#kai angst

Tᴀɢɢɪᴇs!: @yvampyr , @filmsbyun , @izzyy-stuff , @gyuzies , @tyunningism @buttersoob @arianacraze @soobvns @babywabysworld @elizaldedulce @gfyouth @frying0fish @itisntherguys @mxxnlightxyamii @ningningsplushie

Nᴀɴɪ's Nᴏᴛᴇ!: i wasn't going to make them end together but love prevails ig? or maybe should i make part 3 breaking them up?? hahah im just joking

It was late in the afternoon when you sat hunched over your laptop in the corner carrel, fingers hovering above the keys, pretending to revise your literature review while your mind replayed last night's party.

Yeonjun had been everywhere and nowhere—laughing too loud with his group of friends, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, the silver chain around his neck catching every light. He'd caught your eye across the crowded living room, flashed that crooked, knowing smile, and sauntered over like gravity bent for him alone. His hand had brushed your lower back when he leaned in to speak over the music, lips close enough that you felt the heat of his breath against your ear.

"You look good tonight," he murmured, voice low and teasing. "Dangerous, even."

You laughed, played it cool, let your fingers trail down his arm just long enough to feel the flex of muscle beneath skin. But when the night wound down and people started drifting toward after-parties or Ubers, he kissed your cheek—chaste, almost polite—and disappeared with a promise to text. That text still hadn't come.

Your phone buzzed against the table. 

It wasn't Yeonjun.

Kai hey, you still in the lib? i just finished calc and i'm starving. ramen run?

You stared at the message, thumb hovering. Huening Kai. Sweet, soft-spoken Kai with the too-long bangs he kept pushing out of his eyes, the one who'd sat next to you in freshman year and quietly shared his notes when you zoned out. 

The one who always asked how your day was like he actually wanted the answer. 

The one you'd been stringing along with late-night playlists, study sessions that lasted until the building closed, and hugs that lingered one heartbeat too long.

You typed back before you could overthink it.

Yeah, meet me at the east entrance at 10?

You shut your laptop, shoved it into your bag, and tried not to feel the familiar twist of guilt in your stomach. 

Kai was waiting outside when you pushed through the heavy glass doors. He wore an oversized hoodie, sleeves bunched at his wrists, backpack slung over one shoulder. His smile bloomed the second he saw you—bright, unguarded, the kind that made something warm and uncomfortable bloom behind your ribs.

"Hey," he said, falling into step beside you as you headed toward the campus food trucks. "You look tired. Bad day?"

"Just... assignments," you lied, bumping his shoulder lightly. "You?"

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Same. Taehyun kept trying to explain eigenvalues like I was five. I think my brain leaked out my ears."

You laughed genuinely and he glanced sideways at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. The ramen truck was parked near the quad, steam curling from the pots, fairy lights already strung up even though dusk was still an hour away. You ordered your usual and Kai got the tonkatsu with double noodles because "protein is important." he says.

You sat on the low concrete wall separating the food area from the grass, bowls balanced on your knees, chopsticks clacking.

"So," Kai said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "you disappeared pretty early last night. Everything okay?"

You froze mid-bite. "Yeah. Just... not feeling the vibe after a while."

He nodded slowly, poking at his broth. "Yeonjun hyung was looking for you. Said you guys were talking."

The casual way he said it made your chest tighten. Kai never pushed, never pried, but he noticed everything.

"We were," you admitted. "Nothing serious."

Kai's gaze flicked to your face, searching. Then he smiled again—smaller this time. 

"Cool. He throws good parties."

You hummed noncommittally and changed the subject to the upcoming midterms. Kai lets you steer the conversation, laughing at your terrible impressions of the psych professor, offering you bites of his noodles when yours got too spicy. When your phone stayed silent in your pocket, the absence felt louder than any notification.

Later, as the sky bruised purple and the campus lights flickered on, Kai walked you back to your dorm. The path wound through the sculpture garden—abstract bronze shapes looming like silent guardians. At the steps of your building, he stopped, rocking back on his heels.

"Thanks for tonight," he said quietly. "I know you're busy."

You looked at him—really looked. The way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck, the faint freckles across his nose that only showed up in certain lights, the gentle uncertainty in his eyes that made you want to reach out and smooth it away.

"I'm not that busy," you say.

He laughed under his breath. "Right."

Impulsively, you stepped closer and hugged him. His arms came around you immediately, warm and steady, chin resting lightly on top of your head. You could smell his laundry detergent—clean cotton and something faintly sweet, like vanilla. For a moment you let yourself sink into it, let yourself imagine what it would feel like to stay here instead of chasing after someone who only half-turned in your direction.When you pulled back, his hands lingered at your waist for a second longer than necessary.

"Text me when you get inside?" he asked.

You nodded. "Promise."

He waited until the door clicked shut behind you before turning away.Weeks blurred. Midterms came and went in a haze of caffeine and highlighted PDFs. 

Yeonjun reappeared in flashes—messages at 2 a.m. asking if you were still up, a hand on your thigh under the table at a group dinner in the dining hall, a drunk voicemail where he called you "pretty" three times in a row.

Each time, you answered. 

Each time, you told yourself this was it—he was finally seeing you.

And each time, he pulled back.

Kai remained constant. He was there when your group project partner flaked, quietly taking over the data analysis without complaint. He was there when you cried in the bathroom after a presentation went sideways, waiting outside with a bottle of iced tea and no questions. He was there on rainy afternoons in his off-campus apartment, both of you sprawled on his bed with laptops open, legs tangled under a shared blanket while some playlist hummed in the background.

One afternoon, the rain tapped insistently against the window like impatient fingers. You'd been "studying" for two hours, which mostly meant scrolling your phone while Kai actually worked.

Yeonjun had posted a story—him shirtless in the gym mirror, caption just a flexing emoji. Your stomach flipped the way it always did as you tossed your phone aside with a groan.

Kai glanced over. "You okay?"

"No," you muttered. "Just... stupid."

He closed his laptop, turned to face you fully. "Talk to me."

You hesitated. Then the words spilled out—how Yeonjun kept you orbiting, how every almost-moment felt like a promise he never kept, how you hated that you still wanted more. Kai listened without interrupting, expression soft and unreadable. When you finished, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against your cheek.

"You're worth more than waiting around," he said quietly.

The air in the room thickened, heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth drifting through the cracked window and the faint trace of laundry detergent clinging to his hoodie. The playlist you put on earlier had long since faded to silence, leaving only the soft patter against the glass and the quickening rhythm of your own breathing.

You felt the shift the moment his gaze dropped to your mouth—dark eyes flickering with something raw and unguarded. His thumb brushed the corner of your lip, slow, deliberate, like he was asking without words. 

Permission. 

Hesitation.

Want.

And you answered by leaning in first.

The kiss began carefully, almost fragile. His lips were plush and uncertain, parting only enough to let you lead. You could feel the tremor in them, the way he held himself back like he was afraid one wrong move would shatter the moment. But when your fingers slid into the soft hair at his nape and tugged gently, something inside him snapped loose and a low, rough groan vibrated against your mouth. 

His hands found your waist and pulled, guiding you up and over until you were straddling his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. The sudden friction made you both gasp—his sweatpants thin, your leggings even thinner, nothing but heat and the hardening length of him pressing insistently up against your core.

You rocked down instinctively, slow and deliberate, dragging yourself along the thick ridge of him. Kai’s head tipped back against the headboard with a soft thud, throat working on a swallowed sound. His fingers flexed on your hips, not quite guiding yet, just holding on like he needed the anchor.

“God,” he breathed, voice wrecked already. “You feel—”

You cut him off with another roll of your hips, harder this time, grinding down until the seam of your leggings caught perfectly against your clit and his cock twitched violently beneath you. His hands slid up under your shirt, palms broad and warm against the small of your back, urging you closer.

“Wait,” he gasped, breaking the kiss just enough to speak against your lips. His pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed high. “Are you sure? We don’t have to—”

You kissed him deeper in answer, tongue sliding against his, coaxing until he opened for you fully. He tasted like mint and the faint sweetness of the peach tea he’d been drinking earlier. 

Your hands pushed under his hoodie, rucking it up so you could feel the smooth planes of his stomach, the faint tremor of muscle under skin as he fought to stay still.

“I’m sure,” you murmured against his mouth. “I want you like this. Right now.”

That seemed to be the permission he needed as his grip tightened and he rocked up into you in a slow, filthy grind that made your breath hitch. You matched him, finding a rhythm—long, dragging slides that had you both panting into each other’s mouths.

The friction was maddening through layers of fabric, not enough and too much all at once. You could feel every inch of him, thick and heavy, pulsing against you with every roll of his hips. Kai’s hands roamed higher, pushing your shirt up and over your head in one smooth motion. Cool air kissed your skin; then his mouth was there, hot and open against your collarbone, sucking a bruise into the hollow of your throat while his thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts through your bra.

You arched, offering more and he took it—palming you fully, kneading with careful reverence until your nipples tightened into aching points. When he tugged the cups down and closed his mouth over one peak, tongue flicking slow circles, you moaned loud enough that it echoed off the walls.

“Kai—”

He switched sides, giving the other the same attention, teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt. All the while his hips kept moving, relentless, grinding his cock up against your soaked center in a rhythm that had heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.

You needed more.

You pushed at his shoulders until he fell back against the pillows, hair fanning dark against the pale sheets. His eyes were glassy, lips swollen and red from your kisses.

Beautifully undone.

You peeled his hoodie off, then his t-shirt beneath it, revealing the long, lean lines of him. Your palms slid down his chest, nails dragging lightly over his nipples until he hissed and bucked beneath you. When your hand dipped lower, palming the thick outline of him through damp fabric, he choked on a sound that was half plea, half curse.

“Fuck—please—”

You tugged his waistband down just enough to free him. He sprang up against his stomach, flushed dark and leaking at the tip. You wrapped your fingers around him and gave one slow stroke from base to head. His hips jerked, a bead of pre come welling up immediately.

Before he could overthink, you shifted forward, straddling one of his thighs instead. You pressed your clothed cunt down against the firm muscle and rocked—slow, filthy drags that dragged your clit along the length of his leg with every pass. Kai watched, mesmerized, hands flexing uselessly at his sides until you grabbed them and placed them on your hips.

“Help me,” you whispered and he obeyed instantly.

His fingers dug in, guiding and helping you grind down harder, faster. The pressure was perfect, the friction of your leggings against his bare skin obscene. You could feel yourself leaking through the fabric, making everything slicker, hotter.

“God,” he groaned, voice gravel-rough. “You’re so wet—I can feel it.”

You leaned down, kissing him messy and open while you rode his thigh in earnest. Every drag sent sparks up your spine. His free hand slid between you, cupping you through the soaked cotton, thumb pressing firm circles over your clit. The added pressure tipped you dangerously close.

“Kai—fuck, I’m—”

“Come for me,” he rasped against your mouth. “Please. I want to feel it.”

You shattered with a broken cry, hips stuttering as pleasure crashed through you in waves. Kai held you through it, strong thigh flexing beneath you to keep the pressure steady, thumb circling your clit with gentle insistence until every last tremor had wrung itself out of you. When the aftershocks finally subsided, you collapsed forward against his chest, forehead pressed to the damp hollow of his throat.

His heartbeat thundered under your ear—fast, unsteady, matching the ragged rise and fall of his ribs. His cock was still achingly hard, trapped between your bodies, the flushed head smearing sticky precome across the soft skin of your stomach with every tiny shift. 

You could feel how badly he needed release; the way he twitched involuntarily against you, the shallow, helpless rolls of his hips he tried and failed to suppress. You lifted your head just enough to meet his glassy eyes. His lips were parted, swollen from earlier kisses, cheeks flushed a deep rose that spread down his neck. 

Beautiful. Completely wrecked for you.

You kissed him slowly—lazy, open-mouthed, letting your tongue slide against his in a way that made him whimper into your mouth. One hand cupped the back of his neck, fingers threading through damp hair; the other drifted down his chest, nails dragging lightly over his nipples until he arched with a soft, broken sound. When you finally broke the kiss, you held his gaze as you slid lower.

“Stay still,” you murmured, voice husky. “Let me take care of you first.”

His breath hitched. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” You kissed the center of his chest, then lower, following the faint trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. “I want to taste you.”Kai made a strangled noise—half protest, half plea—and his hands fisted in the sheets like he was trying to anchor himself.

You settled between his spread thighs, palms smoothing up the insides of them until he shivered. His cock lay heavy against his lower stomach, flushed dark, veins prominent, the tip glistening. You wrapped your fingers around the base and gave one slow, deliberate stroke from root to head. 

A fresh bead of precome welled up immediately; you swiped your thumb over it, spreading the slickness, then brought it to your lips and sucked it clean while holding his stare.

His hips jerked. “Fuck—please—”

You leaned down and dragged the flat of your tongue along the underside in one long, wet stripe, from base to slit. Kai’s whole body tensed, a low groan tearing from his throat as you circled the head with soft, teasing flicks before closing your lips around him and sucking gently—just the tip at first, letting your tongue play along the sensitive frenulum until his thighs trembled on either side of you.

His hand flew to your hair, not pushing, just threading through the strands like he needed something to hold onto. 

“Oh god—baby—” 

The endearment slipped out again, raw and reverent. It sent heat curling through your core. You took him deeper, inch by inch, until he bumped the back of your throat. You hollowed your cheeks and swallowed around him, the tight ripple of your throat making his hips buck involuntarily.

 A choked sound escaped him; his fingers tightened in your hair, not guiding, just trembling.You pulled back with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting your lips to the glistening head, then dove back down—setting a steady rhythm now. Up and down, tongue swirling, hand working what your mouth couldn’t reach. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, mingling with his increasingly desperate gasps and the rain tapping insistently against the window.

Kai was unraveling fast. 

His abs contracted with every downward slide, thighs shaking, breaths coming in short, ragged pants. You could feel him thickening against your tongue, pulsing harder with each pass.

“Close—fuck, I’m so close—” His voice cracked. “Gonna—wait, I don’t want to—”

You pulled off just long enough to murmur against the slick head, “Come in my mouth. I want it.”

His eyes snapped open, wide and dark and stunned. Then his head fell back against the pillow with a broken moan and he gave in. You took him deep again—deep enough that your nose brushed the soft skin at his base—and sucked hard, tongue pressing flat along the underside. Kai’s hips stuttered once, twice—then he arched off the bed with a strangled cry, spilling hot and thick across your tongue in long, pulsing spurts.

You swallowed around him, working him through every tremor until he was whimpering from overstimulation, hips twitching away even as his hand kept you close. Only when his body finally went boneless did you ease off slowly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive shaft, then up the line of his hip, his stomach, his chest. When you reached his face he was flushed crimson, eyes glassy and unfocused, lips parted on shallow breaths.

You kissed him deeply, letting him taste himself on your tongue, and he groaned into your mouth like the flavor undid him all over again.You shifted higher, straddling his hips once more. His cock—still half-hard, slick from your mouth—twitched against your inner thigh. 

You reached down between your bodies, guiding the head to nudge against your entrance, already soaked and aching from earlier. Kai’s hands found your waist immediately, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You okay?” you whispered against his lips. 

He nodded frantically, voice wrecked. “Please—please let me feel you.”

You kissed him again before reaching down to tug your leggings and underwear off in one go. Naked now, you straddled him again—this time aligning yourself so the head of him nudged against your entrance, slick and open from your orgasm.

His eyes widened.

“Wait—condom—”You shook your head. “I’m on the pill. And I trust you.”He swallowed hard, hands shaking as they settled on your waist again.

You sank down slowly. The stretch was exquisitely slow, burning, perfect. Inch by inch until your hips met his and he was buried to the hilt inside you. You both stilled for a heartbeat, breathing ragged, foreheads pressed together.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice trembling with awe. “You feel—god, you feel so fucking good.”

You rolled your hips experimentally, testing the angle. He groaned like he’d been punched, fingers flexing on your skin.

Then you started to move.

Slow at first—lifting and sinking, letting him feel every drag of your walls around him. His head tipped back, throat exposed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he fought for control.

You leaned back, bracing your hands on his thighs behind you, changing the angle so he hit deeper, harder. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown black.

“Like that?” you murmured, rolling your hips in tight, filthy circles.He could only nod, mouth open on silent gasps. You sped up—riding him with purpose now, thighs flexing, breasts bouncing with every downward stroke. His hands roamed everywhere—gripping your ass, sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking your nipples in time with your rhythm.

When you clenched deliberately around him, he bucked up hard, meeting your next drop with a thrust that made stars burst behind your eyes.

“Fuck—baby—” The word slipped out again, raw and desperate. 

You leaned down, kissing him deep and messy while you ground against him, clit rubbing against his pelvis with every roll. The wet sounds of your bodies meeting filled the room—obscene, intoxicating. He was close again—you could feel it in the way his thighs tensed, the way his breaths came shorter, sharper, the way he pulsed inside you.

“Touch me,” you whispered against his ear. “Make me come again—then you can let go.”

His hand slid between you instantly, fingers finding your clit and rubbing fast, tight circles just the way you’d shown him earlier. The combination—him filling you completely, stretching you, his thumb working you mercilessly—sent you spiraling. You came with a cry muffled against his neck, walls fluttering and pulsing around him in rhythmic waves. 

That was all it took.

Kai’s hips snapped up once, twice—then he buried himself as deep as he could and came with a broken, shuddering moan, pulsing hot inside you in long, thick spurts. His arms banded around your waist, holding you flush against him as he trembled through the aftershocks, face buried in the crook of your neck.

For long minutes neither of you moved—just panting, hearts hammering against each other’s chests, skin slick with sweat and rain-scented air. Eventually he eased you both down onto the mattress, still inside you, softening slowly. He pressed soft, reverent kisses along your jaw, your temple, the corner of your eye where a tear of overstimulation had slipped free without you noticing.

Afterward, you lay tangled in his sheets, limbs heavy with the kind of exhaustion that comes after release, after surrender. The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle, tapping irregularly against the window like fingertips drumming on glass. 

Kai’s arm draped across your waist, solid and warm, his chest pressed to your back so you could feel every slow, even rise and fall of his breathing. His heartbeat thudded steadily against your spine—reliable, grounding, nothing like the erratic flutter Yeonjun always left behind.

He shifted slightly, nose brushing the nape of your neck before his lips found the curve of your shoulder. Lazy, open-mouthed kisses trailed there, soft enough to feel like whispers against your skin. Each one sent a faint aftershock rippling through you, a reminder of how thoroughly he’d unraveled you just minutes earlier.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice rough from overuse, thick with sleep already creeping in. You turned in his arms, slow and careful so the mattress didn’t creak too loudly.

His face was close—eyes half-lidded, lashes dark against flushed cheeks, lips still swollen from everything you’d done to each other. You kissed the corner of his mouth, tasting the faint salt of sweat and the lingering sweetness of his earlier moans.

“More than okay,” you whispered back.

He smiled sleepily and pressed his forehead to yours for a long moment, breathing you in like he was memorizing the moment. Then his arm tightened, pulling you flush against him again, and within seconds his breathing deepened back into the slow, even rhythm of sleep.

You let yourself stay there, wrapped in him, listening to the rain and the faint creak of the old radiator in the corner. For once your mind was quiet. No racing thoughts about midterms, no spiral of what-ifs about Yeonjun.

Just the warmth of Kai’s body curled around yours, the faint ache between your thighs a reminder of how thoroughly he’d unraveled you—and how willingly you’d let him.

Until your phone lit up on the nightstand.

The screen flared bright in the dark room, cutting through the soft haze like a knife.

Yeonjun party at mine friday night. you coming? miss your face already

You stared at the message until the screen timed out and went dark again.Kai’s breathing had evened out into the deep, trusting rhythm of sleep. One leg slung over yours, possessive in the unconscious way only someone who felt truly safe could be.

You didn’t respond. Not yet.

You lay there instead, listening to the rain and to him, letting the guilt settle like sediment in your chest. It wasn’t sharp anymore—just heavy. Persistent. A quiet reminder that you hadn’t closed the door on Yeonjun. Not really. You’d let him stay cracked open, just wide enough for a text like this to slip through.

You told yourself you’d deal with it tomorrow.

You told yourself Kai didn’t need to know.

You told yourself a lot of things in the dark.

The next few days felt suspended. You and Kai moved carefully around each other—stolen kisses in empty hallways, hands brushing under tables, nights spent in his bed where he touched you like you were something precious. But the guilt gnawed. You hadn't told him about the text. You hadn't told Yeonjun to stop. 

Friday night arrived like an expiration date.

Yeonjun's apartment pulsed with low bass that vibrated through the floorboards and up into your bones. The living room was a sea of bodies: shoulders brushing, laughter spiking too loud, red solo cups sweating on every flat surface. The air tasted like cheap vodka, weed smoke, and the metallic edge of too many people breathing the same recycled oxygen. 

You went because part of you still craved it—the reckless noise, the electric possibility that maybe tonight would be different, maybe this time he'd finally look at you like you were the only person in the room. You wore the black dress he’d once complimented in a late-night message. The one that clung to your hips and ended high on your thighs, the one he’d called “dangerous” with that lazy smirk. 

You told yourself it was just a dress. 

You knew better.

He found you in the kitchen within ten minutes.You were leaning against the counter, nursing a lukewarm beer you hadn’t really wanted, when the crowd parted and there he was—hair mussed just so, black button-down open at the collar, silver chain glinting under the overhead light. His eyes locked on yours like he’d been searching for you all night.

“There you are,” he drawled, voice low enough that it felt private even in the middle of the party. 

He stepped in close—too close—bracketing you against the counter with one arm on either side of your body. The heat of him pressed in, familiar and dizzying.

“Been ghosting me?” His tone was teasing, but there was an edge beneath it, like he’d noticed the silence and didn’t like it.

“You’ve been busy,” you said, aiming for casual. It came out softer than you meant. He leaned in until his lips brushed your temple, breath warm against your skin. 

“Not too busy for you.”His hand found your waist—slow, deliberate—thumb sliding under the hem of your dress to stroke the bare skin just above your hip. 

The touch was light, almost innocent, but it sent heat curling low in your belly anyway. That same old pull. The one that always made you forget every promise you’d made to yourself .You felt your body tilt toward him instinctively, shoulders loosening, lips parting on a breath you didn’t mean to let out.

Then you looked up.

Kai stood in the arched doorway between the kitchen and the hallway, hoodie up, shadows pooling under the brim so you could barely see his eyes. But you felt them. Wide. 

Wounded. 

Frozen.

For one suspended second the entire party faded—the bass, the laughter, the clink of bottles—until it was just him watching Yeonjun’s hand on your waist, watching the way your body curved toward another man without hesitation. The betrayal in his expression was quiet and devastating. No anger. Just hurt so deep it looked like resignation.

He turned and walked away.

You shoved past Yeonjun—harder than you meant to—ignoring the surprised “hey—” that followed. Your heart slammed against your ribs as you pushed through bodies, elbowing your way toward the hallway. The cooler air hit you like a slap when you burst out of the main room. 

The stairwell was dim, lit only by a single flickering bulb overhead.Kai was already halfway down the first flight, shoulders hunched, steps quick and deliberate like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

“Kai—wait.”

He stopped but didn't turn.

"I shouldn't have come." he said, voice low and cracked.

"You didn't know I'd be here."

A bitter laugh escaped him—small, hollow. “I did.”

He finally turned, just enough for you to see the shine in his eyes, the tight line of his jaw. 

“I saw your story earlier. The black dress. I knew exactly where you’d be. I just…” His throat worked. “I wanted to see if you’d choose. If I walked in and you were still waiting for him, or if maybe—just maybe—you’d already chosen something else.”

The words landed like a physical blow. You stepped down until you were on the stair below him, forcing him to meet your gaze. Up close, the hurt was worse—raw, unguarded, like something vital had been torn open.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—”

“You were.” He cut you off gently, but the gentleness made it worse. “You’ve always been waiting for him. Even when you were with me. Even when I was—” His voice broke. He looked away, blinking hard. “I was just convenient. Safe. The guy who’d never leave, no matter how many times you looked past me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” His eyes came back to yours—searching, pleading, exhausted. “Tell me you didn’t text him back that night we were together. Tell me you didn’t think about him even once while I was inside you.”

Your mouth opened. I didn’t, you thought but nothing came out. The silence stretched, heavy and damning. Kai exhaled shakily, shoulders dropping like the fight had finally drained out of him.

“I love you,” he said quietly. “I have for a long time. Longer than I should’ve. But I can’t—” His voice cracked again. “I can’t keep being the backup plan. I can’t keep hoping you’ll wake up one day and realize I’ve been right here the whole time.”

He reached down, gently prying your fingers from where they’d wrapped around his wrist without you realizing.

“Kai, please—”

He shook his head, slow, final. “Figure out what you really want. Not what feels good in the moment. Not what’s familiar. What you really want. And when you do…” He swallowed hard. “If it’s me—if you’re sure it’s me—you know where to find me.”

He let go and walked down the rest of the stairs without looking back, shoulders curved inward against the cold night air that rushed up from the open front door below.

You stood frozen on the stairwell, hand still outstretched toward empty space, until the music upstairs swelled again, drowning out the sound of your own uneven breathing.

Back inside, the party hadn’t noticed your absence. 

Yeonjun was still in the kitchen, leaning against the counter now, fresh drink in hand. He raised an eyebrow when he saw you like nothing had happened.

“Everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head. That same easy confidence. The same expectation that the world, including you, would bend for him. 

You looked at him.

The sharp jaw, the artful disarray of his hair, the way he stood like he owned every inch of the room. The way he expected you to fall back into orbit without question.

For the first time, the pull didn’t feel magnetic.

It felt tiring.

Exhausting.

Like a song you’d played on repeat until the melody turned thin and joyless.

"No," you said. "It's not. I have to go” You said before you turned and left without another word.

The walk back from Yeonjun’s apartment felt longer than it should have. Rain had started again while you were still inside. Streetlights turned the wet pavement into sheets of silver and black; your heels clicked unevenly against the sidewalk, echoing in the quiet hours after midnight. 

The black dress clung colder now, the fabric heavy against your thighs, but you barely registered the discomfort. Your mind was still on the stairwell—Kai’s hunched shoulders disappearing into the dark, the gentle way he’d pried your fingers from his wrist like he was afraid of breaking something fragile between you.

By the time you reached his building, you were drenched. Hair plastered to your neck, mascara probably smudged into faint shadows under your eyes, arms wrapped tight around yourself against the chill that had settled bone-deep. 

You stood under the shallow awning outside the entrance and buzzed his apartment.

No answer.

You waited anyway.

The concrete steps were cold even through the thin fabric of your dress. You sat, hugged your knees to your chest, let the rain drum a steady rhythm on the metal roof above. Water dripped from the edge in slow, hypnotic drops.

 An hour passed—maybe two. You lost track. 

Your teeth chattered softly; your fingers had gone numb but you stayed. Because running back to your dorm would have meant running away again and you were done running.

A few minutes later, the front door finally creaked open.

Kai stood in the threshold wearing gray sweatpants and a faded black t-shirt, hair sleep-mussed and sticking up in soft spikes at the crown. The hallway light behind him haloed his silhouette, casting long shadows across the steps.

He looked down at you—expression carefully blank at first, then softening into something raw and unguarded when he registered how thoroughly soaked you were.

“You’ll get sick,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

He studied you for another long beat—rain dripping from your hair, dress darkened and clinging, shoulders trembling. Then he sighed, the sound heavy with everything he wasn’t saying, and stepped aside.

“Come in.”

The warmth of the apartment hit you like a physical thing. It smelled like him. It felt safe. Familiar. He didn’t speak as he disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a thick navy towel and one of his shirts you occasionally borrowed whenever you came over.

He pressed them into your arms without meeting your eyes.

“Change,” he said softly. “Bathroom’s free.”

You nodded, throat too tight to answer.In the small bathroom, you peeled the wet dress off and left it in a sodden heap on the tile. The towel was warm from the dryer; you buried your face in it for a second, breathing him in. Then you pulled on the shirt, the edges falling mid-thigh. The fabric was soft and worn, carrying the ghost of his body heat.

Kai was on the couch now, knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them. He stared at the blank TV screen like it might offer answers. The only light came from the streetlamp outside, filtering through half-closed blinds in pale gray stripes.You crossed the room slowly and sat on the opposite end of the couch. The space between you felt fragile, like a single wrong word could shatter it.

“I ended it,” you said into the quiet. “With Yeonjun. For good.”He didn’t look at you right away. 

His fingers flexed against his knees.“Why?” His voice was low, careful. Like he was bracing himself for an answer he might not survive.

You swallowed. The words felt too big, too honest, but you forced them out anyway. 

“Because I was hurting you. Every time I let him pull me back, I was hurting you. And I was hurting myself—chasing someone who only wanted me when it was easy for him. When I was convenient.” You paused, staring at your hands twisted in the hoodie sleeves. “And I realized… I don’t want to wait anymore. Not for half-hearted texts at 2 a.m. Not for someone who disappears the second things get real. I want someone who’s there. Every day. Even when it’s boring. Even when I’m a mess. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

Slowly, he turned his head.His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes clumped from earlier tears he hadn’t let fall in front of you. The streetlight caught the sheen in them, made them look almost liquid.

“And that’s me?” he asked. Voice barely above a whisper. Vulnerable in a way that cracked something open in your chest. You reached across the space between you, your fingers finding his. He let you take his hand, palm warm, slightly calloused. 

You laced your fingers through his and held on.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “That’s you.”

He exhaled—long, shaky, like he’d been holding the breath for weeks. Then he moved. One moment you were sitting apart; the next he had pulled you into his arms, crushing you against his chest with a strength that surprised you. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, felt his heartbeat race wild and unsteady under your palm.

“I’m scared,” he admitted against your hair, voice muffled. “I’m so fucking scared you’ll change your mind again.”

“I won’t,” you whispered back. Honest. No more games. “I’m here. And I’m staying.”

You felt him swallow hard as his arms tightened

.“...I want this,” he said, quieter now. “I want us. Even if it’s messy. Even if it takes time.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him—really look. The uncertainty still lingered in his eyes, but beneath it was something steadier. Hope, maybe. Or the beginning of trust.

You leaned in and kissed him, mouths moving together like they’d always known how—soft lips, gentle tongue, the faint tremor in his breath when you cupped his jaw. His hands slid up your back under the shirt, palms warm against bare skin, holding you like you might vanish if he let go.

When you finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in the small space between you, he smiled.

“Stay?” he asked and you nodded, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going anywhere.” you tell him.

He exhaled again—this time softer, like something heavy had finally lifted. Then he tugged you down onto the couch with him until you were curled against his side, head on his chest, legs tangled under the blanket he pulled over both of you.

The apartment was quiet except for the soft rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear and the occasional drip from your wet hair onto his shirt. 

No more waiting. No more settling for almosts, you thought.

You had spent so long being someone else’s backburner and in doing so, you had made Kai your own quiet backburner: the safe place you returned to when the chase grew cold, the one who waited without complaint while you chased shadows. 

But tonight that cycle shattered. You weren’t anyone’s second choice anymore, and you refused to keep him as yours.

Kai wasn’t your fallback anymore; he was your choice, your every day, your real beginning—and in the warm press of his arms, with rain still tapping against the window like gentle applause,