultaneously has gained ten years of lifespan when he sees your unit in sight. he rings the bell, knocks, one hand up the walls to catch his breath.

and when you finally open the door, it’s like a flood gate of words turned open. “i’m sorry. the meeting went on longer than expected and then the traffic—”

“jay, breathe,” you interrupt, half amused and half concerned. you’re trying not to feel guilty of finding him hot even now— he can barely breathe, for gods sake, but your eyes refuse to look anywhere except the glimpse of clavicle near the collar of his shirt. “you look like you ran all the way up,”

“yeah, i took the stairs—” the way he says it with huffs of breaths makes you feel bad, but you end up letting out an amused chuckle in the end. “elevators were taking too long,”

you want to hug his worries away, even though that sounds like a far dream. his hair sticks to his forehead due to sweat and you almost imagine yourself sitting next to him and tending to him with gentleness.

you watch the way his eyes scan your apartment restlessly even before he has walked past the doorway, trying to get a glimpse, a sight— you know exactly what will put his heart to ease.

“jiyu is fine. she just fell asleep,” your heart flutters as you watch your words ease his mind, and your lips break into a warm smile as you continue. “took her three bedtime stories even after playing all evening,”

you step aside and let him walk inside, and jay lets out a loud gasp at the sight of the living room— messy, opened paint bottles and brushes around with loose sheets. it looks like a disaster, he considers getting on his knees to apologise.

his eyes inadvertently move to your face and now that he looks at you again, better, you look happy, covered in glitter and cute stickers— he knows jiyu put that strawberry sticker on your cheek— and jay is swooning.

“well, we were painting,” he can hear the smile in your voice and his heart does a sommersault. his chest aches to see you playing with jiyu. “i’ll clean at up later,”

“i’ll help,” he immediately turns to you and there it is, the sparkle in his eyes, the one that you have gotten used to seeing whenever he comes to pick jiyu up after school. the sparkle that you have always wanted to see for a little longer but couldn’t because he cannot meet your eyes for longer than a minute.

and now that he is finally looking at you with an emotion somewhere between apology and gratefulness, you can’t help but admire the way he looks— his sharp features that look soft as a flower when he’s looking at you.

the silence between you both stretches and your chest tightens, and words leave your mouth like you’re caught under his spell. “okay,”

jay is already taking off his suit jacket, placing it on the armrest of your couch before undoing the cuffs of his sleeves. you basically freeze midway in the process of gathering the loose sheets painted with whatever, taking in every inch of the skin on his arm that meets your gaze as he rolls the sleeves up.

you’ve lost it, completely.

he picks up jiyu’s backpack that was lying around on the floor and swings it over his shoulder like it’s muscle memory. he arranges her shoes with his foot, immediately going for the water bottle that was lying next to the couch.

you have only managed to pick up the sheets and colours and he is already looking like some avenger with a backpack, water bottle in one hand and a bowl of water for painting in another with brushes dipped in it. he’s also somehow balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder through it all and answering to whoever it was on the other end of the call.

it feels like magic because you’re apartment already looks cleaner than it was just two minutes ago. “that was…surprisingly quick,”

he registers your words as soon as he puts his phone down on the counter, and there is it again— the shy smile that tugs at your heart strings just right. his hand flies to his nape and he manages to speak even through the loss of words. “yeah, well— i’ve been doing this for six years now,”

god, you’re addicted to that smile.

“right,” you smile, not sure if it’s at his words or how pretty he looks under those kitchen lights. you might as well be jealous of jiyu for being able to see this godly sight every day, might.

you’re still in a trance while watching him wash the excess paint off the dried brushes. you grab a cleaning towel to wipe the paint splatters off the tiles and your eyes are still glued to him— his arm, biceps, flexing through the soft material of his dress shirt.

you do see him walk over to you but you don’t move, your brain is still out of network service. you see his lips moving— his words are deaf to your ears anyway. your fingers are itching to trace over every single part of his face but you fist them around the cloth in your hand to not look crazy.

you blink once, twice— the sound of his voice calling your name gets a tad bit clearer— and then thrice before you’re finally pulled out of dreamland. “oh— yeah, sure! thanks,”

you don’t even know what you’re saying sure and thanks to. you’ve already lost your mind and you think you start losing it again when he steps closer. your heart speeds up like it’s on rocket fuel as he leans in even closer. you don’t even know what you agreed to— it can be anything between killing you and kissing you—

and you’re almost closing your eyes as if anticipating something. almost, because you feel his fingers graze tenderly over your cheek. it’s ever so gentle, like he’s afraid you’ll break.

you almost lean into his touch before he pulls away with a small smile. “there,” and he crumbles the fuckass strawberry sticker between his fingers before it finally hits you. “all clean,”

he laughs.

jay is laughing while you want to scream, probably punch into the nearest wall. you’re pretty sure you’ve embarrassed yourself but hey, so has he, many times at that, so you both are equal.

“thanks,” you manage to speak through the awkwardness. and then words vanish off your tongue again. he’s looking at you like you’ve saved his life— honestly, you might have, by looking after jiyu all evening. she is his life, his heart beat.

it’s quiet again.

and it feels like one hell of an awkward episode as you both just stand and look at each other. it’s way too quiet, save for the distant horns on the road. jay practically jumps when your table clock goes off with a robotic sound— why did you even set an alarm for ten at night?

you look like an angel wrapped in a warm sweater and trousers. white suits you and so does the glitter on your cheeks. you look like the perfect mess, and you look like you belong here— with jiyu, with him. this is bad, he needs to say something, anything.

his weight shifts from one leg to the other, an attempt at clearing his throat and well, the awkwardness. “i’m sorry for putting you up for babysitting duties all of a sudden,”

you shake your head modestly and he knows what’s coming. “it’s okay, i had fun,”

he laughs at your words, like the first gentle, relieved laugh of the day, like he can breathe after a whole day of work and worries. “she didn’t give you trouble, did she?”

you roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. “we get along better than you think, jay,”

and it’s the way you say his name that sends his mind into a frenzy. the way you are smiling at him, the way your eyes are sparkling with a playful glint— everything that is making him forget to breathe.

jay had actually forgotten he was here to pick his daughter up and not stand and admire you like a fool, and when he finally remembers, his feet follow behind your steps on their own while you lead him to your bedroom.

and there she is— his perfect, little girl tucked under a duvet. you’ve arranged pillows around her to prevent her from rolling over and it affects him more than it should. he almost crashes against the door, lips erupting into a fond smile at the sight of her sleeping so sound and safe.

“she’s adorable,” you can’t help but murmur. you’ll probably never tell him, but you sat by the bed for a good few minutes to admire her when she had fallen asleep.

“yeah,”

he takes quiet steps towards the bed and scoops her up in his arms like it’s a habit— and it is. jay would swear his arms would feel empty without her. she squirms drowsily and he pats her back, lulling her back to sleep with practiced ease.

you can see the fatigue behind his eyes and the exhaustion setting in his actions. he presses the softest kiss on jiyu’s forehead and the action melts your heart. you’ve always found their interactions cute, but seeing him like this— a tired mess and relishing in little form snuggled up against his chest— is the most special.

he walks towards the main entrance and words end up slipping off your tongue before you know it. “you’re not staying for dinner?”

you’re just as surprised as him, honestly.

he’s still looking at you with the same soft look on his face. you’re starting to think that dinner with him isn’t exactly a bad idea, not at all.

“no, you look like you could use some nice sleep,” he sighs, and you open your mouth to protest even though you’re disappinted, but he beats you to it. “you’ve already done more than enough,”

maybe, you actually need some sleep.

taking care of a kid is hard, you’ve realised it several times today. if it wasn’t for her non-stop narration on why you should watch kpop demon hunters, you would have fallen asleep on the couch before her. although, you would look after jiyu again without question. he simply has to say the word.

it also has to do with the fact that you still haven’t stopped ogling at his arms, not like you’re ever going to say that out loud.

your eyes meet again when he stands at the doorway, none of you knowing what to say. he’s still caressing her back, making sure she doesn’t wake up. it’s oddly captivating, you want to know how his hands would feel wrapped around you.

your gaze traces over his face, then lips, then back up to meet his eyes so you don’t look like some creep to him. this was a perfect way to end a day and you would hate to ruin it with your inability to take your eyes off him.

he takes a deep breath, not really wanting to leave but he knows that’s not possible. at least, not yet. “see you,”

you nod with a quiet “good night,” and then you close the door, crashing against it with the sweetest smile.

oh, you’re so done for.

OO5 MATCHMAKER

you haven’t seen jay in over five days and it’s the worst thing ever. the first two days, jiyu called in sick, and the next three, you had to visit your parents for your father’s birthday. you’d be lying if you say you did not think about him all the time— day, noon and night.

despite you telling everyone that nothing was wrong, you constantly checked your phone for texts from him, the last ones being about jiyu being sick from two days ago. and well, you did reply, two days ago, of course, hoping that she gets well soon, and then succumbed to hesitation as you went back and forth between to message or to not message.

and now that you’re back to work, jiyu is once again looking at you with determined eyes and a mischievous smile, tiptoeing over your desk. “papa made pancakes for you,”

once again, in front of you, lies a cute box, pastel green this time, with a cherry sticker. you’re going to lose your mind out of cuteness overload one of these days. she slides a small card towards you and your heart skips several beats. all this feels like some high school love story with jiyu playing the perfect cupid.

“were you supposed to tell me that?” you chuckle, based on her history spilling secrets that he trusts her to hide.

you flip open the card and this time, it’s written in his own handwriting— neat yet a bit hurried, every stroke and curve making the smile on your face grow bigger. your name looks prettier when it’s written by him, like something that belong right next to his name.

“yes!” jiyu’s chimes in, almost jumping in excitement. “he also said you should come for dinner,”

“dinner?”

“he cooks really well! and he wants to say thank you,” and of course, she is not letting up any opportunity to praise her father. if jay had a sponsor, it would be her and it’s no surprise. if jay has a million fans, she is one of them. if jay has one fan, it’s her and, if jay has no fans, she is dead.

she went off in front of her grandparents on her third birthday and his friends about how amazing he is at making soup. she couldn’t even remember her nursery rhymes well but she would never shy away from standing in the middle of the living room and give a proper speech on the chef of a dad that she has.

and she is confident in her words, even if they are stuttery and pronounced wrong, sounding like the usual baby rambles. jay can do anything and he would always have a tiny, adorable voice cheering on him.

you slide the note inside your purse, knowing it’s going to stay in your drawer like some precious treasure. you basically spend the rest of the working hours shaking with excitement to see him. you taught subtractions, gripping the chalk a little too tightly in anticipation.

you feel like a victorian lady who can’t wait to see her husband as he returns from the war. the thought itself makes your mind go fuzzy, you’re afraid you mind end up saying something wrong and scaring him away ( even though it’s not possible because jay will want you even if you are a little crazy. )

when the head assigns you to review some student profiles after work, you almost wanted to snap her head off with your bare hands. you hate staying beyond the working hours, more when you know it can very well ruin your only chance of seeing jay today after a whole week of torture.

but, it’s like even the stars are rooting for both of you because you receive a text from him and he is late again— much to his disappointment— and you have never loved the traffic so much before.

you stay with jiyu after school, she is talking about planets. her favourite is saturn because she read that it rains diamonds up there, and you try your best to not look impatient while waiting for the horn of his car that has now become familiar to your ears.

“do you like papa?” jiyu looks up at you with her big, curious eyes, legs dangling off the swing you both are sitting on. she blinks at you a few times, waiting for a response while holding the lollipop in one hand. “he’s nice,”

she’s making round patterns on the sand with her shoes and just as you were about to reply, he arrives, finally, you straighten yourself as you watch him hurry out of the car and close the door a little too loudly behind him.

jay practically runs inside, anxious eyes looking for jiyu until they finally meet her tiny form running towards him. she’s lifted off the ground even before she could respond, her giggles erupting in the air as he drowns her face in fleeting kisses.

then his gaze meets yours, and both your heartbeats start going off like a time bomb— straight out of a movie. you look happier to see him than usual and he is already working up his mind to come up with something.

“about dinner— will saturday be okay?” you cringe internally. that came off as way more excited than you intended. obviously, you don’t want to come off too strong even if you are literally shaking like a manic at the thought of having dinner with him.

“dinner?” he looks down at the tug at his sleeve. it’s jiyu, she’s looking up at him with a grin, and she winks. oh. “saturday is…perfect,”

he doesn’t understand whether to pat jiyu’s back and give her the trophy for being better at this than cupid, if he exists, or if he should lecture on why she can’t invite you over for dinner one fine saturday, under his name, because it’s inappropriate.

although, all his worries are thrown out of the window when he sees the enchanting smile tugging at your lips— dinner be it, hell yeah. he might just invite you over for a five course meal everyday if you are going to look at him like that.

“i’ll see you then,” you nod, and jay was going to make sure the upcoming saturday is the best one you’ve had in your entire life.

you had said saturday to buy yourself four days worth of preparation for the dinner as if it was your marriage dinner. well— it’s just as important, and you don’t know how the said saturday arrived so quickly because you’re standing in front of your closet, looking for the perfect dress.

you have to be going insane. even the new one you bought recently suddenly looks like the ugliest fit you’ve ever had.

you wonder if you should cancel, postpone, and then almost slap yourself back to senses.

no cancellations. you've been waiting for this dinner religiously.

after digging through your closet like you’re going to find gold, you finally end up with something. well, at least it’s new and compliments your skin tone. at least, it looks perfect with your favourite pendant and that is all the confidence you need to go through this dinner.

an hour later, you’re standing nervously in front of his door, fixing any creases on your dress with urgency and nervousness. there’s a box of pineapple shortcakes in one hand for jiyu and a bottle of pinot noir in another. google said it’s a perfect choice for romantic dinners— something about its light body and earthy tones— not like you are expecting anything to happen, by the way.

you press the doorbell, anxiously shifting from leg to the other, biting your inner cheeks. and as if on cue, jay opens the door with a warm smile that makes your face heat up.

“hi,” is all you’re able to say because well, the way he is looking at you is making your mouth run dry. the navy blue cardigan hugs his frame loosely and his hair is no longer styled back. the strands float above his eyes like a veil and you find yourself aching to brush them away to get a clearer look at those dreamy eyes and drown in them.

you’ve only ever seen him in poised suits and rolled up dress shirts with loosened ties, it has made you forget that he definitely doesn’t only wear formals. and frankly, he looks much better in casuals, so much that you’ve come to two conclusions :

first, jay looks way too good in cardigans for your heart health. you might as well get a heart attack at the sight.

and second, you need this date to get somewhere. hopefully, the pinot noir will do its job.

“hi,” he steps aside, gesturing to you to come in. “you should come inside— i’m almost done,”

and it feels surreal to be in his apartment, his place.

it’s nothing like yours and everything like a home that belongs to a family. there are photo frames of him and jiyu in every corner, even on the kitchen island next to the flower vase. her crayon drawings cover the entire fridge door and of course, there is hello kitty on mugs, posters.

the best of all, the entire place smells like a mouth watering cuisine as you see him return to the kitchen. you try your best to not ogle at the food like you haven’t eaten in a hundred years. “anything i can help with?”

“no need, i’m almost done,”

you stand across him, putting the cake and wine on the counter, watching his perfect hands flip the steak over with practiced precision. the sizzle only adds to your appetite. “i don’t mind helping, really,”

“well, you can just sit there and look pretty for me,” he doesn’t even know where these words are coming from.

both of you are equally flustered, barely meeting gazes before they flutter away. you sit on the stool at the counter, right across him, getting the best view of his handsome face glowing like a gem underneath the warm kitchen lights.

“okay,” you let the silence engulf both of you in the comfort of its embrace. it’s not awkward anymore, the faint smiles on both of your lips speaking for the lack of words. “where’s jiyu?”

he looks up from the grill, meeting your beautiful eyes. “with the neighbour’s kid. they suddenly wanted to have a sleepover,”

he says those words with an unamused sigh, still smiling, turning up the flame.

sneaky little thing.

not only she set both of you up for this thank you dinner but she also ran off to her friend’s. sleepover was an excuse, he knew that the second she approached him with puppy dog eyes and a pleading pout to manipulate him. she knows he can never say no to her when she looks at him like that.

well, he is thankful, even after she embarrassed him in front of you. he is glad that his little, matchmaker of a daughter pulled some tricks or else, he would still be sending you tiffins full of baked goodies and cute notes written by her.

you watch him set the plates and fetch the wine glasses. it feels like the perfect date night, better than any five star restaurant can offer, and the cute bowls and mugs on the shelves behind him only make everything better.

“so, what else do you do, aside from being a full-time dad— and watching my videos, obviously?” you ask with a teasing smile, feeling more confident than you were a week ago.

and jay groans visibly, ears flushing red almost immediately. of course, you are bringing that up, he wants to disappear into thin air. “please forget that. jiyu has no filter,”

you fold your hands over the counter with a huff. “and i’m glad she doesn’t. i don’t think you would have told me you’re a fan otherwise,”

and boy, jay was a whole air conditioner in fact.

he would spend his evenings watching your baking videos and his nights were filled with shy grins under the duvet, thinking about the way you had smiled at him at the school pickup.

he would never say it to anyone— it’s so embarrassing, he hides his face in the mattress whenever he thinks of it at night, but he has spent days admiring you from afar, watching you interact with kids and their parents. he would sit in his car and try to calm his heart down, hoping he manages to say something more than a hello and a thank you.

he even feels a tinge of jealousy at the sight of you laughing with the kids and kissing their cheek, as insane as it sounds.

will you ever kiss me?

his knees go wobbly at the thought and he almost smiles to himself, forgetting you’re sitting right in front of him. he ( and his daughter ) has already done enough damage to his cool and sauve image in front you, he definitely doesn’t want you to run away because you think of him as some mad man giggling to himself.

he can feel your gaze follow every single motion of his hand, the way he scatters pepper over the butter and thyme in the pan before stirring in the shallots. it’s like a game, he feels a sense of victory knowing he has you hooked— and it’s true. you have watched countless people cooking the most delicious meals in their own magnificent ways, but nothing was ever as hypnotic as him, nothing even comes close.

he carefully flambé’s the shallots in brandy and flame until it dies down, unlike the one in your chest that only ignites further when he gives you a charming smirk from across the stove. your face heats up and you don’t know if it’s because of him or the warmth of the kitchen, you don’t bother answering that question to yourself.

with a few more steps that felt like watching a magician in his show, you had the perfect steak diane served drizzled with sauce in front of you. “hope you enjoy,”

you were going to enjoy it.

the plate looks like it’s straight out of a cooking magazine, the wine that he pours on the side only elevating the taste of the whole meal. you wait for him to join you and he sits in front of you with expectant eyes waiting for your review. you’ve seen this movie before, the same pupils gleaming with anticipation and excitement. you almost feel compelled to give jiyu extra stars when she looks at you the same way as he is right now, and you think it’s only valid to give him stars too.

you slice the steak with your knife and take a bite, immediately melting onto the table itself. “this is so—” gosh, you hear him chuckle when you try to speak through a mouthful of food. you decide that it doesn’t even matter anymore. “—amazing,”

he smiles at your words and digs in— honestly, you’re too busy savouring the taste of steak and shallots to even pay attention to what he is doing. you came for the man, stayed for the food, it’s hard to believe he has all these skills hidden up his messily rolled sleeves on workdays.

the dinner is quiet, for the most part, save for the occasional clinking of cutlery and soft thank yous that he mutters to you for accepting his— or more accurately, jiyu’s— invitation. your legs accidentally touch under the table and he immediately averts his gaze, cheeks shot red. he apologises, soft and shy, gulping down the sip of wine and his nervousness.

it’s cute, you hold yourself back from reaching out and placing your hand on his. if it wasn’t for hesitation coursing through your veins, you might have done it already, and perhaps he would have too.

maybe it’s the wine but you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him— not like you had it any better before. the way he fills up your wine glass with politeness adoring his every move has you in a trance. you’ve noticed all those business awards and the ‘best dad’ certificate on the wall that was made by jiyu herself. he checks all the boxes— the perfect employee to the perfect dad, and a perfect man.

your words stand confirmed all over again when you step aside to use the restroom after dinner and by the time you get back, he is already putting the dishes in the sink after cleaning up the kitchen, and he is effortlessly quick with it too.

you do lose your mind over those broad shoulders and tiny waist, it’s making you feel all tingly in the chest and stomach. and after spending several minutes admiring him from behind, you find the courage to stand right next to him. “let me help,”

and it’s like you’ve said something controversial because jay is looking at you wide eyed and raised brows with disbelief written all over his face. “please, you don’t have—”

“i insist,”

the silence overtakes again.

your gazes meet and he shifts awkwardly, accidentally brushing his arm against yours, and suddenly his spacious modular kitchen feels too small for even two people. his ears turn red but he doesn’t look away and neither do you.

his eyes scan your face, then travel down to your lips before coming back at your face, and none of you look away. maybe, the pinot noir is doing it’s job. maybe, things are getting somewhere—

and then he shifts away, clearing his throat. “okay,”

honestly, jay is freaking out.

he doesn’t know how he is still standing next to you and breathing normal and not screaming while crashing out on the floor. you give him a cute smile every time he looks down at you and god, it is making him want to hold your face in his shaky hands and cry his eyes out.

it all feels so domestic, like you belong here, right next to him. nobody would have expected you both to be washing dishes on your first ( unofficial, self-proclaimed ) date. if he was any braver, he would have you right next to you on the couch with a movie playing on the tv screen. but, since he is far from anything mentioned above, he relishes in doing dishes with you.

and it’s heavenly, because the second your hand brushes against his under water in the sink, it’s like electricity running through his body and short circuiting his brain. he doesn’t know what to do— should he apologise? should he hold your hand? should he ignore and wait for it to happen again?

you aren’t even looking at him and continue to wash the same plate for the last ten minutes— not like he minds— and he wants to explode. that seems like the most plausible option at the moment.

the air is turning awkward again and he constantly taps his foot over the tile, finding words to break the silence. he watches you put the plate away before picking up the bowl, and he can’t help the next words that leave his mouth. “you’re good at this,”

great.

just amazing.

jay dies a little on the inside when you laugh at his words, the sound almost mocking his question. “at washing dishes?”

he wants to jump out of the window. billions of words in the english language and his mind came up with the worst four possible right now. he needs to save himself somehow. “yeah, you’re uh— skilled,”

stop.

just shut up.

you’re laughing at him, and of course you would be. you probably think he is the stupidest person to exist, even the kids at the kindergarten might be smarter than him. he doesn’t even trust himself to say something better anymore. when you’re this close to him, all his senses are destroyed.

you reach out to push a loose strand of hair back with your forearm, and he reaches out to wipe his hand almost instinctively before tucking your hair behind your ear. his hand stays there for a while like it’s a scene straight out of a romance show, his eyes refusing to leave your surprised ones.

his focus averts to your lips again, the way you nip at it nervously only makes it harder for him to think straight. he considers leaning in— it’s barely a few inches. but he steps back, and his touch lingers over your skin even after he pulls away.

he’s still thinking about it while scooping ice cream for two. you look so pretty leaning against the kitchen island and taking in every detail with utmost care, it makes him freeze by the refrigerator with two bowls of ice cream in his hands.

“here,” you smile when he hands you one, and jay stares at you with keen eyes as you take a spoonful in your mouth. it’s strawberry, too sweet for his liking, but jiyu mentioned once that you like strawberries and he hopes it’s your preference in ice creams too.

“what?” he doesn’t realise he’s staring until you call him out, and he smacks himself internally for getting lost in you again, not like he can help it.

“nothing just…” words trail off while he rubs his nape for a decent answer, looking at the shelves as if begging for help. “i, uh, hope you like that flavour,”

that was good.

“it’s good,” you say with a smile so sweet, it makes the ice cream taste bland. “but i prefer cookies and cream,”

and for some reason, that brings a smile to his face too. cookies and cream— so much like you, yet nothing that he could have guessed. well, it’s just the first dinner together and you’re like a box of surprises that he wishes to unwrap slowly and carefully, only seeing what you’re willing to show.

“i’ll remember that for the next time,” and it’s more of a promise than a statement. there is s a wishful certainty for a next time for something in the way you’re looking at him tells him that you want it to happen too.

you’re enjoying the ice cream in silence and he’s enjoying the sight of you, but again, what’s new? you look up at him again, glowing ever so perfectly under the yellow lights hanging from the ceiling. every single feature on your face shines like gold, and jay doesn’t know where all this bravery is coming from but he finds himself inching towards you.

he takes it slow, hesitant in his own actions. it’s like he’s waiting for your reaction, anything more than just your eyes landing on his lips before moving away. he wouldn’t mind if you choose to leave, despite the heartbreak, but when you turn to face him with the same look, he knows he has you for now.

it’s like the air shifts around you and suddenly, the lack of space doesn’t feel so bad. “can i?”

“i thought you’d never ask,” you nod— it’s all jay needs to know.

the next second, his lips are on yours, barely moving. he’s still unsure, wondering if you are too, if you want to pull away. but when you don’t— when you give in and press your lips against his, leaning into him— he feels like he can breathe again.

he puts his bowl away and takes yours to do the same, hands immediately going around your waist to pull you flush against him. you’re backed against the counter and he is somewhere between losing himself in the thrill and keeping himself grounded.

the kiss deepens, he lets you lead and his lips follow yours, slow yet insistent. you pull at his cardigan and he cups your cheeks ever so tenderly, wanting to get lost in you and never find a way out. it’s dizzying, the way your hands rest on the back of his neck, the way he can almost feel your heartbeat against his chest and the way it is almost in sync with his.

he smells like oud and something you can’t name but it’s clouding your senses and everything feels so right. his hand trails down the curve of your waist like he’s worshipping you and your breath hitches when he draws you even closer, if it was even possible.

jay pulls away a little, his forehead against yours. he takes in your sight— lips red while you’re breathing in short huffs. it feels like he’s falling for you all over again. “i’ve been waiting to do that for so long,”

“me too,” and your words are like a wave of relief pulling him in as he captures your lips in another kiss. it’s more playful this time, he can feel you smiling while your hands ghost up his neck and travel down to intertwine with his.

he still cannot believe this is real, and even if it’s not he doesn’t want it to stop. although, it does when you give him a few more pecks before pulling back with a grin, as if proud of the needy pout on his lips.

“stay for the night?” he murmurs, still cupping your cheeks. he tries to hold back, but ends up pecking your lips anyway. “it’s raining outside anyway. i’m not letting you drive in this weather,”

and you nod, pressing yet another peck against his lips as you bring his arm to circle around your waist. “only if you make pancakes for breakfast,”

the bachelor party took a slight turn after jay had one too many beers — three. he hadn’t just loosened up—he had disintegrated. normally the responsible one, always holding back when they partied with the girls—especially when yn was around—he was the guy who drank just enough to have fun but stayed alert to carry her home if she tripped in heels or decided to start a dance battle with a stranger.

but tonight? knowing the girls, yn, was on the other side of his mansion celebrating her own bachelorette, and that he knew she was safe, he let himself loose. no yn = no filter.

he had started slow: two beers during snacks, another during pool volleyball, one with sunghoon while setting up the fire, and then somehow five more vanished without him even noticing. the slurring began around the time he laid flat on the carpet and started pointing at the ceiling saying, “that light fixture looks like her elbow.”

jake immediately threw a cushion over his face. “okay. that’s enough.”

“i miss her,” jay declared, voice muffled under the cushion. “she’s so small but so—so powerful. like a—a sexy little warlord.”

intak choked on his drink. “what?!”

“she bosses me around and i like it, bro. she tells me what to wear and i do it. she tells me to sleep on my side and i do it. she’s always right. she’s always right. even when she’s wrong, she’s hot, so it doesn’t matter.”

“jay.”

“she does this thing—this thing when she’s mad—and i get so—”

“okay!” heeseung lunged over and slapped a hand over jay’s mouth. “you don’t get to tell us what your fiancée does when she’s mad.”

jay licked his palm.

“ew.”

jake, the only one truly sober, sat with a resigned look on his face and a bottle of water he kept offering everyone like some exhausted babysitter. he hadn’t even tried to get drunk after his second beer. his tolerance was stupidly high for no reason, and all it did was make him the designated adult in every group setting. he hated it. the taste of beer wasn’t even that good. he just wanted a little buzz—was that too much to ask?

“i wish i was wasted like him,” jake muttered under his breath, motioning to jay, who was now laying sideways in heeseung’s lap like a greek statue, gazing longingly into the flames.

sunghoon, on the other hand, had hit his emotional stage. “i love you guys,” he said for the fourth time, head resting against intak’s shoulder. “i just… i’m so happy we’re friends.”

“same,” intak replied, throwing an arm around him. “except when you ate the last pizza slice. that was war.”

“it looked lonely.”

jake rolled his eyes and stood to collect the scattered beer cans, doing a quick count just to make sure no one was too far gone. he was just finishing stacking some on the counter when he heard soft footsteps approaching from the hallway.

“hey, boys,” jay’s mom peeked her head in, dressed in a loose scarf and ready to head out. she gave them a sweet smile. “sorry to bother you, i just wanted to see if i could borrow jay’s car. i’m heading to your aunt’s place—she’s having one of her flare-ups again.”

at three in the morning. iconic.

“oh! yeah—yeah,” jay sat up dramatically and waved an arm in the air, slurring so hard his sentence made absolutely no sense. “the—the key is… the key—it’s by the… thingy. the hangy place.”

jake stepped forward with a sheepish smile. “he means the key hook by the main door, aunty. i’ll grab it for you.”

“oh, thank you, jake. you’re always so helpful,” she said sweetly, patting his cheek before turning to glance at her son. “he looks like a mess.”

jake didn’t argue.

she took the key and left soon after, waving a little goodbye before the front door clicked shut.

what none of them realised was that jay’s car was missing from the driveway.

everyone assumed the girls were still by the pool—maybe asleep inside, maybe curled up in one of the rooms. none of the guys had seen them sneak off hours ago, hair wet from the pool, still giggling in borrowed clothes, slipping into the car and driving off into the quiet.

even his mom, when she passed by the pool on her way out, didn’t think twice about the silence. she figured they were inside or asleep somewhere.

meanwhile, the only person who maybe would have noticed something was off—jake—was too busy peeling jay off the floor as he mumbled something about yn’s legs and how they should be insured.

five minutes later, the front door creaked open again.

jay’s mom poked her head back in, now with her scarf snug under her chin, a frown creasing her usually calm face.

“jay,” she called, her voice light but clearly puzzled, “where exactly did you park your car?”

the entire room froze.

jay blinked slowly, sitting cross-legged on the floor now, eyes glazed and lips parted like the gears in his head were stuttering. “park… car?” he repeated like it was a riddle in a different language.

jake—who was now very much carrying the weight of five half-dead idiots on his back—sighed heavily and turned to her. “it’s not in the driveway?”

“no,” she said, stepping inside fully. “i checked twice. every other car’s there—except his sedan.”

jay turned his head so slowly it was like it needed oil. “…what.”

jake crouched in front of him like someone gently breaking news to a toddler. “jay. aunty says your car isn’t outside.”

aunty stared.

everyone stared at jay.

jay stared at the fireplace.

heeseung leaned back, still clutching a beer and trying to process the situation with flushed cheeks. “wait. didn’t you say the key was by the main door?”

“yeah,” jake replied. “and i gave it to aunty. but if the car’s not there…”

“then who took the car?” intak shouted, suddenly way too alert.

that set off a chain reaction.

all of them—drunk, wobbly, and absolutely not equipped for this kind of coordination—stumbled up at once. shoes were half on, shirts were still missing, and someone knocked over a bowl of popcorn in the rush as they all swarmed out of the living room and onto the front porch like badly programmed sims.

the driveway stood ahead of them, dimly lit by the garden lights. the trees swayed. crickets chirped.

five cars.

jay’s dad’s classic vintage. his mom’s suv. his grandfather’s ancient-but-pristine green ambassador. his aunt’s bright orange compact. even jay’s prized rolls sat there like it hadn’t moved in weeks.

but not his black sedan.

his wedding week sedan. the one he used for errands, runs to the airport, and most importantly, the one yn had driven dozens of times.

gone.

jay squinted. the world tilted sideways. he turned back toward jake, eyes wide and glossy. “…did i sell it?”

jake blinked. “no?”

“did someone steal it? is—is there a car thief? is—oh my god—is my cousin back from rehab?”

sunghoon placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “jay. focus.” even though he swayed himself.

jay waved a hand in the air. “i gave the key to my mom.”

“i did, yes,” jake said calmly. “but the car wasn’t here before she went outside. which means…”

jay blinked slowly again, a hand going to his head as he stumbled back a little. “where’s yn.”

that sentence broke the silence.

jake stiffened.

heeseung’s face dropped. “wait.”

intak frowned, sobering slightly. “the girls were by the pool, right?”

jake turned toward the side of the house, heart dropping. “i haven’t seen them since before we started the game.”

“yeah but they always hang back and talk or whatever,” sunghoon added quickly, voice uncertain. “maybe they just went to sleep inside.”

jay turned toward the door like a zombie and stumbled inside. “yn?” he called out, loud and slurred.

no reply.

he wandered into the hallway. no girls. not in the guest room. not in the poolside washroom.

not on the couch. not in the kitchen. not upstairs.

not anywhere.

jake’s mind raced. “phones,” he said suddenly, “did they take their phones?”

they all ran for it—diving toward the common area, toward chargers, tables, bags. yn’s phone? right there. dani’s? yep. yunjin’s? dead, but there. ness’? sitting pretty by the pool table with her swimsuit cover-up folded beside it.

jay’s heart dropped.

“they took my car.”

sunghoon blinked. “why would they take your car at—wait—it’s almost four in the morning?”

“they left?” heeseung asked, bewildered.

jake’s expression turned grim. “no one knows where they went. no one saw them leave. no phones. no gps. jay, do they know the passcode for the security system?”

jay’s voice cracked as he whispered, “she does. she knows everything.”

silence.

then jay turned, looking at all of them—shirtless, drunk, breath stinking of beer and late-night guilt—and slurred loudly:

“we’ve been robbed by my fiancée.”

intak fell to his knees in the grass, clutching his chest like this was the biggest betrayal he had faced.

jake pinched the bridge of his nose. “they’re not robbing you, jay.”

jay pointed dramatically into the horizon. “she stole my car and my heart and my slippers—sunghoon 'helpfully' yelled a "but i was going to steal those slippers after they got married :("—and she’s never coming back.”

“she’s probably just doing something stupid and fun,” jake muttered. “but we need to find them before your mom thinks someone broke in and murdered them.”

jay nodded seriously. “yes. a rescue mission. i will find my wife.”

“you mean your fiancée.”

“she took the car. that makes her my wife now.”

“no—”

“i’m a husband, jake.”

“oh my god.”

jake turned around, already heading inside for his phone, checking the fuel app, checking if she’d synced the location, anything. and jay muttered into the silence of the night, an oath to have his wife by his side before the sun rose.

nessie 🗯️ anyone wants a pt 2? :P

tag𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 drop a comment down or send me an ASK to be a part of my taglist <3

୨ৎ

Now this was a special case. You were assigned to a patient who’d fainted from exhaustion, the only other information you received being “He’s a special patient. Treat him well,” which isn’t threatening at all. It felt absurd– how special could a patient be that you have to specifically be told to be hospitable? “Who am I treating, the damn president?” You mumbled to yourself, a puzzled frown on your face.

You wondered who exactly your patient was that demanded such high maintenance, who required the best of the best for something as simple as a fainting spell. It didn’t make sense to you at first, but when you walked into the room, it all became clear. 

You weren’t treating the president. No, even better. 

You were treating fucking Park Jongseong. You gasped, nearly tripping over your own feet as you observed the man in front of you– awake, sat up, and drinking a plastic cup of water. He turned to you, and flinched himself, eyes widening. 

Being trained as an idol, Jay knew how to keep his composure, how to stay calm in any situation, but PR training doesn’t prepare idols for pretty girls, so he began to completely freak out. 

He was nearly frozen in place, and so were you. His eyes were stuck on you– the ponytail updo on your head, the way your blue scrubs complimented your figure, the red spread across your face as you made eye contact with him.

Realizing the tension, you cleared your throat awkwardly, stammering, “Jay– uh, Park Jongseong?” You clicked your teeth, embarrassment completely taking over. Just unprofessional, you could already imagine the disappointment on your senior’s face if she saw this. Jay, too, had realized his current state, shaking his head panickedly. “Oh– yes! Sorry!”

“No, no I’m sorry–”

“No, please don’t apol–” Jay suddenly stopped, you following suit as the two of you realized what you were doing. The both of you burst out into quiet laughter, a comfortable rhythm despite the bustling energy of the hospital. You calmed down, grabbing the clipboard that sat on the stand besides Jay’s bed and reading through its contents. “Suspected overexertion, the papers say,” You looked down at him, who’d already been stuck staring at his hands.

You noticed the sudden self-consciousness that surrounded Jay, in the way he couldn’t find it in himself to look up or do anything but nod when his condition was repeated back to him. See, you knew Jay well– not personally or anything, but you had a big enough ENHYPEN obsession that you knew exactly how persistent the members are. They are known to work through their pain, put their everything into each and every performance they did– paying no mind to the consequences that followed as long as they made their fans happy. 

A gentle smile made its way to your lips, and you put the clipboard aside, walking closer to Jay. “It’s really cool– you know, what you do for your fans.” He popped his head up at that, eyes widened once more.

“You’re a fan?”

“More than I’d like to admit.” Jay chuckled, and you mirrored his actions. He softened almost immediately, slightly sliding himself on the hospital bed as he made himself comfortable. “I was rehearsing for MAMA,” he replied, “and I think I went too hard.” He scratched the nape of his neck, and his nervousness made you snicker to yourself. Jay caught your expression, and quickly went to defend himself. “Okay, in my defense, MAMA is a really special stage!” His hands went up, and you nodded in understanding.

“Your MAMA performances are always very well done,” you spoke hesitantly, hands rubbing against your scrubs. “I’m sure you can do amazing without getting yourself hospitalized.” Jay giggled, his gaze dreamy as he looked at you, “I’ll keep it in mind.” And for a moment, there was silence. Nothing had to be said, for your eyes did all the talking.

They spoke a language that neither of you could repeat aloud, a conversation of emotions that were too complicated to put into words. It hadn’t been much time since you walked in, but the palpable tension in the room was enough to give witness to the blossoming of something new. This was different for the both of you– meeting someone despite your busy schedule, seeing someone who could make your hearts flutter in a way that you believed only happened in movies. 

You eyed each other down, putting professionalism aside for a just second long enough to admire one another. Jay had never admitted something like this in his entire life, but he’d never seen beauty like yours in person. Of course, he worked around beautiful women daily, but none of them compared to you in this moment– your tired, yet charming demeanor as you looked attentively at him. There was a spark in his chest that he’d never felt before, something so freeing and euphoric that it nearly frightened him. Was this what attraction felt like? Weird, inexplicable things were happening inside of him, and you were at the center. What kind of witch were you, and what spells had you cast on his heart?

Surely strong ones, since Jay’s heart monitor had begun to go out of control, the erratic– and loud– beats of his heart pulling both of you out of your eye contact.

As if a switch flipped inside of you, you snapped out of your trance, looking around frantically for a moment before picking up the clipboard once more. “Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

“Doctor, it’s okay–”

“Uh, ok–well, I have to run some tests on you, if that’s okay?” And when you did that, he saw it. 

Jay caught it immediately, the mutual panic that he’d felt just mere seconds ago. He knew it, he knew that you felt it too– the spark. He smiled as you fumbled with testing supplies, his heartbeat slowing into a stable rate as he watched you once more. Suddenly, a thought came to mind, materializing itself into words before Jay could stop his mouth.

“Do you have a name, or am I just supposed to call you Doctor for the rest of my time here?” 

Your neck snapped back, looking at Jay. Silence passed for one beat, two beats, and then–

“Y/N. Doctor Y/N L/N.” And Jay was deceased, as if you couldn’t get even more perfect– perfection was inferior to you. You were the standard of perfection, he was sure of it. A deep red flushed his face unbeknownst to him, and he hummed.

“Nice to meet you, Doctor Y/N L/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue smooth and low, and you swore that you’d be on a hospital bed of your own if he didn’t calm down. A quiet yelp left your lips, but Jay’d caught it, and chuckled to himself. Cute, so unbelievably cute. 

Sure, you’d been friends with Heeseung for years, but watching him and his girlfriend together, this… thing between them that was so tangible, yet so fragile, made you realize just how much things had changed. You’d heard the rumors, of course. Everyone had. Heeseung and his girlfriend were that couple—perfect for each other one minute, toxic the next. Always breaking up and making up, but never really fixing anything. Every time they fought, Heeseung would storm to you afterward, venting about how his girlfriend wasn’t understanding him or how she’d said something hurtful. But when the storm passed, he’d always go back to her, and you’d be left standing in the middle, a supporting role, a listener—but never more.

And you never caught feelings for him. You knew better. Heeseung was your childhood best friend, the guy you grew up with, the guy who knew all your secrets, and vice versa. He was like a brother to you, and you couldn’t ever imagine crossing that line. And Heeseung? He never gave you a second thought in that way. He had his girlfriend, and you had your quiet corner of the world, content with your own space.

But now, you were sitting across from them, trying to smile through the awkwardness, pretending you weren’t hurt by the distance that had grown between you two over the years. It wasn’t even about the relationship itself, not really—it was about the way things had changed. Heeseung didn’t come to you as often anymore, and when he did, it was usually because he was angry or upset about something. And you were fine with that—until today.

“So,” Heeseung started, glancing over at you with a tired look in his eyes, “you know that dickhead, Jay, right?”

You nodded, taking a bite of your salad, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

“I’m still pissed at him,” Heeseung continued, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t care how much time has passed—what he did to me and her… I’m never going to forgive him.” He stabbed his fork into his pasta a little too aggressively, and you couldn’t help but notice the bitterness in his tone. “He kissed my girlfriend. And not just once. Twice.”

You frowned, looking between Heeseung and his girlfriend, who was sitting next to him, quietly fiddling with her phone. She didn’t seem as riled up about it as Heeseung was. In fact, she looked a little… resigned.

“Relax, Heeseung,” she chimed in, her voice softer, almost pleading. “That was a long time ago. Can’t you just forgive him already?”

Heeseung shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t. I just can’t. Not after everything. I don’t trust him, and I never will.”

You were quiet for a moment, staring into your food, lost in thought. You hadn’t even met Jay in person, but you knew enough about him from Heeseung’s rants—how he’d screwed up everything by kissing Heeseung’s girlfriend, how he was always getting under Heeseung’s skin with his cocky attitude. You didn’t know Jay well, but you couldn’t help but feel a grudge against him, too. Heeseung had always been there for you, and now, it was your turn to have his back.

You glanced at Heeseung’s girlfriend. “I get it. He messed up. But if he’s really your friend, don’t you think you should at least try to move on? I mean, holding onto it forever—”

“I can’t.” Heeseung’s voice was final, cutting you off. “I won’t. I’ve tried, believe me, but it just eats at me every time I think about it. I can’t just forget.”

You stayed silent, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t your place to intervene. You had your own tangled mess of emotions, but you kept them locked away. The last thing Heeseung needed right now was for you to add to his frustrations.

At that moment, the door to the cafeteria swung open, and in walked Sunghoon and his girlfriend. Sunghoon was always the quiet one—the kind of guy who would sit back and observe everything with a detached calmness that almost seemed unnatural. He was an introvert, a man of few words, but when he did speak, it carried weight. His girlfriend, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She was loud, energetic, and always talking, often dragging Sunghoon along in whatever conversation she had going.

They sat down next to you, and Sunghoon’s girlfriend immediately leaned forward, her smile wide and playful. “Hey guys!” she greeted before turning her gaze to you. “So, what do you think about Jay, babe?”

You nearly choked on your food. You had no idea what Sunghoon thought about Jay—none of you really did. He was the kind of guy who kept his opinions close to his chest. He wasn’t the type to engage in petty drama or gossip.

Sunghoon just shrugged, his gaze flicking to Heeseung for a second before returning to his girlfriend. “He’s whatever,” he said quietly, his voice neutral, as though the whole Jay situation didn’t even register. “Not my problem.”

His girlfriend rolled her eyes with a laugh. “You’re so boring, Sunghoon.”

But even as his girlfriend playfully teased him, you couldn’t help but feel that pull again—the strange dynamic that seemed to always exist between you, Heeseung, and now Jay.

You glanced over at Heeseung, who was staring at Sunghoon with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. It was a mix of annoyance, jealousy, and maybe, just maybe, something else.

But you didn’t have time to analyze it. Because you knew, no matter what, the tension was building, and soon enough, you’d be caught in the middle of it all

And what scared you most? You didn’t know if you’d be able to get out of it.

You sat back in your chair, staring at the two couples in front of you. Heeseung and his girlfriend were whispering something to each other, their heads close together, their hands brushing occasionally as if the world didn’t exist beyond their bubble. And then there was Sunghoon and his girlfriend, chatting away animatedly, with Sunghoon’s quiet presence in the background, nodding occasionally as she continued her endless chatter.

You felt a pang in your chest, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You were surrounded by couples. Two of them, in fact—both of which seemed so… effortlessly happy, wrapped up in their own little worlds. And then there was you. Sitting alone at the table, a third wheel, no partner to distract you from the uncomfortable silence.

You groaned, dropping your forehead onto your arms. “Oh my god, I feel so single,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could stop them. You couldn’t help it. The jealousy, the loneliness—it was starting to eat at you, just a little bit.

Heeseung didn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in his conversation with his girlfriend. Sunghoon’s girlfriend, however, let out a laugh, glancing at you with a teasing smile. “You’re totally single, huh?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t it fun?”

You glared at her, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Yeah, so much fun,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Can’t wait to be the eternal third wheel.”

“You’re not eternal,” Sunghoon’s girlfriend said with a wink. “You’re just waiting for the right person to come along.”

You glanced at her, unimpressed. “If the right person is anything like Heeseung or Jay, I’ll pass.”

At that, Sunghoon let out a quiet chuckle, and even Heeseung’s girlfriend smiled softly. But the moment quickly passed, and you were left with the same feeling—surrounded by people who had someone to lean on, while you were left to sit with the emptiness.

It wasn’t that you were against being single, but today, right now, it stung just a little more than usual. The couples’ laughter and shared glances were like a reminder of what you didn’t have. And that reminder was just too loud in the middle of this lunch.

You sat up, trying to shake off the bitter feeling settling in your chest. “Alright, alright, I’m not that dramatic. It’s just… you know…” You trailed off, hoping to change the subject.

Sunghoon’s girlfriend shot you a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Just enjoy your food. And if it helps, I can always hook you up with some of my friends.” She gave you a mischievous grin, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

You smiled weakly but couldn’t quite shake off that feeling of being an outsider, watching the world go by in pairs.

It was much later in the evening when you found yourself sprawled across your shared dorm bed, dramatically burying your face in a pillow as the weight of the day’s fifth-wheeling trauma crashed over you all over again.

“I need someone so bad,” you groaned, voice muffled by the fabric. “Like, genuinely. I was fifth wheeling earlier today, Sunoo. Fifth. That’s not even normal. That’s just disrespectful.”

Sunoo, your roommate and longtime partner-in-chaos, glanced up from his skincare routine, dabbing toner gently onto his cheeks. “Honestly? I think it’s kind of iconic. Like, you’re the main character surrounded by background couples. It’s giving ‘independent baddie who doesn’t need a man.’ Very inspiring.”

You lifted your head to glare at him. “Inspiring? My entire lunch was a rom-com montage minus the actual romance. Heeseung and his girlfriend were being all cute and annoying, Sunghoon’s girlfriend was feeding him fries while he looked like he was contemplating the meaning of life, and I was there… chewing sad lettuce.”

Sunoo stifled a laugh. “Sad lettuce is such a vibe though.”

You dropped your head back onto the pillow. “I’m not joking, I actually feel like I’m gonna rot away as the token single friend.”

“Please,” Sunoo scoffed, moving to sit on the edge of your bed, legs crossed neatly. “Relationship stuff is so overrated. Love? Dumb. People? Dumber. You know Jake and his girlfriend? I still don’t understand how she took him back after that whole mess.”

You lifted a brow, glancing up at him. “What mess?”

Sunoo gave you a look like girl, where have you been?

“You don’t remember? Back when Jake and Jay had that idiotic bet—the bet?” He rolled his eyes and clasped his hands together mockingly. “Make her fall for me in a week or whatever.”

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah,” Sunoo said, lips curling into a smirk like he’d been dying to spill the tea. “This was way back, before Jake actually caught feelings. But it was real. Him and Jay thought it would be ‘fun’ to bet on who could get someone to fall for them faster. Jake picked his now-girlfriend, and Jay picked some other girl from our econ class—Soobin, I think? Anyway, Jake actually started falling for her mid-bet and had a whole breakdown over it. Jay? I don’t even know what happened with his half. He’s a mystery.”

You sat up, your expression stunned. “So Jay actually did that?”

Sunoo nodded. “Mhm. He never really talked about it after. Most people forgot, but I didn’t. I don’t forget stuff like that.”

Your nose scrunched. “Ew. That’s actually disgusting.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Sunoo sighed. “Like, love is not a game, babe. These guys out here are not serious.”

You chewed on your lip, letting the information settle. The grudge you already had toward Jay—planted by Heeseung and watered by years of side comments—suddenly felt validated. You didn’t know Jay personally, but from what you’d seen and heard, he was just another cocky guy who probably thought every girl wanted him. And now, knowing he made a bet like that? Your opinion of him sank even lower.

Still, a part of you was curious. Why did people still talk about him like there was more to the story? Why did Jake—arguably reformed—still hang around him? And why did you keep hearing Jay’s name pop up lately like he was some inevitable storm you were supposed to run into?

“So,” you said slowly, casually lying back down and folding your arms behind your head. “What do you think about Jay?”

Sunoo raised a brow, turning his head toward you like he was trying to figure out if you were joking. “Jay?”

You nodded.

“Honestly? I think he’s one of those guys who pretends not to care but lowkey cares a lot. Too much, maybe. He’s hot, I’ll give him that—but emotionally? Questionable. Like, he’s the kind of guy who’d flirt with you at 2 a.m. and then act like it never happened the next day. A walking green flag wrapped in red ribbon.”

You laughed, and Sunoo joined in, shaking his head.

“But,” he added, pointing a finger at you dramatically, “don’t let the face fool you. Pretty doesn’t mean trustworthy. Especially with Jay.”

You weren’t planning on letting it fool you.

At least, not yet.

It started with an eye roll.

Jay had made some snide remark about how your thesis summary lacked depth—depth, of all things—and you had to physically stop yourself from lobbing your pen across the lecture hall. You turned to him with the tightest smile you could manage and replied, “Right. Because the guy who spelled ‘Nietzsche’ wrong three times during last week’s debate is suddenly the standard.”

The professor chuckled like he was watching his favorite sitcom unfold. The rest of the class watched with that usual amused tension—the kind reserved for two people who were one sarcastic comment away from either ripping each other’s heads off or ripping each other’s clothes off. You refused to entertain the second option.

Jay was your academic rival. Has been since semester one. He was cocky, smart, and unfortunately, good-looking in a way that made your life more difficult than it needed to be. Every paper you aced, he had to beat by 0.5%. Every time you raised your hand, he’d follow with a rebuttal. You lived to make him eat his words. And from the smug way he smirked every time you got fired up, you knew he lived for it too.

Which is why when Professor Kim announced the University-Wide Academic Challenge, it wasn’t even a question who your competition would be.

And because the universe had a twisted sense of humor, they paired you with Jay for the regional prep rounds. As partners.

“I’ll drop out,” you told Sunoo dramatically that night. “I’ll pack my bags and transfer. I’ll fake my death and become a poet in the mountains before I partner with him.”

Sunoo had just blinked at you and said, “You’re so dramatic. Just destroy him with your intellect like usual.”

But it didn’t stop there. After a few forced library sessions and hours of silent research, the tension between you and Jay reached a boiling point. That’s when the bet happened.

“If I win,” you’d said, eyes narrowed, “you carry my bag, grab my coffee, and walk two steps behind me for a week.”

He had leaned forward, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And if I win, you do the same.”

“And wear a ‘Jay is smarter than me’ sticker.”

“Deal.”

You shook on it like two enemies sealing their fates.

The week leading up to the challenge was ruthless. Debates in lecture halls, snarky notes left in shared textbooks, accidental shoulder bumps in the hallway that were never really accidental. You hated how good he was at keeping up with you. You hated even more that he made it feel… fun.

But after the results came in—after you tied, somehow, impossibly—you both stood outside the library, blinking in disbelief.

“Rematch?” he’d asked.

You tilted your head. “Or we just… call it even.”

He raised a brow. “Truce?”

You nodded slowly. “Truce.”

That truce, as it turned out, involved a lot of late-night study sessions. Whispered insults that started sounding like inside jokes. Accidental brushes of fingers that neither of you pulled away from. And eventually—somewhere between quiz prep and coffee runs—you kissed him.

The secrecy started right then. Because if Heeseung ever found out you were sneaking around with Jay—the same Jay he despised for “making out with his girlfriend twice”—he’d lose his mind. He’d call it betrayal. And you… you didn’t want to lose Heeseung either.

So you and Jay kept it quiet. A little rebellion, tucked between stacks of books and whispered under breathless kisses in quiet hallways.

You didn’t mean for it to become something real. But then again, you never expected him to look at you like that. Like you weren’t just his rival—but something else entirely.

And because you’d been spending a lot more time with him lately—strictly because of competition, of course, and not because of the way he furrowed his brows when he was focused or the way he actually listened when you spoke—you found yourself getting… curious. Against your better judgment.

You still hated him. That hadn’t changed. He was still Jay Park, your so-called academic nemesis, the cocky know-it-all who had allegedly kissed Heeseung’s girlfriend twice and made a game out of breaking girls’ hearts with Jake. Sunoo told you he was a walking red flag in designer sneakers. Heeseung said he was a traitor, a manipulator, a snake.

But… he also carried your books without asking last week. And when you fell asleep over your notes during one of your 2 a.m. study grinds, you woke up to find a neatly scribbled list of everything you missed—and a cup of hot chocolate, extra whipped cream, just how you liked it.

So yeah. You were confused. Just enough to want a second opinion.

You spotted him by the vending machine near the economics building, fiddling with the coin slot and humming some offbeat tune under his breath. Jake Sim. Jay’s best friend. The one person who might actually give you answers.

You inhaled sharply and walked up to him, half-regretting it before you even opened your mouth.

“Hi,” you started, awkwardly. “You probably don’t know me, but I know you, and this might seem kind of weird but—”

Jake turned to you with a crooked grin, eyes lighting up. “Oh, I know you.”

You blinked. “You do?”

He nodded. “You’re the girl.”

“What girl?”

“The one Jay’s always ranting about,” Jake said casually, like he wasn’t just detonating a bomb inside your chest. “The academic rival. The one who talks fast when she’s annoyed and refuses to take help on joint projects.”

You stared at him.

Jake just chuckled. “Yeah. He’s talked about you. A lot.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. “Right. Cool. Um… that’s not why I’m here though.”

Jake leaned against the vending machine, still smiling like he had front row seats to your mental breakdown. “Go on.”

“I… wanted to ask you something about Jay,” you said carefully, choosing each word like it was a live wire. “Just… some things I’ve heard.”

Jake raised a brow. “Let me guess. The bet thing? And the drama with Heeseung’s girl?”

You gave a cautious nod.

Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Man, people don’t let that stuff go. Yeah, the bet was real. But it was forever ago, and he pulled out of it almost immediately. He felt bad about it. Still does, I think.”

You chewed your lip. “And the other thing?”

“The kiss?” Jake nodded. “It happened once, and it wasn’t what everyone made it out to be. She kissed him, technically. But it was before her and Heeseung were even together. Jay didn’t even know they were a thing yet.”

You didn’t say anything, trying to make sense of it all—trying to balance what you’d been told for months against the guy who now held open doors for you and left sticky notes with passive-aggressive compliments on your notebooks.

Jake tilted his head, watching you. “You like him, don’t you?”

Your eyes snapped up. “What? No.”

He grinned. “You do.”

“I hate him.”

“Sure you do,” he said, clearly not convinced. “That’s why you’re out here asking his best friend for the whole story.”

You crossed your arms, feeling caught.

Jake just laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him.”

You shook your head, muttering something about this being a bad idea as you turned to leave, but you didn’t miss the way Jake called after you with a teasing lilt in his voice.

“He likes you too, you know.”

Jay won.

By half a point.

You stared at the scoreboard like it had personally betrayed you, your mouth slightly open, the air sucked right out of your lungs. Half a damn point.

Jay, standing just a few feet away with his stupid perfect posture and that smug little smirk, turned to you slowly, like he’d been waiting for this moment since the second you made the bet.

“Guess that makes you my servant for the week, huh?” he said, hands in his pockets, tone smooth as ever.

You rolled your eyes and shoved your notebook into your bag with more force than necessary. “You cheated.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then you bribed someone.”

Jay grinned, tilting his head. “Maybe I’m just smarter than you.”

You scoffed. “You’re not.”

“Then what does that say about you, loser?”

You almost threw your pen at him.

Almost.

But you didn’t, because that would be too obvious. Instead, you threw him a sharp glare and marched past him—only for him to fall into step beside you like he belonged there.

“You gonna carry my bag to class tomorrow?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“Go to hell.”

“I thought we were already there. Seoul U, midterm season, and you owe me coffee for a week? Sounds like hell to me.”

You hated him. You should’ve hated him.

But you didn’t miss the way he was biting back a smile, or how he didn’t actually push it any further. Didn’t gloat. Just walked beside you, shoulder brushing yours every few steps like he’d forgotten you were supposed to be rivals.

God, you were so screwed.

You found Heeseung outside the library, hunched over his phone with earbuds in, tapping at his screen like the world was on fire. He looked up when you called his name, one brow raised as you approached.

“Hey,” you said, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter. “Can we talk?”

Heeseung pulled out an earbud, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s up?”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to start anything, but this was already eating away at you. The more time you spent with Jay—forced time, of course—the more those stories didn’t line up. He wasn’t half as bad as everyone made him out to be. In fact… he was kind of the opposite.

“Are you sure Jay’s really that bad?” you asked, quietly.

Heeseung straightened, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to react too fast. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “I just—Jake told me he felt super bad about the whole bet thing. Like he didn’t even go through with it. And the thing with your girlfriend? He said she kissed him. Not the other way around.”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened. “Yeah, well, of course Jake would say that. They’re best friends.”

“I’m just saying,” you pressed, “what if it wasn’t how you remember it? Maybe Jay’s not—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, tone sharper than usual. “Don’t let him get to you, Y/N.”

You blinked.

He scoffed, standing and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Guys like him? They’re good at making people feel like they’re the victim. That’s how they work. He’ll play sweet, act like he’s changed, make you question everyone else—and then the second you trust him, he’ll flip it.”

“He hasn’t done anything to me.”

“Yet.” Heeseung’s eyes locked onto yours, voice low. “Just be careful. You don’t know him like I do.”

You swallowed hard, nodding slowly, but something inside you twisted at the way he said it. Like you weren’t allowed to find things out for yourself. Like he had to be right.

But… the thing was?

A part of you wasn’t so sure anymore.

The next day was actual hell.

You should’ve known Jay would milk the “servant” thing for everything it was worth—but still, nothing could’ve prepared you for how absolutely insufferable he was about it.

“Y/N, can you carry my bag?”

“Y/N, I’m thirsty. You know my order.”

“Y/N, I dropped my pen—oh, oops. Guess you better pick it up.”

It was like every five minutes he found a new way to get under your skin. And the worst part? He didn’t even need the help. You were ninety-nine percent sure he only asked just to see how long it would take for you to snap.

By day four, you were a ticking time bomb.

You were both walking down the hallway after study group, and Jay had just asked you—again—to grab his charger from the common room because he “forgot it,” even though it was very clearly hanging out of his bag.

You whipped around to face him, nearly knocking into his chest. “Do you enjoy watching me slowly lose my mind? Is that it? Is this fun for you?”

Jay blinked at you, clearly trying not to laugh. “Kind of.”

“Unbelievable,” you huffed, arms flailing a little as the rant bubbled up. “I’m starting to think you only won on purpose just to torture me—like some twisted revenge arc. What kind of narcissist actually makes someone fetch their charger—”

And then he kissed you.

Mid-rant. Mid-gesture. Mid-sentence.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was bold and sudden and shut you up instantly, your breath caught between the syllable you were about to say and the warmth of his mouth on yours.

You froze, hands still hovering stupidly in the air.

Jay pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “God, you talk so much.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, cheeks flushed.

And he just stood there—completely unaffected—like kissing you in the middle of a hallway was totally normal. Like your heart wasn’t pounding loud enough to drown out every rational thought.

“You—” You opened your mouth.

Jay grinned. “Still talking.”

You almost shoved him.

Almost.

Sunghoon wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He never was.

But he had a way of being in the right place at the right time, or maybe the wrong place, depending on how you looked at it. And when he turned the corner of the hallway that afternoon, a quiet observer like always, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you—mouth still pressed to Jay’s, your fingers curled in surprise around the strap of your bag.

He blinked once. Then twice.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked the other way.

Fifteen minutes later, he found his girlfriend standing outside the campus café, talking animatedly to her friend Stella about nail polish or hair gloss or something equally detailed. They barely noticed him until he slipped in beside them, calm as ever.

“Y/N and Jay kissed,” he said, like he was stating the weather.

Both girls gasped so loud half the quad probably heard.

His girlfriend whipped around to face him, eyes wide. “What?! Since when were you into gossip?”

He just shrugged, gaze flickering toward the library. “I saw it. Just now.”

Stella smacked his girlfriend’s arm. “Didn’t you say she hated him?”

“I did,” she breathed, already pulling out her phone like it would give her the rest of the story. “What the hell—?”

But Sunghoon leaned forward, kissed her cheek gently, and started walking away.

“Wait—where are you going?” she called after him.

“Library,” he said over his shoulder.

Because of course he was. Of course Sunghoon dropped a bomb and just casually strolled off to study like he hadn’t just flipped your entire social circle upside down.

Sunghoon was already at his usual study spot in the library when you arrived, clutching your bag a little too tightly as you scanned the rows of bookshelves like you were on some sort of secret mission.

He raised an eyebrow as you walked in, obviously distracted, your eyes darting around the room. You were definitely not here to study. The fact that you had only been in the library for a few seconds and your gaze had already flitted past the tables where students were hard at work said it all.

You weren’t here for Heeseung. Not at all.

Sunghoon didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back in his chair, watching you for a second, before sliding his glasses down his nose slightly and giving you a small smirk. “Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

You jolted slightly, surprised to see him so casually lounging there. You shot him an awkward smile and then immediately tried to cover it up with a defensive shrug. “Oh, nothing. I’m just… uh, here to give Heeseung something,” you said, voice a little too high-pitched, almost like you were trying to convince yourself of your own words.

Sunghoon didn’t look convinced. He tilted his head slightly, studying you with a small, knowing smile. “Are you sure you’re here for Heeseung?”

Your heart skipped. “Yeah, of course,” you said too quickly, glancing nervously around the library again. “I mean, I just… I need to give him this thing and—”

“You sure?” Sunghoon interrupted, pushing his chair back just a little, his tone shifting slightly to something almost teasing. He didn’t buy it. “Because Jay’s in the cafeteria. Right now. Just thought you’d want to know.”

You froze. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. Your eyes widened before you quickly looked away, trying to hide the obvious flustered blush creeping up your neck. “I—” You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to straighten up. “I wasn’t looking for him,” you muttered, biting your lip.

Sunghoon didn’t say much after that, just shrugged casually and hummed a little tune under his breath as he pushed his chair back and stood up. His expression was unreadable, his quiet demeanor leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Without another word, he simply smiled, offering a half-hearted wave as he walked past you.

You watched him go, unsure of what to make of the interaction. It was classic Sunghoon—quiet, observant, and always somehow getting under your skin without even trying.

You couldn’t stand how he could so easily see through you.

With a frustrated sigh, you picked up your bag and made your way out of the library, heading toward the cafeteria where you knew Jay would be. Even though your heart was pounding and your mind was spinning with confusion, you couldn’t stop yourself. You had to see him.

The thought of Heeseung’s warning echoed in your mind, but you pushed it aside. Sunghoon was right about one thing—things were already chaotic. Maybe this was the only way to make sense of it all.

You tried to calm your nerves as you walked to the cafeteria, but the closer you got, the harder it became to shake the doubt gnawing at you. Would you find the answers you were looking for, or would this just be another mess to clean up later?

When you stepped into the cafeteria, the noise hit you immediately—students chatting, trays clattering, the low hum of conversation filling the air. But despite all the noise, your eyes immediately zeroed in on Jay, sitting at one of the tables by the window, his usual carefree smile on his face as he joked around with his friends.

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were both relieved and anxious at the same time. He looked just as he always did—easygoing, confident, and annoyingly charming. The problem was, now you knew him differently. The things you’d heard, the things you’d seen—it was hard to look at him the same way.

You took a deep breath and walked towards him, trying to shake off the tension in your shoulders. As you got closer, you saw Jay’s head turn just as he noticed you.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, and despite the complicated mess you two had become, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at the sight of him. He gave you a lazy grin, pushing his chair back and standing up in one smooth motion.

“Y/N,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like he wasn’t the least bit phased by the tension hanging between you two. “What’s up?”

You barely kept your expression neutral. “I need to talk to you.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, glancing at the empty seat across from him, then back at you. “Come on, sit down. You don’t look like you’re here to discuss world peace. I’m guessing you’re looking for something else.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. It felt weird being this close to him again, feeling the electricity between you like it was the first time you’d ever been in his orbit. Everything about this felt wrong. But you had to do it.

Sitting down, you met his gaze directly. “I’m not here to cause any more trouble. I just… need to know what’s going on between us.”

Jay tilted his head, his easygoing expression faltering slightly. He leaned forward, one arm on the table as if he was genuinely interested. “What do you mean? Between us?” His voice softened, and for a second, you could see the shift in him. It was subtle, but it was there.

You clenched your hands together on the table, trying to steady yourself. “You know what I mean, Jay. All of this—the bet, the confusion… what’s real and what’s not?”

Jay leaned back in his chair, the carefree smile from earlier slipping away, replaced by something more serious. “You still don’t trust me, huh?”

You swallowed, the words catching in your throat. “It’s not that. It’s just… I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. When he finally spoke, his tone was different—he was no longer the cocky guy you used to know, but someone who seemed oddly vulnerable.

“Look,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I get it. Everything I did, everything I said—it was wrong. But I’m not that guy anymore, Y/N. I’ve changed. I care about you. I don’t want to mess this up.”

Your heart raced in your chest. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But the part of you that was still holding on to the past, to the version of Jay that Heeseung had painted, kept pushing those thoughts aside.

“I don’t know, Jay. It’s just… hard. You and I? We don’t mix well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jay’s expression flickered. “I’m not asking for things to be perfect. I just want a chance, Y/N. A real one.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between you, and for a split second, it felt like you were both on the same page—like everything that had happened before didn’t matter. But then, like a flash of lightning, the reminder of everything that had happened came rushing back.

You shook your head, pulling yourself back. “I can’t just forget all of it, Jay. It’s not that simple.”

Jay leaned in closer, his gaze intense. “I’m not asking you to forget. Just… don’t hold me to who I was.”

Your chest tightened. You were torn between everything you wanted and everything you feared.

“I’m still figuring it out,” you admitted, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even yourself. “But I’m not sure I’m ready for this… whatever this is.”

Jay didn’t respond right away. He just nodded slowly, like he understood, but there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “I get it. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

You wanted to say more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just stood up, trying to make your voice steady again.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said, but your tone didn’t sound as sure as you wanted it to. You didn’t know if you were ready for this, but you couldn’t just walk away.

Jay gave you one last look, his smile returning, though it was softer this time. “Take your time.”

As you walked away, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. What did this all mean? What would Heeseung say? Would Jay really change, or was this just another game to him? You didn’t have the answers. Not yet. But for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure who you were supposed to be angry at anymore.

The days that followed were a whirlwind. You and Jay decided to keep things under wraps—something about the secrecy added a layer of excitement, even though it made everything feel a little more complicated. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Heeseung, not yet. The thought of his reaction made your stomach twist in knots. But with Jay, it was easy. Easier than you expected. He was surprisingly attentive when you needed him to be, remembering little details about you that Heeseung and others had long forgotten.

Jay was still Jay, cocky and smooth-talking, but there were moments where he’d let his guard down. The way he’d walk you to class, his hand brushing against yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The way he’d drop a joke here and there, making you laugh when you needed it most. You never thought you’d say it, but Jay wasn’t the player you thought he was—well, not all the time anyway.

Of course, he was still a bit of a show-off. You could never really take him seriously when he’d lean against the doorframe of your dorm, smirking, saying things like, “You know, I’m way too good-looking to be keeping this a secret.”

You would roll your eyes, trying to suppress your grin. “Yeah, you’re such a mystery.”

He’d chuckle, that cocky smirk still glued to his face. “I know, I know. You’re welcome.”

But underneath the bravado, he was kind, listening to you vent about your day, cracking jokes just to make you smile. For the first time, you felt like maybe this whole secret thing wasn’t so bad. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have doubts. It was all so new, and despite everything, there was still a little voice in the back of your mind reminding you of how messy things could get.

You weren’t the only one who had doubts, though. Your first real step in sharing this secret came one night when you were sitting in your dorm room, staring at your phone. Sunoo, always seemed to know everything before anyone else, had been eyeing you strangely all week. He’d been quiet, his teasing always bordering on serious.

“Sunoo,” you started, hesitating as he sprawled out on your bed, scrolling through his phone, “I need to tell you something.”

His head snapped up immediately. “Oh?” He raised a brow. “Spill.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m seeing someone. But it’s secret. And I know it’s weird because—” you paused, running a hand through your hair. “It’s Jay.”

The look on Sunoo’s face was one you’d never seen before. His eyes went wide, his mouth falling open as he blinked rapidly. For a second, he just stared at you, completely silent. Then, as if he couldn’t contain himself any longer, he exploded.

“What?!” he half-yelled, half-laughed, scrambling off your bed and pacing around the room in disbelief. “Hold up, hold up. You’re dating Jay? Jay. The same Jay who—”

“Sunoo, please—” you interrupted, raising a hand to stop him from getting too carried away.

“—the same Jay who practically ruined Heeseung’s life?” He flung his hands up in the air dramatically. “The one you’ve been bashing to me for weeks? And now you’re secretly dating him?”

You sighed, running a hand down your face. “Yes. But it’s not like that, okay? I know what you’re thinking, but things are… different with him. He’s not like he used to be. It’s just—complicated.”

Sunoo was still pacing, clearly trying to wrap his head around it. “Complicated? This is beyond complicated, Y/N! Do you know how much drama this is going to cause? Heeseung is gonna flip. I’m not even talking about how Jay’s gonna react when he finds out that you were hiding this from him. You’re already tangled up in all of this and now you’re—oh my god, why is everything in your life like this?”

You slumped back into your chair, feeling the weight of your decision. “I don’t want to deal with drama. But I like him, Sunoo. And I think he likes me, too. And… honestly, I don’t care what people think. I just wanted to tell you because I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Sunoo stopped pacing and stared at you with an intensity that made you shift in your seat. “You really like him, huh?”

You nodded, trying to hold his gaze. “Yeah. It’s… it’s stupid, but I do.”

There was a long pause. Sunoo looked like he was about to explode again, but then he let out a slow breath, sitting down beside you. “Okay. Fine. I’ll let it slide. But seriously—if you get caught, I’m not helping you out of this mess. You’re on your own.” He raised a finger and wagged it at you. “And I’m keeping my distance from all of this. I didn’t sign up for this chaos, alright?”

You chuckled, relieved by the fact that Sunoo wasn’t completely flipping out. “Thanks, Sunoo. I appreciate it. I promise I’ll figure this out.”

He leaned back against the bed with a dramatic sigh. “You’re lucky I’m your best friend. If anyone else tried to pull this, I’d roast them for the rest of their life.”

“Well, I’m lucky to have you, then,” you said with a grin.

Sunoo shot you a look of mock disbelief. “Just promise me one thing,” he said, raising a brow. “If Heeseung finds out and loses his mind, I’m not helping you clean up the mess. You’re on your own with that one.”

You laughed, feeling the stress of it all lighten a little. “Deal.”

Sunoo was known for two things: his impeccable gossip radar and his inability to keep a secret for more than 24 hours. And, of course, the fact that he loved to stir the pot. As soon as you had finished telling him about you and Jay, Sunoo’s mind started racing. He was already formulating what he would tell Heeseung the moment he saw him. He wasn’t going to be able to keep this juicy tidbit to himself, no matter how much you trusted him to stay quiet.

The next day, Heeseung was sitting in the courtyard, casually talking to some friends, but Sunoo could see it—the slightest shift in Heeseung’s posture when he noticed him coming. Heeseung raised an eyebrow as Sunoo approached, a mischievous grin forming on his face.

“You’re looking like you’ve got something to spill, Sunoo,” Heeseung said, his voice light but clearly curious.

Sunoo couldn’t help himself. He sat down next to Heeseung, his eyes practically gleaming with the excitement of what he was about to drop.

“You wouldn’t believe it, man,” Sunoo started, looking around as if to make sure no one else was listening in. “You know how you’ve been all worried about Y/N and Jay, right?”

Heeseung’s expression darkened, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What about them?”

Sunoo leaned in, lowering his voice as if he were telling a state secret. “Well, turns out… they’ve been secretly dating. For, like, a while now.”

Heeseung froze for a second, the weight of Sunoo’s words sinking in. His jaw clenched, and he quickly glanced around, as if making sure no one had overheard the conversation.

“Wait, what?” Heeseung’s voice was quieter, almost a whisper, as if he couldn’t believe it. “How do you know?”

Sunoo, unable to hold back the excitement bubbling inside him, leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, like he was watching a drama unfold. “I’ve got my sources,” he said, winking. “And it’s not just a rumor, Heeseung. They’re actually seeing each other. Y/N told me everything.”

Heeseung stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, but it was clear the news hit him like a punch to the gut. His face twisted in a mix of disbelief and frustration,and for a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but he stopped himself.

“Y/N would never—” Heeseung started, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt.

“Oh, she would,” Sunoo cut in, nonchalantly. “She’s just keeping it under wraps, like some big secret. But honestly, it makes sense, right? All that tension, all that back and forth between them, it was bound to happen.”

Heeseung stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sunoo. “After everything, she goes behind my back like this?”

Sunoo could feel the anger radiating off Heeseung, and it made him feel a little guilty, but not enough to hold his tongue. “Yeah, it’s a mess, isn’t it? I mean, she’s been going on about how much she hates Jay, but clearly, something changed. Who knows? Maybe it was all that tension, or maybe she just got tired of waiting around. But whatever the case, it’s real. And if you ask me, I think you should be a little more worried about what’s coming next.”

Heeseung looked like he was about to explode. His fists clenched at his sides, and his face was flushed with a mix of confusion and rage. “I—I have to talk to her,” he said, his voice raw.

Sunoo shrugged, not caring that Heeseung was clearly on the verge of losing his cool. “I’m just saying, you might want to figure things out with her before she starts making it official with Jay. Things are already messy enough.”

As Sunoo stood up to leave, he turned to give Heeseung one last look. “You know where to find me if you need more tea,” he teased, before walking away, leaving Heeseung standing there, seething with emotions that were rapidly spiraling out of control.

Sunoo had done his part. Now, it was Heeseung’s turn to deal with the consequences. But something told him this was only the beginning.

You didn’t have to guess who was at the door. The feeling in your stomach told you everything you needed to know. Heeseung.

You stood frozen for a moment before you opened the door slowly, trying to act casual, though the nervous energy in your body betrayed you. There he was, standing at your door, his expression tight with something that looked like anger—and disappointment.

Heeseung glanced at you, then around your room, like he was trying to piece everything together. “What’s going on, Y/N?” His voice was strained, the usual warmth gone. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Why didn’t you tell me about Jay?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. You weren’t sure how to answer. You could feel the weight of everything pressing down on you. The truth? Would he even believe you if you told him everything? Or would he just think it was another betrayal?

“Heeseung, I—” You began, but he cut you off, his voice sharp.

“Why, Y/N?” His voice cracked through the tension. “Why did you have to keep this a secret? Why with Jay? After everything?”

You could feel the guilt tearing at you, but you didn’t know what to say. The words were tangled up in your chest, but you knew you couldn’t hold back anymore. “I never meant to hurt you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stepped back, leaning against your desk. “But… I don’t know. Things just happened with Jay, and I didn’t know how to handle it. You and I… we’ve always been so complicated, Heeseung. I never wanted to hurt you, I swear. But Jay and I… we’ve been spending time together. It just happened.”

Heeseung’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing at you. “So that’s it, then? You’ve been sneaking around behind my back with him?”

“No, that’s not it at all,” you snapped, finally feeling the frustration bubble to the surface. “I wasn’t sneaking around with anyone. It just… happened, Heeseung. We’ve both been playing these games for so long. And you—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were about to say something you might regret. “And you, you were always going back to her, your girlfriend, every time you fought with her. It was always me picking up the pieces for you. But no matter how much I helped, nothing changed. So… I stopped waiting.”

Heeseung’s face flickered with hurt, but it quickly morphed back into anger. “So you think I’m the one to blame here? You think I made you do this?”

Your voice cracked as you spoke, the frustration you’d been holding onto for so long finally breaking free. “I didn’t say that. But I’m tired, Heeseung. I’m tired of always being the one who’s there when you need someone to pick up the pieces. And I’m tired of holding onto something that’s not there anymore.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say to you right now, Y/N.” His voice was low, almost defeated. “You know… I don’t even know if I can forgive you for this. Not right now.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. Your heart sank as you blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “I don’t need your forgiveness, Heeseung. I’m just trying to do what’s best for me, for once.”

Silence fell between the two of you, thick and suffocating. You wanted to say something, anything to fix it, but you knew deep down that there was nothing you could do. Heeseung turned to leave, but then stopped, his back still to you.

“Do me a favor,” he said, his voice soft, barely audible. “Don’t do something you’ll regret, Y/N. You don’t have to do this. You’ve been so important to me for so long. Please… don’t lose yourself in all of this.”

You stood there, unable to respond. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. You were already losing yourself, weren’t you? But maybe I’ve already lost him, you thought as you watched him walk away.

The door clicked shut behind him, but the echo of his words rang louder than anything else. You stood there in your room, motionless, heart racing and chest tight like it was wrapped in barbed wire. You hated how he still had that power over you—how a few words, a stare, and the sound of your name in his voice could unravel everything you’d built for yourself.

He was wrong, wasn’t he?

You weren’t losing yourself. You were just… figuring things out. You weren’t the same girl who used to drop everything the second he called. You weren’t the one patching him up anymore after every fight with his girlfriend. You were your own person now. Someone who laughed too loud at Jay’s dumb jokes. Someone who liked the way he challenged you. Who liked the way he looked at you like you were the only one in the room, even when you were surrounded by people.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t feel like shit.

You paced your room, emotions swirling inside you like a storm you couldn’t control. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. You weren’t supposed to feel this confused. Jay made things easy, simple. You bickered, you competed, you flirted, and—somewhere in between—you found something that felt a lot like peace. Even if it was messy. Even if it was sudden. But Heeseung’s words… they lingered like a bruise under your skin.

Don’t do something you’ll regret.

God. Heeseung always made things feel heavier than they had to be.

You collapsed onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling, and after a long moment, you grabbed your phone. Your fingers hovered over Jay’s name. You were supposed to call him tonight. To talk about this. To maybe make it official, if you were both ready.

But suddenly, you didn’t know if you were.

Not because of Heeseung. Not just because of him.

But because you didn’t trust yourself not to break the same way again. To fall into old habits. To blur the lines between right and wrong. You’d spent so long being someone else’s lifeline, you weren’t sure how to be your own.

Still, your thumb pressed down, and the phone started ringing.

If there was one thing you did know—it was this: whether it ended in a smile or a disaster, you were too far in to back out now.

Jay picked up on the third ring.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft, almost hesitant. Like he could sense the storm brewing behind your silence.

You swallowed. “Hi.”

There was a pause—long enough for you to hear the faint music in the background on his end. Then, “You okay?”

You almost laughed. Was that a question anymore?

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, curling your fingers into your bedsheets. “Heeseung knows. Sunoo told him.”

Jay sighed, like he already expected that. “Yeah. I figured.”

That made you sit up. “You did?”

“I mean,” he murmured, “I didn’t think Sunoo would keep it to himself for long. He kind of looked like he was gonna explode when you told him. I saw him bolt across campus like he was on a mission.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the edge of panic softening just a little. “God, I should’ve known.”

“Hey,” Jay said gently, “are you okay? Like really okay?”

You hesitated. “Heeseung said I’m losing myself.”

Jay didn’t say anything at first. Then his voice came, steady and careful: “Do you think you are?”

You looked down at your lap, tracing a pattern over your comforter with your nail. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just… I feel like I’ve always been someone to someone. Heeseung’s best friend. The girl who fights Jay in every class. The toxic ex. The girl who makes reckless decisions and kisses people to shut them up.”

Jay let out a quiet, amused breath at that one.

You went on, “I don’t know how to just… be. Without people talking. Without feeling like I owe someone something. Even you. I keep thinking—maybe I don’t deserve to want this.”

There was silence again. Then Jay said, “You do.”

Your heart caught.

“I know you think I’m still that guy from a year ago,” he continued. “The guy who played stupid games and made stupid bets. And maybe part of me still is. But the part of me that matters now? The part that looks at you and wants more than some stupid competition? That part’s real. And it’s yours, if you want it.”

Your throat felt thick.

“I want it,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. But then he said, “Then screw what Heeseung says. Screw the rumors. Screw everything that came before. Let’s make our own version of this.”

You smiled faintly, tears pricking your eyes for no good reason.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay,” he echoed.

And for once, it felt like the world might finally let you breathe.

Heeseung sat slouched on the campus lawn, fingers tugging idly at the blades of grass beneath him, lips pressed into a thin line as his girlfriend rubbed slow circles into his back. Jake and his girlfriend were sprawled out nearby, half-listening, half-whispering to each other in the shade.

“I just—don’t know, babe,” Heeseung muttered finally, eyes locked on nothing in particular. “He’s supposed to be my best friend.”

Jake’s girlfriend sighed, straightening up. “And he still is, Heeseung. You’re just being stubborn.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back on his hands, scoffing. “So now I’m the bad guy for not being thrilled that my so-called best friend is sneaking around with her?”

Jake’s girlfriend exchanged a look with Heeseung’s. “It’s not like they planned it to hurt you. You said it yourself—YN never even liked him. And now she does. What, she’s not allowed to fall for someone unless you approve?”

Heeseung didn’t answer, jaw tightening.

His girlfriend turned to him, her voice softer. “I’m serious, Hee. Jay’s not perfect, but he’s always been there for you. You’re being an idiot if you can’t see how much this means to them. Especially YN. She’s finally… happy. Can’t you just show up for her the way she always showed up for you?”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, conflicted and clouded.

Then she added, “Also… for the record? I kissed Jay. Not the other way around.”

Heeseung’s head snapped toward her. “Wait, what?”

She nodded, expression calm. “You’ve been holding a grudge over something you only knew half the story of. I kissed him. He was surprised. And yeah, fine, he kissed me back the second time. But we weren’t dating the first time it happened—you just never wanted to believe that.”

Heeseung’s brows furrowed. “And the second time?”

“That one was on both of us,” she admitted, leaning back. “We were technically together, sure. But you wanna talk about betrayal? Don’t forget you kissed Ina.”

The silence that followed was thick. Jake’s girlfriend blinked. Heeseung’s shoulders tensed.

“Okay,” he muttered after a beat. “Low blow.”

“Is it?” a familiar voice chimed in as you approached the group, arms crossed and a raised brow. “Because if I remember correctly, that was while we were still close. And Ina was my best friend.”

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably, eyes flickering toward you.

You smiled, tight and sharp. “But hey, let’s keep talking about betrayal.”

He didn’t have a comeback. And for once, neither did you.

The silence this time was yours.

You were leaning into Jay’s shoulder, fingers tangled with his under the table while the two of you quietly scrolled through your phones, pretending not to notice the tension that still lingered in the air after the whole fallout. Things had gotten messy—too messy—but somehow, here you were. Still side by side.

You almost didn’t notice Heeseung walk up until a familiar paper cup was set down in front of you with a gentle thud. You looked up, brows furrowed, ready to snap at whoever was interrupting—until your gaze landed on him.

Heeseung stood there, holding out another cup toward Jay.

“Regular milk tea. No boba. Less ice,” he said, almost grumbling it, eyes flicking away like the words tasted sour in his mouth. “Still your favorite?”

Jay blinked, clearly caught off guard. He didn’t move to take it right away. “…Yeah.”

You sat up a little straighter, eyes darting between them as Jay slowly took the drink from Heeseung’s hand. Heeseung scratched the back of his neck and looked everywhere but at the two of you.

“I figured if I was gonna try not being a dick about this, bubble tea was a decent start.”

Jay gave a short laugh, like he didn’t know if he was supposed to be amused or suspicious. “Thanks, man.”

Heeseung just gave a tight nod and finally looked at you—his expression unreadable. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, resigned, or genuinely trying. Maybe all three.

You offered a small smile anyway. “Thanks for mine too.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave a shrug like it was no big deal and walked off, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets.

Jay glanced at you, then back at the drink in his hand. “Didn’t expect that today.”

“Me neither,” you muttered, leaning into him again.

But even as you rested your head against his shoulder, you felt a pang in your chest. Because Heeseung still remembered.

You took a slow sip of your drink, the sweetness of the milk tea doing very little to wash away the bitter taste in your mouth. Your eyes were narrowed, staring at the cup like it had personally wronged you.

“I’m still pissed at Sunoo for telling Heeseung,” you muttered, voice low but sharp.

Jay chuckled beside you, leaning back in his seat. “Come on,” he said, nudging your leg with his. “You know Sunoo can’t keep his mouth shut for more than twenty-four hours.”

“That’s not an excuse,” you snapped, looking at him now. “He promised he wouldn’t say anything. And the second he had the chance to stir the pot, he dumped the whole damn thing.”

Jay shrugged, still smiling a little. “It’s Sunoo. He lives for drama. Honestly, I’m surprised he lasted that long.”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that Jay was taking this so lightly, but you couldn’t deny he had a point. Sunoo was like a walking group chat—loud, animated, and incapable of holding in a juicy secret. Still, it stung.

“I just wanted to tell Heeseung myself,” you muttered. “I wanted to do it the right way.”

Jay softened, tilting his head. “I know. But maybe… it worked out for the better? He doesn’t look like he’s plotting my murder anymore. That’s gotta mean something.”

You huffed, leaning your head on his shoulder again. “Barely.”

“Hey,” he said, brushing his thumb against your hand, “he brought me milk tea. That’s, like, Heeseung-speak for I’m trying.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Whatever. I’m still mad at Sunoo.”

Jay laughed. “Yeah, well, good luck staying mad. He’ll probably show up at our door with a glitter apology card and a fruit tray in, like, an hour.”

You snorted. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll slam the door in his face.”

“No, you won’t.”

“…Yeah, I won’t.”

A couple of weeks passed, and despite the underlying tension, things had gradually settled into an uneasy but workable rhythm. You and Jay were still keeping things mostly under wraps—well, for the most part. Sunoo had already spilled the beans to Heeseung, though. You knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the group caught wind of it.

So, after a bit of back and forth, everyone finally agreed to a “peace offering.” Heeseung, Jay, and even Sunghoon (with his usual reserved demeanor) had agreed to meet for a casual garden picnic—something to bridge the gap. The only catch? It was going to be a quadruple date. Your best friends and their girlfriends were invited too, making it a bit of a group outing.

The picnic spot was serene, surrounded by the soft hum of the city just beyond the park. The weather was perfect—bright and sunny with a slight breeze. It felt like the universe was giving everyone a little break from the chaos. You sat next to Jay on the checkered blanket, his hand casually resting on your knee. You both helped set up, keeping your movements natural and easy. But as soon as your eyes met Heeseung’s, you couldn’t shake the awkwardness that lingered in the air. He was sitting next to his girlfriend, shooting occasional glances at Jay. You could tell he was trying to keep it together, but the tension was still there, unspoken and heavy.

“Do you think it’s going to work?” you asked Jay, glancing at Heeseung and Ina from the corner of your eye.

Jay shrugged, not missing a beat. “We’ll see. It’s not like we can change everything in one day.” His voice was quiet but certain. His eyes were warm, though, focused on you as he squeezed your hand gently. “Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal.”

As the others arrived, Jake and his girlfriend came over, immediately cracking jokes and setting up a game of volleyball. Sunghoon and his girlfriend, too, joined in—Sunghoon, as usual, staying relatively silent while his girlfriend bubbled with excitement. She looked at him with a playful smirk, nudging him with her elbow.

“Babe, are you actually going to talk today, or are you just going to sit there being a statue?” she teased.

Sunghoon just shrugged, not bothering to respond. But there was a tiny, amused glint in his eyes. His girlfriend rolled her eyes and turned to you.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Jay? You two are still keeping things hush-hush?” she asked, her voice a little too curious.

You shot her a quick glance, unsure of what to say, but Jay was already speaking up. “What’s the point of making things complicated, right? Sometimes it’s better to keep things simple.”

But the laughter from the others couldn’t entirely hide the tension between Heeseung and Jay. You could feel the unspoken rivalry simmering beneath the surface. Heeseung, ever the protector, was giving Jay an occasional hard stare, especially as Jake cracked more jokes.

“Come on, Heeseung. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Jake teased, nudging Heeseung’s shoulder. “We’re all just here to relax.”

Heeseung forced a tight smile but didn’t say anything. He took a deep breath and muttered under his breath, “Still don’t like him.”

Jay smirked. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Awkward,” Sunghoon’s girlfriend chimed in from the other side of the picnic blanket, dramatically glancing between the two boys. “Is this how it’s going to be? You two have known each other for years, but now it’s this… weird?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “I don’t know why everyone’s pretending this isn’t a little messy. It’s been weird from the start.”

But just as the tension began to settle back into that uncomfortable silence, Sunghoon—silent as ever—tapped his water bottle against the ground, glancing at you with a look that could only be described as amused. “So… when’s the wedding?”

You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. “Shut up, Sunghoon.”

He just shrugged. “I’m just saying, if you two are going to be all secretive, you might as well just get married already.”

The laughter that followed made the air feel lighter, and for a moment, it almost felt like things could go back to how they used to be. The group chattered, eating, and playing games. Sunghoon’s quiet but steady presence made you feel like everything would somehow work itself out.

But you couldn’t deny the awkwardness still lingering between Heeseung and Jay. It wasn’t something that could be fixed overnight, and you knew that. Still, there was a small part of you that hoped, maybe hoped, this would be the start of something different—something better.

As the sun dipped lower, the golden light casting long shadows across the grass, Jay leaned closer, his arm resting around your shoulders. You let your head rest on his, the familiar warmth comforting in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

He whispered, “It’s going to be fine. Just give it time.”

You nodded, grateful that at least for now, things felt right between you two.

It was messy, sure. But it was yours. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to make it work.

The sound of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the chatter of your friends filled the air, and for once, it didn’t feel like anything was about to fall apart.

Everything was still awkward. But maybe… that was just the start of something new.