#kpop fluff

“That’s a cute outfit.” You playfully did a princess bow, the outfit that you pulled the night before consisted of a white collared button-up shirt under your fitted, long-sleeve blue sweater, covering perfectly your exposed abdomen that your denim mini skirt showed. It was cinched in with a chunky black belt and some white socks with black shoes with a little bit of heel. 

“Thank you, Yujin. You don’t look bad, either.” He spun dramatically in place, making his backpack bounce.

“Please. My mom picked this outfit. I had to wear it, otherwise she wouldn’t let me go to our karaoke tradition.” He opened his backpack, pulling out strawberry milk.

“You’re the absolute best,” you said, stabbing the straw through the foil and taking a sip without hesitation.

“So, how was your vacation?” 

“It was good. I went to the beach for a week before going to visit colleges with my mom.” he gave a dramatic sigh.

“She is more obsessed with your future than you.” You raised your shoulders, way too used to his words. 

“Well, sadly, I have to go along with—”

“Yah, Han Yujin!” The wall made that scream bounce, creating an echo where the two of you froze. As a matter of fact, everybody there did; you saw the unforgettable figure of your friend Leeseo running to you two, and you looked to your right to see the face of pure fear on Yujin’s face. 

“What have you done?” you whispered, before he could speak. Leeseo was already trying to hit him. His hands went to your shoulder, and he started using you as a shield.

“Leeseo, stop!” you gasped, trying to wriggle out of Yujin’s grip.

“Oh, hi there, Y/N. Can you please move? I want to kick his ass.” It was comical how everything was going down, cameras shutting off as they captured the first banter of the duo. You decided to enter the class, and a spot near the desk and next to the window was your favorite.

“Leeseo—ouch! Wait!” Both of them entered as she finally left him alone after she gave a pretty hard smack on his back. Leeseo sat next to you, and Yujin took the spot behind you two.

“You idiot, why didn't you tell me that Martin is back?!” Her whisper made your ear raise at the name.

“I didn’t spend time here; I went to the countryside to visit my grandma. How do you know?”

“Because he was getting scolded by the teacher at the entrance.”

“Nothing new, then,” you spoke before you could think. You placed your pencil case and notebook on your desk. Leeseo’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide as if what you just said was the dumbest thing ever.

“Nothing new? Y/N, he was supposed to go to Canada for his senior year; he even spoke about it.”

“Now that you said that,” Yujin put his strawberry milk on his table, leaning between you two. “Yesterday, when I was leaving out to do the groceries for mom, Martin and his dad were discussing it; it looked pretty heated.” 

“Oh great, the menace is back.” You keep your eyes focused on what you were writing in your notebook, which consisted mostly of a to-do list of the day.

“Why do you act like this news is a normal Tuesday’s cafeteria menu?”

“Because that’s exactly what it is. Martin gets in trouble like he has been doing for the past couple of years, the teacher yells, and the earth spins. What else is new?”

Yujin chuckled, “Careful tho. Keep talking like that, and he might think you missed him.”

You whipped around, smacking the back of his head with enough power to bother him. “Don’t even joke.”

People kept entering the classroom, some were going straight to their friend group, others to get ready, and a few simply lay on the desk to sleep for a few minutes before the usual first day announcement. 

You grabbed your small makeup pouch so you could go to the restroom, standing in the middle sink and smiling at your polished reflection. Pulling the gloss, you painted your lips with a thin layer of gloss, the mascara was next to give volume to your eyelashes, and finally, some blush on your cheeks. 

When you were satisfied, you left the bathroom, fixing your pouch, crashing with someone, and dropping everything inside them, you could bet your blush was broken into pieces. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," you said, bowing as you rushed to at least some of the remains. 

"I can't believe the school role model is wearing makeup, breaking the rules already?" you sighed, still picking up your stuff, your mood completely dropping. 

"I take that back, I'm not sorry." You finally got up and looked at what was supposed to be Martin's height last year, your neck hurting slightly as you looked a little more up. Leeseo was right, he got unbelievably tall.

He was wearing a band tee with ripped jeans that looked twice his size, hanging on his hips like they were holding on for dear life. Scuffed Vans dragged slightly as he shifted his weight, the hoodie unzipped and frayed at the sleeves. His hair looked like he’d rolled out of bed on purpose, and the faint smirk tugging at his lips only made it worse.

The outfit made you know that he would be the reason for your headaches for another year.

“Martin Edwards,” you said flatly, clutching your pouch like it was armor.

“Still bowing to people in hallways. How cute,” he drawled back, his smirk spreading slowly with his hand shoved into his hoodie pocket.

“Still getting yelled at by teachers on the first day. How predictable.” You stepped sideways, but he shifted too, blocking your path with a lazy lean against the wall, watching you close your eyes, irritated.

“You know that I can’t help it if they’ve missed me.” He tilted his head. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

Your laugh came out louder than intended, calming down quickly. “Please. The place was finally quiet without you.”

“Quiet’s overrated.” You could see how his eyes flicked down, lingering on the glossy shine of your lips, making you look down briefly. “Besides, you look better with noise around.”

He leaned in slightly so you were the only one hearing. “Come on, Prez. Admit it. You missed me.”

“I miss the news of you moving to Canada.” You scoffed, you looked at his eyes, and you could see how that challenging look disappeared for a second.

“Damn.” He pressed a hand over his chest like you’d shot him. “Still ruthless with the comebacks. What happened to the sweet, polite, and lovely person?”

“She’s still here, she just doesn’t like you,” you shot back, already making your way out. He appeared next to you, the height difference even more noticeable. You stopped on your tracks, him copying you after. 

It was your turn to step forward, your chin high, although it didn’t make you look intimidating. “You’re going to make this year miserable, aren’t you?”

“Depends on how much attention you give me, pretty,” he said easily, the nickname rolling off his tongue like it was nothing, turning the tip of your ears slightly warm.

Before you could say something, the bell overhead rang, echoing through the hallway. The students started invading the hallways, brushing past the two of you with curious eyes.

You exhaled, finally brushing past him to go to your class to hide the pouch, coming back to see him waiting outside the class. “I’m making one thing clear. Give me some free time for our teachers scolding me because of you, I don’t want that on my record.”

You marched your way with your class, heels softly clicking. 

“Can’t promise that, Prez!” His voice followed you down the hall.

It was official, this was going to be a long senior year.

Four months passed like a blur, and just like you predicted, everything stacked up to you. Not even a week in, and the classes and teachers nominated you to be the president of the school council. You were about to give up that opportunity for the sake of a slightly peaceful year, but when your mom heard about it, she forced you to keep it, not turning back even when your dad tried to talk her through it. 

The school was quick to give you a list of activities you and the committee had to plan, and because of your last events as class president, students were quick to say the same sentence.

“We are having a prom AND a school trip? Y/N, you’re the best!”

Normally, the country itself wasn’t exactly used to having a prom the way other countries did, renting movies to watch on a Friday night was enough to plant the idea in every senior’s head, even yours, not believing that you were the one supposed to make it happen. Thankfully, the first big event on the calendar wasn’t prom—but the spring school trip.

With the help of Yujin’s mom, we secured a short trip of two nights in Gyeongju for the last week of October. 

It was 7 pm, and you were walking back home with the rented DVD of 10 Things I Hate About You, ready to drown in ramen and your blankets. The reason? You were tired of council meetings, study schedules, and Martin already racking up three warnings from teachers.

“Why are you in pajamas?” Leeseo surprised you by being in front of your house. 

“Because I’m staying at home…?” Your sentence sounded more like a question than you wanted it to, especially because Leeseo was standing at your gate with her backpack.

“Wrong answer,” she said, shoving past you. “Your mom thinks you’re staying at my house for a study-slash-sleepover. I’m telling you, she almost hugged me when I told her we are even reviewing college math problems.”

“What? Leeseo, I’m in pajamas. I bought snacks! I’m committed to my bed tonight.”

“You can change, and the snacks can wait.” She plopped the backpack on your bedroom floor before going straight to your closet, pulling out outfits that seemed fitting to fool your mom even more. “I’m not letting you waste your Friday night watching Heath Ledger for the 100th time.”

“Shut up.”

She threw your pink cardigan in your face. “Come on, your mom needs to see you leave like we are going to church."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“Call me if anything happens, okay?” You nodded at your mom before she lightly hugged you. “Thank you for doing this, darling. I know you will match my baby’s commitment to college.”

Leeseo bowed down while you tried to hide your face, your head by lowering it. “Anything to get that 100, I will bring her tomorrow!”

You two started walking out, feeling the gaze of your mom behind you. “When we turn around here, Yujin and his brother are waiting for us.”

And just like she said, Hanbin and Yujin were there, opening the car right when they saw you two. “Were you two creating a summer season collection?”

“Quiet, Yujin. Hi Hanbin,” you said. Hanbin simply smiled at you.

“Where now, to our house?” Hanbin spoke, this time looking at Leeseo.

“Yes, we need to change her clothes,” you said, looking at her, confused.

“But why? I think it’s cute.” You looked down, a pink polo shirt layered under a pastel cable-knit sweater, khaki skirt, and pearl studs.

“Don’t get me wrong, it is cute, but it looks like you will hold a mass on the dance floor.” Now you laughed, already feeling at ease when the wind touched your face. “And then to Martin’s”

Once again, the mood turned down. “Wait—Martin? As in Martin Edwards?”

“Yes. Keonho texted me, and he said his mom’s gone, and his band has their amps set up in the garage. Apparently, half of the school’s going.” Yujin said, and that’s when you looked at Leeseo, who was actively trying to avoid your face.

“Oh my god! I love this song, turn it up, Hanbin!” she screamed.

The car ride to Hanbin’s house wasn’t long. Yujin’s house was empty when you arrived. Leeseo didn’t waste a second—the soft outfit was already in her backpack, so you can wear the black cropped baby tee with a rhinestone butterfly, a pleated low-rise denim skirt, and a chunky studded belt. Your makeup is slightly altered with the use of eyeliner, but since it was a style you have secretly wanted to try for a while, you enjoyed it. 

Leeseo opened the door of Yujin’s room. The second you stepped out, both brothers gasped. You rolled your eyes with your face burning at the attention. 

“Now that outfit is the one that will take your mom to a coma,” Yujin said. Hanbin punched him softly, and you simply laughed.  

It took a few steps to arrive there since they were neighbors, and the bass from the garage was already rattling the pavement. Cars were parked crooked along the curb, kids were sitting on the front lawn with red cups, and some of them, who you recognized as graduates, were drunk.

“This looks safe,” you muttered. Leeseo slipped her arm through yours.

“Relax, it’s just a party. Besides, Martin’s band is playing. It will be good.”

You rolled your eyes. “Martin’s band will probably sound like three lawnmowers in a blender.”

“That’s kind of the point.” 

The smell of cheap soju mixed with hairspray lingered in the air; there were some Christmas lights strung along the ceiling, casting the whole space in a warm glow. You moved between people to grab something to drink from the table. 

“Noona?” 

You turned around, half-expecting another stranger with either a can of soda or a red cup. Instead, it was Keonho—well, another version that was surely not the one you used to watch on council meetings.

It was almost comical the way your eyes widened at the same time, like you were looking at two entirely different people from the ones you’d last seen in pressed uniforms.

“...Keonho?” you blinked, scanning him from head to toe. “What are you wearing?”

Baggy jeans sagging low on his hips, showing a part of his boxers, a chain clinking against his belt loop, oversized sneaker, and a graphic tee layered under a half-zipped hoodie. His gel-free hair was messy, kinda like he came out of an MTV music video. He looked good, you had to admit.

Keonho gawked back at you with the same disbelief. “Me? Noona, look at your outfit.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, suddenly becoming hyperaware of your fit.

You crossed your arms defensively. “At least I don’t look like I lost a fight with my closet… but you look good, I guess.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair. But still… wow. Didn’t think you could look like that. It suits you.”

Before you could thank him, the garage speakers squealed as the music turned down. Keonho’s grin widened instantly. “Anyways, you have to come listen. Cortis is next.”

You arched a brow. “Cortis?”

“The band I joined!” he said, a happy smile showing his pride. “James is on drums, Juhoon’s rhythm, Seonghyeon on keys, I’m bass.”

“Oh, all of you sing?” you asked, following his steps to the garage.

“Sometimes, but the main singer—”

“What’s up, School of Performing Arts of Seoul!” Martin's voice resonated all over the place, the crowd screaming in response. 

“Keonho.”

“I know you don’t like him at all, but listen to us for a moment, we practiced a lot.” he did a small pout, you had to nod to see him smiling, and run to his bass. 

You scanned the group, eyes stopping on Martin, his guitar strap slung low and standing front and center.

“Thanks for being here. We’re Cortis, and we will do something old since classics never die.”

They surprised you by opening with a familiar riff of one of your favorite bands, blink-182. “All the small things” made the whole garage shake with the force of it, and you had to admit it—it didn’t sound half bad. They were all completely lost in their performance and interacting with people in the crowd who were busy nodding their heads and screaming their names.

The song ended, and the five boys were sweat-slicked and breathless, quickly grabbing a can of soda to quench their thirst. Martin left for a moment, arriving soon after to connect an acoustic guitar to the amps.

You audibly gasped when the familiar melody hit your eardrums. “Wonderwall”. 

You moved through the crowd to get a clearer view, spotting Leeseo and Yujin by the first rows, both singing along dramatically the wrong lyrics—you didn’t mean to reveal your love for rock music there, but after securing your spot next to your friends, your body moved first, soon the lyrics easily feel off your lips like you’d been waiting for that exact song all night, far away from your mother.

For the first time, you let yourself loose. They weren’t perfect; the performance itself was pretty raw to the point that the energy could be felt all over the place. Martin looked up mid-chorus, eyes landing on you. You could see how his eyes opened at the view of you enjoying the chaos he was creating. It felt like the noise dimmed, even just for a second, before he went back to singing his heart out.

The night stretched on with more covers, every single one better than the one before. Eventually, the closeness got too much, making you slip through the crowd and push the back door open, stepping outside after grabbing a can of soda. The cool night air hit your face like a relief, although the sound of crickets filling the silence that the muffled music left behind wasn’t exactly your cup of tea.

You exhaled, leaning against the side of the house, closing your eyes for a moment, finally feeling a little sense of peace after what was probably the longest year so far.

“You hiding, Prez?”

You startled, spinning around to see Martin also leaning against the railing, hair damp with sweat, a crooked smile painted across his face. Even outside, he carried the same reckless kind of confidence that made people look twice. 

“Not hiding,” you said flatly. “Just avoiding the noise pollution.”

“Funny that you say that, knowing how much you enjoyed back there.” His smile grew at the sight of you trying to play it cool.

You scoffed lightly, crossing your arms. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just… surprised you didn’t completely butcher the songs.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled, pushing off the railing to stand a little closer. “You’re tough to impress.”

“That’s not new information.” 

For a brief moment, he didn’t say anything — just looked at you. “Didn’t think I’d see you at one of my shows,” he said, quieter this time.

“Me neither. I didn’t think you’d still be here,” you said, the words coming out before you could even stop yourself. “Wasn’t Canada calling your name?”

You stood there waiting for a silly comment like he always does, just to see your irritating face. But there was nothing but silence, and you were smart enough to know you messed up.

He let out a soft laugh, a bitter one. “Yeah, it was.”

Your silence was a cue for him to continue, which even made you question why you suddenly wanted to hear the rest.

“My dad wanted me there, to finish high school there, the same high school he graduated from,” he said. “Said it’s ‘set me for the future.’, but while he was setting me up, he was setting someone else up too. In another country.”

You froze, for the first time, not having an answer to talk back.

“My mom knew,” he added. “She knew the whole time and just… kept living like nothing happened. So I decided to stay with the person I’m less angry at—while making him angry enough that I like music.”

"He wanted you to be something else when you graduated?"

"Electric engineer. Just like him, so I can help with his company." 

You suddenly remember the article that the principal showed one time — Edward Industries’ CEO invests in youth innovation — and the photo of Martin’s father shaking hands with people, smiling like his world was perfect.

“That’s… a lot to live up to and process,” you said quietly.

“Well, you know I’m not great at following instructions.” His lips twitched, but his usual smirk didn’t quite form this time.

You took a sip of the last part of the soda, swallowing it. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know you hate me enough to not care.”

Your breath caught at the way he said it, like it wasn't a joke, but that stung a part of you. You look at him and, for the first time in your eyes, he doesn’t look untouchable or smug. He looked tired.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” you said softly.

“Don’t be. I’d rather be here playing and producing music with the boys and annoying you.”

You let out a small laugh. “You’re doing a great job at both.”

“Y/N! Are you here?!” 

You both turned toward the sound of Yujin’s scream echoing faintly from the other side of the yard. Flashlights from someone’s phone swung through the dark as your friends searched for you.

“Your friends are calling you,” Martin said, stating the obvious. You ran a hand through your hair and twisted it into a messy low bun. He watched the motion quietly, cheeks warming before he could stop himself.

You met his gaze again. “Good night, Martin.”

“Night, Prez.” He added, finally smiling a little bit. 

You started to walk away, then paused mid-step to look back over your shoulder.

“I don’t hate you,” you said. “I just hate that the only thing that damages my school profile is your warnings.”

He let out a chuckle, for real this time, his mouth now doing his familiar grin. “Then I guess I’m doing you a favor. Give your résumé some personality.” 

You blinked, completely caught off guard, before a laugh escaped you, making his grin widen.

“Hey! Don’t laugh!” he said, though the lack of bite in the tone betrayed him, too focused on the happiness that you radiated outside the school.

From a distance, Yujin called your name again, his voice half-drowned by the music. You turned to glance at the noise, still smiling as you stepped back.

Martin stayed where he was, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you go, putting his hand on his chest to calm it down a bit at the sudden racing of it.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · Sitting again at your desk felt like hell. The summer break had been a blur, and what you wished to do the most—relaxing, catching up on your TV shows, and simply not thinking too much about high school—was replaced by college prep books and an endless to-do list dictated by your mother. You manage to sneak out with Leeseo and Yujin only once.

Long story short, you were practically glued to your desk. So the return to school felt more like a choker pressing even tighter around your neck.

“You guys won’t believe what I just saw!” Yujin entered the room, slamming the door closed before running to your spot.

“Yujin, tone it down! Drink some.” You gave him your water, practically chugging it down to ease his thirst.

“Thank you, I came here running as fast as I could.” 

“Couldn’t tell." The sarcasm in Leeseo’s voice made him narrow his eyes at her. “Say what you saw.” 

Before he could, the door slid open again, and a collective gasp rippled through the classroom.

Martin.

But it was Martin wearing the school uniform properly. Key word: properly. White shirt tucked in, tie actually knotted, blazer neat. The only nods to his usual style were a thick, silver ring on his index finger and the slight, purposeful messiness of his hair that framed his face.

He dropped his backpack onto his usual seat in the back, then strolled casually toward the front to grab a new syllabus. On the way back, he caught Yujin’s eye.

“Morning, Han, Leeseo, Prez.” he nodded coolly, taking a seat on the empty spot.

“That’s what I saw,” he whispered, wide-eyed.

Far from being discreet, Leeseo was already studying Martin, who was playing dumb and doing random poses. “I hate this. Bring back your ‘I hate the system’ attitude right now. That’s my only entertainment in this school.”

Martin looked up, grinning. “Can’t. I’m going for the rebrand. Gotta keep the audience guessing.”

You kept your eyes fixed on your notebook, pretending to write down something important, and you were hyper-aware of the space he occupied beside you.

Then came the knock on the wood right next to your pencil case. “Do I look good, Prez?”

When you finally risked a glance at him, it was enough to have the class eyes on both of you, especially his bold yet teasing stare. 

“You look like a normal student. Congratulations.”

The bell rang, and everyone began shuffling to their seats. Martin kneeled in front of you and leaned near enough to whisper, “Thank you, princess.” 

Yujin choked with the water again, and Leeseo was just there, wide-eyed and jaw on the floor. You froze, brain stuttering to find something coherent to say after that. It was well known that you hated nicknames like that, but why are you feeling your cheeks warming up so fast? The class started whispering. 

Days passed, but something about him had shifted.

He still sat in the back (mostly because of his height), still wore that lazy smirk when teachers called his name, but between the sarcasm and the half-lidded stares out the window, you caught him writing. Even more, he divided the notebook into two, where he had both school material and lyrics alongside some guitar chords. Once, you even saw the corner of a paper titled “CORTIS - Set Ideas!!” when you were delivering lesson papers.

He wasn’t slacking off anymore. He was trying.

And since he was trying, the warnings of your bad leadership were almost nonexistent. And it was weird, mostly because you didn’t know how to feel about it.

By the second week, the girls' bathroom was starting to fill with rumors.

“Cortis is joining the Battle of the Bands next month! I’m going to support Juhoon.” “Keonho and Seonghyeon are the youngest people to be there.” “If they go and win, they will break Hamlin's streak of three years.”

You overheard it all, pretending not to listen, but it was inevitable, the emotions for everyone there, since it’s their big “gig”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

At home, though, things stop being simple. Your mother had entered one of her “planning phases,” consisting of color-coded schedules of times to study for the college entrance exam, college catalogs spread across your desk.

“Mother, I’m home,” you screamed. You heard the footsteps of your mother coming from the kitchen. She even has more college catalogs in her hands.

“Y/N, I made a decision. You're going to apply for early admission.” You stopped, looking at her in confusion.

“I thought we agreed that I would not do that.”

“You need to focus. You have the grades; now you need the commitment. No distractions,” she reminded you for the fourth time that week. 

"Mother, I have all my study schedules already, and I'm on track for the mock exams. I'm literally planning the school's social calendar while keeping my GPA up. What more commitment do you need that you found the need to make that decision without consulting me?” you said, trying to keep your tone even.

“Don’t raise your voice at me,” she snapped, the papers in her hands hitting the table with a dull thud. “I know what’s best for your future. You don’t. You think organizing dances and trips for your classmates is going to help you get into Seoul National?”

You clenched your fists. “It’s not about that! It’s about the fact that you don’t trust me to handle my own life!”

“You’re seventeen, Y/N. You don’t even know what you’ll want in five years!”

“Because you’ve never given me the chance to figure it out!” you shot back before you could stop yourself, your voice breaking slightly. 

“I’m going to college and not mess it up like you!” Your mother’s palm slapped sharply on your cheek. 

“What’s going on here?!” Your father’s voice came from the hallway. You hadn’t even realized he’d arrived. But you didn’t care.

You pushed past him, tears already blurring your vision as you ran out the door. You could hear him calling your name, but his voice faded behind you, swallowed by the night air.

You didn’t care about your mom.

You didn’t care about the neighbors staring as you rushed down the street, barefoot in house slippers.

You didn’t care about the way your chest tightened with every breath you took.

You just ran.

And when your legs finally gave out, you found yourself in a quiet park. The street lights flickered faintly, the world spinning around you.

Your knees hit the ground first. Then came the sobs. You pressed your palms to the dirt as your body trembled, the sound of your breathing broken and uneven. For once, you couldn’t hold it in.

The pressure, the expectations, the endless need to be perfect, it all cracked open at once. You barely noticed the screams of a familiar tune until a shadow moved a few meters away.

“Y/N! Are you here?!” Martin’s voice didn’t even make you look up at him. The footsteps grew closer until you felt his presence. “God, what’s wrong—”

Your arms wrapped around him, crying even harder. The bag he’d been holding slipped from his hand, hitting the grass with a muffled thud. A few things rolled out, forgotten. 

He froze for half a second before his arms carefully wrapped around you as well.

“Hey… hey,” he murmured, voice low. “You’re okay.”

You shook your head against his chest, your sobs muffled by his hoodie. “No. I’m not. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just held you there as you cried, his hand moving slowly up and down your back. The only sounds were your uneven breaths and the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze.

When you finally started to calm, he shifted slightly. Your eyes analyzed his face, the worry etched across his face—the kind you didn’t expect from him.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed hard, voice breaking slightly, “My mother.”

His jaw tightened, eyes flicking briefly to the faint redness on your cheek. You saw the flash of anger there. “There’s a bench there, go sit there.”

You did what he said, and when he came to sit next to you after picking up the stuff. He pulled a strawberry milk and gave it to you, thanking him.

“I saw you running,” he said. “I was leaving the supermarket, and I just followed. It looked like you were about to disappear.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t.” His voice softened immediately. “You don’t have to apologize for crashing out.”

You drank up the milk, sighing after.

“I’m just so tired, Martin.”

“I know.” He glanced up at the night sky for a moment. “You don’t have to keep proving you can handle everything. You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes.”

You gave a small laugh. “That’s not really on my schedule.”

“Then it’s time to break it,” he said simply, his tone somewhere between teasing and kind. 

That actually pulled a real laugh from you and a faint smile from Martin. His hand brushed the dirt off his uniform pants before doing the same with your knees. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’ll just sit here.”

You nodded, eyes still wet but calmer. “Thanks for following me, I guess.”

“Anytime,” he said. “Though next time, please don’t make me drop all my groceries.”

You two stayed there for a while; neither of you said anything. You just sat there sharing peace, a feeling none of you felt in a long time, and for different situations.

The night air had cooled a little by the time you both stood up from the bench.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the road. “I’ll walk you home before your dad sends a search party.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. The street was almost empty as you walked side by side, your steps slow and the sound of cicadas blending with the quiet, distant buzz of traffic.

“Again, I’m really sorry,” you said after a couple of steps. “I must have been a burden to you today.”

Martin glanced at you, his expression unreadable in the streetlight glow. “You needed someone to find you. That’s all.”

After a few more quiet steps, you sighed, kicking at a pebble on the pavement. “It’s just not my mother. Everything’s been… too much. The prom planning, the trip, the mock exams—it’s like I can’t breathe without having something due.”

Martin chuckled softly. “Leave it to you to get stressed about fun things.”

“They’re only fun when people actually help,” you said, exasperated. “Even if the committee is completely involved in those two things, the principal is bothering me. I’ve been running back and forth with the school board about budget approvals, and I swear, if one more teacher calls me responsible like it’s a compliment, I’m going to scream.”

“Then scream. I’ll join you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You? You’d probably turn it into a song.”

“Maybe I already did.”

You looked up at him, but he just shrugged. “We’re working on something for the Battle of the Bands,” he said. “Prize money isn't bad. Thinking of donating it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Donating? Since when are you that noble?”

“Since I found out how expensive renting a DJ, using massive decorations, and the food is,” he said, giving you a sideways glance. “Keonho is stressed with that too, and we figured if we win, we’ll put some of the money toward your prom fund.”

You blinked, taken aback. “You’d do that?”

“For the school,” he confirmed, but the grin that followed made it impossible to believe him. “Well… mostly for you.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head in disbelief. “And what exactly do you get out of that deal?”

He took a moment before answering, kicking at the pavement as if he were debating whether to say it. “A date.”

You stopped walking. “A what?”

“A date,” he repeated, meeting your eyes. “With you. Just one.”

You stared at him, heart skipping in that annoying wait it always did around him lately. “You’re joking.”

“Not this time.” His voice had softened, “I’ve kinda liked you for a while, Y/N. Like, since sophomore year, a while”

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The words and the mere sight of how he rubbed the back of his neck with the faintest flush creeping into his cheeks were enough to really blow you away.

“You probably thought I was just being annoying all the time… That was me trying to get your attention without, you know, getting expelled for it.”

You blinked at him. “Two years?”

He nodded, starting to walk again. “Two very long and humbling years.”

You looked away at the back of his figure, hiding the small smile that tugged at your lips. Once you reached him, you focused on looking straight.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. “Just… let me win first. Then decide.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I’m a ridiculous guy with a plan,” he said, lightly swinging his hips to move your body. 

You reached your gate a few minutes later. The house lights were still on, the silhouette of your dad faintly visible through the curtains.

When you stopped, so he did, taking a look at your place for the first time. “You gonna be okay?”

You nodded. “I think so.”

He smiled. “Good. Don’t disappear like that again, okay? I can’t keep rescuing the class president from emotional breakdowns.”

You smirked faintly. “And here I thought you liked being the hero.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Maybe I just like you.”

You froze at the words. You saw how he shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“See you tomorrow, Prez.”

“Goodnight, Martin.”

He started walking away. You stood there for a moment, heart beating way too fast for someone who’d just survived a meltdown. Your feet started walking fast to where he was.

“Martin!” He stopped instantly, turning on his heel. The look on his face was equal parts concern and confusion, the grocery bag still dangling from one hand. 

You walked up to him, stopping close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Your hand reached for his tie, pulling him down gently. 

On your tiptoes, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m really thankful,” you murmured.

Neither of you moved. His eyes widened slightly before that boyish grin spread across his face, causing you to smile back. You stepped back quickly, cheeks burning, and darted toward the gate before he could say anything else.

Once inside, you shut it softly behind you, leaning against the cool metal to steady your racing heartbeat and touching your lips. Curiosity got the better of you, and you peeked through the small hole in the wall that your dad refused to fix.

Martin was still there, frozen in place, and soon enough, he pulled his fist to the sky while walking away, or more like dancing away, down the sidewalk. “Let’s go!” you heard the scream, and you bit your lip, stifling a laugh of your own.

October came fast, mostly because your parents decided on an uncontested divorce and your dad got the apartment downtown. Yujin jumped when he found out it’s five minutes away from his house. The place felt quieter; your mother had thrown herself into work, and you into whatever kept you from thinking too much: school, council duties, and, against all odds, CORTIS.

Somehow, Martin had managed to stop getting detention every other week. He still mouthed off at the teachers sometimes, wore his ring and the smirk, but he wasn’t the same boy who used to skip class just to nap on the rooftop.

It was truly impressive, you saw how he actually took notes during math, how he waited for everyone after band practice instead of just storming off, how he asked the teacher questions about topics, and even delivered small notes on your desk, ones that make you happy, as if it was a normal thing to do.

Leeseo had caught all that and more, dedicating his free time to watching you watching him, whispering, “You’re so done for,” grinning and doing a couple of mimics with Yujin.

But of course, you denied it every time. 

Because no one needs to know that you were actually falling for him.

Still, when the last high school exam ended, everyone started spilling out of the classrooms, screaming “freedom!” the second the bell rang for the end of the day. Everyone stood up joyfully, and from the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Martin coming your way, a bag lazily hanging on his shoulder.

“Everybody listen up!” Yujin shouted, standing on top of a chair and waving his arms dramatically. “Today, it’s the Band of Battles. Let’s all go and support our beautiful high school and CORTIS as a last act of love to this place!” 

The whole class erupted in cheers, the rest of the students clapping at his words like he said something revolutionary.

Yujin’s friend, Gunwook, jumped onto a chair too, holding up his hand to point at Martin. “Martin, as the leader, pick a color so we can dress up.” 

Martin posed theatrically, pretending to think it through before his eyes looked at you. His grin softened as soon as his fingers brushed the small red bow pinned in your hair.

“I like red today.” The whole class went wild, but his eyes simply scanned the redness that the tip of your ears caught. You tried to act unfazed, but the way he smirked at you made your stomach twist. 

His mouth went near your ear, “You can wear whatever you like, you look good in anything.”

By the time the noise died down, so did your heartbeat when he left the classroom, mouthing, “I’ll see you there”. Everyone had plans and was starting to spread the word before heading home to change and go to the event.

You, on the other hand, had to stay behind, for quite a while, actually. 

While your classmates flooded out of the building, already buzzing about the performance, you found yourself sitting across from the principal for more than an hour, finalizing the last details for the senior trip next week. Each little break, you looked up at the clock hanging on top of the wall, sighing in relief when he thanked you for your dedication, which was a nice way to say “you work too much” and finally let you go. You were already late, and you at least wanted to arrive one act before the boys.

The hallways were nearly empty now, sunlight slanting through the windows in soft orange streaks. You smiled faintly when you passed a whiteboard where someone had scrawled “CORTIS = Victory!” alongside other words of encouragement.

Your chest felt a little lighter reading it, even making you pull out your camera to snap a picture so you can show it to the band through Keonho later.

You were halfway down the front steps when you saw a woman standing outside the school gates, elegantly dressed in a cream coat and hair pinned neatly back. Without losing the beat of your quick steps, you continued until you felt a presence near you and soon, a hand on your shoulder that made you jump.

“Excuse me,” she called gently, laughing awkwardly at your reaction. “Are you Y/N?”

You hesitated before nodding, “Yes… Do I know you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Martin’s mom.”

You blinked before bowing down; you didn’t expect his mother to look that elegant yet have such an expression that felt oddly familiar.

“Nice to meet you.”

“I’m the one I should say that, darling. I’ve heard about you,” she said. “Martin speaks of you more than he probably realizes.”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face. “Thank you so much.”

“He’s changed lately,” she said. “He comes home earlier, studies, and seems steadier. And I know you might have something to do with that positive change.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. “Well, he’s been working hard in high school and for the band. You probably already know how much it means to him.”

Her smile faltered, just a tiny bit, before speaking again. “Yes, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“About the band?” you frowned, already thinking of what she was about to say.

“Music has always been a phase for him. His father has great plans, engineering, university abroad, to be specific. I was hoping you could talk to him, convince him to take his future seriously again.”

That’s the moment you went speechless. Your mind works ten times faster to choose your words carefully. “With all respect, Mrs. Park. I don't think it's a phase, and I won’t do that. At all.”

“I’m sorry?” she said, confusion flickering on her face.

“I’ve seen him when he’s performing,” you said. “When he’s practicing with the band, when he’s writing lyrics on the back of his notebook, he’s not pretending; he looks alive doing that. It's not just a distraction for him; it’s who he actually is.”

You could see how the first crack in her composure showed, lips parted. “You sound just like him.”

“Maybe that’s because you both underestimate how much he cares about what he does,” you vented. “I get that engineering might have been his father’s and your dream. But music as a whole makes him happy. Whether it’s producing or singing, that’s how he wants to live his life.”

There was a silence for a moment, so you took that moment to inhale briefly and continue.

"Martin listens to music when he’s feeling stressed. He’s not into literature, but he writes such good lyrics that you might even think he’s becoming some kind of poet. And the way he looks when he’s playing? That’s him in his element.”

The woman lowered her head, sighing. “I just don’t want him to throw his future away. Not after everything that’s happened.”

“Maybe this is his future, it just doesn’t look like the one you two pictured.”

 “You’re a very smart girl, Y/N,” she finally said.

“I’m just honest,” you replied, offering a small smile.

“That’s even rarer,” she murmured. “I can see why he—” she stopped herself, simply smiling again, “Thank you for being good to him.”

An idea came to you, the backpack that was on your shoulder ended in the middle of you two, taking away the pamphlet Seonghyeon and James had given to promote, and extended to her. “He’s a good person, Mrs. Park. And just like how you believe in him to achieve the engineering future, believe and trust him with his.”

You bowed slightly when she took the paper, walking away to catch the bus that would take you home. Thankfully, you arrived safely.

You kicked off your shoes at the entrance, calling out, “Dad, I’m home!” before leaning down to kiss his forehead as he read through a newspaper on the couch with his work clothes still on.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said with a smile. “You look busy.”

“Always!” you shouted, darting into your room.

They were still scattered with open notebooks and the faint scent of highlighter ink, stuff you’d temporarily promised yourself to forget tonight.

After the divorce, your dad had insisted on helping you “reclaim the place.” He’d driven you to buy new clothes, helped you hang posters, and even tolerated the sparkly beaded curtain you’d begged to put on your door. For the first time in months, the room looked like yours, not your mother’s version of perfection. 

You took the quickest shower and got dressed in record time, the white camisole layered under a cropped denim jacket, a mini skirt with a rhinestone belt, and your sports shoes. A knock on your door made you look away from the mirror.

“Come in!” you called, picking some blush on your brush to put it onto your cheeks.

Your dad peeked in, smiling softly as he stepped inside. “Are you still getting ready?”

“Almost done, thanks for driving me there,” you replied, setting down the brush.

He chuckled and sat on the edge of your bed, looking around and whistling. “Wow, you’re really made this place your own.”

You smiled at his reflection in the mirror proudly. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You also seem different lately. Happier.”

“Maybe because exams are over, both of us are in a good place, and I’m finally hanging out with my friends. Which, by the way, I’m grateful for.”

“Well, you deserve them since you’ve always worked hard,” he smiled. You felt that shift when he was done, suddenly suffocating.

He watched you for a moment, a teasing glint in his eyes. “So… what do you want to ask?” you said, already suspicious.

“Now, why do you think that?” he asked, laughing when you raised an eyebrow at him, seeing him leaning forward with a grin on his face. “What’s his name?”

The mascara wand ended halfway to your lashes. “What's whose name?”

“The boy,” he said simply. “And don’t tell me there isn’t one. I’m not blind. You’ve been smiling more, playing music in your room, and I’m pretty sure he’s the same boy who brought you home that night.”

You covered your face, groaning, feeling your cheeks getting warmer with each second. “Dad, please.”

“So I’m right,” he said, amused that his dad instincts didn’t betray him. “What’s his name?”

The small silence was broken when you sighed softly. “Martin.”

Your dad nodded slowly. “Is that the boy who’s in that band you mentioned, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, trying your best to sound casual. “He’s their leader, and he has been studying with me since middle school. Kind of stubborn. Really annoying sometimes.”

“Huh—” you could tell by how he was clearly unconvinced. “And what makes him so annoying?”

You opened your mouth—ready to list something—but nothing came. Instead, what slipped out was, “He doesn’t quit. Even when everyone expects him to.”

Your dad hummed softly. 

“And when he talks about music,” you went on, your mind planting words in a second, “he gets this look… like the rest of the world just disappears, he’s in his own happy place.”

You paused, but somehow the words kept coming. “He’s also funny,” you admitted, taking your hairclips to fix your hair with a smile tugging at your lips. “Not the kind that tries hard, it’s like, half of the time he says something and you can’t even tell if it’s a joke or he’s being serious. It makes you laugh anyway.”

You stood up to pick some rings to match the outfit, continuing to speak. “He’s kind, pretends he doesn’t care, but he remembers things. He smiles with his whole face, and when there’s something  he likes, he won’t stop until he gets it.”

“I thought you were saying something about him being annoying, right?”

Heat crept up your neck immediately. “I—That’s not—I didn’t mean—”

“Darling. It’s okay, I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Oh my God, please stop talking.” You took your essentials quickly and ran to the front door, waiting in the car immediately. 

The drive was calm, the windows cracked open, making the October air carry faint echoes of music from blocks away. The sunset was painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold.

He glanced at you as they stopped at a red light. “Sounds like you really care about him. And so does he.”

“I guess I do,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

“I would love to meet him properly sometime,” you were about to protest, but he shushed you quickly. “No ‘buts’”

“Fine.” You both arrived at the youth center quite fast. The road was already lined with parked cars, students who didn’t receive a ticket and decided to enjoy from outside, a handful of paparazzi, and a lot of security.

You heard your dad’s whistle under his breath. “Looks like the whole district showed up.”

“It really does.” You clutched your bag a little tighter.

He slowed the car near the entrance, smiling as he glanced at you. “Are you nervous?”

You shook your head quickly. “Maybe a little.”

“You’ll do fine.”

“I’m not performing,” you laughed a little, confused.

He grinned, a hand on top of your shoulder. “Didn’t say you were. But I have a feeling something might happen.”

You rolled your eyes, unbuckled your seatbelt, and checked one last time that you didn’t forget the vip ticket Martin left on your locker.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, kissing his cheek.

“Anytime, sweetheart. Tell me if you’re going somewhere else, and tell Martin I said good luck!”

“Dad!” You heard his laugh as you walked away, turning around to wave him off before stepping into the noise of the crowd after safely passing security, although you almost fell after a few of them tried to fight security.

The venue wasn’t really one, more like a repurposed parking lot with a stage at one end and strings of lights hanging overhead. Students from different schools packed the space, every single one was excited, waving balloons from side to side or a flashlight.

“Y/N!” Leeseo appeared right in front of you, hugging you, and Yujin arrived a little later. “You just missed like two acts, Hanlim was even better than last year!”

“How did your meeting go?” Yujin asked, and a smile was more than enough for them.

“The trip is completely done, there are no problems.”

“Finally!” Yujin grinned. “We deserve that trip; this year has been trash.”

“Not for Y/N, she finally has a crush,” she sang, Yujin and Leeseo start poking your sides. “You know Martin’s going to show off.”

You rolled your eyes. “He always does.”

But your pulse quickened anyway when the stage lights flickered to red and you saw the MC going to the center of the stage, gaining a scream from the crowd.

“What a performance from Hanlim!” she said. A roar of cheers from a group of students startled you. “Let’s keep this energy up for the next group, from SOPA… give it up for CORTIS!”

The boys walked to the stage, the excitement and screams from the place feeding them. James settled behind the drums, spinning a stick in one hand. Juhoon adjusted his guitar strap, Seonghyeon’s fingers danced over the keys to test it, and Keonho flashed his familiar grin from behind his bass.

Then Martin walked out.

Graphic tee with layered chains, jeans slouching low, sneakers unlaced. Stage lights caught on his chain as he leaned into the mic. “What’s up, Seoul!” 

Cheers erupted again, a few girls screaming his name and the other guys. “Tonight, it’s a special night because we’re performing our self-produced song for the world to hear!”

Leeseo elbowed when you immediately started clapping and cheering.

“Enjoy yourself, love. You deserve this!” Martin started playing some guitar chords.

“Crash, smash, rock, mash up Ooh, take what you want 돈, 멋, 명예, love, and what? Ooh, take what you want.”

You remember hearing them practice bits of it during free periods when you walked by to give them some snacks and reminding Keonho about little details to fix for the trip.

Hearing it live was very different from it; all of the instruments crashed together in perfect sync, and you finally listened to all five singing together, which was uncommon for bands. Everyone was shouting along, even if they didn’t know the words. In a moment, Martin’s eyes found you. For that split second, you could feel your heart trying to escape from your ribs. 

“Some people want this, some people want that Same here, all seventeen years of my life.”

Martin started walking around to interact with people, standing in front of you three.

“Chased after love, chased after fame. So now I want the whole world to know my name.”

He winked at you, feeling it like a spark as heat rushed to your cheeks. Yujin started laughing at your face, and Keonho smiled teasingly at you.

A couple of minutes later, the song ended with a burst of applause, Martin running a hand through his hair before grabbing the mic again.

“Alright,” he said, breathless but grinning. “We’ve got one more for you.” 

He paused the moment his gaze found you immediately. 

You smiled faintly, catching the flicker of nerves in his eyes, and mouthed, “Breathe.”

He huffed out a laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting before turning his head to the band. Juhoon leaned into his mic.

“Go for it, dude.” The five boys laughed, Martin turning back to his mic.

“This,” he started, “is one of the many songs I wrote for this girl.” His eyes never left yours. “If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I’d have written any of them. 

You looked at Leeseo and Yujin on your side; they were smiling already. They knew this would happen.

He stepped back slightly, adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder, and nodded toward the rest of the band. “It’s called ‘Iris.’”

"And I'd give up forever to touch you 'Cause I know that you feel me somehow You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be And I don't wanna go home right now."

The lyrics drifted through the air, and though he was looking out toward the audience, every few lines his gaze found its way back to you, long enough that it was impossible to look away.

He wasn’t performing anymore. He was confessing to you for a second time.

You felt your throat tighten, fingers twisting around the hem of your jacket, your heart beating full speed, and making you clear of one thing. You were completely in love with that person whom you thought you hated.

"And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am."

The crowd swayed with the melody, arms raised, voices echoing when they learn a little piece of the song. You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until he smiled at you mid-line. The final chorus exploded, lights flashing, the crowd roaring. Martin’s voice cracked slightly on the last note—and somehow, it made it perfect. You screamed at the very end, chanting with your friends, “CORTIS!”.

The five joined Martin, bowing down in gratitude with big smiles on their faces. Juhoon was teary-eyed, and you could tell that it moved the rest of the members as they walked out. The MC came back, impressed.

“Wow! Cortis really wants the money. We will have a five-minute break so the judges can decide.”  

Leeseo grabbed your arm, eyes wide. “Y/N… I think you just got serenaded.”

“Go see him.” Yujin pointed at the small hallway you could go to. You looked at him, panicking.

“Like now?”

“Yes!” Both of them pushed you there, moving for a couple of minutes before you reach it. You waited for the security to get distracted to enter there, closing it as fast as you opened it.

At a distance, you saw Martin laughing while watching James and Keonho jumping in happiness, James even half-yelling something about “not missing the last chord for once.”

You slipped past the curtain, unsure whether to find him or run before someone teased you for looking like you belonged there.

“Noona!”

Too late. You turned just in time to see Seonghyeon spot you instantly. 

His shout was loud enough to catch the attention of all five.

“Prez!” Keonho was the first to move, practically launching himself into your arms before you could even react. “What do you think, Prez?”

You laughed, stumbling back half a step under his weight. “I think you’re all still dangerously hyper.”

“We totally killed it, what do you mean?” Juhoon cut in proudly, slinging an arm over Keonho’s shoulders. James raised his drumsticks triumphantly in agreement, and Seonghyeon grinned from behind the keyboard setup, already pretending to wipe sweat off his brow dramatically.

You shook your head fondly, brushing hair from your face. “You guys were amazing. Really.”

He was standing a few feet away, hair damp with sweat, guitar strap still hanging loose at his side. The grin he wore was boyish, tired, and radiant all at once.

“Occupational hazard,” he said with a shrug, stepping closer. “So? How’d we do?”

“You’re asking the school council president for a review?” you teased.

“I trust your judgment,” he said simply. 

“More like his crush judgment,” Seonghyeon spoke, hissing later after Juhoon pinched him.

“Can you leave us alone for a sec?” Martin looked at James.

“You all heard him! Step back, ladies,” you laughed at the funny view of them trying to listen.

The grin softened before becoming quiet again. “So?”

You exhaled, letting yourself smile despite yourself. “You were amazing, Martin. Really.”

He froze for a heartbeat, eyes lighting up. “You mean that?”

You nodded. “Every word.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pretending to play it cool, but the faint flush at the tips of his ears betrayed him. “Guess that means I can cash in on my deal.”

You frowned. “Deal?”

“The one where if we win, you owe me a date.”

You scoffed, trying not to grin. “You haven’t even won yet.”

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “We both know we’re not walking out of here without that trophy and cash.”

You were about to fire back something smart when the loudspeaker crackled to life outside.

“All bands, please gather near the stage! Results will be announced!”

He looked at you and smirked. “Come on, front row like before, Prez.”

The crowd was electric again when you came back, students pressing closer to the makeshift stage, voices rising in chaotic chants. Hanlim High’s band stood on one side, exhausted but smiling; CORTIS stood on the other. You could sense the adrenaline pulsing through their little group.

You stood with Leeseo and Yujin near the barricade, your heart weirdly hammering even though you weren’t the one competing. You three held hands.

“And the winners of this year’s Battle of the Bands…” the announcer said, drawing it out. The entire lot went silent for a breath.

“…CORTIS!”

The explosion of sound was immediate.

Students screamed, threw confetti, jumped, and cheered so loud you could barely hear the band’s name being repeated over the speakers. Keonho dropped to his knees, James banged a drum in celebration, and Juhoon lifted his guitar triumphantly in the air.

Martin just stood there for a second, blinking in disbelief as he grabbed the big cardboard check before looking toward you through the chaos.

You clapped your hands over your mouth, laughing, and he broke into the brightest smile you’d ever seen. Then, like it was instinct, he pointed right at you before turning to grab the mic.

“This one’s for SOPA High, and for the people who never stopped believing in us!” he shouted. “Especially one of them.”

Leeseo smirked beside you. “If you don’t date him soon, I will.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply because Martin had already jumped off the stage into the crowd, swallowed by a sea of cheering hands and students trying to high-five him. You decided not to bother the moment by moving near a corner to breathe properly with Leeseo next to you, who was almost suffocating.

Later, when the crowd started thinning, people made plans to celebrate at a nearby karaoke place. Banners were torn down, the lights dimmed, and laughter filled the streets as everyone drifted away in groups.

You were helping Yujin pick up some discarded signs when you noticed Martin slipping away from the commotion, walking towards you with a smile. Before he could reach you, he paused, looking right behind you.

Following his gaze, you saw her.

His mom.

Standing near both of you, clutching her bag, and if your vision wasn’t playing, you could see her eyes wet from what she’d just watched.

Martin froze when he saw her. For a second, he looked like a little boy again, before taking a slow step forward to be next to you.

“Mom,” he said quietly.

She smiled faintly, her voice soft. “You were incredible.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “You… came?”

“I had some help,” she said, glancing to your side, and your heart skipped when you realized she meant you.

Martin turned slightly. You gave a small bow before stepping back.

“I will give you two some space,” you bowed again before walking to where Leeseo and Juhoon were standing. 

When he looked back at his mom, her eyes were already glistening.

“I see what she meant,” she said.

He frowned slightly. “What did who mean?”

“Y/N,” she said. “She told me that music isn’t your rebellion, it’s more like your peace.” Her voice trembled slightly, but her smile didn’t waver. “She was right. You looked… happy. Really happy.”

Martin swallowed hard. “Mom…”

“I’ve been thinking about something for months,” she continued, clutching her purse tighter. “And after tonight, I think I've finally made up my mind.” She paused, steadying her breath. “I’m going to file for divorce.”

His eyes widened in surprise, a sudden feeling of relief occupying his whole body. “You’re serious?”

She nodded. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine. And I think you, your father, and I both deserve honesty, even if it hurts.”

Martin’s throat tightened. “I’m proud of you, Mom.”

Her smile wavered, tears finally spilling over. “No, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”

He didn’t hesitate, just stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. This was the first time in a while he gave and felt a hug that was that tight and overdue. 

After a while, she pulled back and brushed his hair from his forehead, her voice quiet. “You’ve grown up so much. And that girl… she’s good for you.”

Martin blinked, glancing instinctively toward where you stood, half-hidden behind the fence. You were talking to Leeseo, occasionally looking at him with your smile.

“She’s a great girl,” his mom added softly. “Don’t let her slip away.”

He smiled, that same shy, crooked smile that only ever showed up when it came to you. “I won’t.”

“Cortis and friends!” she screamed, not even willing to bat their eyelids. “Grab your stuff and get in the car, food is on me.”

As his mom turned to leave for the car, he looked back toward you again. You were laughing now as you watched James running at the word food, the streetlights glinting off your red bow as you tucked your hair behind your ear.

And for the first time in a long while, Martin didn’t feel like the boy running away from everything. He felt like someone finally heading toward something worth staying for.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The school courtyard was anything but calm. Countless rolling suitcases, half-zipped duffel bags, and sleepy students chugging canned coffee like their lives depended on it to keep awake for at least of the way there.

After a weekend of endless messages about CORTIS’ victory on Cyworld and your classmates posting grainy flip-phone photos of Martin grinning with the trophy, it felt surreal that it was finally trip day. The band made sure they cashed the prize and gave you a big amount for the prom if they got to perform again, which you obviously agreed to.

You adjusted your backpack and sighed as Leeseo ran up to you, waving a folded permission slip.

“Can you believe they’re trusting us with three whole nights away from supervision?” she grinned.

“Please,” you said, smiling faintly. “You know half the teachers are going to patrol the halls like spies.”

Yujin jogged up behind her, yawning. “I’m only here for the free breakfast buffet.”

“You’re here because you begged to be in my room,” Leeseo shot back.

“Prez!”

You turned instinctively, only for Keonho to appear out of nowhere, blocking your view with a grin too wide to be innocent. Last time he gave you that type of smile, you were in the director's office.

“Morning!” he said brightly, holding a carton of banana milk. “You want one?”

You frowned, eyeing him. “You hate banana milk.”

“Do I?” He glanced down, pretending to think. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

Before you could answer, Juhoon popped up behind him. “Y/N! Quick question: if a band wins something again, should the prize money go into savings or celebration snacks?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Snacks,” James said immediately, dragging his suitcase past.

“Definitely savings,” Seonghyeon countered.

“Hold on, I didn’t even—”

“Exactly!” Keonho interrupted, looping an arm through yours. “We are the only ones who can settle it. Come on, let’s walk and talk, far away from the buses.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What are you guys up to?”

“Nothing,” they chorused, which was, of course, the most suspicious answer possible.

By the time you reached the front of the boarding area, the CORTIS boys had somehow managed to keep you talking about everything from “the ethics of snack budgeting” to “who snores the loudest during overnight trips” (it was apparently James).

Every time you tried to glance toward the loading buses, one of them moved strategically into your line of sight.

“Okay,” you said finally, crossing your arms. “What’s going on? And don’t say ‘nothing’ again.”

Before you could press further, the teachers started calling everyone to board.

“Saved by the bell,” Seonghyeon muttered, pushing his suitcase forward.

You squinted suspiciously at all four of them. “You’re all terrible liars.”

Keonho only winked. “We learned from the best.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling as you followed them onto the bus.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The trip flew by in a blur of beach air, sightseeing, and several promposals that only happened when a hundred high school seniors were given freedom for three days straight and allowed their use of free will. You even helped out with Yujin’s promposal to Leeseo, to which she accepted happily.

You found yourself laughing more than you had in months, mostly because the CORTIS boys had taken it upon themselves to make every activity as dramatic as possible.

At lunch, James accidentally tripped and dropped an entire tray of kimbap, dramatically claiming it was “artistic sacrifice.” Juhoon tried to serenade a teacher with a guitar for bonus points on attendance. And the best for last was probably Keonho and Seonghyeon attempting to sneak extra dessert for everyone, only to get caught by the cafeteria lady, who then gave them more because she found them “charming.”

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somehow, their energy became the highlight of the trip.

Every so often, though, you caught Martin watching you from across the group, who you were impressed by how distracted he looked all this trip, exchanging some words with you now and then.

On the last night, during the “recreation period,” the teachers announced everyone could stay in the courtyard area to watch the sunset and enjoy the small outdoor stage. 

You and Leeseo were sitting near the front, sharing a pack of chips on a break after a small duet given by Wonbin and Liz.

“Yujin, what are you moving your head like a meerkat? You’re stressing me out.” Leeseo’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Okay, don’t freak out, but I think something is happening.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, already getting stressed out. You might have changed a little bit, but you were still a little perfectionist.

Music started playing from the speakers, and your mind instantly recognized the familiar brass riff it had.

“You’re just too good to be true…”

Your jaw dropped at the voice of Martin. “Leeseo, is this real?.”

“Oh, yes,” Leeseo whispered, eyes sparkling. You didn’t notice how she was holding a recording camera, pointing it at you.

Martin opened the curtain that worked as a background on the stage, his gaze fully on you. Martin jumped off the stage, mic in hand, grinning as he began to sing the classic with over-the-top theatrics.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

He pointed at you on the last word, and everyone screamed.

You covered your face, but it was useless. Martin was committed. He climbed onto one of the benches, sang to the teachers (who pretended not to laugh), and even slid down on one knee in front of a startled Yujin, who dramatically clutched his heart.

The entire class was upside down as the music built. He ran up the small aisle and stopped right in front of you.

You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “Martin—”

He was interrupted by singing directly to you, his grin wider than ever.

“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright…”

You buried your face in your hands, but he gently pulled them away, still singing. The crowd clapped along to the beat, the boys behind him quickly moving. Martin spun around, giving a cue to Juhoon to give him a flower bouquet to go again in front of you, kneeling on one knee.

When the song finally ended, Martin was breathless, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, but his eyes never left yours.

Behind him, James and Seonghyeon were holding a banner, the phrase: “I may not be Shakespeare, but I promise prom with me will be a sonnet.”

The entire courtyard went silent. 

He held the mic higher, the faint tremor in his hand betraying the adrenaline rushing through him. Despite the wide grin on his face, you could see his chest rising and falling a little too fast.

“So…” he said, catching his breath. “I think it’s pretty obvious what my feelings about you are.” 

“You drive me insane, make me want to be better, even when I swear I don’t care about anything.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “But I do. I care too much, especially when it comes to you.”

A few students in the front row let out small gasps, someone whispering, “Oh my god, he’s serious.”

Martin looked down for a second, the mic brushing against his lip as if he needed that pause to steady himself. When he lifted his head again, there was no smirk this time.e

“Maybe you don’t see it yet despite me saying I had this crush on you that night,” he said, voice softer now, “but when I look at you, it’s like the noise stops. And that’s saying something, coming from me.” The crowd laughed gently, and even you couldn’t help the small smile that broke through your shock.

Then he tilted his head, eyes glinting. “So yeah,” he said, tone dipping back into that familiar warmth, “I had to do this your way because words weren’t cutting it anymore.”

The crowd burst into cheers again, clapping and whistling, chanting your name and his. You were still processing the words, your heart thudding painfully fast, when he looked straight at you again, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

“So, Y/N,” he said, almost shyly this time, pointing at the banner behind him that was shaken by the boys, “will you go to prom with me?”

The crowd collectively held its breath.

You blinked, stunned, then let out a shaky laugh. “You could’ve just asked, you know.”

He grinned, his breath still uneven, voice hoarse from the singing and the nerves.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

You looked at him, the boy who’d spent half a year driving you crazy and the other half trying to make you smile. Your hand brushed against his as you took the bouquet. “Martin,” you said softly, eyes meeting his, “yes. Of course I’ll go with you.”

The courtyard erupted—cheers, applause, a few whistles from the back. Juhoon and James started playing the outro riff again, and Keonho let out a triumphant, “She said yes!” into the backup mic.

Martin blinked at you like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Wait—really?”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest. “Really.”

For a moment, he just stared, then he exhaled, his smile breaking into something so bright it made your stomach twist. “I’m—uh—wow. Okay.”

The boys were already pushing him forward, shouting for him to say something cool, but he just chuckled helplessly, scratching the back of his head. 

“Hug each other, idiots!” Yujin screamed, and before you could react, Martin’s arms wrapped around you, lifting you clean off the ground.

Your surprised laugh got lost in the roar of the crowd. He spun you once, just enough for your shoes to leave the pavement, and when he set you down, your heart was racing far faster than it should’ve

As the music picked up again, his hand reached out instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair from your cheek. He looked like he wanted to say more—so much more—but instead, he whispered, “See you at night, Y/N.”

Your frowned. “Wait, what?”

Before you could demand an explanation, Leeseo grabbed your wrist. “No time for questions—let’s go.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, stumbling after her.

She only grinned. “Operation ‘Date Night,’ obviously.”

“Excuse me, what?”

Yujin was waiting near the dorms, arms crossed like an overexcited manager. “Martin’s orders. You’re not allowed to show up in a school jacket in a romantic setting. Leeseo, you know what to do.”

“On it,” she said, pulling you inside.

Ten minutes later, your room looked like a battlefield of denim, perfume, and lip gloss.

Leeseo had raided your bag, holding up two outfits with the seriousness of a stylist dressing an idol.

“Okay, option one: the floral skirt and cardigan combo. It’s cute, safe, and very student council president. Option two…” She tossed a bundle at you. “Something that’ll make him forget his own lyrics.”

You gave her a look. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re welcome.”

Leeseo was taking her sweet time; everything she was doing was slow and steady, keeping you busy with prom details and suggesting matching colors and opinions for her and Yujin for the event. Which also made you think if Martin is into matching colors.

When you finally looked in the mirror, the second Leeseo screamed in joy, you barely recognized yourself. The simple denim skirt paired with a white tank layered under a cropped cardigan, your hair loose and soft around your shoulders. A thin silver necklace rested at your collarbone.

“Thank you, Leeseo.” You hugged her tightly.

“Anything to see you leaving this school with your first boyfriend and have your first kiss.” You laughed at her tease, face turning red. You left the dorm to start walking to the place, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, and you were sure that it was leaving behind streaks of rose and violet across the water.

When you reached the beach, fairy lights were strung between two wooden poles, flickering softly. A small speaker played a slow guitar riff, so it was clear he was there.

And there, sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket with a basket on his side, was Martin.

He wasn’t dressed like the usual; he decided to wear a plain white tee layered under an open gray button-up, dark jeans cuffed at the ankles, and a simple silver chain that glinted every time he moved. His sneakers were scuffed, but clean, and his hair still messy from earlier, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it because he knew you’d recognize him anyway.

He looked up as soon as he heard your footsteps, that same lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” you said, trying not to sound as breathless as you suddenly felt. “So this was your mysterious ‘see you tonight’ plan?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. “Yeah. The guys helped. Keonho almost set the lights on fire, but we made it work.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you sat beside him. “This is… nice.”

“Yeah?” he asked, trying not to look too eager.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your gaze drifting toward the waves. “Really nice.”

He exhaled, shoulders dropping. “Good. I was worried it’d feel too much.”

“Not at all, Tin,” he laughed at the nickname.

For a while, you talked about everything and nothing while eating. The songs they were writing, the stress of exams finally being over, minus the one for college, and how Leeseo had forced you to change outfits under threat of “fashion failure.”

Martin was quieter than usual. His usual sarcasm softened into warmth, his eyes flickering between you and the sea from time to time.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” you said at one point, voice gentle.

He shook his head. “I wanted to. I just… wanted you to have a night that wasn’t about expectations or responsibilities. Just… you.”

That made you look up, startled, and for a second, neither of you said anything.

The wind tugged at your hair, and he reached forward instinctively like before, brushing it back behind your ear. His hand lingered, thumb grazing your jaw as his breath caught.

“Martin…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He didn’t move closer, but he didn’t move away either. His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if he were fighting himself.

“I shouldn’t,” he murmured, half to himself. “Not unless you—”

Your heart stuttered. “Unless I what?”

He smiled faintly. “Unless you’d actually let me.”

You opened your mouth, but before you could speak, a loud crash echoed from behind the dunes.

“REALLY YUJIN?!”  Keonho’s voice.

You both jumped apart, laughing in disbelief.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, covering your face. “They were spying?”

Martin ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. “I told them to stay in their rooms.”

Another yell followed. “Did they kiss yet?”

You looked at each other, bursting out laughing, really laughing, until your stomach hurt and the tension melted. Martin leaned back on his hands, still smiling. “Guess they saved us from doing something we’d probably overthink later.”

You nudged his shoulder. “Probably.”

He turned to you again, that same soft look from the concert flickering across his face. “Still,” he said quietly, “you make overthinking kind of worth it.”

Your breath caught, but you just smiled. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing at him through your lashes. “Here I am.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Martin and you got closer than ever, and even though it wasn’t official yet, not even your father could deny the chemistry between you two. You spent afternoons studying together, stealing glances over textbooks, and laughing about how far you’d come. The bond grew quietly, in the little things: late-night calls, going out with all of them, and the way he always walked you home after those little evenings, even when it meant taking the long route.

By the time November came around, the entrance exam was long over. The pressure had finally lifted, replaced by a sense of pride and relief. To your fortune, you’d gotten the scholarship for the career you’d always dreamed of, and everyone couldn’t be prouder. 

Graduation day was full of bittersweet smiles. You got your physical pictures, one of you and Martin, standing close with your caps tilted while he carried you, another with your best friends, not leaving behind Keonho and Seonghyeon, who came to see you all six of you graduate. All of you are holding onto that perfect moment before life pulls you in different directions. 

“Can you please stop looking at the picture with your boyfriend and help me with my hair like you promised?” You turned your head to see Leeseo struggling to remove the hair rollers. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yet,” she moved her eyebrows up and down, happily seeing the look on your face.

Leeseo had barged into your room hours earlier, armed with curling irons, body glitter, and enough lip gloss to coat a car. Your bedroom floor was a battlefield of shoe boxes, safety pins, and half-zipped purses.

“Thank you, now turn so I can help you,” she ordered, tugging at the straps of your satin dress. It was simple but elegant. Soft champagne color, an a-line skirt, and a ribbon that tied at the back. Your silver necklace gleamed faintly at your collarbone, the same one you’d worn at the beach.

“Leeseo, I think my ribs can’t breathe,” you muttered.

“That’s how you know it fits,” she said, completely unfazed. “Now smile. You’re about to make a boy combust.”

“Stop,” you groaned, cheeks already heating.

By the time you finished curling your hair, the doorbell rang, making you both freeze in place.

“They’re here,” she whispered dramatically.

Leeseo grabbed her clutch, smoothing her pastel blue dress. “You ready?”

You exhaled slowly, heart fluttering. “As I’ll ever be.”

When you opened your bedroom door, your father was already downstairs, peeking through the hallway mirror before unlocking it.

The door swung open to reveal Yujin and Martin. Yujin wore a pale gray suit that was clearly too tight around his shoulders, and Martin… Martin was in a black suit jacket over a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled casually to his elbows, and his signature silver chain glinting faintly at his collarbone. His hair was swept back loosely, enough to look polished without losing that “Martin” edge.

You heard your dad talking. “Ah, so these are the young men I’ve been hearing about.”

“Sir,” Yujin said quickly, bowing with his usual charm. “We promise to bring your daughter back before midnight.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow. “You'd better. I know where the school is.”

Martin laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I will tell my mom that, sir.”

Then you appeared at the top of the stairs, and for a second—just a second—Martin forgot how to breathe.

He’d seen you in a thousand different ways: annoyed, serious, focused, laughing. But this was new, and it surely made his pulse stutter.

You hesitated halfway down the stairs. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said quietly, eyes following you until you reached the last step.

Leeseo descended right behind you, looking stunning in her powder-blue dress, immediately elbowing you when she caught Martin staring.

“Alright, everyone,” your dad said, breaking the silence with a teasing smile, “before you leave, I need a photo. This is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion, you don’t see this in Seoul.”

“Dad—” you began, but he was already grabbing the camera from the counter.

“Line up,” he ordered.

Yujin and Leeseo posed first, grinning widely. Then he waved at you and Martin. “Your turn.”

You exchanged a helpless look with Martin before stepping closer. His hand brushed yours until your dad adjusted the frame.

“Closer,” he said. “You two look like you’re taking an ID photo.”

Martin chuckled softly, sliding an arm around your waist. His hand rested lightly against your back, and you swore your heartbeat could be heard across the room.

Your dad smiled behind the camera. “There we go. Perfect.” Click.

The flash went off, and you both blinked, still standing close, when he lowered the camera.

“Beautiful,” your father said warmly. “Now go, before you make me cry.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “We’ll see you later, Dad.”

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he said, then glanced at Martin with mock seriousness. “Be safe.”

“Yes, sir,” Martin said, smiling.

“You clean up well,” you said, forcing a casual smile.

“You too. Didn’t know the Prez had a gown in her closet.”

“Didn’t know you owned a shirt with buttons.”

“Touché.”

Yujin cleared his throat loudly. “Okay, that’s enough flirting for the driveway. Mrs. Park’s waiting!”

You turned to see Martin’s mom, sitting in the front seat of her car, waving with a proud smile. “Come on, kids!”

She looked radiant, freer than she had the last time you’d seen her. When you climbed in beside Leeseo, she glanced back at you through the mirror. “You both look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said, touched.

The car rolled up to the school gym, saying goodbye to his mom before going inside with your arm wrapped around Martin’s. The windows were glowing gold from the string lights inside that were giving out the theme “Golden Memories.” You could already hear the song mix the DJ was creating on the spot.

“I can believe the committee pulled this off,” You smiled proudly, thankful for the art club's offering to help out with the decorations art club did. 

“Not bad for a bunch of overworked seniors.”

“You guys are late!”

James started to have his arms, Keonho, Seonghyeon, and Juhoon at his sides, waving calmly near the entrance. You find it funny how James’s tie was crooked, Juhoon was trying to help him fix it, and the other two were holding a notebook that you recognized as Martin’s. 

“Nice of you to dress up, boys,” Martin called, grinning.

“Dress up?” Seonghyeon huffed, “It’s not even my graduation, and I look better than the three of you.”

“You girls look great.” Keonho smiled, walking up to hug you first before going to Martin’s.

“Our leader is all grown up. Wearing a tie, bringing a date… next thing you know, he’ll start paying taxes.”

“Don’t curse me like that,” Martin laughed it off.

You looked at Yujin and Leeseo. Despite laughing it off and teasing like usual, it was no news that it was their last big night as CORTIS before graduation. And although they were really committed to the band and set a goal to go a long way, it was their last performance in high school before life pulled them in different directions.

Seonghyeon must’ve felt it too, because when he clapped Martin’s shoulder, his voice wavered slightly. “Let’s have fun today.”

“Oh, we will have fun.” A song started playing, and Leeseo dropped Yujin’s arm.

“Come on, we’re not wasting a good song!” She immediately dragged you to the dance floor, feeling Martin’s gaze behind you.

Leeseo’s infectious energy made you join after a moment of hesitation; even the boys joined in after a few songs. Everyone lost count of how many songs they danced and went inside the circle, and by the time the slow songs rolled in, everyone started to pull their partners.

You were about to sit down, but you caught Martin’s eye once. He smiled at you while excusing himself to cross the floor toward you. The lights dimmed, and your teacher took the stage with a mic in hand.

“Okay, everyone. We are going to do this quickly. Let’s announce your prom king and queen. I need the president of the student council to come to hand the crowns.”

You left Martin to pick up the cushion that had both crowns and stay at the end of the stage.

“To remind all of you, the voting was done by taking paper and writing the name of the person you thought was suitable for the title. Let’s start by naming the king.” 

He flipped the card, sighing at the result. He paused for effect. “Martin Edwards.”

Your jaw dropped, watching your friends go wild, shoving him forward as he was in disbelief. He walked to the stage, standing in front of you. You took the crown to neatly put it on top of his head.

“Congratulations, Tin,” he smiled, walking away to stand behind the teacher.

“Now, to our prom queen…” he repeated the pause from before. “It’s my honor to say this. Y/N!”

You blinked, the spotlight turning toward you and your shocked face. Martin went to you quickly, taking your crown and putting it on top of your head. He threw the cushion away to take your hand, interwining your fingers.

“Was this planned?” you said, laughing, slightly red from embarrassment.

“I don’t know. But I guess that makes you my queen tonight, huh?” he teased.

“Don’t push your luck,” you smiled.

“Now, the king and the queen will slow dance. Students, the floor is yours.” The crowd began to sway, and Martin offered his hand, his usual cockiness melting.

“May I have this dance, Your Majesty?”

You tried not to laugh as you placed your hand in his. “Fine. But don’t step on my dress.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said, grinning.

As you both stood in the middle, his hands sat at your waist politely. Thanks to the heels, you could reach enough to wrap your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the back of his hair.

“Can’t believe I came with the queen of prom.”

“Say the king himself, I think we are both lucky,” he smiled. Neither of you spoke for a moment; the song made you replay some memories you had with your friends, and soon enough, with Martin.

“You know,” he murmured finally. “I never really liked dances, even more the ones where my mom used to force me to go for her work.”

You looked up, amused. “Why’s that?”

“Because I never had anyone worth dancing with.” Since you didn’t know what to say, you let yourself sway with him. Your head rested lightly against his chest.

You didn’t even realize that your friends and more couples joined in. You noticed when the music started to fade away. Martin cursed under his breath, looking at you.

“Is it time for your performance?”  

“Yeah, I’ll be back. I promise,” he took your hands from his neck, kissing the top of them before going to the stage. You looked to your left, seeing Yujin and Leeseo smiling at you.

“What are you thinking?” you sighed, lovestruck.

“On how I will confess to him after this.” Both of them stopped their moves, the tap of the mic being tested rebounding on the gymnasium. 

“We still have a little more than half an hour to end this night. And before we wrap up, let’s welcome CORTIS to the stage.”

The applause was quick to come, them moving on the stage, exchanging nods between them. Martin stepped forward while everyone got their instruments ready.

“Hey, everyone,” he said. “We didn’t plan to play tonight, but this is our last time together before we graduate. So… this is for all of you. For the friend who stuck around, the teacher who, although I knew I wasn’t particularly his favorite student,” the place laughed softly. “They still listened and advised us with warm hearts.”

He paused for a minute, looking at the boys whose eyes were probably as glossy as his. “This is not the end, but a little break before we go all in. Keonho. Seonghyeon, hope we can play at your graduation, and thank you for trusting the band.”

They started with two of their own songs, dancing along with everyone and screaming the songs at the top of their lungs. Energy was never missed when it came to them, even more since they played like it was the last thing they’d ever do, and maybe in a way, it was.

When the applause finally died down, Martin took a sip of water with his members, stepping back to the mic afterward.

“Thank—”

“Wait!” James stopped Martin, who was as confused as the rest of the place, minus the four boys. “There’s one more song.”

Martin walked to him with the rest behind them, covering his mic with his palm. Quickly returning after some clarification.

“This is a surprise,” he stated. “I wasn’t supposed to release this song this soon. I want to thank you guys for creating the instrumental and letting me perform this, and I want to thank my muse for inspiring me to write this song. This is called ‘Everlong’”

The keyboards started, his voice filled the room, and after a couple of verses, Seonghyeon joined.

"And I wonder When I sing along with you If everything could ever be this real forever If anything could ever be this good again The only thing I'll ever ask of you You've got to promise not to stop when I say when She sang."

You simply stood there, digesting the lyrics while people danced to the beat. You didn’t cry until the last note faded, applauding with a smile on your face. Yujin and Leeseo stood to your sides and then watched the boys on stage, officially tearing up.

You feel bad to realize how loved you were by your friends, and how much you had taken Martin’s silent warmth for granted.  He was loud and proud about his feelings for you, even if the tactic at first wasn’t that clear; he later never let you forget you mattered. In moments like this, you finally saw the depth beneath his jokes. 

You went to the refreshment table after the set, drinking some soda to calm yourself down.

“There you are,” you heard his voice. He was still a little breathless, and his jacket was on his arms, his shirt sleeves rolled higher. 

You smiled, suddenly a wave of nerves rushing through your body at his presence. It was now or never, “I want you to come with me.”

“Where—”

“I have to tell you something.” You grabbed his hand, he instinctively looked at it, and softly bit the smile that was threatening to show.

“Show me the way.” You led him to your table, grabbing your clutch and leaving your crown. You passed the chatter through the back doors that opened onto the empty football field. The night air was crisp, and the stars were faint, but somehow still visible and giving a nice glow to the night.

You stopped standing on one of the bleachers in the field so you could be slightly higher, letting go of his hand to turn toward him.

He smiled, a little confused. “Y/N, if this is about the song—”

“It’s not,” you said, heart hammering. “Okay, maybe it is.”

“Oh my God, do you feel embarrassed? I didn’t mean to—”

“I know what you meant,” you interrupted softly. “And you’re right.”

He frowned slightly. “Right about what?”

You exhale. “That everything feels real when it’s with you.”

You decided to step down the bleachers on time. “I didn’t even realize it at first because I truly believed you were just annoying me, to throw me off and my record. But then you started showing up—not just for me—to everyone. And every time you did, I found myself noticing more.”

“Like…?”

“The way you smile when something finally works for you, how you live your life with no regrets, and how your heart is so pure that you don’t even care if the other person hates you. You are there.”

You took a shaky breath, your hand clutching your purse more. “And somewhere between wanting to hate you and trying not to fall for you. I did.”

Martin’s lips parted slightly, “You mean—”

“Yes,” a small laugh broke through at his pure face of disbelief. “I fell for you, Martin Edwards.”

You could see his throat bob as he swallowed hard, his voice a little rough when he finally spoke. 

“Say it again,” he said softly.

“What?”

“My name. Like that.” His lips curved upward, shy and boyish at the same time. “It sounds so pretty when you say it.”

Your cheeks warmed instantly. “You’re unbelievable.”

He chuckled, getting closer to the bleachers, looking up at you. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that—well, not that exactly, but close.”

“I can imagine it after you told me that night.”

“Which, by the way, were those two years of you calling me a nuisance, giving me detention, pretending you didn't look for me at every assembly?”

You laughed, “I had to check if I was going to get called out because of you.”

“I noticed at a distance since you were the only person who actually saw me, even when you swore you couldn’t stand me.”

The wind picked up, making the bleachers creak and your hair sweep across your face. Your hands went to your arms, blaming yourself for being so forgetful and not picking up your sweater from the table. He stood on the deck of the bleacher, and his jacket was quickly placed over your shoulders.

And just what you thought, he reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear again, with he difference that his hand stayed on your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

“I didn’t mean to fall for you either,” he admitted, looking down.  “But I did. And I don’t regret a second of it.”

You smiled before reaching into your clutch, hand trembling, and pulled out an envelope.

“I was supposed to wait until tomorrow when we go to Yujin’s house,” you said, “but I can’t.”

He took it, puzzled, and watched what it contained. His eyes widened the second he saw the tickets, audibly gasping.

“There’s no way—”

“Two tickets to see Linkin Park in Seoul,” you smiled nervously. “Consider it a date. Come with me on Friday, and don’t say ‘maybe’.”

He reached for your hands. “You really are something else.”

“Something good?” you teased.

He looked at the sky. “You are something out of this world. God, you’re—”

Before he could finish, you leaned up on your tiptoes, your hand finding his tie to pull him down just like before, but this time, you didn’t hesitate.

Your lips brushed his, his breath caught, and then he kissed you back, gentle at first, as if afraid to break the moment. You froze for half a second, feeling your heart pounding so hard you could almost hear it over the faint music coming from the gym. 

Your nose bumped his, your fingers trembled against his chest, but Martin didn’t care. He smiled into the kiss, pulling back only enough to whisper. “Wow,”

You nodded, breathless at how his eyes were looking so fondly at you. “That was my first.”

His eyes softened. “Good. Then I’m glad it was me.”

You didn’t even realize you were smiling until he rested his forehead against yours, both of you laughing quietly for no reason other than sheer disbelief.

“OH MY GOD!”

You jumped apart. From the edge of the field, a cluster of silhouettes waved frantically like South Korea two years ago for the World Cup. You hid your face on the curve that connected his neck and shoulder, his arms engulfing you.

“Finally!” Leeseo hissed, hugging Yujin happily while he had a smile on his face.

“Pay up, Seonghyeon.” James snickered, waving a few bills. 

“It took you three years, love your perseverance!” Juhoon screamed, and you couldn’t help but laugh from your spot.

“Worth the wait!” Yujin yelled, pretending to wipe fake tears.

You covered your face, groaning. “They were watching?!”

Martin just laughed, “Of course they were. They were looking at us from the gym.”

He turned toward them, raising your joined hands like a victory gesture. The others erupted in cheers, chanting both your names like a ridiculous anthem.

“Also, did I just hear ‘Pay up’?” Martin raised his shoulder, giving away the answer. You huffed, “Can’t believe they’ve been betting on us.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “And for once, I don’t mind losing.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

He looked back at you, his eyes were full of every emotion you were both feeling. “Ridiculously in love with you.”

And before you could think twice, he leaned in again, slower this time, just enough for your lashes to brush his cheek, for you to close your eyes and let the world spin quietly around you.

You didn’t even care if your friends were still watching.

Because under the silver lights of the empty field, with his jacket around your shoulders, hands on your waist, and your heart in a state of pure bliss, everything finally made sense.

And for once—in the middle of all the noise—you didn’t feel like you had to be perfect. You just felt real.

Just like him.

Just like everlong.

JUHOON 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺, 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽. 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒. 𝖡𝖴𝖳𝖳𝖳𝖳𝖳 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗎𝗉. 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗌. 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍, 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄.

MARTIN 𝗂𝗌 𝖨𝖬𝖬𝖤𝖣𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖫𝖸𝖸𝖸 𝗌𝗎𝗌𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗅𝖻𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇. 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎. “𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀.” 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖭𝖠𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄, 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾. 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝖫𝖮𝖳 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝗒𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾. 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖡𝖴𝖳 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖿𝖿. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋. 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖤𝖠𝖲𝖸𝖸𝖸𝖸. 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖡𝖠𝖢𝖪 𝗂𝗇. 

SEONGHYEON 𝖥𝖮𝖫𝖣𝖲 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾. 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍, 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍. 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗍𝗌. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖨𝖭𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖭𝖳𝖫𝖸 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗀𝗈. 

KEONHO 𝗂𝗌 𝖤𝖷𝖠𝖠𝖠𝖢𝖳𝖫𝖸𝖸𝖸 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾. 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍, 𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒. 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀. “𝗌𝗈. 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗒?” 

Neither of you said anything for a moment.

Then Seungmin appeared behind you, one hand holding a neatly wrapped cake box and the other resting comfortably against the small of your back.

“Hi,” he said brightly.

Your sister’s entire expression changed.

“Seungmin.” She smiled as though she had been expecting him personally. “Finally.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him.

He glanced down at you.

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

Finally?

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Your sister stepped aside to let you both in, although she somehow managed to position herself so Seungmin had to pass close to her. He murmured a polite thank you and guided you ahead of him with a gentle hand at your waist.

You had been dating long enough that the gesture barely registered anymore. Seungmin was always touching you in small, absent-minded ways—his fingers brushing yours as you walked, his palm settling on your knee beneath tables, his hand finding the back of your coat when you crossed a road.

It was rarely dramatic.

It was simply constant.

Your sister noticed.

Her gaze dropped to his hand before moving back to his face.

“You look different in person,” she told him.

Seungmin paused while removing his shoes.

“Do I?”

“Better.”

You turned away before either of them could see your smile.

Seungmin placed his shoes neatly beside yours, then leaned closer to whisper, “Am I supposed to say she does too?”

“No.”

“Good.”

You elbowed him lightly.

He caught your arm and squeezed it against his side, looking pleased with himself.

Your sister was still watching.

“You brought something?” she asked, nodding towards the box in his hand.

“Cake,” Seungmin said. “Your mum said she liked the one from that bakery near our flat.”

“That was thoughtful.”

“She sent him a photograph of it with the address circled,” you said.

Seungmin looked offended.

“She provided helpful guidance.”

“She threatened to disown me if we arrived without it.”

“Still thoughtful.”

“You didn’t even pay for it.”

“I carried it.”

“You made me carry it on the train.”

“For part of the journey.”

“You said your arm hurt.”

“It did.”

“Because you spent the entire morning playing games.”

Seungmin smiled at your sister. “She has no sympathy for my suffering.”

“None,” you confirmed.

Your sister laughed a little too enthusiastically.

Not because the conversation had been particularly funny, but because Seungmin was smiling while he said it.

You noticed.

You also noticed the way she tucked her hair behind her ear before asking, “Do you want me to take that for you?”

She reached for the cake.

Seungmin shifted it away automatically.

“No, it’s all right. I’ve been entrusted with it.”

“He’ll cry if anything happens to it,” you said.

“I’ll tell your mum it was your fault.”

“You see what I live with?”

Seungmin bumped his shoulder against yours. “You love it.”

You opened your mouth to disagree.

He looked down at you expectantly, the beginnings of a grin already pulling at his lips.

You hated how well he knew you.

“Whatever,” you said.

“There it is.”

He bent and pressed a quick kiss to your temple before following the sound of your mother calling from the kitchen.

Your sister remained by the door with you.

She watched him leave.

Then she looked at you.

“You never said he was that handsome.”

You blinked. “You’ve seen photographs.”

“Photographs are different.”

“I suppose.”

“He’s taller than I thought.”

You stared at her.

She stared back, seemingly unaware that there was anything strange about the intensity of her assessment.

“Do you need his measurements?” you asked. “I can check the label in his coat.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I was only saying.”

“Right.”

“You don’t have to be weird about it.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You’re doing that face.”

“What face?”

“The face you do when you think you’re funny.”

“I am funny.”

“Seungmin clearly thinks so.”

There was something strange beneath the words. Something slightly too pointed.

Before you could decide whether you had imagined it, she smiled and linked her arm through yours.

“Come on. Mum’s been panicking over lunch for an hour.”

She pulled you towards the kitchen as though nothing had happened.

You let her.

At that point, it was easier.

౨ৎ

Your mum adored Seungmin.

That was hardly news.

She adored him because he arrived on time, complimented her cooking, remembered details from conversations they had months ago and always insisted on helping clear the table.

Your dad liked him because Seungmin could discuss football with convincing enthusiasm and had once spent nearly forty minutes helping him fix a temperamental television.

Even your relatives who had only met Seungmin briefly tended to approve of him.

He was polite without seeming rehearsed, funny without demanding attention and attentive in a way that made people feel remembered.

Your sister had apparently taken all of these qualities as an invitation.

At first, you didn’t think much of it.

She asked him about work. Normal.

She asked about the other members. Also normal.

She asked whether he enjoyed travelling, what food he liked and whether he preferred going out or staying at home.

A little interview-like, perhaps, but not particularly suspicious.

Then she moved from the chair opposite him to the empty one beside him when your mother asked her to fetch another plate.

You looked at the abandoned chair.

Then at her.

She smiled innocently and crossed one leg over the other.

Seungmin glanced towards you.

You were sitting on his other side, close enough that your knees touched beneath the table.

He nudged your foot.

You nudged him back.

His mouth twitched.

Your sister leaned towards him.

“So,” she said, “what did you think when you first met her?”

You nearly inhaled your drink.

Seungmin turned towards you slowly.

“Oh, no,” you said.

His eyes brightened.

“Oh, yes.”

“Don’t.”

“I thought she was very strange.”

Your mother laughed from the other end of the table.

You stared at him. “That isn’t what you said before.”

“You told me not to embarrass you in front of your family.”

“And this is you behaving?”

“This is me being generous.”

Your sister laughed, resting her hand against Seungmin’s arm.

It was light. Brief enough that she could claim it meant nothing.

Still, you saw it.

Seungmin looked down at her fingers.

Your sister removed them a moment later, smiling as though the contact had been accidental.

“What did you actually think?” she asked.

Seungmin looked back at you.

The teasing softened around the edges.

“I thought she was pretty.”

The answer was simple enough to make warmth spread through your chest.

Then his smile returned.

“Until she spoke.”

You kicked his shin beneath the table.

He flinched dramatically.

“See?” he told your family. “Violence.”

“You deserved that.”

“I complimented you.”

“You immediately ruined it.”

“I said you were pretty.”

“You said I was strange.”

“You are strange.”

Your sister tilted her head.

“I suppose you must usually date girls who are quite different from her.”

The sentence slipped into the conversation so smoothly that it took you a second to understand it.

Seungmin frowned slightly. “Different how?”

Your sister shrugged.

“You know. More… elegant.”

Your father suddenly became very interested in cutting his food.

Your mother looked up.

You glanced down at yourself.

You were wearing a jumper and trousers. Nothing particularly inelegant, unless your sister was counting the tiny mark on your sleeve from where Seungmin had flicked sauce at you in the kitchen.

Seungmin followed your gaze.

Then he looked at your sister.

“No,” he said. “I like this one.”

You pressed your lips together.

“This one?” you repeated.

He patted your knee beneath the table.

“My favourite.”

“I’m so flattered.”

“You should be.”

Your sister laughed, but there was something strained about it.

“I only meant that you seem very put together.”

“I’m not,” Seungmin said cheerfully. “She found me looking for my phone this morning while I was talking to someone on it.”

He looked towards your mother. “You raised a very critical daughter.”

Your mum smiled. “She gets it from me.”

“Good to know.”

The conversation moved on, but your sister did not return to her original chair.

Every few minutes, she found another reason to address Seungmin directly.

Did he like the food?

Had he visited the restaurant she mentioned?

Did he think her hair looked better dark or light?

That one made you turn.

She lifted a section of her hair between her fingers.

“I’ve been thinking of changing it,” she explained. “What do you think?”

Seungmin blinked.

“I don’t know.”

“You must have a preference.”

“For your hair?”

She laughed as though he had made a joke. “Generally.”

He looked at you.

You had stopped pretending not to listen.

A hint of mischief appeared in his expression.

“I like hers.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You said I’d look good bald.”

“You would.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It shows versatility.”

Your sister’s hand fell from her hair.

“You’re lucky,” she told you.

The words sounded pleasant.

The way she looked at Seungmin did not.

You raised an eyebrow. “I know.”

“I mean, you’ve never really cared about things like that.”

“Things like what?”

“Your appearance.”

Silence settled over the table.

It wasn’t complete silence. Your father’s fork scraped faintly against his plate, and the clock in the hallway continued ticking.

But the conversation stopped.

Your sister smiled as though she had offered you a compliment.

“You’ve always been confident enough not to bother,” she added.

You knew this routine.

It had existed long before Seungmin.

Your sister would say something cruel with a pleasant expression, and if you reacted, she would insist you had misunderstood. That she admired your confidence. That she wished she could leave the house without making an effort. That you were lucky not to care what people thought.

Normally, you could ignore it.

Today, the comment felt particularly childish.

You opened your mouth, but Seungmin spoke first.

“She spent forty minutes choosing that jumper.”

You turned towards him in disbelief.

Your sister laughed.

Seungmin continued, “Then she asked me which trousers looked better and ignored my answer.”

You nudged his side with your elbow.

He caught your hand before you could pull it away and linked your fingers beneath the table.

The gesture was concealed from everyone else.

His thumb brushed once over your knuckles.

You understood what he was doing.

He hadn’t ignored your sister’s comment.

He had simply refused to let it settle over you.

“She looks lovely,” your mother said firmly.

“She does,” Seungmin agreed.

Your sister’s smile tightened.

“I never said she didn’t.”

“No one said you did,” you replied.

Her gaze met yours.

For a moment, something sharp passed between you.

Then Seungmin squeezed your hand and leaned close enough that his shoulder pressed against yours.

“You have something on your face,” he whispered.

You immediately touched your cheek. “Where?”

“The other side.”

You touched the other cheek.

“No, lower.”

“Seungmin.”

“A little lower.”

You glared at him. “There’s nothing there, is there?”

He smiled.

“You’re so easy.”

You tried to pull your hand from his.

He tightened his grip.

“Don’t be sulky.”

“I hate you.”

Your sister watched the exchange with an unreadable expression.

You barely noticed.

౨ৎ

After lunch, your mother attempted to stop Seungmin from helping with the dishes.

Seungmin ignored her.

He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, collected the empty plates and followed you into the kitchen.

Your sister followed him.

Naturally.

“You don’t have to do that,” she told him, taking a plate from his hands.

“It’s fine.”

“You’re a guest.”

“So is she.”

Seungmin nodded towards you.

You were leaning against the counter eating a piece of cake.

Your sister looked at you.

“She’s family.”

“She isn’t helping.”

“I’m supervising,” you said.

“You’re eating the dessert we haven’t served yet.”

“I’m checking it for poison.”

Seungmin set the plates beside the sink.

“And?”

You took another bite.

“Still collecting evidence.”

He reached towards your plate.

You moved it out of reach.

“Get your own.”

“I bought it.”

“I paid for it.”

“With our money.”

“We don’t have shared finances.”

Your sister laughed again.

“You two are funny.”

You glanced at her.

The compliment sounded genuine enough, but her eyes remained fixed on Seungmin.

He turned on the tap.

Your sister stepped beside him.

“I’ll wash,” she offered.

“I can do it.”

“You dry, then.”

You watched her pick up a sponge.

Your mother called your name from the living room, asking whether you could help her find something.

You pushed yourself away from the counter.

“Don’t eat my cake,” you warned Seungmin.

“I would never.”

“You absolutely would.”

He placed one hand over his heart.

“Your lack of trust is upsetting.”

You pointed the fork at him. “I’ll know.”

“Go away.”

You reluctantly carried the plate with you.

As you left the kitchen, you glanced back.

Your sister had moved slightly closer to Seungmin.

He was focused on rinsing a plate.

You nearly stayed.

Then you caught yourself.

It was your sister.

Seungmin was your boyfriend.

Nothing was going to happen because the two of them spent ninety seconds alone beside a sink.

You found your mother’s glasses on top of her head, endured several minutes of her insisting she had already checked there and returned to the kitchen.

Your sister was speaking.

“…must get tiring.”

Seungmin passed her another plate. “What does?”

“Dating someone so different from you.”

You stopped just outside the doorway.

Seungmin didn’t appear to notice you.

He frowned. “You’ve said that a few times.”

“I don’t mean it badly.”

“What do you mean?”

Your sister dried the plate slowly.

“You’re very disciplined. Ambitious. You take care of yourself.”

He waited.

“And she isn’t?”

“She’s just more relaxed.”

Seungmin looked down at the soapy water.

You knew that expression.

He was choosing his words.

Your sister mistook his silence for agreement.

“I’ve always been more like you,” she continued. “Even when we were younger. People used to say I was the more responsible one.”

“Did they?”

“And the more confident one.”

Seungmin made a small sound that could have meant anything.

Your sister smiled.

“It’s funny, really. Most people usually notice me first.”

He glanced at her.

“Okay.”

You pressed your lips together.

She appeared thrown by the response.

“I don’t mean to sound arrogant.”

“Then don’t.”

The answer was delivered so lightly that for a second, you wondered whether you had heard him correctly.

Your sister laughed uncertainly.

“I’m only being honest.”

Seungmin rinsed another plate.

“About people noticing you?”

“Yes.”

“Congratulations.”

You had to cover your mouth.

Your sister’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“You must have noticed that we’re quite different.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I’m probably more like your usual type.”

Seungmin finally turned off the tap.

He looked at her properly.

“What’s my usual type?”

Your sister leaned one hip against the counter.

“Confident. Sophisticated.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I’m guessing.”

“You’ve guessed wrong.”

She smiled as though he were teasing her.

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

Something about his tone should have ended the conversation.

It didn’t.

Your sister lowered her voice.

“She’s always been the sweeter one, I suppose. Men tend to like that.”

Seungmin stared at her.

Then his gaze moved past her shoulder and found you standing in the doorway.

His expression changed immediately.

The irritation disappeared behind a slow, knowing smile.

“How long have you been there?” he asked.

Your sister turned sharply.

You lifted your plate.

“Long enough to know you’ve been having a very interesting discussion about your type.”

Seungmin dried his hands.

“Apparently, I have one.”

“Do you?”

“I’m learning a lot today.”

Your sister straightened. “We were only talking.”

“I heard.”

“There’s no need to make it strange.”

You stepped into the kitchen and placed your half-finished cake on the counter.

“I didn’t.”

“No, but you’re doing that thing where you act territorial.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows rose.

You laughed. “Territorial?”

“You don’t need to hover every time another woman speaks to your boyfriend.”

“I was helping Mum.”

“And then you came straight back.”

“Because this is where my cake is.”

Seungmin immediately reached for your plate.

You slapped his hand away.

“See?”

He looked wounded.

“You care more about that cake than you care about me.”

“The cake has never stolen my crisps.”

“It would if it could.”

Your sister sighed.

“You’re both impossible.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin said.

You picked up your fork again.

Your sister gave you a long look before placing the tea towel on the counter.

“I’m going to see if Mum needs anything.”

“She doesn’t,” you said. “Her glasses were on her head.”

Your sister ignored you and left.

You waited until her footsteps had faded down the hall.

Then you turned towards Seungmin.

He was already looking at you.

A smile pulled at your mouth.

“Your usual type?”

He groaned and leaned back against the sink.

“Please don’t.”

“Confident.”

“Stop.”

“Sophisticated.”

“I’m warning you.”

“So much like her.”

Seungmin reached for you.

You dodged around the kitchen island, laughing when he followed.

“I’m only being honest,” you said, mimicking your sister’s voice.

“You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Apparently she’s the woman of your dreams.”

“My dreams have better conversational skills.”

You gasped. “That was mean.”

“It was accurate.”

He moved to one side of the island.

You moved in the opposite direction.

“I thought you liked confident women.”

“I like you.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“It’s my answer.”

“You’re only saying that because I caught you.”

“Caught me doing dishes?”

“Seductively.”

“I was wearing rubber gloves.”

“Exactly. Very provocative.”

Seungmin stopped.

You stopped too, watching him suspiciously from across the island.

His expression softened.

“Did that bother you?”

The question was quiet enough to dissolve some of your amusement.

You considered it.

“Not really.”

“Not really?”

“I don’t think you’re secretly going to run away with my sister.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“I’d give you at least a week before you begged me to take you back.”

“A week?”

“Maybe four days.”

Seungmin looked offended. “I wouldn’t make it through the first evening.”

You smiled.

He continued to watch you.

“But?” he prompted.

You looked down at your cake.

“She does that sometimes.”

“Does what?”

“Compares us.” You scraped your fork lightly through the icing. “She always has. She thinks she’s being subtle.”

“She isn’t.”

“I know.”

“She also thinks I’m an idiot.”

You laughed. “Why?”

“Because I’ve said I like you at least twelve times today, and she’s decided that means I’m interested in her.”

“Maybe you’re sending mixed signals.”

“I asked her to move because she was standing on my foot.”

“Very flirtatious.”

“She apologised and touched my arm.”

“Scandalous.”

“She’s touched my arm six times.”

“You counted?”

“I started counting when she asked whether I thought she looked better with dark hair.”

You laughed again, and Seungmin smiled.

Then he walked around the island.

This time, you let him reach you.

His hands settled on your waist, drawing you between his knees as he leaned back against the counter.

“For the record,” he said, “I don’t think you’re lucky.”

“No?”

“No. I think I’m incredibly brave.”

You flicked his shoulder.

He caught your wrist and kissed your palm.

“And lucky,” he added.

“That was nearly sweet.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

You rolled your eyes, but your arms slipped around his shoulders.

He tilted his head.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Your sister’s being strange.”

“She thinks she can steal you.”

“Can she?”

You pretended to consider it.

Seungmin pinched your side.

You squealed and tried to twist away, but he trapped you against him.

“Answer carefully,” he warned.

“I don’t know. She is very sophisticated.”

Another pinch.

“And confident!”

He attacked your other side.

You dissolved into helpless laughter, nearly dropping your fork as you attempted to escape.

“Seungmin!”

“Wrong answer.”

“She’s your type!”

“Take it back.”

“Never!”

He caught both your wrists in one hand and used the other to tickle your waist.

You kicked uselessly at his legs.

“You’re horrible!”

“Take it back.”

“Fine!” you gasped. “She isn’t your type.”

“And?”

“And you don’t want her.”

“And?”

You stared at him, breathless.

His hair had fallen over his forehead during the struggle, and his smile was bright and boyish and entirely too pleased.

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

“There we go.”

He released your wrists.

You immediately smacked his chest.

Seungmin laughed and caught you against him again, pressing a noisy kiss to your cheek before you could complain.

“You’re very annoying,” you told him.

“You were laughing.”

“Against my will.”

He kissed your other cheek.

“Still counts.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

You both separated just before your mother entered the kitchen.

She looked at Seungmin’s messy hair, your flushed face and the abandoned washing-up.

Neither of you spoke.

Your mother sighed.

“The dishes, Seungmin.”

“I was doing them.”

“He attacked me,” you said.

“You provoked me.”

Your mother pointed at the sink.

“Both of you.”

“Yes, Mum,” you said.

“Yes, Mum,” Seungmin echoed.

You turned to glare at him.

He smiled innocently.

Your mother left the room shaking her head.

Seungmin bumped his hip against yours as he turned the tap back on.

“Pass me the sponge.”

“You pass me the sponge.”

“It’s closer to you.”

“You’re closer to the sink.”

He looked towards the doorway, then lowered his voice.

“Do you think your sister would do it for me?”

You stared at him.

He managed to hold a serious expression for approximately two seconds.

Then you shoved the sponge directly into his chest.

౨ৎ

When you finally prepared to leave, your mother packed enough food for several days into a bag and made Seungmin promise to visit again soon.

Your sister stood in the hallway while you put on your coat.

“You’re leaving already?” she asked.

“We’ve been here for five hours,” you said.

“It doesn’t feel that long.”

Seungmin bent to tie his shoelace.

Your sister’s gaze lingered on him.

“You should come over more often.”

“We will,” you replied.

“I meant Seungmin.”

He looked up.

Your sister smiled. “You don’t need to wait for her. You’re practically part of the family now.”

There it was.

Not quite enough to confront.

More than enough to notice.

Seungmin straightened.

“I think she’d be upset if I visited without her.”

“I wouldn’t,” you said. “I’d enjoy the peace.”

He placed one hand on top of your head and pushed down lightly.

Your sister laughed.

“You’re very patient with her.”

Seungmin looked at you.

“No,” he said. “She’s patient with me.”

For once, there was no joke attached.

His hand slid from the top of your head to the back of your neck, thumb brushing softly beneath your hair.

Your sister’s smile faded for half a second.

Then it returned.

“Well,” she said, opening the door, “it was lovely seeing you.”

“You too,” Seungmin replied politely.

She hugged you first.

It was brief.

Then she turned towards Seungmin.

You expected her to offer a wave.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around him.

Seungmin froze.

His hands hovered uncertainly beside her shoulders.

Your eyes widened.

Over your sister’s head, his gaze found yours.

His expression was so openly alarmed that a laugh burst out of you.

Your sister released him.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing.”

Seungmin stepped immediately towards you.

You were still laughing as he took the bag of food from your hand and placed his other arm securely around your shoulders.

Your sister glanced between you.

“Text me when you’re home.”

“I will.”

She looked at Seungmin. “You have my number, don’t you?”

“No,” he said.

“Oh.” She paused. “I thought you did.”

“Why would he?” you asked.

“In case of an emergency.”

Seungmin nodded. “I’ll call emergency services.”

You choked on another laugh.

Your sister’s mouth tightened.

“I only meant if something happened with you.”

“He has Mum’s number.”

“And her Dad’s,” Seungmin added.

“And Chan’s,” you said.

“And Minho’s.”

“He doesn’t need your number.”

Your sister folded her arms.

“You make everything sound strange.”

“You asked my boyfriend whether he had your number.”

“For emergencies.”

“Right.”

Seungmin gently steered you through the doorway before either of you could continue.

“Thank you for lunch,” he called politely.

Your mother called goodbye from somewhere inside the house.

Your sister remained at the door while the two of you walked down the path.

You could feel her watching.

Seungmin’s arm stayed around you until you reached the pavement.

Then he leaned close.

“Don’t look now.”

You immediately looked back.

Your sister was still standing in the doorway.

She lifted her hand when she saw you turn.

You waved.

Seungmin sighed.

“I specifically said not to.”

“I don’t take instructions well.”

“I know.”

The door finally closed.

You walked several more steps in silence.

Then Seungmin said, “Your sister wants me.”

You stopped.

He stopped beside you.

The solemn expression on his face lasted less than a second before you both started laughing.

“Your confidence is disgusting,” you told him.

౨ৎ

Your sister arrived at your flat on Saturday afternoon wearing heeled boots, a fitted coat and enough perfume to announce her presence before you had even opened the door.

You looked at her.

Then at the small handbag hanging from her shoulder.

Then back at her.

“You said you were coming to borrow my straighteners.”

“I am.”

“Are you planning to straighten your hair here?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look like you’re going somewhere?”

She frowned. “I’m meeting someone later.”

“You didn’t mention that.”

“I didn’t realise I needed to submit an itinerary.”

“You don’t.”

“Then why are you interrogating me?”

“I asked one question.”

“You asked three.”

You stepped aside to let her enter.

She walked past you, removing her coat as she went.

The outfit beneath it was somehow even more carefully chosen.

You watched her smooth the fabric over her waist before checking her reflection in the hallway mirror.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

“You could have texted,” you said, closing the door. “I would’ve brought the straighteners to Mum’s tomorrow.”

“I was nearby.”

She wasn’t.

Your sister lived nearly forty minutes in the opposite direction.

You decided not to point that out.

From the living room, Seungmin called, “Who is it?”

Your sister’s posture changed almost imperceptibly.

Her shoulders pulled back.

Her expression softened.

You stared at her.

She ignored you.

“Your favourite person,” you called.

There was a pause.

Then Seungmin replied, “Felix?”

You gasped.

Your sister laughed.

You marched into the living room, already preparing several punishments.

Seungmin was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table.

A pale blue fabric headband held his hair away from his face, and there was a thin layer of clay mask drying across his cheeks because you had told him his skin looked tired.

He had complained for eleven minutes.

Then he had asked whether there was enough left for his forehead.

Your left hand rested carefully on top of an old magazine while Seungmin held your right between both of his.

Three of your fingernails were painted.

One was half-painted.

The fifth had somehow acquired a streak of polish across your skin.

Seungmin looked up as you entered.

The smile on his face widened.

“There’s my second-favourite person.”

You stopped in front of him.

“Second?”

“Felix bakes for me.”

“I cook for you.”

“You once burned instant noodles.”

“The packet was confusing.”

“You forgot the water.”

“It didn’t say when to add it.”

You placed one foot against his thigh and pushed lightly.

Seungmin caught your ankle.

“No kicking near the nail polish.”

“You deserve worse.”

“You asked me to do this.”

“And you’re doing a terrible job.”

He looked down at your nails.

“They’re beautiful.”

“There’s polish on my knuckle.”

Your sister appeared behind you.

Seungmin glanced towards her.

His expression flickered with surprise before settling into a pleasant smile.

“Oh. Hi.”

“Hi.”

Your sister looked him over.

Her gaze paused at the headband.

Then the face mask.

Then your hand resting in his.

Her smile faltered, only slightly.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

You turned your head towards her.

She knew.

You had mentioned it the previous evening when she asked what you were doing this weekend.

Seungmin did not appear to remember that.

“I live here sometimes,” he said.

“You don’t,” you replied.

Your sister moved further into the room.

“You look comfortable,” she said.

Seungmin touched the edge of the headband.

“This was forced on me.”

“You asked whether the bow should go in the middle,” you said.

Your sister laughed, lowering herself onto the sofa behind him.

“It suits you.”

Seungmin looked up at her.

“The face mask?”

“The headband.”

He touched it again.

“Thanks.”

Her smile brightened.

You watched her tuck one leg elegantly over the other.

Seungmin returned his attention to your hand.

“Stop moving.”

“I’m not moving.”

“You’re moving now.”

“Because you told me not to.”

He tightened his fingers around yours.

“If you smudge this one, I’m starting again.”

“You’ve already smudged it.”

“That was intentional.”

“Was the polish on my skin intentional too?”

“Yes.”

“What was the artistic vision?”

“Annoying you.”

You tried to pull your hand away.

Seungmin held on.

“Stay still.”

“You’re enjoying the authority.”

“I rarely have any in this relationship.”

“Because you can’t be trusted.”

Your sister leaned forwards.

“You let him paint your nails?”

You looked at her.

“He volunteered.”

“I was coerced,” Seungmin said.

“You said you could do it better than me.”

“I can.”

You lifted your hand.

He immediately lowered it again before the wet polish could run.

“That remains to be seen.”

Your sister tilted her head.

“I’d never ask my boyfriend to do something like that.”

You glanced at Seungmin.

He glanced at you.

There it was again.

That tiny shared pause when both of you noticed something and decided, without speaking, whether it was worth reacting to.

You smiled.

“Good thing he isn’t your boyfriend, then.”

Your sister’s expression tightened.

Only for a second.

Then she laughed.

“I only mean I’d feel bad making him do something so feminine.”

Seungmin inspected your thumbnail.

“You think painting nails is feminine?”

“Usually.”

“Then I’m doing a very poor job of it.”

You snorted.

He blew gently across your nail.

Your sister watched his lips purse.

“It’s sweet,” she said. “I just wouldn’t have expected it from you.”

“What did you expect?” Seungmin asked.

“I don’t know.”

She did know.

You could tell by the way she leaned towards him.

“Something more masculine, I suppose.”

Seungmin looked down at himself.

He was wearing grey jogging bottoms, an old sweatshirt and your fluffy skincare headband.

“I’m devastated.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t.”

She smiled as though he were deliberately teasing her.

“You seem like someone who’d usually want a very feminine girlfriend.”

Seungmin’s brush paused.

You looked at your sister.

She was looking at him.

Not you.

He lifted his eyes slowly.

“I do.”

Your sister’s smile widened.

Then Seungmin returned his attention to your hand.

“That’s why I’m dating her.”

You pressed your lips together.

Your sister glanced at you.

You smiled pleasantly.

Seungmin dipped the brush into the polish.

“She isn’t exactly what most people would call feminine,” your sister said.

You raised your eyebrows.

Seungmin’s hand stopped again.

Your sister gestured towards you.

You were wearing one of Seungmin’s old shirts, a pair of shorts and fluffy socks. Your hair was twisted into a loose knot that had begun collapsing an hour ago.

There was a faint smudge of clay mask beside your jaw where you had attempted to kiss Seungmin before it dried.

You looked extremely comfortable.

That had apparently become a flaw.

“I’m not?” you asked.

“I didn’t mean it badly.”

“Of course not.”

“You’ve never cared about being girly.”

“I’m getting my nails painted.”

“By your boyfriend.”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“So that feels relevant.”

Your sister rolled her eyes.

“You know what I mean. You’re not someone who gets dressed up around the house or worries about always looking attractive.”

You looked down at yourself.

Then at Seungmin.

His gaze had settled on your face.

You recognised the slight narrowing of his eyes.

Not anger.

Not yet.

Attention.

Your sister continued, “I just think it’s brave.”

“Brave?” you repeated.

“To be that comfortable so early in a relationship.”

You and Seungmin had been together for nearly two years.

Apparently that remained early enough to maintain a constant state of glamour.

“How does she normally dress at home?” Seungmin asked.

Your sister seemed pleased to have his attention again.

“Like this.”

“Right.”

“She’s always been a little careless.”

“With clothes?”

“With everything.”

You laughed quietly.

Your sister looked at you.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Seungmin placed the nail brush carefully inside the bottle.

Then he lifted your hand and examined his work.

“Perfect.”

“It’s uneven.”

“So are your fingers.”

“My fingers aren’t uneven.”

“One’s shorter.”

“They’re supposed to be different lengths.”

“Convenient excuse.”

He brought your hand towards his mouth.

You frowned.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking whether it’s dry.”

“With your lips?”

“Yes.”

“That makes no sense.”

Seungmin pressed a delicate kiss to the side of your index finger, avoiding the wet nail.

Then he kissed your knuckle.

Then your wrist.

A smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself.

“Dry,” he announced.

“You didn’t touch the polish.”

“I’m an expert.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He kissed your wrist again.

Your sister shifted on the sofa.

“You two are very…” She paused. “Affectionate.”

“That sounded judgemental,” you said.

“It wasn’t.”

“It sounded a little judgemental,” Seungmin agreed.

“I only mean you don’t seem like the clingy type.”

She was speaking to him again.

Seungmin leaned back against your legs.

“I’m not.”

You looked down at him.

He looked up at you.

“You’re currently using me as a chair.”

“You’re comfortable.”

Seungmin smiled lazily, reaching behind himself until his hand found your knee.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, careful not to disturb the headband.

He immediately tilted his head into your touch.

Your sister watched him do it.

Something in her expression hardened.

“You always liked being fussed over,” she said to you.

You looked at her.

“What?”

“When we were younger. You always needed everyone’s attention.”

The comment was casual.

Almost playful.

You knew better.

“I don’t remember that.”

“You used to follow Mum around constantly.”

“I was six.”

“You cried whenever she left the room.”

“I was still six.”

“You’ve never liked being alone.”

Seungmin’s thumb stroked once over your knee.

You shrugged.

“Good thing I don’t have to be.”

Your sister’s eyes flicked towards his hand.

“That’s what I mean. You need a lot from people.”

There was a quietness beneath the words.

An implication she wanted Seungmin to catch.

You were needy.

Difficult.

Exhausting.

The kind of girlfriend who demanded face masks and painted nails and constant affection.

Your sister, naturally, would never require so much effort.

Seungmin looked up at you.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Need a lot from me?”

You pretended to consider it.

“Well, you could make more tea.”

“I made the last one.”

“You drank half of it.”

“It became ours when you let me taste it.”

“That’s not how sharing works.”

Your sister exhaled through her nose.

“You make everything into a joke.”

“You make everything very serious,” you replied.

“I’m trying to have a conversation.”

“With my boyfriend?”

“With both of you.”

“You’ve mostly been looking at him.”

The room went still.

Your sister blinked.

Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted.

You hadn’t intended to say it quite so plainly.

You weren’t upset.

Not yet.

You were mostly curious to see what she would do when someone acknowledged the obvious.

She recovered quickly.

“I’m looking at whoever’s speaking.”

“He hasn’t been speaking.”

“He literally just was.”

You smiled.

“All right.”

Your sister folded her arms.

“You’re being strange again.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You implied something.”

“What did I imply?”

“You know exactly what.”

Seungmin’s hand slid around the back of your knee.

His fingertips squeezed gently.

You looked down at him.

He gave you a small, private smile.

There was no concern in it.

He knew you weren’t jealous.

Mostly, he appeared entertained.

“You came for straighteners,” you reminded your sister.

“I know.”

“They’re in the bedroom.”

“Can you get them?”

“You know where they are.”

She hesitated.

Her gaze moved towards the hallway, then back to Seungmin.

“I haven’t been in your bedroom since you moved things around.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I don’t want to go through your things.”

“You’ve never had an issue before.”

Her mouth tightened.

You smiled sweetly.

“I’ll show you.”

You gently extracted your hand from Seungmin’s grasp, holding your fingers carefully apart.

He immediately caught your wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the straighteners.”

“You’ll ruin your nails.”

“I’m walking, not digging a tunnel.”

“You’re very clumsy.”

“You painted them five minutes ago. They’re dry.”

Seungmin tightened his grip.

“Wait.”

“What?”

He reached for the bottle of top coat on the table.

“You need this.”

“You didn’t mention top coat before.”

“I forgot.”

“You just don’t want me to leave.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re holding my wrist.”

“To protect my work.”

“Say you’ll miss me.”

“You’ll be gone for thirty seconds.”

“Then it shouldn’t be difficult.”

Seungmin narrowed his eyes.

Your sister watched the exchange.

You waited.

He looked away first.

“I’ll miss you,” he muttered.

You grinned.

“What was that?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“I’m not repeating it.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to stay.”

Seungmin looked back at you suspiciously.

You lowered yourself onto the floor in front of him.

His expression brightened.

Then you reached for the top coat.

He held it out of reach.

“You said you were staying.”

“To do my own nails.”

“No.”

“Give it to me.”

“You’ll ruin them.”

“They’re already ruined.”

Seungmin gasped.

You grabbed for the bottle.

He leaned away.

You lunged across him, careful to keep your painted hand lifted.

Seungmin caught you around the waist with his free arm.

“Behave.”

“Give it.”

“No.”

“Seungmin.”

You tried to reach behind him.

He shifted again, pulling you further into his lap.

Your sister cleared her throat.

You both looked towards her.

She was still sitting on the sofa.

Watching.

You had briefly forgotten she was there.

“Sorry,” you said, although you weren’t particularly sorry.

Seungmin rested his chin on your shoulder.

He still had one arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

Your sister’s gaze dropped to it.

“Could you get the straighteners?” she asked.

“You know where they are,” you repeated.

“I already told you I don’t.”

Seungmin lifted his head.

“I can get them.”

Your sister’s face brightened.

You turned towards him.

He was already beginning to stand, carefully guiding you off his lap.

Your sister rose too.

Seungmin paused.

He looked at her.

Then at you.

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing.

There was no reason for both of them to go.

Your sister apparently believed your bedroom contained an unusually complicated straightener-storage system that required Seungmin’s personal guidance.

“I know where they are,” he said.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You can stay here.”

Her smile faltered.

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

The answer was so immediate that you made a small choking sound.

Your sister’s patience finally snapped.

“Can someone please get them?”

You and Seungmin both looked at her.

She smiled tightly.

“The straighteners.”

“Right,” you said.

Seungmin pointed at you.

“Don’t touch anything.”

“It’s my flat.”

“My nail polish.”

He disappeared down the hallway.

Your sister waited until he was out of earshot.

Then she looked at you.

“You don’t have to perform every time I’m here.”

You stared at her.

“Perform?”

“The constant touching. The little jokes.”

“You think that’s for you?”

“I think you’re trying very hard to prove something.”

You looked towards the hallway.

Seungmin was rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, apparently having forgotten that you kept the straighteners inside your wardrobe.

You turned back to her.

“I’m sitting in my own living room wearing his shirt while he paints my nails.”

“Exactly.”

“What am I proving?”

“That you’re comfortable with him.”

“I am comfortable with him.”

“You don’t need to make it so obvious.”

A laugh escaped you.

Your sister’s expression darkened.

“What?”

“I genuinely don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.”

“You’re acting territorial.”

“I haven’t stopped you speaking to him.”

“You don’t have to. You just keep interrupting.”

“This is my flat.”

“So?”

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Her eyes narrowed.

You smiled.

Still amused.

Mostly.

But something sharper had begun pressing beneath your ribs.

Your sister had always competed with you.

Clothes. Friends. Attention. Compliments.

Anything you possessed became evidence that she deserved something better.

You had simply never expected her to become this obvious.

“You’re imagining things,” she said.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you come dressed like that to borrow straighteners?”

Her face changed.

Only for an instant.

Then she scoffed.

“I told you I’m going out.”

“Where?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“You clearly do.”

“You’ve travelled forty minutes to borrow something you could buy for twenty pounds.”

“I was nearby.”

“No, you weren’t.”

She folded her arms.

“Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind me being here.”

There it was.

You looked at her.

She looked pleased with herself.

“Why would he mind?”

“He’s been friendly.”

“He’s usually friendly.”

“Not with everyone.”

You nearly smiled.

Your sister had known Seungmin for one afternoon.

Apparently she had already developed an extensive understanding of his social habits.

“He complimented me last time,” she continued.

“When?”

“He said my dress was nice.”

“Mum told him to.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t think it.”

“No, I’m sure he has very strong feelings about the dress.”

“You don’t have to be jealous.”

You stared at her.

Then you laughed.

You couldn’t help it.

The idea was so completely detached from reality that amusement overwhelmed everything else.

Your sister’s face hardened.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Because you think Seungmin complimenting your dress means I should be worried.”

“I didn’t say you should be worried.”

“You said I was jealous.”

“You’re acting like it.”

“Trust me.” You leaned back against the sofa. “I’m not.”

Your sister opened her mouth.

Seungmin returned before she could answer.

He was holding the straighteners in one hand

He handed the straighteners to your sister.

She accepted them.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Her fingers lingered against his for a moment.

Seungmin looked down at their hands.

Then politely extracted his own.

“I should probably go,” your sister said.

You looked at the clock.

She had been there for less than twenty minutes.

“Your plans?” you asked.

“Yes.”

She picked up her coat.

Seungmin returned to the floor beside you, already reaching for your hand.

Your sister watched him pull you down beside him.

Your sister opened the front door.

“I’ll text you,” she said to you.

“Okay.”

She looked towards Seungmin.

“It was nice seeing you.”

“You too.”

“You look good, by the way.”

Seungmin glanced down at his sweatshirt.

“Thanks.”

“The headband especially.”

His hand rose to the blue bow.

“Right.”

She laughed softly.

Then she left.

You waited until the door closed.

Silence settled over the flat.

Seungmin stared at it.

You stared at him.

He turned slowly.

“What?”

You broke first.

Laughter burst out of you so suddenly that you nearly knocked over the nail polish.

Seungmin caught the bottle.

“Careful!”

“The headband especially,” you repeated.

“Stop.”

“You look good, by the way.”

“I said stop.”

You twisted in his arms until you were facing him.

Seungmin was kneeling over you, one hand planted beside your shoulder and the other wrapped securely around your waist.

You looked up at him.

“I like your headband.”

“Thank you. I already have a beautiful girlfriend.”

You nodded.

“Very natural.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

“There it is.”

“There what is?”

“You’ve been waiting to say that all afternoon.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

You tried to push him away with your forearm.

Seungmin remained exactly where he was.

“Admit it,” he said.

“Admit what?”

“That you’re jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“Just a little?”

“No.”

“Not even when she touched my hand?”

“I thought about breaking her fingers.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened.

You hooked one leg around his hips and attempted to roll him onto his back.

He anticipated it, shifting his weight before you could gain any leverage.

“You’re cheating,” you complained.

“How?”

“You’re stronger.”

“That isn’t cheating.”

“It is when I’m losing.”

He laughed.

You used the distraction to push at his shoulder again.

Seungmin caught both your wrists.

Your breath hitched, more from surprise than anything else.

He pinned them lightly above your head, careful not to let your nails touch the carpet.

His hair had begun slipping free from the headband.

The clay mask had cracked faintly near the corners of his smile.

He looked completely ridiculous.

And unfairly lovely.

“Still think I enjoyed it?” he asked.

You pretended to consider your answer.

His eyes narrowed.

“Choose carefully.”

You bit back a smile.

“She is very feminine.”

Seungmin lowered his face closer to yours.

“Wrong direction.”

“And confident.”

His grip tightened slightly around your wrists.

You laughed.

“And sophisticated.”

“Do you want to keep your newly painted nails?”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It is.”

“You worked so hard on them.”

“I can start again.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I have nowhere to be.”

You squirmed beneath him.

He shifted, trapping you more securely without putting his weight on you.

“You’re impossible,” you said.

“You started this.”

“She’s your type.”

Seungmin stared at you.

Then he released one of your wrists.

You immediately tried to escape.

His free hand found your side.

You squealed.

“No!”

“Take it back.”

“You can’t keep doing this!”

“I can until you learn.”

His fingers dug gently into your waist.

You dissolved into laughter, twisting helplessly beneath him.

“The mask!” you gasped. “You’ll crack the mask!”

“I don’t care.”

“You were worried about it two minutes ago!”

“You’ve pushed me too far.”

You kicked at the rug.

Seungmin caught your leg beneath his knee.

“You’re evil!”

“And?”

“Controlling!”

“And?”

“Obsessed with me!”

His fingers stopped.

“There we go.”

You glared up at him, breathless.

“That isn’t fair.”

“It’s completely fair.”

“I was supposed to say you don’t want her.”

“I know I don’t want her.”

“You’re supposed to reassure me.”

“Are you worried?”

“No.”

“Then why do you need reassurance?”

“Because I enjoy compliments.”

Seungmin smiled.

The teasing faded gently from his expression.

He released your other wrist and settled his hand beside your head instead.

“You’re very pretty.”

“That was basic.”

“You’re especially pretty when you’re wearing my clothes.”

“Better.”

“You’re funny.”

“I know.”

“And irritating.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“It’s one of my favourite things about you.”

You looked up at him.

His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek.

“You’re my favourite person to come home to,” he continued. “My favourite person to annoy. My favourite person to do absolutely nothing with.”

Your smile softened.

Seungmin’s did too.

“And,” he added, “I’m so obsessed with you that I let you put this stupid thing on my head.”

You touched the bow.

“You love the headband.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You’re avoiding the important part.”

“What important part?”

“The part where you admit I’m obsessed with you.”

You laughed.

“You just admitted it yourself.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

“And?”

You stared at him.

He waited expectantly.

“And you don’t want my sister.”

“Obviously.”

“And?”

A slow grin spread across his face.

You realised what he wanted.

“No.”

“Say it.”

“I’m not saying it.”

“You know you want to.”

“I don’t.”

Seungmin’s fingers hovered threateningly near your waist.

You recoiled.

“Don’t.”

“Then say it.”

“You’re abusing your power.”

“I’m waiting.”

You glared at him.

He looked delighted.

“And I’m obsessed with you too,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“You heard me.”

“The face mask is restricting my hearing.”

“That isn’t how masks work.”

“Speak clearly.”

You tried not to smile.

“I’m obsessed with you too.”

“There we go.”

He bent and kissed you.

It began soft.

A pleased little press of his lips against yours.

Then you reached for the back of his neck and accidentally brushed one wet nail against his cheek.

Seungmin pulled away.

You froze.

A bright streak of polish now cut through the dried clay mask.

For one second, neither of you moved.

Then you burst out laughing.

Seungmin stared at you.

“You ruined it.”

“I’m sorry!”

“You did that on purpose.”

“I didn’t!”

“You attacked me.”

“You were on top of me!”

“Because you accused me of wanting your sister.”

Seungmin touched his cheek.

His fingers came away with polish on them.

His mouth dropped open.

You laughed even harder.

“You look beautiful.”

“You’re sleeping on the sofa.”

“It’s my flat.”

“Then I’m sleeping in your bed alone.”

“You wouldn’t last ten minutes.”

“I’d sleep perfectly.”

You grinned.

Seungmin tried to maintain his glare.

He failed.

A laugh escaped him.

Then another.

He lowered his head until his forehead rested against your shoulder, both of you shaking with laughter on the living-room floor.

You wrapped your arms around him.

“Your mask really is ruined.”

“I know.”

“And the polish is definitely smudged.”

“I know.”

౨ৎ

Your sister invited herself shopping with you three days later.

Technically, she asked whether you had bought your mum’s birthday present yet. When you told her that you and Seungmin were going into town on Sunday to find something, she replied that she had been planning to go that day too.

You had stared at the message for several seconds.

Seungmin, lying beside you with his head on your stomach, had tilted his phone away from his face and asked, “Why are you making that expression?”

“My sister wants to come shopping with us.”

He had gone silent.

You lowered your phone to look at him. “That was a very long pause.”

“I was trying to think of something polite.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t.”

You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. “We are shopping for her mum too.”

“Unfortunately.”

“She’s my mum.”

“That’s why I said unfortunately. I like your mum.”

“You’re horrible.”

Seungmin had turned his head and pressed a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “Tell her she can come.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“I’m thrilled. Maybe she can tell me more about what kind of woman I usually prefer.”

You had flicked his forehead.

He had bitten your finger.

The matter was settled.

౨ৎ

Your sister arrived twenty minutes late.

You and Seungmin had already been standing outside the shopping centre long enough for him to complain about the cold four times, steal one of your gloves and attempt to warm his other hand by shoving it beneath the back of your jumper.

You had slapped him away.

He had waited thirty seconds before trying again.

“Your hand is freezing,” you complained, twisting out of his reach.

“That’s why I need your body heat.”

“You have pockets.”

“They’re not as warm as you.”

“They don’t want you touching them either.”

Seungmin smiled and caught the belt loop of your jeans when you tried to step away. “Come back.”

“No.”

“You’re abandoning me.”

“I’m moving half a metre.”

“That’s still too far.”

You rolled your eyes, but you let him pull you backwards until your shoulder rested against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and tucked his chin over your shoulder, immediately pleased with himself.

“You’re very clingy today,” you said.

“It’s cold.”

“You were clingy yesterday too.”

“I was tired.”

“You fell asleep on top of me. I couldn’t breathe.”

“And yet you let me stay.” His laugh warmed the side of your neck.

Your sister found you like that.

She slowed as she approached, taking in Seungmin’s arms around your middle and the way your hands rested over his.

Then she smiled.

“Sorry,” she said, although she did not sound particularly sorry. “The train was delayed.”

“You said you were driving,” you replied.

She paused.

Seungmin’s face disappeared briefly against your shoulder. You felt the silent shake of his laughter.

“I changed my mind,” your sister said.

“Clearly.”

She looked at Seungmin. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Long enough for her to attack me.”

“I moved your freezing hand away,” you said.

Seungmin tightened his arms around your waist. “Exactly.”

Your sister laughed, her gaze lingering on him a little too long. “You poor thing.”

Your sister looked at you with a small, knowing smile. “You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Rough.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows rose.

You looked down at your outfit as though you might find evidence of roughness on your coat. “I pushed his hand away.”

“I’m only joking.”

“Right.”

“She’s very frightening,” Seungmin said solemnly. “I live in constant fear.”

Then he kissed your cheek and released you, taking your hand instead. “Can we go inside before I lose feeling in my fingers?”

“You stole my glove.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

Your sister walked beside him as you entered the shopping centre.

You ended up on his other side.

It was not immediately strange. The pavement narrowed near the doors, people moved around you, and your sister had always been skilled at placing herself exactly where she wanted to be without appearing deliberate.

But once you were inside, she remained there.

She asked Seungmin what he thought you should buy. She asked whether he enjoyed shopping. She asked which shops he liked, whether he cared about clothes and whether he usually chose his own outfits.

He answered politely.

Mostly.

When she asked whether he had a favourite designer, he said, “Whoever makes comfortable trousers.”

When she asked what colours he liked on women, he said, “Normal ones.”

Your sister frowned. “I was asking a normal question.”

“I know,” you said. “His answer was stupid.”

Seungmin swung your joined hands between you.

Your sister glanced down.

“I think you’d suit darker colours,” she told him.

“I wear dark colours.”

“I know. They make you look more mature.”

You looked across him. “What does he look like now?”

She ignored you. “You have a very classic face.”

Seungmin turned towards you. “Do I?”

“No.”

He looked offended. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“I look at your face every day.”

“And you’ve never thought it was classic?”

“I’ve thought it was annoying.”

“That isn’t a facial structure.”

“It should be.”

Your sister sighed softly. “You never take compliments seriously.”

“She rarely gives them,” Seungmin said.

“I complimented you this morning.”

“You said my hair looked less strange than usual.”

“That was generous.”

“You also said I looked tired.”

“You did.”

“You make me feel very cherished.”

You stopped in the middle of the walkway and placed both hands around his face. “You are beautiful.”

Seungmin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re mocking me.”

“Never.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

He stared at you for another second before his mouth betrayed him.

A reluctant smile appeared.

“There,” you said, squeezing his cheeks. “Pretty.”

Seungmin caught both your wrists and pulled your hands away. “Don’t touch my face in public.”

“You love it.”

Your sister had gone quiet.

You released Seungmin’s face and started walking again. He slipped his hand into yours as though the interruption had never happened.

The first shop was useless.

The second was worse.

Your mum had said she wanted something for the house, which sounded simple until you were faced with fifteen aisles of objects she might already own.

Your sister suggested a decorative vase.

You reminded her that your mum had six.

Seungmin picked up a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown.

You told him to put it down.

“She’d love him,” he said.

“She’d ask why we bought her rubbish.”

“He’s cute.”

“He’s ugly.”

“He can hear you.”

Your sister smiled at Seungmin. “I think he’s cute.”

You looked at her.

She was not looking at the ceramic dog.

Seungmin, apparently unaware or pretending to be, placed the ornament carefully in your hands. “Hold him.”

“No.”

“He likes you.”

“You like him.”

“He reminds me of you.”

You stared at the dog.

The dog stared back with badly painted eyes.

“You’re sleeping alone tonight.”

Seungmin smiled. “You say that every week.”

“One day I’ll mean it.”

“No, you won’t.”

Your sister picked up a sleek glass vase and held it towards Seungmin. “What about this?”

He glanced at it. “It’s nice.”

“She already has something similar,” you said.

Your sister’s smile tightened. “Not exactly like this.”

“It’s almost identical.”

“It’s more modern.”

“Mum doesn’t care about modern.”

“She might.”

Your sister looked at Seungmin. “What do you think?”

He looked between you both.

Then at the vase.

Then at the ceramic dog still in your hands.

“I think we should buy the dog.”

You laughed.

Your sister did not.

“You’re both impossible,” she said, returning the vase to the shelf.

“That keeps coming up,” Seungmin replied.

You carried the dog for another two aisles before secretly placing it on a display of cushions.

Seungmin noticed immediately.

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The dog.”

“I don’t know.”

“You abandoned him.”

“He wasn’t ours.”

“He could have been.”

“Not everything you like has to come home with us.”

“You came home with me.”

Your sister laughed.

You turned towards Seungmin slowly. “Was that meant to be sweet?”

“Yes.”

“It sounded like you found me beside a road.”

“I rescued you.”

“From what?”

“Yourself.”

You shoved him lightly towards a stack of towels.

He caught your elbow and pulled you with him, making you stumble against his chest. His free arm wrapped around your waist before you could fall.

You tried not to smile.

You failed.

Your sister walked ahead.

౨ৎ

After nearly an hour, you found a set of handmade serving bowls that your mum would genuinely like.

Your sister thought they were plain.

Seungmin thought one of them looked like a hat.

You thought both of them needed to stop talking.

You were waiting at the till when your sister announced that she wanted coffee.

“There’s a place downstairs,” she said. “I’ll go.”

“I’ll come,” you replied. “I need the toilet anyway.”

Her expression flickered.

Only slightly.

Then she smiled. “You can stay with the bags. Seungmin and I can get them.”

Seungmin looked up from the receipt in his hand.

You looked at her.

She looked at him.

There was a small silence.

Then Seungmin said, “She knows my order.”

Your sister recovered quickly. “You can tell me.”

“I’ll forget something.”

“It’s coffee.”

“He’s very demanding,” you said.

Seungmin nodded.

Your sister laughed, although her eyes stayed on him. “I think I can manage.”

You could have refused.

Part of you wanted to, not because you thought anything would happen, but because your sister’s intentions had become so transparent that allowing her to proceed felt almost embarrassing.

Then curiosity won.

You handed the shopping bag to Seungmin. “Fine. Get me something sweet.”

“What?”

“Surprise me.”

“That always ends badly.”

“Only because you make poor choices.”

Seungmin stared at you.

You smiled.

He sighed. “Fine.”

Your sister looked pleased.

Far too pleased.

You kissed Seungmin’s cheek before stepping away. “Don’t let her buy me anything with coconut.”

౨ৎ

Seungmin watched you disappear into the crowd.

He knew exactly what you were doing.

You had kissed him in front of your sister on purpose.

Not because you were worried.

Because you were a menace.

A message appeared on his phone before he and your sister had reached the escalator.

Don’t fall in love while I’m gone x

He smiled despite himself.

Your sister noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Was that her?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

Seungmin put his phone away. “Nothing important.”

Your sister stepped onto the escalator beside him.

For several seconds, she was silent.

Then she said, “She checks on you a lot.”

Seungmin looked at her. “Does she?”

“She’s always texting you.”

“We text each other.”

“I know. I just mean she likes knowing where you are.”

He considered the comment.

“She sent me a joke.”

“What joke?”

“One you wouldn’t find funny.”

Your sister’s mouth tightened. “You don’t know that.”

“I know her sense of humour.”

“And mine?”

“Not really.”

The escalator carried them down another floor.

Your sister rested one hand on the rail. “You and her are very different.”

Seungmin looked ahead. “You’ve mentioned that.”

“I don’t mean it as an insult.”

“You keep saying that too.”

She laughed softly. “You remember.”

“I have a good memory.”

“You do seem observant.”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s why I’m surprised.”

He turned his head.

“By what?”

She looked briefly uncertain, as if she had expected him to understand without making her say it aloud.

“Nothing.”

Seungmin faced forwards again.

The coffee shop was busy. A line curled away from the counter, giving your sister more time than she probably needed.

She moved closer to him as they joined it.

“I’ve always wondered how she ended up with someone like you.”

Seungmin’s expression did not change.

“Someone like me?”

“Successful. Disciplined. Mature.”

“You think she isn’t those things?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

Your sister sighed. “You’re very defensive of her.”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you surprised?”

“I’m not surprised. I just think you misunderstand me.”

Seungmin shoved one hand into his coat pocket. “Then explain.”

Your sister glanced towards the counter. The line had barely moved.

“She’s always been the sweet one,” she said. “The one people feel protective over. I’ve always been more independent.”

“Okay.”

“She needs more reassurance.”

“Does she?”

“You’ve seen how she is.”

“I have.”

“And that doesn’t get tiring?”

Seungmin looked at her properly.

His tone stayed light, but his eyes sharpened. “No.”

Your sister held his gaze. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

“I’m not.”

“She can be a lot.”

“So can I.”

“You’re different.”

“You don’t know me.”

The words landed more firmly than anything he had said before.

Your sister blinked.

Seungmin looked back towards the counter.

The line moved forward.

For a few seconds, she said nothing.

Then she tried again.

“She doesn’t tell people this, but she used to get overlooked a lot when we were younger.”

Seungmin’s jaw tightened.

“Overlooked by who?”

“People.”

Your sister exhaled, clearly frustrated by his refusal to fill in the gaps for her.

“Boys usually noticed me first.”

Seungmin waited.

She smiled faintly. “She never minded. At least, she pretended not to.”

He looked at her.

“And?”

“And nothing. I’m only saying it’s probably nice for her to be the one someone chose for once.”

Seungmin stared at her for a long moment.

Your sister interpreted the silence as an opening.

“You’re kind,” she continued. “You probably don’t even realise how much that means to her.”

“I noticed her.”

The sentence was quiet.

Immediate.

Your sister’s smile faltered.

“I didn’t say you didn’t.”

“You said people didn’t.”

“I said they usually noticed me first.”

“I didn’t.”

Something sharp passed across her face.

Then she laughed.

“You hadn’t met me.”

Seungmin looked at her.

The confidence in her smile returned.

It was not difficult to understand what she meant.

If he had seen her first, things might have been different.

If he knew her better, he might recognise what he had missed.

If you had not reached him before she did, perhaps he would have made the correct choice.

Seungmin almost laughed.

Instead, he said, “I’ve met you now.”

Your sister’s smile remained fixed.

The line moved again.

She stepped closer.

“I think we have more in common than you realise.”

“Do we?”

“We’re both ambitious.”

“So is she.”

“We care about how we present ourselves.”

“She does too.”

“She doesn’t care what anyone thinks.”

“That’s one of the things I like about her.”

Your sister’s eyes narrowed. “You turn everything into a compliment about her.”

“Yes.”

The answer was so simple that it left nowhere for the conversation to go.

Your sister looked away.

Seungmin’s phone buzzed again.

He checked it.

Is she seducing you yet?

A second message appeared.

Blink twice if you need rescue

Then:

Actually don’t. I can’t see you

He laughed under his breath.

Your sister glanced towards the phone.

“She’s checking again?”

“She’s entertaining herself.”

“She doesn’t trust me.”

Seungmin looked up. “Should she?”

Your sister went still.

He raised his eyebrows slightly.

For the first time, she seemed uncertain whether he was joking.

Then he smiled.

Not warmly.

Not cruelly either.

Just enough to make the question impossible to challenge.

Your sister looked towards the menu.

“What did she want?”

“Something sweet.”

“That isn’t very specific.”

“She likes trying new things.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Your sister frowned. “She’s my sister.”

Seungmin slipped his phone into his pocket. “Then choose.”

She looked at the display board.

After a moment, she suggested a coconut latte.

Seungmin stared at her.

“What?”

“She hates coconut.”

Your sister hesitated. “Does she?”

“She told you five minutes ago.”

“I forgot.”

“I didn’t.”

He ordered your favourite instead.

౨ৎ

You returned to find them sitting at a small table near the window.

Your sister was speaking.

Seungmin was looking at his phone.

That alone told you almost everything you needed to know.

He was never rude enough to ignore someone without a reason.

When he spotted you, his entire expression changed.

His shoulders relaxed. His mouth curved into a smile. He put his phone down and lifted one hand towards you.

“There you are.”

You slid into the seat beside him.

Seungmin immediately hooked his fingers through the belt loop at the back of your jeans and tugged you closer.

“I was gone for fifteen minutes.”

“It was difficult.”

“You seemed fine.”

Your sister looked between you.

You picked up the drink in front of your seat and inspected it. “What did you get me?”

“Try it.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why?”

“You said to surprise you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Seungmin pushed the cup closer. “Drink.”

You took a cautious sip.

It was sweet, creamy and familiar.

Your favourite.

You looked at him.

He smiled smugly.

“You didn’t choose something new.”

“I chose something you’d like.”

“That isn’t a surprise.”

“You were surprised.”

“I was surprised you made a good decision.”

Seungmin leaned towards you. “Say thank you.”

“No.”

“Say it.”

“You’re very demanding.”

“I carried the bowls.”

“They’re in one bag.”

“A heavy bag.”

“They’re ceramic, not concrete.”

Your sister interrupted. “He remembered your order.”

You looked at her.

There was something brittle in her voice.

Seungmin rested his chin briefly on your shoulder and stole a sip of your drink.

You pushed his face away.

“Of course he did,” you said. “He orders it more than I do.”

“For you,” he corrected.

“You steal half.”

“It tastes better when it’s yours.”

“That’s because you’re a thief.”

He smiled against your cheek.

Your sister looked away.

You could practically feel the conversation you had interrupted sitting between them.

You waited until Seungmin sat back.

Then you asked, “Did you have a nice chat?”

Your sister reached for her coffee.

Seungmin looked at you.

His eyes were bright with the effort of not laughing.

“Very informative.”

“Oh?”

“I learned that I’m successful, disciplined and mature.”

You nodded solemnly. “One out of three isn’t bad.”

Seungmin kicked your foot beneath the table.

You kicked him back.

Your sister sighed. “I was complimenting him.”

“I know.”

“She thinks I’m mature,” Seungmin said.

“She doesn’t live with you.”

“I don’t live with you.”

Under the table, Seungmin’s knee pressed against yours.

You tapped it once with your own.

He tapped back.

Your sister watched the movement.

“I was only saying that you’re lucky,” she said.

You looked at her. “Again?”

“You are.”

“I know.”

“She thinks you’re lucky someone finally noticed you,” Seungmin added.

The words were delivered with deceptive casualness.

Your sister’s head snapped towards him.

Your hand stilled around the cup.

Seungmin lifted his drink.

You looked at your sister.

She looked suddenly furious.

“I didn’t say it like that.”

“How did you say it?”

“I said people usually noticed me first when we were younger.”

You raised your eyebrows.

Your sister leaned back. “It was relevant to the conversation.”

“What conversation?”

“We were talking about relationships.”

“You were talking about mine?”

“She asked whether dating you was tiring,” Seungmin said.

You stared at him.

He took a calm sip.

Your sister’s face reddened. “That isn’t what I asked.”

“It was very close.”

“You’re twisting my words.”

“I remember them quite clearly.”

You looked between them.

The ridiculousness of it arrived before the hurt could.

Your sister had finally managed to get Seungmin alone, and she had apparently used the opportunity to explain why being with you must be exhausting.

A laugh slipped out.

Your sister’s mouth tightened. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you had fifteen minutes.”

“What?”

“You finally got him alone and that was your strategy?”

Seungmin choked on his drink.

Your sister stared at you.

You turned towards him. “Are you all right?”

He held up one hand and coughed into the other.

“You’re horrible,” he managed.

“You were thinking it too.”

“I was trying to be polite.”

Your sister placed her cup on the table more firmly than necessary. “Nothing happened.”

You looked at her. “I know.”

“Then stop acting like you caught me doing something.”

“I didn’t catch you. He told me.”

Your sister stood.

The legs of her chair scraped against the floor.

“I’m going to look at another shop.”

You glanced at the untouched coffee. “We just sat down.”

“I remembered something I need.”

She grabbed her handbag.

Seungmin watched her.

Your sister looked at him, waiting for something.

An offer to come with her, perhaps.

An apology.

A private look that confirmed all the things she had decided existed between them.

Seungmin lifted his hand.

For one hopeful second, she smiled.

Then he pointed towards her cup. “Are you taking that?”

Her smile disappeared.

“No.”

“Can I have it?”

You elbowed him.

“What?” he asked. “She isn’t drinking it.”

Your sister walked away without answering.

You watched her disappear into the crowd.

Then you turned slowly towards Seungmin.

He was already reaching for her abandoned coffee.

You slapped his hand.

“No.”

“She said she didn’t want it.”

“You don’t know what’s in it.”

“Coffee.”

“She might have poisoned it.”

“Why would she poison her own drink?”

“She sensed rejection.”

Seungmin laughed.

You folded your arms. “What did she actually say?”

He gave up on the coffee and leaned back in his chair.

“Exactly what I told you.”

“She asked whether I was tiring?”

“She implied that you need constant reassurance, said you’re a lot and suggested I probably chose you because I’m kind.”

Your amusement faded a little.

Seungmin noticed immediately.

His foot slid beside yours under the table.

“She also told me men usually noticed her first,” he added.

You looked at the crowd beyond the window. “She loves saying that.”

“I asked which men.”

That made you smile.

Seungmin’s knee pressed more firmly against yours.

“She couldn’t name them.”

“You interrogated her?”

“I asked good questions.”

“You never ask good questions.”

“That’s unfair.”

You looked back at him.

He was watching you closely.

Not pushing.

Just waiting.

“What else?” you asked.

Seungmin hesitated. “She implied I might have chosen differently if I’d met her first.”

A strange little ache settled beneath your ribs.

Not because you believed it.

The idea of Seungmin choosing your sister felt almost comical.

But because she believed your entire relationship could be reduced to timing.

That you had simply arrived first and seized something that should have belonged to her.

You looked down at your cup. “And what did you say?”

“That I’ve met her now.”

Your mouth twitched.

“That’s all?”

“I thought it was enough.”

“It is.”

“She didn’t like it.”

“I’m devastated for her.”

“I also told her I noticed you.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the cup.

Seungmin’s expression softened.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I noticed you.”

You fought a smile.

You covered his mouth with your hand.

Seungmin kissed your palm.

You pulled it away immediately.

“That’s disgusting.”

“You liked that too.”

“You’re so pleased with yourself.”

“I handled a difficult social situation and bought you the correct drink.”

“You want a medal?”

“A kiss would be appropriate.”

“You’re asking for payment?”

“I did hard labour.”

“You stood in a coffee queue.”

“With your sister.”

You considered that.

Seungmin lifted his eyebrows.

You leaned over and kissed his cheek.

He turned his head at the last second, catching the corner of your mouth instead.

You pulled back.

“That was cheating.”

“You’re slow.”

“You tricked me.”

“You still kissed me.”

“Barely.”

“You can try again.”

“I’m not rewarding bad behaviour.”

Seungmin rested one elbow on the table. “Then I’ll have to live with the memory.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I suffered for fifteen minutes.”

“You were texting me.”

“That was my lifeline.”

You laughed and nudged his foot beneath the table.

Seungmin caught your ankle between his.

“You know she’s going to tell herself you only rejected her because you knew I was coming back.”

Seungmin’s expression became thoughtful. “Do you want me to say it more directly?”

You looked towards the direction your sister had disappeared.

Part of you wanted him to.

Part of you knew she would turn even that into evidence of something else.

“She hasn’t actually admitted she wants you,” you said.

“She invited herself on our date.”

“We’re buying Mum bowls.”

“A highly romantic date.”

Seungmin reached for your hand across the table.

His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles.

“If she says something properly,” he said, “I’ll answer properly.”

“You have answered.”

“I mean without being polite.”

“That sounds frightening.”

Seungmin squeezed your hand. “Tell her that when she tries again.”

You looked at him.

“When?”

He smiled.

“You think she’s stopping?”

You glanced once more towards the crowd.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

There was a pause.

Then Seungmin brightened. “Can we go back for the dog?”

“No.”

“He could be part of your mum’s present.”

“She would hate him.”

“She’d learn to love him.”

“You only knew him for ten minutes.”

“That was enough.”

Seungmin smiled and lifted your hand to his mouth.

This time, he kissed your knuckles slowly.

You let him.

Your sister returned ten minutes later carrying nothing.

Neither of you mentioned it.

Seungmin did, however, remain close to you for the rest of the afternoon.

His hand at your waist when people passed too close. His fingers laced through yours on the escalator. His chin briefly resting on your shoulder while you examined candles. His mouth near your ear when he whispered that one of them smelled like “an expensive wardrobe”.

Your sister tried to walk beside him.

Seungmin kept drifting back towards you.

She asked his opinion.

He asked yours.

She suggested shops.

He followed wherever you went.

By the time you left the shopping centre, your sister had stopped speaking unless someone addressed her directly.

The three of you stood near the station while she checked the time.

“My train’s in five minutes,” she said.

Your sister adjusted her handbag and looked at Seungmin. “It was nice spending time with you.”

“You too.”

“We should do it again.”

You looked at him.

He looked at you.

Your sister noticed.

“Without making it into a whole family thing,” she added.

You raised your eyebrows.

Seungmin slipped his arm around your shoulders. “I think she comes with me.”

Your sister laughed. “You’re allowed separate friends.”

“I have friends.”

“She means her,” you said.

“I know.”

Your sister’s cheeks coloured.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” Seungmin asked.

She looked at him.

He waited.

His expression was pleasant.

Curious.

Entirely unwilling to rescue her.

Your sister’s train arrived with a rush of noise behind her.

She glanced towards the platform.

“I have to go.”

“You should hurry,” you said.

She hugged you briefly.

When she turned towards Seungmin, he lifted the shopping bag between them.

Your sister stopped.

He smiled politely.

“Bye.”

For a moment, she looked as though she might push around the bag and hug him anyway.

Then she stepped back.

“Bye.”

You watched her hurry towards the train.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Seungmin lowered the bag.

“You used Mum’s bowls as a shield,” you said.

“I panicked.”

“You’re very brave.”

“She hugged me last time.”

“Terrifying.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could have hugged her.”

Seungmin looked horrified. “Why would I do that?”

“She’s confident and sophisticated.”

“Stop.”

“More your type.”

He pointed at you. “We discussed this.”

“She only needs an opportunity.”

“You’re becoming annoying.”

“Becoming?”

“More annoying.”

You smiled.

Seungmin stared at you for a second.

Then he hooked one arm around your waist and lifted you just enough that your shoes left the ground.

You yelped.

“Put me down!”

“Take it back.”

“We’re in public!”

“I don’t care.”

You grabbed his shoulders, laughing as he carried you several steps away from the platform.

Seungmin lowered you carefully to the ground.

His smile softened.

Seungmin took your hand again, swinging it once between you before pulling you towards the station exit.

“Come on,” he said. “We have to go back.”

“For what?”

“The dog.”

“We are not buying the dog.”

“He’s waiting for us.”

“He’s ceramic.”

“He’ll think we abandoned him.”

“You said I was the abandoned animal.”

“I can rescue both of you.”

“You already complain that I take up too much space.”

“He’s small.”

“I hate you.”

Seungmin kissed the side of your head.

He smiled and kept walking.

You followed, because the station exit was in the same direction as the shop.

Not because you had agreed to buy the dog.

Definitely not.

When your mum opened her birthday present a week later, she found a beautiful set of handmade serving bowls.

And, tucked between them, a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown.

She stared at it.

You stared at Seungmin.

Seungmin looked unbearably pleased.

౨ৎ

By the time you finished getting ready, Seungmin had changed his shirt twice, complained about both options and somehow blamed you for the fact that neither looked right.

“You said the black one was nice,” he reminded you from the bedroom doorway.

“It was nice.”

“And then you told me to wear the blue one.”

“Because the blue one is nicer.”

“So the black one was ugly.”

“That isn’t what I said.”

“It’s what you implied.”

You turned away from the mirror and looked at him. He stood with both shirts hanging from one hand, his hair still slightly damp from the shower and an expression of genuine betrayal on his face.

“You’re having a crisis over two nearly identical shirts.”

“They aren’t nearly identical.”

“One is black and one is very dark blue.”

“Exactly.”

You stared at him.

Seungmin stared back.

Then his gaze drifted slowly down your body.

The offence disappeared from his expression.

You had chosen an outfit that made you feel good. You suspected you would regret that decision later, but Seungmin’s reaction made it worth it.

He looked at you for long enough that you lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m looking.”

“At what?”

“My girlfriend.”

You tried not to smile. “Have you not seen me before?”

“Not in that.”

“You watched me put it on.”

“I was distracted.”

“By what?”

“The shirt crisis.”

You laughed and turned back towards the mirror. Seungmin abandoned both shirts on the bed and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“You look pretty,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Only pretty?”

His eyes narrowed at your reflection. “Don’t become demanding.”

“You stared at me for thirty seconds. I expected something better.”

“You look very pretty.”

“That’s the same thing with an extra word.”

“You look so pretty that I’m reconsidering letting you leave the flat.”

You smiled. “Better.”

“I knew you were fishing.”

“I enjoy compliments.”

“I know.”

Seungmin kissed the side of your neck, then another spot slightly lower. You tilted your head instinctively before remembering you had spent far too long getting ready.

“Don’t ruin my makeup.”

“I’m nowhere near your makeup.”

“You’ll work your way up.”

“That sounds like encouragement.”

You caught his wrists and pulled his arms away. Seungmin resisted just enough to make it difficult, then released you with an exaggerated sigh.

“You don’t love me anymore.”

“I’m trying to get us to the party.”

“Chan said eight.”

“It’s quarter past.”

“Exactly. We’re early.”

You looked at him through the mirror. “For what?”

“A party.”

“That started fifteen minutes ago.”

“Social events have a grace period.”

“You invented that because you’re never ready on time.”

“I was ready.”

“You aren’t wearing a shirt.”

Seungmin looked down at his bare chest, then at the two shirts abandoned on the bed.

Your phone buzzed on the dressing table.

You picked it up.

Your sister had messaged.

Are you there yet?

A second message followed before you could reply.

Is Seungmin going straight from yours?

You turned the screen towards him.

Seungmin read both messages. His face remained blank for one beat, then he placed his chin back on your shoulder.

“She misses me.”

“She saw you last week.”

“A long separation.”

“She didn’t ask whether I was going straight from mine.”

“She knows you’ll be there.”

“She also knows you’ll be there.”

“That must be why she asked to come.”

You laughed and nudged him backwards with your hip. “Put the blue shirt on.”

“The black one makes my shoulders look better.”

“Then wear the black one.”

“You said the blue was nicer.”

“Seungmin.”

He smiled and kissed your cheek before finally retrieving the blue shirt.

You replied to your sister while he dressed.

We’re leaving soon. Bring the drinks you promised Chan.

Her response came almost immediately.

What’s Seungmin wearing?

You looked up.

He was buttoning the blue shirt.

You considered sending her a photograph of the black one lying empty on the bed.

Instead, you typed:

Clothes x

Seungmin glanced over. “What did you say?”

“Nothing important.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m entertaining myself.”

“Is she seducing me remotely now?”

“Apparently she needs to prepare.”

“For what?”

“To be more your type.”

Seungmin finished the final button and walked towards you. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“It’s funny.”

“Until she touches my arm fifteen times.”

“Maybe she thinks that’s where your romantic feelings are stored.”

“That would explain why I keep trying to get away.”

You laughed, and Seungmin’s smile softened. He reached out to fix the chain of your necklace where it had twisted, his fingers careful against the back of your neck.

“Tell me if it stops being funny,” he said.

The words were quiet enough to change the air between you.

You turned.

Seungmin let his hands settle at your waist.

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“You already made me promise.”

“I’m making you do it again.”

“Very controlling.”

“Very caring.”

“Debatable.”

He squeezed your waist. “Promise.”

You rested both hands against his chest. “I promise.”

Satisfied, Seungmin kissed your forehead. Then he leant back and examined his shirt in the mirror.

“Do my shoulders look strange?”

You pushed him towards the door.

౨ৎ

The party remained civilised for approximately forty minutes.

Then Changbin brought out the shot glasses.

Chan saw them from across the room and immediately shook his head. “Take it easy”

“You bought the alcohol,” Changbin reminded him.

Jisung appeared beside the kitchen counter as though summoned by the word drinking. “Shots are normal.”

“You said that last time and threw up in my shoes.”

“That was unrelated.”

“It was directly related.”

Felix slid into the space beside Jisung and began examining the bottles. You followed closely behind him, your own drink already mostly gone.

Seungmin caught your wrist before you could reach for anything.

“You’re not doing shots.”

You looked at his hand around your wrist, then at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve already had three drinks.”

“So have you.”

“I can still walk in a straight line.”

“I can walk in a straight line.”

Seungmin released you and pointed towards the hallway.

You stared at him.

He lifted his eyebrows.

“You want me to demonstrate?”

“Yes.”

You placed your empty glass on the counter and turned towards the hallway with as much dignity as you could manage.

Felix and Jisung watched in complete silence.

You took three perfectly respectable steps.

Then your hip struck the edge of the sofa.

You stopped.

Seungmin smiled.

“The sofa moved.”

“It’s been there all night.”

“It knew I was trying to prove something.”

Jisung nodded seriously. “Furniture can sense weakness.”

Minho, sitting nearby with his ankle resting over one knee, looked at him. “That explains why you keep walking into doors.”

Jisung placed a hand over his chest. “Why are you attacking me?”

“Because you make it easy.”

Jisung abandoned the counter and dropped onto the sofa beside him. Within seconds, his legs were stretched across Minho’s lap.

Minho glanced down but made no effort to move them.

You pointed towards them. “He can’t walk straight either.”

“He’s sitting,” Seungmin said.

“He was walking badly earlier.”

Changbin began pouring.

Hyunjin took the bottle from Changbin before he could overfill the glasses. “At least make them even. You’re pouring like you’ve never seen liquid before.”

“I’m being generous.”

“You’re trying to kill Jisung.”

Jisung lifted his head from Minho’s shoulder. “Yes please.”

Minho pressed one hand against his forehead and pushed him back down. “You accept nothing.”

You managed to claim a glass before Seungmin could stop you.

Felix took one.

Jisung reached for another, but Minho lifted it out of reach.

Jisung stared at him. “Give it.”

“No.”

“You aren’t my father.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

“You can’t control me.”

Minho looked at the legs still resting across his lap. “Stand up, then.”

Jisung considered it.

“No.”

“Thought so.”

Felix passed Jisung his own glass beneath the edge of the table.

Minho saw.

He allowed it.

You caught his eye.

Minho shrugged and took another drink.

“Traitor,” Seungmin told him.

“I’m off duty.”

“You were never on duty,” Chan said.

“Exactly.”

Changbin raised his glass. “To Chan finally letting us have fun.”

“This is my party.”

“Then act like it.”

Chan swore at him, but lifted his drink anyway.

Everyone crowded closer.

Your friend remained beside your sister near the end of the counter, amused but still slightly removed from the intimacy of the group. You caught her eye and held up your glass.

She lifted hers back.

Your sister barely noticed.

She was watching Seungmin.

He stood behind you with one hand resting against your hip, his thumb moving absently beneath the hem of your top.

You leaned back into him.

“To being hot,” Hyunjin said.

Jeongin nodded. “Finally, something relevant.”

Chan looked around the group. “Can we toast to something normal?”

“No,” everyone replied.

The shot burned on the way down.

Felix coughed.

You squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed the first solid thing you found.

It was Changbin’s arm.

“Fuck.”

Changbin laughed. “You agreed to it.”

“That tasted like paint stripper.”

“You’ve never tasted paint stripper.”

“Maybe I have.”

Seungmin pulled you backwards against his chest. “And this is why you weren’t doing shots.”

You turned in his arms. “I did one.”

“You nearly died.”

“I recovered.”

“You’re still holding Changbin.You could have held me.”

You looked down to find your hand still wrapped around Changbin’s bicep and slowly released him. “Come back when you’ve got biceps, bud.”

Seungmin stared at you for a beat before catching you around the waist and pulling you firmly against his chest. “You seemed perfectly happy with mine earlier.”

You placed a hand against his arm as though inspecting it. “They’re all right.”

His grip tightened. “All right?”

You smiled. “Maybe a little better than that.”

౨ৎ

Someone suggested a drinking game.

Nobody later remembered who.

You all ended up sitting in a loose circle around the living room with bottles, half-empty glasses and bowls of food scattered between you.

Your friend sat beside your sister on the sofa. You were on the floor between Felix and Seungmin, with your back against Seungmin’s legs. His hand rested loosely at the base of your throat, occasionally brushing your hair aside.

Jisung had begun the game beside Minho.

By the third round, he was mostly sitting on him.

“Never have I ever,” Jeongin began, smiling in a way that immediately made Chan suspicious, “lied to get out of plans with someone in this room.”

Nearly everyone drank.

Chan stared at the group. “Are you serious?”

“You make too many plans,” Seungmin said.

“I ask whether you want dinner.”

“That’s still a plan.”

You lifted your glass.

Seungmin looked down at you. “When did you lie to me?”

You took a long sip.

His fingers tightened gently at the back of your neck.

“When?”

You smiled into your drink. “Next question.”

“No. We’re staying here.”

Felix laughed. “She said she was ill once because she wanted to watch a film with us.”

Seungmin stared at you.

“You exposed me,” you told Felix.

“I forgot it was a secret.”

“You chose them over me?” Seungmin asked.

“You were working.”

“You still lied.”

“You would’ve sulked.”

“I am sulking now.”

You twisted around to look at him. “Do you need a kiss?”

Seungmin considered the offer.

“Yes.”

You kissed him quickly.

He kept one hand against your jaw and prevented you from moving away.

“That was inadequate.”

Everyone groaned.

You laughed against his mouth before kissing him again, slower this time.

When you finally pulled away, Changbin threw a crisp at Seungmin’s head.

“Some of us are single.”

“You don’t have to watch,” Seungmin said.

“You’re in the middle of the room.”

“Look somewhere else.”

Hyunjin placed one hand against Changbin’s cheek and turned his face away. “There. Problem solved.”

Changbin bit his palm.

Hyunjin screamed.

The game continued.

“Never have I ever had a crush on someone in this room,” Felix said.

Silence fell.

Then Jeongin drank.

Hyunjin drank.

Changbin drank.

Jisung lifted his glass, looked around and drank twice.

Minho looked at him. “Twice?”

Jisung rested his chin on Minho’s shoulder. “I contain multitudes.”

Minho took Jisung’s glass and drank from it.

The room erupted.

Jisung stared at him, eyes widening. “Was that your answer?”

“It was your drink.”

“You have your own.”

“I wanted yours.”

“That is not an answer.”

Minho smiled into the rim of the glass.

You turned towards Felix.

He was already looking at you.

Both of you burst out laughing.

“Don’t,” Minho warned.

You covered your mouth with both hands.

Seungmin’s chest shook behind you.

Your sister remained completely still.

You could feel her watching.

Felix nudged your knee. “You didn’t drink.”

“I’m dating someone in the room.”

“That doesn’t mean you never had a crush.”

Seungmin’s fingers slid beneath your chin and turned your face towards him.

“You had better drink.”

You stared at him. “Why?”

“Because you had a crush on me.”

“That was never confirmed.”

“You asked Chan for my number.”

The group laughed.

Your sister’s glass stopped halfway to her mouth.

Seungmin’s eyes flicked towards her, then back to you.

Your smile softened despite the alcohol.

Felix made an emotional noise.

Minho pointed at him. “Don’t fucking start.”

Felix’s eyes had already begun shining.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re about to cry.”

“I just think they’re cute.”

Seungmin felt you sniff.

“No.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re crying.”

“Felix started it.”

Felix wiped beneath one eye. “I’m happy.”

“That makes it worse,” Seungmin said.

You twisted and threw your arms around him.

He caught you automatically.

“I love you.”

Seungmin sighed, but his arms tightened around your waist.

“I love you too.”

౨ৎ

The music became louder after that.

So did everyone.

Chan lost control of the playlist when you, Felix and Jisung began shouting over every song until he played something you liked. By then, the coffee table had disappeared beneath bottles, crushed cans and bowls of snacks nobody remembered opening. Somebody had spilt something sticky beside the sofa. Changbin had taken his shirt off for reasons nobody understood, and Hyunjin kept threatening to throw it out of the nearest window.

You, Felix and Jisung dragged one another into the middle of the room.

At first, you actually danced.

Felix knew what he was doing even while drunk. Jisung knew what he was doing until something distracted him, which happened every ten seconds. You possessed confidence far beyond your ability and therefore believed you looked incredible.

Changbin encouraged that delusion by cheering whenever you moved.

Hyunjin attempted to correct your posture once.

You told him to fuck off.

He looked deeply wounded. “I’m trying to save you.”

“I don’t need saving.”

“You’re dancing like your limbs have separate plans.”

“They’re expressing themselves.”

Felix laughed and caught your waist before you could stumble into the coffee table. Jisung pressed against your back, shouting the lyrics directly beside your ear while the three of you moved with very little coordination and enormous enthusiasm.

From the sofa, Seungmin watched you.

His blue shirt had come unbuttoned slightly at the throat, his hair had fallen across his forehead and his cheeks were warm from the alcohol. One hand rested around his glass while his eyes remained fixed on you.

Your sister sat only a few feet away.

She attempted to speak to him twice.

He answered politely, but barely looked in her direction.

When you caught his gaze, you smiled and crooked one finger towards him.

Seungmin shook his head.

You did it again.

He lifted his drink as though that explained why he could not move.

You pouted.

That worked.

Seungmin put the glass down and crossed the room.

Felix released your waist with a grin. Jisung remained attached to you until Minho appeared behind him, hooked an arm around his middle and pulled him backwards.

Jisung laughed and twisted in his hold. “Jealous?”

Minho murmured something into his ear.

Whatever it was made Jisung’s face turn bright red.

Felix screamed.

You screamed because Felix did.

Seungmin caught your face between both hands. “Why are you shouting?”

You pointed vaguely towards Minho and Jisung. “Something happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Minho said without looking at you.

Jisung buried his face against his shoulder.

You grinned. “Something definitely happened.”

Minho gave you a warning look.

You immediately turned back to Seungmin and began adjusting his collar as though that had always been your intention.

“Coward,” Seungmin murmured.

“You’re supposed to protect me.”

“From the consequences of your own behaviour?”

“You’re my boyfriend.”

“That isn’t what that means.”

His hands slid to your waist as the song changed. You pulled him closer, and although he continued pretending not to dance, his body fell easily into the rhythm of yours.

“There,” you said. “You’re dancing.”

“I’m standing near you.”

“You’re moving.”

“You keep dragging me around.”

“You love it.”

Seungmin lowered his mouth beside your ear. “I love you.”

The softness of it caught beneath your ribs.

You turned and kissed him.

He kissed you back without hesitation, one hand spreading across the small of your back while the party surged around you. Someone wolf-whistled. Someone else shouted at them to shut the fuck up.

You suspected one of them had been Changbin.

When you pulled away, Seungmin followed far enough to steal another brief kiss.

“You’re clingy,” you murmured.

“You called me over.”

“And you came.”

“You pouted.”

“That’s all it takes?”

“Unfortunately.”

You smiled and kissed the edge of his jaw.

His eyes closed.

“Again.”

“You’re demanding.”

You kissed his jaw again, and Seungmin’s grip tightened around your waist.

Across the room, your sister emptied the rest of her glass.

You barely noticed.

Seungmin’s attention had already wandered from dancing to pressing lazy kisses against whatever part of you happened to be closest—your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

When his lips brushed beneath your ear, you laughed and pushed lightly at his chest. “You’ve completely stopped dancing.”

“I never started.”

“You came over.”

“You summoned me.”

“I moved one finger.”

“Very controlling.”

His hand settled lower against your back, holding you close when somebody squeezed past.

You reached up and fixed his collar again. “You look messy.”

“You made me messy.”

“That sounds suggestive.”

“It was meant to.”

His smile turned slow and pleased.

Before he could say anything worse, Felix collided gently with your side and caught your hand. “I need her.”

Seungmin kept one arm around you. “You’ve had her for three songs.”

“The next one’s important.”

“They’ve all been important,” you said.

Seungmin looked at Felix. “You sound like her.”

“That’s why she loves me.”

Felix pulled. Seungmin held on.

You found yourself stretched between them.

“Don’t make me choose.”

Felix smiled. “You’ll choose me.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted. “Choose carefully.”

You pretended to consider it before twisting out of Seungmin’s arm, kissing him quickly and letting Felix drag you away.

“Coward,” Seungmin called after you.

“You still got a kiss!”

“Barely.”

You laughed as Felix pulled you back into the crowd.

The next hour dissolved into heat, noise and flashes of movement.

Hyunjin danced as though someone might be filming him. Changbin attempted to copy him with enough force to make the floor shake.

Nearby, Minho took the glass out of Jisung’s hand and drank from it himself.

Jisung watched him. “You said I couldn’t have that.”

“You can’t.”

“But you can?”

“Yes.”

“That’s hot.”

Minho looked away, but not before you saw him smile.

Someone produced two microphones.

The karaoke began badly and deteriorated almost immediately.

You, Felix and Jisung chose a song all three of you knew, which would have helped if any of you had agreed on when to start. Jisung came in too early. You missed half the first line. Felix attempted to hold the performance together and ended up laughing so hard that he could no longer sing.

Changbin provided backing vocals without a microphone.

Hyunjin acted out the lyrics from the sofa.

Chan kept trying to lower the volume and being shouted at whenever the music became even slightly quieter.

By the second song, you had abandoned any pretence of performing well. You and Felix shared one microphone while Jisung used the other for increasingly dramatic ad-libs that had nothing to do with the actual song.

Halfway through the chorus, you passed close enough to the sofa for Seungmin to hook his fingers around your wrist.

He pulled.

You landed sideways across his lap, and the microphone struck his shoulder.

“Shit. Sorry.”

Seungmin took it from you before you could hit him again. “Ouch.”

“I’m performing.”

“You’re screaming into expensive equipment.”

He placed the microphone safely on the table.

Felix shouted your name.

You tried to stand, but Seungmin held your waist.

“I have responsibilities,” you told him.

“You have absolutely no responsibilities.”

“Felix needs me.”

Felix and Jisung had abandoned the song and were arguing with Chan about whether the lyrics on the screen were wrong.

Seungmin looked towards them. “They seem busy.”

“Then I need to help.”

“You need to stay here for thirty seconds.”

“Why?”

“I missed you.”

Your expression softened before you could stop it.

Seungmin smiled, knowing he had won.

“You’re manipulative.”

You settled more comfortably across his thighs, one arm circling his shoulders. Seungmin rested his face against your chest and closed his eyes while your fingers moved through his hair.

Across from you, your sister’s gaze remained fixed on his hand resting against your thigh.

Your friend was speaking to her.

Your sister nodded without listening.

By one in the morning, the party had split between the living room, the kitchen and the balcony.

The music remained loud enough to vibrate through the floor. People drifted between conversations with drinks they had not poured and jackets that did not belong to them. Someone had opened a window, but the room was still hot with too many bodies and the sharp mixture of alcohol, perfume and whatever Changbin had sprayed after insisting he smelled fine.

Your friend remained mostly with your sister.

She laughed whenever the group became loud enough to include everyone, but she never tried to force herself into the easy physical closeness surrounding the boys.

You checked on her whenever you remembered.

Each time, she assured you she was fine.

Your sister always said the same.

The fourth time you approached, your friend caught your wrist. “You are incredibly drunk.”

You looked down at yourself. “I’m standing.”

“Barely.”

Your friend laughed.

Your sister did not. “She’s been throwing herself around for hours. She always gets like this when she drinks.”

There was something dismissive beneath the words.

You recognised it even through the alcohol.

Your friend did too.

“She looks like she’s having fun,” she replied.

“I’m having an incredible time,” you announced.

“I can tell.”

Your sister glanced across the room towards Seungmin. “He must be exhausted.”

You followed her gaze.

Seungmin was beside Chan, listening to Changbin explain something with far too much hand movement. He caught you looking almost immediately and lifted one eyebrow in silent question.

You smiled.

He smiled back.

“Does he look exhausted?” you asked.

“He’s spent the whole night following you around.”

“He likes me.”

“I’m aware.”

Before the conversation could sharpen, Felix appeared behind you and looped an arm around your shoulders. “There you are.”

“I’ve been here.”

“You disappeared.”

“I was checking on them.”

Felix glanced towards your friend and sister. “Everything good?”

Your friend nodded. “We’re fine.”

Your sister smiled at him. “We were talking.”

“Great. I’m stealing her.”

“You always steal her,” your sister said.

Felix laughed as though she had made a joke. “Everyone does.”

He pulled you towards the kitchen.

You looked back once.

Your friend gave you a small, reassuring smile.

Your sister was already watching Seungmin again.

In the kitchen, Jisung was sitting on the counter while Minho stood between his knees, holding a glass out of reach.

“That’s mine,” Jisung complained.

“It was yours.”

“I’m not finished.”

“You said the room was spinning.”

“It stopped.”

“When?”

“When I closed one eye.”

Felix immediately took Jisung’s side. “Give it back.”

Minho looked at him. “You’re a terrible influence.”

“You’re drinking too,” you pointed out.

“I can handle it.”

“So can I.”

Minho gave up and handed the drink to you instead.

Jisung gasped. “That’s mine.”

“You’re too drunk.”

“So are you.”

“I’m handling it better.”

Felix took the glass from you and drank before either of you could protest.

Minho laughed.

It was becoming obvious that he was far drunker than he appeared. His movements were still controlled and his words remained clear, but his eyes had softened and he was smiling much too often.

You stepped into the space beside him and wrapped both arms around his waist.

Minho looked down. “What’s this?”

“I’m appreciating you.”

“You’re crushing my shirt.”

You rested your cheek against his chest. “You smell nice.”

“None of you are getting another drink.”

“You ruined it,” you complained.

“He ruins everything,” Jisung agreed.

Minho caught Jisung’s chin and tilted his face upwards. “You can barely keep both eyes open.”

“I only need one.”

“For what?”

“To look at you.”

Minho stared at him.

You buried your face against Minho’s shoulder to hide your laughter.

Jisung looked unbearably pleased with himself.

Minho’s ears turned pink. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“You love me.”

Seungmin entered the kitchen before anyone could comment.

He looked at Minho’s arm around you and Jisung hanging over his shoulders

Then he looked at Minho. “You’ve collected them.”

“I didn’t.”

Seungmin approached and slid both hands onto your hips. “You keep disappearing.”

“You were talking.”

“I can talk while holding you.”

“That sounds inconvenient.”

“I’m talented.”

Minho nodded towards you. “Take her before she asks for another shot.”

You turned in Seungmin’s arms. “He’s trying to get rid of me.”

“You’re attached to his shirt.”

“I like him.”

“You like everyone tonight.”

“I like everyone every night.”

Seungmin’s expression softened.

The next drinking game began in the kitchen because nobody could be bothered to move.

It was meant to be truth or drink.

Within minutes, it became an excuse to ask invasive questions and shout whenever somebody refused to answer.

Changbin joined first, followed by Hyunjin and Jeongin. Chan arrived last, realised what was happening and attempted to leave.

You caught his wrist. “No.”

“I’m hosting.”

“You’re hiding.”

“I need to check the living room.”

Jeongin looked towards the doorway. “It’s still there.”

Chan appealed silently to Minho for help.

Minho poured him a drink.

“Traitor.”

“You chose to host.”

Everyone crowded around the counter and floor.

You ended up sitting between Minho’s legs with your back against his chest because the chairs had disappeared beneath coats and bags. Seungmin sat in front of you, one hand wrapped loosely around your ankle. Jisung remained tucked against Minho’s side, his head on his shoulder and one leg draped over yours.

Changbin pointed at you first. “Truth or drink?”

“Truth.”

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done because you were jealous?”

Seungmin looked interested.

You looked at Changbin. “I’m not jealous.”

The entire room laughed.

“That wasn’t the question,” Hyunjin said.

You raised your glass. “Then I’m drinking.”

Seungmin’s hand tightened around your ankle. “Answer.”

“You don’t get to interfere.”

“I’m probably involved.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I definitely know that.”

You drank instead.

Everyone shouted.

“Coward,” Changbin said.

“That’s the point of the game.”

“The point is to expose yourself.”

“That sounds like a different game,” Jeongin said.

You chucked at that

The questions became worse from there.

Felix refused to reveal who had received a flirtatious message he sent to the wrong person.

Changbin demanded to know whether anybody had ever hooked up somewhere they could have been caught.

Half the room drank.

Chan stared at everyone with a raised eyebrow. “In my home?”

“Not necessarily,” Jeongin said.

“That did not reassure me.”

Jisung claimed he had never done anything humiliating because he was horny.

The entire group drank on his behalf.

“Fuck all of you.”

Minho leant close enough to murmur something beside his ear.

Jisung’s face turned red again.

You twisted around. “What did he say?”

“Nothing.”

Minho looked unbearably pleased.

Your sister stood at the edge of the kitchen beside your friend.

She watched Seungmin’s hand move slowly over your ankle. Then she watched Minho’s arm settle across your middle when you leant back against him.

Perhaps she expected Seungmin to object.

Instead, he reached forward, caught your chin and tilted your face towards his.

“My turn,” he said.

You kissed him.

The kiss was brief, but intimate enough to inspire several dramatic complaints.

When you pulled away, Seungmin’s thumb brushed once beneath your lip.

Your sister looked away.

The game ended when Chan realised the music in the living room was loud enough to make the glasses vibrate.

Everyone returned to dancing.

By then, nobody pretended it was organised.

You, Felix and Jisung shouted lyrics you barely knew with your arms around one another. Sometimes you danced. Sometimes you merely jumped during the chorus and trusted somebody to catch you.

Changbin joined whenever the song was good.

Hyunjin joined whenever he considered the song worthy.

Jeongin joined only to make everyone else look worse.

At one point, Minho caught your hand as you passed and spun you beneath his arm.

You nearly completed the movement gracefully.

Then you lost your balance.

Minho caught you against his chest. Jisung caught you from the other side.

The three of you laughed, tangled together.

Seungmin appeared behind you and closed both hands around your waist.

“You’re stealing my girlfriend,” he told Minho.

Minho shrugged. “She came willingly.”

“He spun me.”

“You asked,” Minho reminded you.

Seungmin looked down at you. “You ask everyone for things.”

“And they give them to me.”

“That’s because you’re spoilt.”

“By you.”

“Mostly.”

He kissed your forehead.

You leant into him, suddenly overwhelmed by the warmth of the room and how much you loved everyone in it.

Across the room, your friend smiled at the sight.

Your sister finished another drink.

By the time you needed the bathroom, you were far beyond pleasantly drunk.

You were still awake, still talking and technically capable of walking, but the room tilted whenever you turned too quickly.

Seungmin noticed you heading towards the hallway and followed.

You looked over your shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“With you.”

“I can piss alone.”

“I’m making sure you reach the bathroom.”

“That’s insulting.”

Seungmin caught your waist before you walked into the wall. “Exactly.”

You allowed him to guide you down the hallway, although you complained the entire way.

At the bathroom door, you planted both hands against his chest. “You can’t come in.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“You looked like you were.”

“I was opening the door.”

Seungmin smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be here.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll forget where the living room is.”

“It’s one hallway.”

“And yet.”

You narrowed your eyes and disappeared into the bathroom.

When you came back out, your sister was standing in front of him.

One hand rested against the wall beside his shoulder.

Seungmin was leaning away.

“You could come upstairs with me,” she said.

He blinked at her. “Why?”

You stopped in the doorway.

Even through the alcohol, laughter rose immediately in your chest.

Your sister looked at him as though he were deliberately being stupid. “You know why.”

“I genuinely don’t.”

She moved closer, forcing Seungmin’s back against the wall.

“We could have sex.”

For one long second, Seungmin simply stared at her.

Then his gaze found yours over her shoulder.

You covered your mouth.

The expression on his face made it impossible not to laugh. His eyes widened slightly, one corner of his mouth twitching as though he could not decide whether to be horrified or offended.

Your sister followed his gaze and found you standing there.

Her face hardened.

“Oh, please. Don’t act like it’s ridiculous.”

That made you laugh harder. “I’m sorry. His face.”

“You’re not helping,” Seungmin said.

“You asked why.”

“It was a reasonable question.”

“She invited you upstairs.”

“She could’ve needed something.”

“At one in the morning?”

“I didn’t know what she meant.”

“You did,” your sister snapped.

Seungmin looked back at her. “Apparently not.”

She folded her arms. “You haven’t even considered it.”

“No.”

“Why?”

He stared at her.

Then he gave one short, humourless laugh. “Because I don’t want to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“You’ve never given me a chance.”

“I’m not required to.”

Your laughter faded.

Your sister stepped closer and reached for his chest.

Seungmin caught her wrist before she could touch him.

“Stop.”

The word was calm.

Firm.

He moved her hand away and released it.

Humiliation sharpened your sister’s expression as she turned towards you. “You think this is funny because you assume he’d never choose me.”

“I don’t assume it.”

“You should stop speaking for him.”

“I’m standing right here,” Seungmin said.

She ignored him. “You’ve always done this. You get something and act smug because you know somebody else deserves it more.”

The alcohol inside you turned suddenly heavy.

You steadied yourself against the bathroom door. “Somebody else?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No. Say it properly.”

Her eyes travelled over you.

Your clothes had shifted from dancing. Your lipstick was smudged. Your hair was a mess and your balance remained questionable.

You had never felt happier.

“Look at you,” she said. “You’re completely wasted. He’s spent all night following you around while you throw yourself over every man in the room.”

Seungmin’s expression hardened.

You laughed softly. “Is that what this is about?”

“I’m saying he could do better.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

The certainty would have been impressive if it were not so pathetic.

Your smile disappeared.

Your sister noticed and pushed harder.

“I’m prettier. I know how to behave. I don’t need eight men constantly touching me and telling me how special I am.”

“Nobody is taking care of me.”

“You can barely stand.”

“I’m drunk at a party.”

“You’ve been climbing into their laps and letting them put their hands all over you. It’s embarrassing.”

Seungmin stepped away from the wall and moved to your side.

His hand settled securely at the back of your waist.

Your sister watched it.

“She hasn’t embarrassed me once,” he said.

“She’s been all over Minho. Felix practically had his hands under her clothes earlier.”

“So?”

Your sister blinked.

Seungmin’s thumb moved slowly against your side.

“She loves them,” he said. “They love her. I know exactly where I stand.”

“You should have more self-respect.”

His eyebrows rose. “You asked me to cheat on her beside a bathroom.”

“You’ve spent the whole night trying to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, “and somehow I’m the slut?”

Your sister glared at you.

Seungmin continued before she could answer. “Don’t talk to either of us about self-respect.”

“You only say that because she’s standing here.”

“I rejected you when she wasn’t.”

“You knew she’d find out.”

“I knew because I was going to tell her.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s my girlfriend.”

Your sister shook her head. “You don’t have to keep settling because she got to you first.”

Seungmin went still.

There it was.

The belief beneath every comparison and every attempt.

You had simply reached him first.

Had she met him earlier, dressed better, tried harder or pushed for long enough, he would eventually recognise that he had chosen the wrong sister.

Seungmin’s arm tightened around you.

“I noticed her,” he said.

Your sister scoffed. “You hadn’t met me.”

“I’ve met you now.”

The hallway became very quiet.

Music still thudded beyond it. Someone laughed in the living room. Your friend called your sister’s name once, distant and uncertain.

Seungmin looked directly at her.

“And I still choose her.”

Your sister’s face changed.

For a moment, she appeared almost sober.

Then the anger returned.

“She isn’t better than me.”

“This isn’t about who’s better.”

“It always is.”

“No,” you said quietly. “It’s always been that way to you.”

She looked at you.

You could feel Seungmin watching your face.

At first, it had been funny.

Her unnecessary outfits. Her fake excuses. The way she interpreted Seungmin’s basic manners as secret attraction.

Even now, the idea that he might accept remained ridiculous.

But the joke had always required you to ignore the part where your sister could not want something without explaining why you deserved it less.

“You can want him,” you said. “I don’t care. It’s humiliating for you, but it doesn’t threaten me.”

Her mouth twisted.

“What pisses me off is that you can’t admit you want him without telling him I’m ugly, exhausting, childish or not good enough. You don’t flirt with him. You campaign against me.”

“I’ve never called you ugly.”

“You keep telling everyone you’re prettier.”

“I am.”

Seungmin made a disbelieving sound.

You glanced at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m trying very hard to remain polite.”

Your sister folded her arms. “See? You’ve turned him against me.”

“I didn’t have to. You did that by ignoring him every time he said no.”

The words landed.

Your sister looked at Seungmin.

His expression did not soften.

“I thought you were being loyal,” she said.

“I was being clear.”

“You were trying not to hurt her.”

“I was trying not to humiliate you.”

Her cheeks flushed.

Seungmin’s voice lowered. “You’ve made that impossible.”

Your friend appeared at the far end of the hallway.

She looked between the three of you, taking in your sister’s expression and Seungmin’s arm around your waist. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” your sister said immediately.

You laughed tiredly. “She asked Seungmin to have sex with her.”

Your friend’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t have to say it like that,” your sister snapped.

“How should I say it?”

“She’s drunk,” your friend said carefully.

“So am I.”

“I know.”

Your friend approached and touched your sister’s arm. “Come and sit down.”

Your sister pulled away. “Everyone’s acting like I’ve done something terrible.”

“You propositioned my boyfriend after he repeatedly told you he wasn’t interested.”

“You don’t own him.”

“No,” you said. “I don’t.”

That stopped her.

You rested more heavily against Seungmin’s side but kept your eyes on her.

“He’s a person. He said no. That should have mattered even if I didn’t exist.”

Your friend looked at your sister. “She’s right.”

Betrayal flashed across your sister’s face. “You’re supposed to be here with me.”

“I’m here because she invited me.”

The answer was gentle but firm.

Your sister looked between you.

Then she laughed bitterly. “Fine. Everyone thinks I’m pathetic.”

Nobody answered.

That seemed to hurt more than any denial would have.

Your friend held out her hand. “Come on.”

After a moment, your sister accepted it.

She allowed herself to be led back towards the living room without looking at either of you again.

You remained in the hallway.

Seungmin rubbed one hand slowly over your back.

You watched them disappear.

Then you looked at him. “You really asked why.”

His mouth dropped open.

The laughter returned before you could stop it.

Seungmin stared at you. “You’re impossible.”

“Your face was so confused.”

“She was vague.”

“She had you against a wall.”

“She said upstairs.”

“At one in the morning.”

“That could mean anything.”

“Name one other thing.”

Seungmin opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

You waited.

His expression grew increasingly offended.

“Exactly.”

He caught your waist in both hands and pulled you closer. “You’re very annoying.”

“You love me.”

“I’m reconsidering.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“No,” he admitted.

Your smile softened.

The alcohol made it difficult to hold on to one emotion for long. Amusement blurred into exhaustion, which blurred into the ache your sister’s words had left behind.

Seungmin noticed.

He always did.

“Hey.”

You looked at him.

His expression had gentled, eyes warm despite the alcohol. “Are you okay?”

“I’m extremely drunk.”

“I know.”

“She’s a bitch.”

“She is.”

“I can’t believe she said I throw myself over everyone.”

“You do,” Seungmin said, completely unbothered. “Luckily, everyone seems very happy to catch you.”

“With all of you.”

“I know.” His hand settled more firmly at your waist. “I’ve never complained.”

“And you don’t care?”

Seungmin looked genuinely confused. “Why would I?”

You shrugged. “Because she said—”

“I don’t care what she said.”

The answer came quickly enough to interrupt you.

Seungmin lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“I know you,” he said. “I know them. I know what all of this is.”

His free hand gestured towards the living room, where Felix was shouting the chorus to another song while Minho told somebody to turn the music down without making any effort to do it himself.

“You’re my girlfriend,” Seungmin continued. “That doesn’t mean you stop belonging with them too.”

Something warm tightened in your chest.

“That was disgustingly sweet.”

You kissed him.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, keeping you close as the kiss deepened. Nothing frantic. Nothing performed for anybody else.

Just familiar affection in a dim hallway while the party continued metres away.

When you pulled back, Seungmin followed for one more kiss.

Then another.

“You’re doing too many,” you murmured.

“I’ve lost count.”

“You always say that.”

You laughed and rested your forehead against his.

“There she is,” he murmured.

Footsteps sounded behind you.

Felix appeared first, followed by Jisung and Minho.

Felix’s expression changed when he saw your face. “Are you okay?”

You nodded.

Jisung looked unusually serious. “Your friend said something happened.”

“My sister asked Seungmin to sleep with her.”

Jisung stared at Seungmin.

Then at you.

Then back at Seungmin.

“Why?”

You burst out laughing.

Seungmin pointed at him. “See? Reasonable question.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Jisung said quickly. “Why would she think you’d say yes?”

“That sounded better after clarification.”

Minho stepped closer and touched the side of your face. “Are you actually all right?”

You leant into his palm. “Mostly.”

“Mostly isn’t yes.”

“She was being a bitch.”

“I gathered.”

From the living room, Changbin shouted, “If you lot are done fondling each other, we’re doing another round.”

Chan shouted back that nobody was doing another fucking shot.

Jeongin appeared in the hallway holding four.

The party carried on around you.

seeing as your ‘murderer’ was using their hands to hold down the blanket, you pushed your hands down toward your waist, where you could feel their legs caging you in. a loud yelp sounded above you. and while you had your suspicions from the beginning, the telltale squeak in his voice just solidified it.

“if you don’t get off me right now, keonho, i’ll-”

your words were cut short when he shifted his weight across your torso. the groan that left you was no louder than the sound of his giggles echoing above you. he laid his head on your chest and nuzzled his face further into the blanket.

“hm? you’ll what?” his words were muffled into the fabric, but you heard him clearly.

“i swear, i’m gonna...”

this time your words trailed off for a different reason. mid-sentence, you realized he had finally loosened his hold on the blanket.

sensing the opportunity, you hurriedly pulled the blanket off your face, wrapped your legs around his, and shifted your weight so that now he was trapped underneath you.

his eyes squeezed shut as his back hit the blankets, a soft puff of air leaving him.

your hands fumbled through the mess of blankets until you finally managed to pin his wrists beside his head.

and then—

stillness.

for the first time since he’d tried to suffocate you alive, neither of you moved.

you sat over his waist catching your breath while keonho blinked slowly up at you, looking almost dazed.

then, gradually, amusement flickered across his face.

like he was trying very hard not to smile.

your eyes narrowed.

what the hell is he thinking about now.

what you hadn’t realized yet was that when you went to pin down his arms, you’d unknowingly leaned over him. as a result, your position was in no way going to look appropriate to anyone who walked into the room.

“is this what you were planning?” he whispered teasingly. “’cause to me, this doesn’t seem that bad.”

“huh?”

now it was your turn to blink stupidly down at him. how was it not bad to be pinned by someone else?

“huh,” you repeated, eyebrows furrowing as a frown crossed your face.

when he only grinned in response, you huffed and rolled your eyes. you loosened your grip on his arms slightly, and he pulled them down. your balance faltered, and you had to let go completely to stop yourself from crashing face-first into him.

his breath hitched as your arms landed beside his head. you had effectively caged him in, once again.

it wasn’t until you felt the soft warmth of his breathing against your face that you finally realized.

keonho was close.

way too close.

close enough that you could see the tiny crease near the corner of his mouth from how hard he was trying not to laugh.

close enough that your eyes kept catching on his lips.

stupidly pink.

stupidly soft-looking.

your stomach twisted.

if you leaned in just a little—

great. now you were thinking about kissing your friend.

embarrassment crashed through you as you scrambled to get off him.

before you could go anywhere, his hands tugged you back down, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you against him. his chin landed on your shoulder as he hugged you close.

while it wasn’t unusual for keonho to be this touchy, it was definitely sending your brain into overdrive today. your heart was beating out of your chest, and you were almost sure he could feel it. he hugged you tighter before finally pulling back.

your eyes squeezed shut, silently hoping he’d let you go before your brain actually melted.

you knew he wouldn’t.

what you didn’t expect, however, was the overly wet kiss he planted on your cheek. honestly, it felt more like a dog licking you than anything romantic.

your eyes flew open.

for a second, you could only stare at him in complete disbelief.

keonho stared back, entirely unashamed.

“ahn keonho,” you whispered. “what the fuck...”

he was grinning, clearly proud of himself.

but there was something nervous underneath it too.

a tiny twitch at the corners of his mouth. the way his eyes kept flicking toward yours and then away again.

like he was suddenly unsure whether he’d crossed a line.

your hands came up to cradle his face gently.

“oh, you’re dead,” you muttered.

as you wet your lips, his eyes widened slightly. trailing over your features before dropping to your mouth.

you turned his face away from you, your grip gentle enough not to hurt him. his eyes fluttered shut. you closed your own as you leaned in, less than a hair’s breadth away from successfully getting your revenge when you felt him turn back toward you.

once again, you realized it too late.

your lips met his by accident.

soft.

fleeting.

warm in a way that made your brain completely blank out for a second.

neither of you moved.

keonho’s breath caught softly against your mouth.

his fingers tightened around your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

his eyes stayed squeezed shut for a second too long.

like he was waiting for you to pull away.

you should've moved.

and once your brain caught up with you, you did.

you pulled back too fast, nearly knocking your forehead against his in the process. your sleeve brushed frantically across your lips as your eyes searched his face for an explanation.

his eyes were half-lidded, fixed solely on your mouth. he swallowed once, like he was trying to gather the courage to say something and failing miserably at it.

his thumb twitched lightly against your waist.

“keonho, what was—”

no more words could leave your lips before a soft, desperate “please” slipped from him.

his hands hurried from your waist to your face.

warm fingers cupped your cheeks as he pulled you back into him.

the kiss this time was nothing like the accidental one from before.

it was slow at first, hesitant in a way that made your chest ache.

a surprised sound escaped you against his lips, but you kissed him back anyway. immediately, his grip on your face softened in relief.

you could feel him smiling into the kiss.

the feeling made heat rush straight to your face, and your hand tangled into his hair without thinking. keonho shivered beneath you at the sensation, his hand slipping from your cheek down to your waist, holding you against him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance between you.

there was nothing casual about the way keonho kissed you.

not hesitant in the way someone experimenting would be.

more like someone finally getting something they’d been wanting for a very long time.

slowly, without either of you really noticing it happening, the kiss deepened. unhurried, messy in the way first kisses tended to be. your noses bumped once, drawing a breathless laugh from you that he swallowed with another kiss.

by the time his other hand settled carefully against your thigh, you’d both completely forgotten where you were. blankets rumpled around your waist, and you, straddling him like you belonged there.

it wasn’t until you tugged lightly at his hair, earning a soft groan from him, that reality came crashing back down.

“keonho?” you pulled away just enough to whisper his name.

he opened his eyes slowly, looking at you like you’d just interrupted something he never wanted to end.

your chest tightened.

“more,” he mumbled immediately, already trying to lean back in like he hadn’t gotten nearly enough of you yet.

your hands squished his cheeks before he could get far, stopping him mid-attempt.

a pout formed on his lips instantly.

an actual pout.

his brows pulled together slightly as he looked up at you in clear offense, and you had to bite back a laugh.

“don’t look at me like that,” you whispered, failing miserably to sound unaffected.

“yn,” keonho only whined softly and tried to chase your lips again. “one more.”

your heart did something genuinely embarrassing.

“you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though there was no real bite behind it.

he looked entirely too pleased by the fact that you still hadn’t moved away. his eyes kept flicking down to your mouth like he physically couldn’t help himself.

unable to resist him any longer, you leaned down and pressed one last soft kiss against his pout as an apology.

the change in his expression was immediate. the tiny crease between his brows disappeared, replaced by a lazy, satisfied smile that made him look unbearably smug and far too kiss-drunk for his own good.

right as he opened his mouth to say something, the growing sound of your friends’ voices drifted closer to the living room, cutting him off.

your eyes widened in panic. “oh my god.”

keonho barely looked concerned. if anything, he looked far too pleased with himself as he lazily blinked up at you.

meanwhile, you were staring at him in absolute horror.

his hair was a mess, cheeks flushed pink, lips swollen red from kissing, and his eyes still looked all hazy.

there was absolutely no hiding what had just happened.

“you look ridiculous,” you whispered frantically, already reaching to fix his hair.

he caught your wrist before you could. “i think i look cute.”

you stared at him for a long second before narrowing your eyes. “you’re actually the worst.”

his grin only widened.

the sound of approaching footsteps got louder. without another word, you grabbed the nearest blanket and threw it directly over his face.

“hey—”

“shut up.”

you shoved him fully down into the pile of blankets just as your friends walked back into the room, carrying snacks and drinks.

seonghyeon paused mid-step, staring at the suspiciously keonho-shaped lump beside you.

“…why is he buried alive?”

you grabbed a bag of chips from his hands and shrugged casually. “he was being annoying.”

from underneath the blanket came a muffled, offended, “this is abuse.”

you kicked him lightly through the blankets.

“see? still annoying.”

"where's james?" you ask keonho, eyes still wandering the whole room—not finding his existence.

"he went to buy a cake for hyeon. you can wait here, i'm gonna grab some candles." keonho leads you to sit on a couch in the living room and rushes back to the kitchen.

the party is simple. they only invite someone who's really close to seonghyeon since the boy's very shy around others and they don't want to make him uncomfortable on his birthday. a few balloons sit randomly on each corner of the room. there's a banner on the wall that says "happy birthday, seonghyeon" with his photo on it.

not so long after that, you hear the clicking sound on the front door and see james holding paper bags in his left hand and a box of cake in the right. "cake's coming!" james yells. you approach him immediately and try to help him.

"babe!" james' eyes lighten and he smiles so brightly at your presence. "i thought you wouldn't come! i was so sad today." he kisses the corner of your lips before the two of you bring all the stuff to the living room.

"i decided to come since keonho wouldn't stop texting me while i am at work." james stops for a while, hoping he had misheard what you said. "my phone keeps buzzing all day, you know."

"why would keonho text you?" james squints his eyes in suspicion.

"he texted about preparing hyeon's birthday. he thinks i'm going to like this party." you answer absentmindedly while putting the cake on the table.

james shrugs, thinking it was no big deal. he doesn't need to be jealous. it's just keonho, right?

"here are the candles." keonho comes with a few candles in his hand. "hyung! you're home." he grins. james answers him with a quick smile before putting pink whipped cream on seonghyeon's cake.

"i wanna do it too!" you exclaim and ask james for the whipped cream. he lends you the whipped cream and settles behind you on the couch, absentmindedly pulling you back until you're comfortably sitting between his legs.

keonho sits right next to james' left foot—making him unintentionally sits right next to you. "do you think seonghyeon would like this party?" he asks you.

"definitely! why wouldn't he?" you shoot him a little smile and continue to put whipped cream on seonghyeon's cake.

"i know, right?" keonho nods. the three of you remain silent for a while before keonho interrupts again. "do you think hyeon would prefer green candles or blue ones?"

"i think green would suit his vibes more."

"that's exactly what i thought! that's why i brought mostly the green ones." he smiles brightly at you, and you answer with a nod.

5 minutes later, keonho asks you again. "would i look good in blonde hair? just like martin hyung."

"ask martin." james mumbles.

"you would! oh my god, it would be exciting don't you think, james?" you look at james—signaling him to agree with you.

"i don't know no james." james stares at you. who's james? where are baby, babe, honey and all the sweet nicknames going?

"okay, babe. it would be exciting, right?" you emphasize the word babe and squeeze james' thigh—forcing him to nod at your question.

"oh, i'm not hearing this." keonho closes his ears with both hands, causing you to laugh at his reaction.

15 minutes later, seonghyeon, martin, and juhoon come through the front door from the studio. everything went as planned and seonghyeon was so happy.

"you're coming! thank you so much!" seonghyeon gives you a brief hug and accepts your gift. "a ps5 for me? thank you! hyung is so lucky to have you." seonghyeon giggles and james just rolls his eyes.

the night is getting late. james drinks a cup of soda on the couch. martin plays an acoustic guitar and rumbles random melodies. seonghyeon and keonho play with the ps5 you just gave him. and you play chess with juhoon. "hey, that's cheating!" your voice heard— making james looks directly at your way.

"no, it's not." juhoon answered calmly. "you're not gonna win if you keep playing that old tactic, you know?"

"you know what? i always won back then using this 'old tactic'."

"that's why i called it old."

the two of you laugh and james' definitely not having it. he clears his throat and proceeds to stand. "i'm gonna get some rest. once again, happy birthday hyeon." he taps seonghyeon's shoulder before walking to his bedroom.

your eyes dart towards him until his figure disappears behind the door. you excuse yourself to the boys and quickly follow james. you knock on his door, "can i come in?"

after he said yes, you come in and see he is curling in his white blanket—his back faces you. you close the door and hug him from the back. "hi handsome." you smile and kiss his exposed cheek. "you look so handsome today." your compliment makes his cheeks blushed but he tries so hard not to smile.

he clears his throat. "thanks. you don't look bad either."

you mumble and play with his dark brown hair. "what happened, baby?"

"nothing."

"it seems like a thing." you answer him back calmly—still playing with his strands. he remains silent.

"are you jealous?" you bite your lips, trying not to laugh at this very serious situation.

james' eyes widen and he immediately turns around to face you. "what? me? jealous? no. absolutely not. why would i?"

you smile at his reaction and kiss his cheek. "you're looking extremely handsome today. what's with the glasses? i love it." you ignore his answer and touch his glasses.

"it's called fashion."

"i know, and you're looking too good with it." you pout.

"...okay, yeah. i'm jealous. but just a little. are you satisfied?"

to james, seeing you acting all pouty and clingy around him makes his stomach full of butterflies, just like how he met you for the first time. he loves you that much.

"i knew it!" you celebrate after his confession. "you could've just told me!" you cling your arms around his waist and rest your chin on his chest—looking up directly to meet his eyes.

"i don't wanna ruin hyeon's birthday." he looks to the other side—or basically anywhere as long as he doesn't have to meet your puppy eyes, because he would genuinely become a jelly right now.

"aww," you pinch his cheek. "you know you're the only person i love for these past 2 years. out of everyone in that room, i've been looking for you since i stepped in this dorm today."

"you're literally the sexiest man alive and i'm not planning to let you go that easily." you smirk at him.

"stop, it's getting cringe."

"but you love it when i compliment you, though."

"you're right," he smiles and wraps your body in his embrace. "i love whatever you do."

you stay at your position for a while. "if you have to choose, would you pick me or the boys?" he suddenly asks.

"you." you look up at him, finding he's already staring at you. "really?" his eyes brighten.

"no."

"BABE." james looks at you in disbelief.

"of course i choose you, you silly." you peck his lips. before he could kiss you back, you were already breaking the kiss. so he chases after your lips, making it the sweetest kiss you had after a long day.

"hyung, did you see my—" juhoon's voice was heard with the sound of the door opening. "i didn't see anything!" juhoon left right after he saw the two of you.

james lets out a loud sigh and you laugh. "we need to lock the door next time."