#sunghoon suggestive

You stepped from the elevator onto the thirty-ninth floor, stilettos clicking over marble, so glossy it caught the overhead lights and flung them back in shards of silver. 

The corridor outside Sunghoon’s penthouse still smelled faintly of the cedar-and-bergamot diffuser he favored, familiar, irritating and annoyingly comforting. 

Your blouse was perfectly ironed, hair swept into a high ponytail, makeup soft but immaculate. 

Beneath the collar your scarf hid the blooming marks Jihoon’s mouth had painted along your throat last nighjt, the silk wrapped delicately each time you swallowed, a secret reminder of how fast you’d already moved on.

You rang the bell. The custom steel door whispered open, and there he was: Park Sunghoon, ex-husband, ex-golden boy, barefoot in a charcoal cashmere sweater and sweatpants that draped too casually on a body still honed like a fencer’s blade. 

which was unfair, since you had to hit the gym so much to get your body back after pregnancy.

A crooked half-smile lifted one corner of his lips, the exact smile that used to undo you, and still threatened to annoy you into irrationality.

“Two minutes late,” he said, leaning a shoulder to the jamb. “Color me shocked, you’re slipping.”

“Traffic was charitable,” you answered, gliding past him. “Or perhaps the universe felt sorry for me, knowing I’d be dealing with you.”

He gave a low, appreciative hum while closing the door. “Biting already. I Haven’t even offered you coffee yet.”

“God forbid,” you muttered. “Caffeine brewed by your hands might revert me to our marriage counseling days, and we both know how that ended.”

“Explosively.” His eyes flicked to the silk tucked at your neck, lingered just a second too long. The bastard had always been sharp. “New accessory? Striking choice for July.”

You lifted your chin. “Fashion, Sunghoon. Look it up sometime instead of living in sweatpants.”

He laughed under his breath and motioned toward the sun-drenched living room where floor-to-ceiling windows gave Seoul’s skyline center stage. 

Lego castles sprawled across the rug, watercolor palettes lay open on the coffee table, brushes soaking in mismatched mugs. 

Voices floated from the hallway: one soft and uncertain, the other bright and commanding.

“Haneul, put that down, you’ll spill!” Yohan fretted.

“It’s fine, dummy,” Haneul declared. “I’m strong.”

You couldn’t help smiling. They were your perfect halves, as contrasting and complementary as moonlight and flame. 

The moment they spotted you, four small feet thundered over the hardwood.

“Mommy!” Haneul launched herself first, fierce as always, burrowing under your blouse in search of a hug. 

She smelled like finger paint and the strawberry shampoo you’d chosen for her at six months old. Yohan arrived a breath later, slower, shy, but his arms slipped around your waist with a familiar sigh of relief.

“Hey, my loves,” you murmured, kissing each silky head. “Did you behave for Daddy?”

“They over-behaved,” Sunghoon said, folding arms across his chest. “I’m thinking of renting them out as examples to other children.”

Haneul stuck out her tongue at him. “We’re only good because we’re awesome,” she announced.

Yohan tightened his grip on your wrist, “We made you pictures,” he said, voice so small you bent to hear it. “I painted a galaxy.”

“And I drew a tiger eating a monster truck,” Haneul added proudly.

“My little artists,” you praised, gathering both creations. Yohan’s painting was good, while you werent really sure which one was the car and which one was the tigér in Haneul’s “These are masterpieces. They’re going on the fridge.”

Sunghoon’s gaze moved from the paintings to your face. “The kids have packed, everything’s by the door. I labeled the medicine for Yohan’s cough.” 

A pause, then with exaggerated politeness he said “Should I also forward their pediatrician records to your… new friend? You know, in case of emergencies between making hickey art?”

Heat pricked your ears, but you smirked “Jihoon’s a doctor, actually, I think we’ll manage.”

“A doctor,” Sunghoon repeated, tilting his head “Good choice, someone has to keep you in one piece after you trip over your own pride.”

You arched a brow “Funny, that’s exactly what he said about you, except with more medical terminology.”

Haneul, oblivious, tugged your wrist “Mommy, can we bake cookies tonight? The really gooey ones?”

“Absolutely. Yohan, you’ll help too, right?”

He nodded shyly. “If I can stir.”

“Stirring is essential,” you assured him.

Sunghoon cleared his throat “Hang on,” he said, and vanished down the hallway. The twins scampered into the foyer to collect tiny backpacks, one blue and one purple. 

You waited, fingers tracing the ridges of your wedding band’s phantom imprint— gone nearly a year now, yet some days it felt freshly removed.

He returned with two plushies, Yohan’s weathered penguin, Haneul’s stuffed phoenix, plus a zipped folder “Their latest school forms,” he said, pressing the folder into your free hand. “And Yohan’s reading log. He’s ahead of level again.”

You met his eyes, a reluctant swell of pride shared between adversaries “Thank you.”

An awkward beat. 

The kind that used to end with a kiss back when the pauses held gravity, not distance. 

He broke it first, voice low “They’re good kids because of you.”

“And you,” you granted softly. It was a truth neither of you enjoyed admitting.

Across the room the twins argued about who would press the elevator button. 

Their little voices echoed like bells, filling corners once haunted by adult shouting. Your throat tightened, but hadn’t walked into this ivory tower to cry, so you blinked the tears back.

“You okay?” Sunghoon asked, more gently than expected.

You blinked “Peachy.”

He studied you, the way he once did across candlelit tables, conviction that he could read every flicker of thought. 

His gaze drifted again to the scarf, and his lips curved, bittersweet “I don’t regret us,” he murmured. “Even if we’re better like this.”

“Better is relative,” you said, checking the time. “And you still owe me half the orthodontist fund.”

“Invoice me, I’ll pay promptly, unlike your boyfriend.” The playful barb slipped out before he could help it. You rolled your eyes.

Haneul appeared between you with the decisive stomp of a warrior princess. “Daddy, hug.”

He knelt, catching her in strong arms. 

Yohan edged closer, and Sunghoon embraced him too, kisses pressed to raven hair. “Be good for Mom,” he said, and they nodded. Then his gaze lifted to you. “Text when you get home?”

“I will,” you answered. 

This new civility was fragile; you weren’t about to break it.

At the door you paused, adjusting scarf and handbags while the elevator dinged. Sunghoon hovered in the threshold like a man thinking of unsaying things already said.

“Take care of yourself,” he said quietly.

“You too.” You hesitated, then added, “Try sleeping before three a.m. for once.”

“Doctor’s orders, I suppose.” He flashed that maddening crooked smile.

The elevator doors slid open, you shepherded the twins inside. 

As the doors closed, Sunghoon raised two fingers in a casual salute. You answered with a small, wry wave.

The elevator began its silent descent. Haneul bounced on her heels “Mommy, can we call Uncle Jihoon on the way?”

“Maybe after dinner,” you said, smoothing her hair.

Yohan tugged your coat, whispering, “Will Daddy be lonely?”

Your chest tightened again, but you kept your voice steady Daddy has lots of things that keep him occupied, he’ll be fine.”

The numbers ticked downward. 

You inhaled, catching faint traces of cedar that clung even here, and let them pass.

☆.

Jihoon’s mouth had trailed from the hollow behind your ear to the curve of your collarbone, each slow kiss coaxing a sigh you scarcely recognized as your own. 

The loft’s floor-to-ceiling windows framed the late-afternoon light, dusty and gold, and the silk shirt you had worn for brunch lay discarded over the arm of the couch. 

Jihoon’s hands explored beneath the lace edge of your bra, thumbs stroking the faint bruises his lips had left the night before. 

When he murmured your name you arched into him, fingers threading through his soft brown hair.

“You taste like espresso.” he teased, breath warm against your shoulder.

“You made it too strong.” you whispered, nipping his lower lip.

His chuckle vibrated through both of you. “I make everything strong.”

The slow, building pressure of his body against yours blurred whatever fragile sense of time you’d carried in. 

He nudged your knees apart, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your sternum, and you tugged at his belt with impatient fingers. He braced an arm beside your head, gaze glossy with heat. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need—” The sentence dissolved when his hips rolled, and you gasped, half laugh, half moan. “Jihoon, don’t—”

A faint buzz rattled somewhere to the left. 

Phone? Table? Call? You ignored it, lifting to meet his mouth again. The buzz returned, more insistent, followed by a muffled ping. 

Then another.

Jihoon pulled back just enough to look at you, hair falling into his eyes. “Want me to toss it onto the obalcony?”

You huffed a soft laugh. “Might be the hospital.”

“Fine.” He leaned, snagged his phone, squinted. “It’s yours.” he said when he found no missed call on his.

You frowned. 

Your own phone lay face-down on the coffee table, screen pulsing with notification after notification. 

When you flipped it, the lock screen lit with Sunghoon’s name… eight missed calls, two voicemails, half a dozen texts.

The last message read at 3:47 PM

Sunghoon: WHERE ARE YOU?

Blood drained from your face. 

Pickup was three-thirty. 

A twenty-minute cross-city drive in Friday traffic stood between you and the twins.

“Oh God,” you breathed. “I’m late. Jihoon, I’m late.”

He sat back instantly. “What— how late?”

“Half an hour, maybe more if we hit jams.” You shoved into your blouse, fumbling buttons wrong, then right, hand shaking. 

The twins had never waited alone— Sunghoon’s anger was one thing, but Yohan’s shy heart twisted at schedule changes, and Haneul’s fierce bravado evaporated when she sensed tension.

Jihoon steadied your wrists. “I’ll drive,

give me the keys.”

“You have a shift—”

“Not till seven, come on.”

You stuffed rumpled hair into a claw clip, found your heels, and snatched your back before quickly bolting out of the house.

While Jihoon locked up, you hit call back. Sunghoon answered on the first ring; the controlled ice in his voice froze your spine.

“It’s four o’clock,” he said, no greeting. “You were due at three-thirty.”

“I know. Traffic—”

“Don’t you dare lie.” A hard exhale. “The twins have been sitting in the lobby with the doorman for twenty minutes because I have a meeting I can’t move.”

Guilt slammed like a wave. “I’m on my way! twenty-five minutes.”

“You should’ve been on your way an hour ago.” The line clicked deadk 

Your stomach churned. 

In the elevator Jihoon squeezed your hand, lips pressed to your temple. “Focus on breathing. We’ll make every light.”

You half-ran to his car. 

jihoon wove through side streets, one palm steady on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh in silent reassurance.

You replayed the last four years in the windshield: the final shouting match with Sunghoon, ink drying on divorce papers, the fragile truce of shared custody. 

You’d kept promises; pickups, drop-offs, parent-teacher nights— a flawless record until now. Your eyes stung. Jihoon squeezed again. “They’ll be okay, Sunghoon too.”

“Sunghoon doesn’t do ‘okay., he does perfect schedules and synchronized watches.”

“He can survive twenty minutes of imperfection.”

“He’ll make sure I don’t.”

Jihoon hit the horn, merged ruthlessly. “He’ll snarl, you’ll snarl back, then you’ll take the kids home. That’s it.”

The GPS ticked minutes downward while the sun slid west. 

At 4:24PM the logo over Sunghoon’s building loomed like a herald of judgement. You leapt from the car before Jihoon had fully stopped.

Inside, the concierge recognized you and your panic, and gestured toward a leather bench.

Yohan sat small-shouldered, backpack clutched to his chest. Haneul swung her legs defiantly, scowling at every adult in range. The instant they spotted you, mixed relief and hurt flooded their faces.

You knelt. “I’m so sorry, babies.” You wrapped them both close. “Traffic swallowed me whole.”

Sunghoon approached from the elevators, suit jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to elbows, jaw tight. His presence alone thickened the air.

“Thank Mr. Seo for babysitting,” he told the twins, nodding to the concierge. They murmured thanks. 

Then his eyes skewered you. “My office lost a forty-million-won client because I had to sprint downstairs.” His tone remained low, but fury simmered beneath. “You didn’t answer until the tenth call.”

“I was— occupied,” you admitted, heat crawling up your throat.

“With Doctor Perfect.” His gaze flicked to the slight smudge of your lipstick above Jihoon’s collar. “How responsible.”

Jihoon entered then, purposeful but calm. 

He offered a slight bow. “Afternoon, Mr. Park. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, the delay was my fault.”

Sunghoon laughed once, sharp. “Chivalry? Cute. It doesn’t un-delay my schedule.” He turned back to you. “If you can’t honor the pickup window, you need to let me know, they sat with strangers.”

“Mr. Seo isn’t a stranger,” you argued, but your shoulders drooped. “I know it’s my fault.”

“Damn right,” he snapped, then seemed to remember the children’s wide eyes and moderated his voice. “From now on, if you’ll be late, call at least half an our ahead.”

Jihoon stepped forward. “We’ll set extra alarms. She truly—”

Sunghoon’s palm lifted, silencing him. “This is between their mother and me.”

Haneul spoke up, fierce loyalty flashing. “Daddy, Mommy said sorry. Let it go.”

Sunghoon regarded his daughter, pride and frustration warring. 

Yohan’s hand slipped into yours; his small fingers trembled. You tucked him under your arm.

“I’ll make it up,” you promised, meeting Sunghoon’s gaze. “I’ll take them also tomorrow, feed them, homework, baths. Drop them at school in the morning.”

“We already have plans,” he said. “But go now. I have work.” He crouched to the twins’ level, anger vanishing behind tenderness. “Love you both. Be good, buckle up.”

They hugged him tight. When they stepped back he straightened, facing you again, expression calmer but still flinty. “One slip, fine. Don’t let it become a pattern.”

“It won’t,” you said.

Jihoon touched the small of your back— steady warmth. Sunghoon’s eyes tracked the gesture, but he only nodded once, curt, and strode toward the second bank of elevators, phone already to ear.

In the car, silence settled until Haneul blurted, “Mommy, you’re never late.”

You winced. “I messed up. I’m sorry.”

Yohan leaned against you. “We forgave you already.”

Your chest ached. Jihoon glanced in the mirror. “Cookies and extra sprinkles tonight?”

Haneul brightened. “Bear shaped!”

“And maybe a penguin one for Yohan,” you added.

Promise of sugar thawed the tension. 

As Jihoon eased into traffic, his hand sought yours again. You squeezed, grateful. 

You texted Sunghoon

You: Home safe. Thanks for waiting.  

The read receipt appeared instantly, yet no reply came. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t tonight. You would face him again at soccer practice on Sunday, armed with punctuality and contrition.

For now you had twins chattering about cookie shapes and a man beside you who smelled of hand sanitizer and steadfast patience. 

But it didn’t quite soothe you as Sunghoon’s cedar scent did.

☆.

You had tucked Yohan beneath his rocket-printed duvet at nine-thirty sharp, smoothing the fringe from his lashes while he whispered requests for “just one more chapter.” 

Haneul occupied the opposite bunk across the room, arms folded in protest because her brother’s galaxy comforter looked “cooler than boring princess swirls.” 

You compromised: two pages more of Tangled for them both and a promise of pancakes at dawn, then a good-night kiss to each forehead. 

When you eased the door nearly shut, lwaving a narrow sliver left open so hallway light could chase away nightmares, you heard nothing but the hush of their synchronized breathing and, somewhere deeper in the apartment, the distant drip of the kitchen faucet you still forgot to call the landlord about.

In your bedroom you exchanged slacks for an oversized tee, idly scrolling through Sunghoon’s terse email about next week’s parent–teacher conference: concise bullet points, no greeting, no sign-off, just times and an attachment. 

You answered with equal brevity: noted, see you there, and hit send before second-guessing tone. 

Jihoon’s name flashed in a new message immediately after.

Hoon 🩷: Miss you already. ER’s a madhouse tonight. Sleep soon? 

You smiled at the screen, typed back quickly

You: pancake duty at sunrise but I’ll try.

and set the phone facedown. 

The apartment settled into its nocturnal symphony: refrigerator humming, street traffic, a soft river flowing some feet away, and you let eyelids flutter shut unaware of the quiet rebellion brewing down the hall.

Haneul waited until the hallway light dimmed on the smart timer, ten-fifteen, then kicked off her blanket. 

She tiptoed across cool laminate, clutching her phoenix plush like a talisman. 

Yohan was already half-propped on elbows, eyes wide behind the milky glow of the small astronaut night-lamp.

“You‘re awake too?,” he whispered, voice feather-soft so it wouldn’t carry.

“Mission time,” she declared, clambering onto the mattress beside him. 

The springs squeaked; both froze, listening. 

No footsteps. No Mommy. Safe.

Yohan scooted to make room, pulling up his notebook, the one with planetary rings on the cover and TOP SECRET scribbled in bubble letters. 

Inside, colored-pencil schematics sprawled across pages: stick-figure Mommy and Daddy separated by a jagged thunderbolt, arrows leading to a giant red heart.

Haneul grabbed a purple crayon. “Step one, we need a plan that makes them talk without all the blah blah fight stuff.”

Yohan nodded solemnly, pencil poised. “Like a peace treaty.”

“Treaties are boring. We need… a trap.” She drew a square labelled family patch HQ and, under that, two stick grown-ups with startled eyebrows.

He frowned. “Daddy doesn’t like when we surprise him, and mommy gets scared when daddy is mad.”

“Fine,” she allowed, tapping the page. “Then we make them do something happy together. What do they both like?”

Yohan’s brow furrowed, deep in six-year-old contemplation. “Coffee?” he suggested.

“They’ll just drink and talk about bills.” Haneul rolled her eyes. “Think bigger.”

“Skating!” he blurted. “Daddy took us to the frozen fountain last winter. Mommy laughed a lot that day.”

Haneul’s grin flashed feral. “Yes. Ice. But how do we get them there at the same time?”

They fell into hushed deliberation, heads bent, plush phoenix wedged like a conference mascot between them. 

Yohan proposed forged invitations to a “special parents’ night” at the rink. 

Haneul countered with a surprise picnic in the middle of the ice, blankets, cocoa, maybe glitter bombs. Yohan worried about glitter in skates; Haneul insisted glitter fixed everything. 

They compromised: glitter only on the thermos.

Haneul flipped to a fresh page. “Backup plan in case they can’t pic nic: make them watch old wedding videos.”

Yohan’s eyes widened. “Do we have those?”

“Grandma does. We can ask but pretend it’s for school.”

“I don’t like fibbing.”

“It’s not fibbing,” she soothed. “It’s… diplomacy.” She’d heard Sunghoon use the word during a heated phone call and liked how it rolled off the tongue.

They listed supplies: colored paper, cocoa packets, marshmallows shaped like stars (non-negotiable), enough allowance coins to bribe the rink guard, and Sunghoon’s spare keycard if pick-up shuttling required infiltration of his apartment. 

Haneul promised she could swipe it from the crystal bowl by his door. 

Yohan fretted about fingerprints, but she waved him off “Daddy is a CEO, not an FBI agent.”

When strategies tired their brains, Yohan yawned cavernously. 

Haneul fished a flashlight from under the pillow, clicked it on beneath a shared blanket, and they whispered final oaths of secrecy— not a peep to grown-ups, especially not Jihoon, because doctors asked too many questions. 

They spat on palms with theatrical disgust, then sealed the pact with a sticky handshake that made them giggle until Yohan clapped both hands over his mouth.

Haneul switched off the flashlight. She nestled beside her twin brother, fingers intertwined.

“Mommy and Daddy will be happy again,” she murmured into darkness, more a statement than a wish.

Yohan swallowed. “Even if they don’t get married again… maybe they’ll laugh.”

She nudged him with an elbow. “They’ll laugh. And then we won’t have to pack bags every other weekend like ping-pong balls.”

He considered this, then nodded. “Mission: family patch!” he recited, sleep thickening his voice. “Operation commence tomorrow at oh-six-hundred.”

Haneul had no idea what hour that was, but Yohan liked numbers, so she agreed and commanded the phoenix plush to stand lookout. 

By the time its stitched wings drooped against the pillow, both children drifted under, breathing in unison, dreaming of twirling ice and microscopic glitter storms, of coffee steam curling between two grown-ups who once loved each other enough to make a galaxy-painting boy and a tiger-riding girl.

Down the hall, you lay unaware, one arm flung over your eyes, pondering whether to email Sunghoon a proper apology for last week’s tardy scramble. 

You debated phrasing until thoughts blurred, eventually you decided morning clarity would serve better. 

Had you risen to peek in on the twins, like you usually did before sleeping, you might have noticed the double rise and fall beneath Yohan’s quilt or the faint scent of purple crayon still hanging in the air. 

☆.

You spent Saturday morning lost in the weekend routine: laundry tumbling in the washer, a precarious tower of receipts on the dining table begging to be categorized, too distracted to notice the unnatural hush in the twins’ room and ghe sudden disappearance of your phone.

Sunghoon, the next day, somewhere across the river, sat in his high-rise office final-polishing a pitch deck, blissfully ignorant that Yohan and Haneul were toggling between his unlocked laptop.

While you counted vitamins into a plastic day-pill container, they sent your mother a text requiring your wedding videos for a school project. She dropped a USB driver when you were busy hanging out the clothes. 

Then, they plundered the external drive labeled ARCHIVE— DO NOT DELETE on Sunghoon’s computer. 

Up popped camcorder footage: you six months pregnant, satin wedding dress tailored around your belly; Sunghoon in a dove-gray suit, gaze locked on you like earth’s true north. 

The twins giggled at their own embryonic cameos— your wobbling walk down the aisle, Sunghoon’s trembling hands when he kissed your knuckles, your joint vows whispered over the soundtrack of distant seagulls. 

Haneul clipped segments without mercy, Yohan layering transitions that blinked neon pink and comic-sans captions: LOOK HOW MUCH THEY LOVED EACH OTHER! A royalty-free harp arpeggio looped beneath every frame, jerky and too loud.. 

Yohan handled logistics. He typed on Sunghoon’s email: “Client call moved. I’ll be offlain after noon.” 

Haneul commandeered your phone when you left it charging beside the toaster. Her thumbs flew: “Running errands.” even if she didn’t really know what it meant “Taking kids skating at Star Rink tomorrow, can you grab them at four? :) Grab your skates, maybe they wanna stay longer” 

The smiley looked nothing like your usual punctuation and everything like six-year-old exuberance, but they trusted adult obliviousness.

Next they texted you from his own work chat window, Yohan’s idea, so a parallel message pinged onto your lock screen: “I’ll drop twins at rink 3:30. You pick ’em up? Thanks. Bring your skates in case they want to stay longer.”

Then they deleted the threads, archiving proof deep in message trash where no one ever scrolled.

Grandma arrived at noon. 

Your mother thought the surprise visit was your idea; you didn’t know that neither Sunghoon nor you were aware of their secret mission.

By three-thirty you shoved your skates into a canvas tote, wondering why Sunghoon had promised the twins ice on a weekend so crammed. 

Still, a commitment was a commitment, and guilt over last week’s tardy pickup nipped your conscience. 

You arrived to Star Rink’s gleaming atrium just after three-fifty, breath fogging in the artificially cooled air, muttering apologies you’d craft for tiny ears. 

The rink looked unusually empty, just a few teenagers practicing spins, no sign of your children skating with your ex husband.

Then a familiar voice echoed across the polished concrete. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Sunghoon strode from the opposite entrance, coat unfastened, skates slung over one shoulder. 

His surprise mirrored yours so perfectly it might have been choreographed— which, unknown to either of you, it had.

“You said to be here at four,” he accused.

You blinked. “No— you said i’d grab them at four.”

He frowned. “I have the text.” He dug for his phone, scrolling with brows knit. You mirrored him, finding nothing but your past conversations.

“Where are the twins?” you asked, throat tightening.

“Probably hiding behind a pillar laughing at us.” He scanned the rink. “Come on, rascals, out!”

No answer. 

Only the squeak of rental skates and the distant crunch of blades carving ice. 

You and Sunghoon shared a look that bridged the chasm of months— parental telepathy laced with worry.

A rink attendant in a blue windbreaker approached, clipboard in hand. “Mr. Park? Ms. L/N?”

“Yes,” you both answered, then glared at each other for saying it in unison.

The attendant smiled like someone who’d been tipped off. “Your children dropped off a USB this morning. Asked us to play it at four sharp. They said you might… need context.” She gestured toward the suspended Jumbotron above center ice. 

Its four screens currently looped skate sponsors.

You opened your mouth— closed it. Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed. 

“They told us to inform you they are at their Grandma’s, safe and sound.” She made air quotes. 

Haneul’s grin flashed in your memory, wicked and gap-toothed. Yohan’s shy collusion behind it. You dragged a hand over your face. “Demons.”

The attendant glanced at the wall clock. 3:58. “We were also told to insist you both ‘get on the ice first so the magic works.’ Their words.”

Sunghoon pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed. “Fine. Humor us.”

You laced skates side by side on a bench, trying not to notice how his forearm brushed yours when he tugged his bootstrings, how the slice of his jaw looked less severe up close, how the citrus-cedar cologne you once bought him still anchored memories. 

When you stood, wobbling, he offered a reflexive hand, not the poised businessman, just the competitive skater who’d coached you through a thousand laps in winter courting days. 

Muscle memory overruled pride, you let him steady you onto the ice.

The rink felt cavernous without the twins’ chatter. Fluorescent lights struck the frozen surface in blue shivers. You pushed off cautiously, lungs filling with cold whisper-clean air. 

Sunghoon glided backward, assessing your form. “Knees bent,” he murmured, in instinctive coach mode.

“I remember,” you said, managing a credible curve. Across the ice, teen couples twirled; pop music thumped overhead. That familiarity, him skating circles until your confidence caught, stirred warmth you tried to quell.

At exactly four-o-one the music cut, replaced by a jarring harp trill booming through loudspeakers. 

The Jumbotron flickered snowflakes, then a shaky camcorder frame: you in pearls, belly round under ivory silk, Sunghoon at the altar, eyes glossy.

Your skate edges wobbled. “Oh, my God.”

He looked up, jaw slack. 

The audio crackled— your voice in 720p, laughing, telling the officiant a twins joke mid-vow and everyone roaring. Caption bubbles popped: THEY WERE SO CUTE! :’) Glitter GIFs rained down pixelated gold across the screen. 

The edit jumped, janky cross-fade to the first dance where Sunghoon’s hands rested protectively on your curve. 

A subtitle shouted: LOOK HOW DADDY STARED AT MOMMY!

A collective “awww” rose from rink spectators. Your cheeks burned.

Then the too loud music started, deafening everyone around.

Sunghoon skated closer, voice low. “Where did they even get this?”

“Your archive drive? My mother had a backup too.”

He winced. “I locked that folder.”

“They hacked you.” A short, incredulous laugh escaped. “Our six-year-olds hacked you.”

Onscreen footage shifted to the hospital delivery room, your mother must’ve filmed it, Sunghoon pressing lips to your brow while monitors beeped. 

Then a freeze-frame zoom-in on both newborns, overlay text in rainbow font: MISSION FAMILY PATCH: ACTIVEIGHT.

Mutters of delight filtered from onlookers. 

You swayed slightly, Sunghoon caught your elbow. For a long heartbeat neither of you moved, riveted by the stumble-through montage, first bath, stroller race, your exhausted faces side by side on the couch. 

The amateur edit felt like a love letter scrawled in crayon, messy yet searingly sincere.

When the screen faded to white with a final flourish, PLEASE LOVE AGAIN, silence thawed into soft arena applause. The attendant cut the feed and awkwardly restarted the playlist.

You exhaled, a shudder that misted the chilly air. “They went to Grandma’s so we’d be forced to… reconnect.”

“Tiny criminals,” he murmured, but his voice wasn’t angry. just overwhelmed. And guilty. 

You eased back, studying him. Ice crystals peppered his hair where condensation had settled. 

He looked suddenly tired, the rapid-fire CEO shutters pulled open to something vulnerable.

“They miss the way we used to laugh,” you said, throat tight.

“Do you?” he asked, earnestness slipping out before he could clothe it in sarcasm.

“Yes,” you admitted, quiet, surprising even yourself. “I miss when we were on the same team.”

He nodded, gaze drifting to your scarf, today a soft gray, no hickeys to hide, “We’re still parents. That team never dissolved.”

“You’re right. We just… forgot how to play.”

He released a breathy chuckle. “Leave it to our kids to schedule a remedial practice.”

You managed a tentative smile. The playlist shifted to a mellow jazz instrumental. Without thinking you extended a hand. “One lap? For old times.”

He took it gently, palm warm through your glove. 

Together you pushed off, synchronizing lengths like gear teeth meshing. 

The glide settled into familiar rhythm— your left, his right, bodies leaning, inside edges kissing ice.

He matched speed to yours, never showboating. Halfway around, muscle memory took over and you attempted a cautious crossover. 

He guided your hips with featherlight fingertips, murmuring corrections the way he had when teaching you to skate backwards: “Weight over the heel, trust the blade.”

Trust. 

That had been the fragile axis after divorce, trust in schedules, trust in boundaries, but not in closeness. 

Yet here, under fluorescent hum and cinnamon-cocoa rink air, your body remembered what your mind had shelved, you trusted him to keep you upright on ice. 

He trusted you with the beating hearts of his children.

When you completed the circuit, neither of you let go immediately. 

You drifted near the boards, hearts thudding louder than rental pop. Finally he cleared his throat. “We should call them. Let them know mission accomplished… partially.”

You laughed softly. “They’ll demand proof.”

“Let’s take a picture then, to show them.”

“Alright.” You murmured, taking your phone out of your jeans and handing it to him.

He took it, a shy quirk on an otherwise confident man. “Say cheese.”

His hand rested on the small of your back, so familiar it was almost painful. 

Heat jolted through your body, and he must have felt it too because his own shifted closer.

“Cheese.” You breathed out and he took the selfie before giving you your phone back. 

A comfortable hush settled. 

You studied his profile, the slope of cheekbone, faint crease where laughter used to live. 

Something gentle stirred beneath ribs, not romantic lightning, but a warm tide of possibility.

“If we’re going to be ambushed by our own offspring,” you said, “maybe we should carve out time to talk, really talk, before they escalate.”

“Dinner?” he offered, simple as breathing. “Somewhere public. Neutral ground.”

You lifted a brow. “Supervised by waitstaff instead of kindergarteners.”

“Exactly.” His smile warmed. “Next Thursday? I’ll book at that Italian place you like.”i

“Email me the details.” You squeezed his arm once before stepping back. “And… thanks for catching me earlier.”

“Always.” The word hovered in the cool air, sincere and unvarnished.

You skated toward the exit, heart lighter. 

Behind you, Sunghoon called after with playful edge, “Try not to be late this time.”

You looked over a shoulder, grin spreading. “Set a reminder for me, tech genius.”

He laughed, unrestrained, head tipped, and the sound echoed like silver bells across the rink. 

You carried it with you off the ice, past the attendant who winked knowingly, past teenagers still buzzing about the cutest video ever, all the way to the lobby where your phone buzzed with a photo from your mother: twins on her sofa, popcorn bowl between them, thumbs-up so wide it nearly cracked the frame.

You texted back: Nice try, tiny masterminds. We’ll talk when you’re home. Love you.

You opened Sunghoon's chat:

You: They’re officially grounded from espionage… but I’m glad they tried. See you Thursday.

Three dots pulsed. His reply came shortly after

Sunghoon: I’m glad too. Good night, Y/N

You slipped the phone away, realizing your cheeks still ached from smiling. 

Outside, dusk mellowed the skyline into lavender and rose. 

You inhaled the bite of winter air the rink expelled each time doors opened and thought maybe patchwork didn’t have to recreate an old quilt; it could stitch something new— imperfect seams, frayed threads, surprisingly strong. 

And thanks to two relentless six-year-olds, the first patch  was already in place.

☆.

You sat across from Jihoon in the hospital’s rooftop garden, wind tugging faintly at the corners of the pale-blue picnic blanket he’d spread on a lunch break more rushed than he admitted. 

A single thermos of his too-strong espresso steamed between you, the scent mingling with oregano from planters that volunteers kept for the pediatric wing. 

His eyes, steady, kind and edged with fatigue from a sixteen-hour shift, searched your face while you traced invisible constellations on the blanket’s plaid.

He smiled, soft. “You’re quiet today. That usually means your brain’s ten paragraphs ahead of your mouth.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Guilty.”

“Talk to me.”

The ease in his invitation nearly unstitched your resolve. 

You folded your hands, thumbs fidgeting. “Jihoon… I need to tell you something, and I don’t know how to do it without sounding ungrateful.”

He uncapped the thermos, poured you half. “Just say it.”

You met his gaze, the gentle brown that had steadied you through late-night panics and blues, and felt the first sharp twist of regret. “I care about you so much. You know that, right?”

“I know.” A faint line appeared between his brows. “And?”

“And I’ve loved how safe I feel with you, how easy things are.” You wrapped cold fingers around the paper cup. “But after what the twins pulled at the rink… I realized easy isn’t the same as… a spark.” The last word trembled in the air.

He swallowed, intake of breath small but audible. “You mean Sunghoon.”

“I mean the life I had with him. The mess, the fire.” You exhaled. “I don’t want to hurt you, you’ve been nothing but wonderful.”

Jihoon’s shoulders sagged, but he nodded once, firm and deliberate. “Feelings aren’t crimes, they just… happen.” He scanned the skyline, blinking hard. “We both knew from the start your heart was still boarded up with ‘handle fragile’ stickers.”

“I thought time would change that, and maybe it could have. But when I stood on that ice and saw the way he steadied me—” Your voice cracked. “I felt something snap back into alignment and I can’t pretend I didn’t.”

Jihoon rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Are you going back to him?”

“I’m going to ask if we can try, slowly. i don’t even know if he wants that.”

He gave a rueful smile. “He’d be a fool not to.” Then, softer, “Do you love him?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, then whispered, “Yes.”

Silence hung, broken only by the flap of pigeons and distant ambulance sirens. 

Jihoon inhaled and squared his shoulders like a surgeon scrubbing in. “Then you owe it to yourself, and to the twins, to see. And I owe it to myself to not be someone’s gentle detour.”

Tears blurred your vision. “You deserve someone who blazes for you.”

“Yeah,” he said, tone light but eyes wet, “I intend to find her.” He leaned forward, brushed a thumb beneath your cheekbone. “Thank you for being honest before resentment set roots. That takes guts.”

You laughed shakily. “Feels more like cowardice.”

“Honesty’s never cowardice.” He squeezed your hand, then released it. “Go tell him, before I change my mind and keep you here for selfish reasons.”

You rose, tucking the cup near the planter. “I’ll always be grateful of you,  Jihoon.”

“Just remember me when the twins need free check-ups. I can still be their uncle Jihoon.” His chuckle chased you to the elevator, bittersweet but genuine.

☆.

Clouds brooded violet over the Han River by the time you stepped from a taxi at Sunghoon’s building. 

You forced a breath, rode the elevator thirty-nine floors, and stared at the steel door, heartbeat ricocheting. 

Before you could knock, it slid open, sunghoon stood framed in warm lamplight, phone pressed to ear, expression surprised. 

He was about to head somewhere, but he ended the call anyways. “Did we schedule something I forgot?”

“No,” you said, voice thin. “Can I come in?”

He stepped aside, bare feet on oak planks, the apartment scented faintly of roasted sesame, maybe early lunch abandoned. 

He waited until the door shut, then folded arms. “Is everything okay with the kids?”

“They’re fine. At Mom’s till tomorrow.” You swallowed. “I needed to talk… without small ears.”

His eyes softened, wariness mingled with curiosity. He gestured toward the sofa where plushies still lounged from last custody swap.

You both sat, leaving a cushion of space that pulsed with old familiarity and new tension.

You braced elbows on knees. “After the rink video, I’ve been… rethinking a lot.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tensed. “Thought we agreed not to scare them with false hope.”

“This isn’t about false hope.” You looked up, meeting his gaze head-on. “It’s about real hope, but only if you want it too.”

His breath caught. “You’re serious.”

“Yes.” Words tumbled out, halting at first, then fluid. “I miss the way you used to leave notes in my pockets, how you’d call from the taxi just to hear me breathe. 

you gulped, laying down the cards alongside uour heart “I miss us arguing about which tea to drink and making up before the kettle boiled. I don’t miss the screaming matches or the silence afterwards, but I believe we’ve grown. The twins forced us to see we can still be a team.” You exhaled. “So I broke things off with Jihoon this afternoon.”

Shock flickered across his features, surprise, then something almost like relief. 

He reached for you, stopped, lowered his hand. “I don’t want you to choose me if being with him made you happy.”

“I know,” you murmured. “And lord, he was amazing.” 

You looked up at him, emotions flickering on your face “But he wasn’t you.”

Silence pooled, thick but gentle. Finally he asked, “What does ‘try again’ look like to you?”

“Coffee on Sunday mornings, just us, talking about anything except bills. Shared therapy if we fall into old traps. Dates, real ones, ending in separate apartments if pace matters. Honesty every step.”

“And what if the spark still scorches us?” His voice husky.

“Then we keep ice buckets nearby,” you teased, then sobered. “I’m not promising a fairytale, just the chance to rebuild.”

He stood, paced to the window where Seoul glittered like scattered gemstones. 

Reflection haloed him in citylight. “I never stopped loving you,” he said, quiet, raw. “I just stopped believing love was enough.”

You rose, walked until you stood an arm’s length away. “Love isn’t enough. But love and work, and two pint-sized spies, might be.”

He laughed softly, turned, and took your hands. “Okay,” he breathed. “Slowly.”

“Slowly,” you echoed. The warmth of his palms radiated up your arms, familiar and electric.

He drew you into an embrace— tentative at first, then securing, his chin atop your head, your ear over his heart. 

The rhythm there felt both new and remembered. You closed your eyes, inhaling cedar and a hint of sesame, and let your muscles melt into a shape they’d once known by instinct.

Minutes or hours might have passed, until finally Sunghoon pulled back a fraction, eyes shining. “Stay for dinner? I burned the sesame oil but I can salvage the soup.”

You smiled through wet lashes. “I’ll chop scallions.”

His lips curved, softness where they’d once been rigid with pride. “And after we eat, we’ll draft a co-parenting treaty version two. The kind with glitter.”

“All treaties should have glitter,” you agreed.

Hand in hand, you moved toward the kitchen, steps slow, hearts quicker. 

Behind you the plush phoenix slumped against the penguin on the couch, as if exhausted from orchestrating fate. 

The sizzle of rekindled soup and the gentle scrape of knives against cutting board marked the beginning, not of going back, but of beginning again, eyes open, promises tempered, sparks tended, slow and deliberate as the first stroke of a painter restoring a treasured canvas.

☆.

The slow-burn weeks unfolded like pages warmed by sunlight: 

Thursday pasta in your kitchen where Yohan grated parmesan with the gravity of a jeweler cutting diamonds and Haneul dirtied the whole table with tomato sauce.

Saturday mornings on Sunghoon’s cavernous couch, your sock-clad feet tucked under a shared blanket while Haneul narrated every plot twist.

Sunday morning pancake (very poor) art, followed by polite squabbles over syrup real estate. 

Between those orchestrated family moments lived quieter, riskier hours, you and Sunghoon trading texts about who’d forgotten the dental forms, a lingering brush of knuckles while rinsing dishes, the way his gaze tracked you when he thought the twins weren’t looking. 

No lightning strike, no fireworks, just kindling stacking itself, breath by breath, until even a whisper could set it alight.

The spark finally caught on a drizzly Friday café run. 

You’d slipped into his apartment with take-out bulgogi and a box of those “unnecessarily cute” star-shaped macarons that made the twins squeal. 

Post-dinner they demanded a pillow-fort marathon of Spirited Away, then conked out before Chihiro met Haku. 

You and Sunghoon carried them, limp with sleep, to the joined rooms they had, the very first room you had used.

When you straightened, Sunghoon’s hand stayed at the small of your back a fraction longer than necessary, you turned, breath hitching at how near his lips had drifted.

No audience. No distractions. Just you, him, a hush weighted by weeks of restraint.

“You’re wearing the honey lipstick again,” he murmured, thumb ghosting the corner of your mouth.

You swallowed. “Maybe I remember it’s your favorite.”

His laugh rumbled low, intimate. “Flattery, or a tactical move?”

“Depends,” you whispered, pulse hammering.

He leaned in, tentative once, then confidence flooded as your mouths met, soft and searching, the air swelling with the musk of his cologne and rain on windowpanes. 

The first kiss tasted of nostalgia, salt-sweet like melted macarons; the second tasted of now, your tongue sliding against his, a hungry sigh you’d forgotten your body could make. 

His palm cupped your jaw, thumb tracing your pulse, the heat where he touched felt almost unbearable. 

When he drew back, breathing ragged, he whispered your name the way it used to fall in the quiet just before dawn: reverent, claiming, achingly gentle.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, forehead resting against yours. “If it’s too fast—”

“Don’t stop,” you answered, fingers fisting in the collar of his henley. “Please.”

Walls you’d rebuilt brick by brick tumbled with shocking softness. 

He nudged you against the hallway wall, kisses deepening, teeth grazing your lower lip. 

Dirty words slipped from his mouth, pet names soaked in promise, in memory of every night you’d once mapped each other’s bodies, and you answered with a breathy moan that made him curse softly. 

His hands found the hem of your dress, palms warm against your thighs, but he slowed, seeking permission, you guided his wrists higher. 

Fabric rustled, buttons surrendered, you pressed close, reveling in the feel of his broad back under your roaming hands, the ripple of muscle tightening as he lifted you slightly to fit knees between your legs. 

Desire pooled, insistent yet exquisitely familiar, as though this dance had only paused, never ended.

“Bedroom,” he managed, voice gravel. 

You nodded, mouths colliding again as he half-walked, half-carried you down the hall. 

And you collided in bed, sheets tangled around your forms dancing a tango you had forgotten was so familiar with him. 

Morning sunlight shone through the curtains Sunghoon had forgotten to open the prior night. 

You stirred first, disoriented, then aware of every muscle pleasantly overworked. 

Sunghoon’s arm lay across your waist, his hand splayed over your stomach. You tilted to watch him sleep, lashes fanning his cheeks, lips parted. 

Sheer peace... well, a peace that shattered with the stampede of four small feet. 

The bedroom door crashed open, squeals ricocheted off walls.

“Attack!” Haneul shrieked, launching herself onto the mattress.

“Dad, wake up!” Yohan followed, slightly less feral but equally determined, penguin plush waving like a flag of conquest.

Sunghoon woke with a strangled grunt just before twenty-five kilos of enthusiasm landed on his rib cage. You fumbled to pull the duvet higher— too late. Haneul’s eyes went huge.

“Mommy’s wearing Daddy’s shirt!” she crowed, triumphant as a detective cracking a cold case.

Yohan grinned. “Mission success?”

You gaped, cheeks flaming, while Sunghoon scrubbed a hand over his face, half mortified, half amused. “Guys, personal space?”

“It’s dawn,” Haneul reasoned. “Cartoons await!”

“I think it’s barely seven.” Your voice rasped embarrassingly. “Can’t cartoons wait till coffee?”

Yohan shook his head with solemn conviction. “Cartoons fuel creativity.”

Sunghoon snorted. “Your bedtime documentaries are paying off.” He sat up, duvet after all staying mercifully in place, and hauled both kids into his lap, pressing kisses to disheveled hair. 

His eyes slid to you, warm, just a hint of mischief. “What do you say we make pancakes? Mommy and I can supervise from the couch.”

“With syrup rivers!” Haneul insisted.

“sprinkles too,” Yohan added.

“Deal,” you said, laughter bubbling. You squeezed their ankles affectionately. “But maybe let Mommy find pants first?”

They scampered off, shouting about mixing bowls. You sagged back, exhaling a near-hysterical giggle while Sunghoon tipped his forehead to yours.

“Well,” he murmured, “that escalated quickly.”

You smacked his chest lightly. “You know they’ll brag about this for years.”

“Probably.” He threaded fingers through yours. “Worth it.”

Your smile softened. “Yeah, worth it.”

Down the hall cupboards slammed, utensils clanged, and a shriek informed you a measuring cup had become airborne. 

You swung your legs over the edge, tee skimming thighs, and stood. Sunghoon caught your wrist, pressing a tender kiss to the inside.

“Round two tonight,” he teased, voice low. “Kid curfew enforced.”

it felt almost comical seeing your boyfriend laugh for the nth time on your tiny tv screen. your coworkers all around you, murmuring about how handsome he looked, how good the chemistry was between him and his cohost. you couldn’t even deny it, as much as you wanted to, that the chemistry between them was palpable.

like any other friday, your coworkers would turn on music bank to watch their favorite groups perform and their favorite idols mc; on any other friday, you were always snickering under your breath hearing your peers fawn over the man on the screen knowing you were the only one that got to sleep with him at night.

that being said, this wasn’t like any other friday. you weren’t normally the jealous type; you were secure in your relationship with sunghoon, despite him wanting your relationship to stay between the two of you (for your protection, of course).

you met very late at night at the convenience store ten minutes out from his company building. he joined you after watching you at the window table eating ramen like there was no tomorrow, and around a month after that first meeting, he asked you to be his girlfriend. that was around eight months ago now, so when you say you’re secure in your relationship, you meant it.

and for the past eight months, sunghoon has been nothing short of perfect. you never tried to bother him much, knowing how busy he got. he was always gentle and caring with you in return, so your relationship grew into a more domestic kind of love.

there was nothing to complain about, really. that was until around a month ago.

sunghoon had been preparing strenuously for his new position as a music bank mc, and because of that, his hours got longer, his work doubled, and his time with you lessened.

you really tried not to care, just focused on your work instead of his, because that’s how he preferred it. you just couldn’t help but feel off when you would receive dry messages and one word answers on phone calls all the time.

it didn’t help that his first day on the job led to tons of dating rumors between him and his cohost. who likes seeing their boyfriend be happy with everyone but them?

“did sunghoon just say she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen? he wasn’t even looking at his script-- it’s like he wants dating rumors!” that alone snapped you out of your thoughts. they were right; he was barely looking at his script.

“yah, shouldn’t you be working?” you said as you turned back to your laptop. you heard your coworker sigh, leaning against your cubicle wall. “you’ve been like this since the new mc’s starting hosting… are you just sad your favorite idol has a new girlfriend now?”

you felt your heart pick up, but you let out a snicker to mask it. “what are you talking about mina? i think i’ve been like this since you started playing a music show at your office job.”

“did you see the picture that just came out?”

“...what picture?”

“the picture of sunghoon out with his new girlfriend? i thought you liked him…? wait-- do you even like idols like that?--”

“show me the picture, mina.” she hesitated at your change in tone, but she pulled out her phone anyways. turning her screen to you after a few moments of looking, you saw a very clear picture of him and his mc partner at dinner together. by themselves. he was laughing brightly and feeding her a piece of food.

“when was this?” you heard mina gulp at your sudden interest, “two nights ago? do you actually have a crush on him, y/n--”

“no.” you handed her back her phone and turned back to your laptop. “get back to work, mina.”

“okay mom…” you heard her say before turning around and walking away. “weird…”

. . .

“y/n? what are you doing here? you know you can’t be here.” he looked around the hallway before gently pulling you inside. “i know, i know. i just really needed to talk to you, you know, about what's been going on recently?”

after work, you decided to take matters into your own hands. it was a risk going to sunghoon’s dorm when the sun was still up, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

he sighed deeply as he turned to walk towards the living room, leaving you to take your shoes off at the door.

“alright. jay, heeseung and sunoo are out and jungwon is at the company so we’re good for a little while. jake and ni-ki are gaming inside though, so lets just try to keep it down, yeah?”

usually you wouldn’t question it, but you were starting to since he seemed so okay with going out with his mc partner in public…

you set your bag down on the coffee table wordlessly opting to sit next to him on the couch, looking anywhere but at him. it was clear you weren’t in your right mind; your posture was perfect and you were rubbing your sweaty palms against your work slacks. usually, sunghoon would pick that up, but this time, he was just looking at the ground with his elbows resting on his knees.

if someone were to walk in, they would think you two were at a business meeting with how rigid you guys were.

“where were you two nights ago?” he stiffened at your soft voice.

“i was out.”

you looked at him now, your eyes hardening at his vague response. you quickly pulled out your phone and pulled up the picture, before throwing it in sunghoon’s lap. “yeah i fucking know you were out, hoon.”

he flinched at the contact, picking it up to look at it in detail. he groaned while putting your phone on the coffee table.

“this is what your here for? it was nothing, y/n. i thought you weren’t like that.”

“i’m not “‘like that”’ unless you give me a reason to be-- i mean why the fuck are you feeding her food in the first place?” he leaned back on the couch, looking almost bored of the conversation now. “she couldn’t pick up the meat properly so i just did it for her.”

your eyes widened at his shamelessness. “am i a fucking joke to you, sunghoon?” he groaned again, rubbing his hands over his face. “you know you’re not a joke to me, babe, it was a harmless dinner. our managers were there, they just left early.”

“so why didn’t you guys leave with them?”

silence hit him. for some reason, he couldn’t think of anything to say. you got the hint though, and you felt sick. your eyes started to water quickly.

“you fucking liked it, didn’t you?” you heard him sigh as you stood up from the couch. “be honest sunghoon, you went on a date with another girl, and you liked it?”

“it wasn’t a fucking date, y/n--”

“is that why you want me to be kept secret so bad? so you can go out with whoever and not have a girlfriend on your conscience?”

“i’m doing this for you!” you flinched as he stood to tower over you. that was the first time he ever raised his voice at you. “you think i want to deal with your shit and be private at the same time? you don’t think i’m dealing with enough right now? i’m doing this because i have to, so don’t say dumb shit like that, y/n.”

“how do you expect me to think you’re serious about me when you can’t even bring me around your dorm?”

“you knew what you got into when you got into this relationship.”

“and i dealt with it. but how does hiding me from your own members help either of us? and now this? going out in public with your work partner-- feeding her food-- how are you hiding me “because you have to” after all that?” your breathing was heavy as you sobbed, looking at the ground. sunghoon was silent, but it was clear he was heated.

“how can i even… reassure myself that you still love me if you’re out with other people and keeping me hidden?”

sunghoon’s shoulders dropped.

“y/n, i’m so tired. i’m tired of this job, i’m tired of these accusations, and i’m so tired of your stupid insecurities being projected onto me. i don’t have the energy to reassure you, okay? if you think i don’t love you anymore then so fucking be it. i just want you to leave me alone and let me deal with my own shit-- it’s draining, to be as honest as i can, since that’s all you fucking want from me these days.”

the silence that fell after that was… heavy. he regretted it the second his heavy breaths settled into the tension.

your reaction didn’t help either.

you were at a loss for words; your eyes were wide and glassy, mouth slightly agape. your previous sobs came to a halt when he first said it.

if you think i don’t love you anymore then so be it. you did think it, so he did feel it.

you looked down, nodding to yourself as your tears started to fall to the ground instead of your cheeks. if you think i don’t love you anymore then so be it.

“then so be it, sunghoon.” you wiped a stray tear away as you reached for your things on the coffee table. your previous sadness was so quickly replaced with emptiness, you didn't even know how to process it all. and sunghoon, your once lovesick boyfriend that never even dreamt of saying what he said to you, was at a loss himself.

he didn’t mean it-- any of it, he didn’t mean for things to get this bad, but he himself started to lose his grip on his balance between you and work. his adamance on you staying hidden was draining enough, but he was doing it for you-- or at least that’s what he’s been telling himself.

you couldn’t understand why you had to be hidden from his members too, but you were starting to realize it was because he was afraid that in doing so, you would be real. it was so clear to you now, he was just pushing you away before things got too real, but like him, you were tired too.

the front door opened as you put your shoes on. heeseung, jay, and sunoo froze at the door as they watched you look at them and bow, before sliding past them to go home. the air inside was extremely tense as sunghoon collapsed back onto the couch, his hands rubbing his face in distress.

“uh-- why was there a girl crying in our living room? do you… know her?” heeseung got no response for a minute as the rest of them continued to come inside and settle in.

“she’s my girlfriend.” he heard sunoo spit out the water he was about to drink and jay drop four shopping bags from across the hall. “or-- she was. i fucked up so bad.”

. . .

that night was one of the worst nights of your life. you cried so hard you passed out at four in the morning and you couldn’t open your eyes properly when you woke up. you had to call in sick because your head was pounding and your nose was so clogged you were breathing through your mouth.

you knew sunghoon wouldn’t even have the time to check in on you, and he certainly hasn’t given you a call or a text. not that you would want one-- no, you blocked him the second you left. he was already gone before you had even confronted him about the whole thing anyways. you did wonder what the others thought when you walked in though... maybe sunghoon told them you were a stalker, or maybe that you were his old figure skating friend.

it had been a week since the argument, and you were already learning the hard way that the world doesn’t stop when you’re going through something.

you had just gotten back from a run to clear your head after work, because “out of sight, out of mind” was becoming your new motto. it was starting to become familiar to you, the phrase, until your doorbell rang right as you stepped out the shower.

honestly, the last person you expected to show up at your door was sunghoon. hell, you even expected mina to show up before him-- but to your surprise, sunghoon stood tall in front of you, holding three big gift bags and a flower bouquet.

you didn’t even know how to react, your eyes were wide as you looked up at the boy, who was nothing short of nervous.

“can i… come in?” you barely heard him. his voice was so quiet and gentle that the aircon was almost louder than him. you were seriously debating on if you should because even if it was almost a week ago, his words ran deep. ultimately, your body reacted faster than your brain did, stepping out of the way to make the entrance clear. you heard him release a strangled breath, like it was something he had been holding for years.

he carefully placed the gift bags on your dining table before turning back to you with the large bouquet in hand. he was staring at the flowers, shaking a bit.

“i don’t… expect you to forgive me…” he drew in a deep breath, before looking into your eyes. “but if we’re going to end, let’s end right.”

for some reason, that broke your heart. for the past week, you were so adamant on ignoring the situation overall that you didn’t think about the status of your relationship after everything. facing the reality that maybe things won’t be the same… it made you feel sick. sunghoon continued before you could respond.

“i want to start by saying that i’m sorry. bare minimum, yes, but you deserve that at least--”

his words caught in his throat as you gently took a hand that was holding the bouquet to guide him to the couch. you sat down quickly after, patiently looking up at him to sit beside you. you looked like an angel on earth to him, really. he too, felt his body move before his brain did as he sat down with the bouquet still held tightly.

“what i did was… unforgivable. to be honest with you, i didn’t think anything of it because i would never even think to choose another person over you. that dinner felt like nothing to me, because i was just thinking about how she wasn’t you the whole time.” he sighed, holding the bouquet to his lap now.

“i don’t even know why i got so defensive… i just had a two hour meeting before you came that day-- about everything happening right now. maybe having another talk about it set me off. that isn’t an excuse, but it’s context, i guess.”

you could tell he was starting to word vomit now, but you continued to listen patiently.

“honestly y/n, its been rough, these past few weeks. i couldn’t even look past all that and see how hard you’ve been trying for me. how many times you’ve made meals for me, or sent me coffee. this whole week without made me realize this might’ve been a fraction of what you’ve been feeling like this whole month… i’m just… so deeply sorry for making you feel like that.”

he finally looked up to see your eyes watering as you listened silently. and as if he couldn’t help it, he let go of the bouquet to wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

“I’m drowning all the time, y/n, but you? you’re my breath of fresh air. you’re the reason why i try so hard to swim back up to the surface.” you started to fully cry now, and you could feel sunghoon gently pulling you into his chest.

“i tried to keep you at a distance so i didn’t pull you down with me, baby,” he murmured into your hair. “when we first started dating, i brought up the idea to the members and they were… really against it. they really got in my head about involving others into my personal life because of how intense it can get. honestly, i still agree with them.”

your cries died down, hiccups and sniffles being the only sounds coming from you as you listened intently against his chest. it was nice, his heartbeat never jumped when he talked. just a soothing, steady rhythm.

“and after you left that night, i told them everything. i realized that it’s not fair to you, being left behind to the closet people to me.” there he goes again, speaking softer than the air around him. “i do love you, y/n. i love you more than anything.”

at that, he felt your arms wrapped around his waist tighten, then relax. after a minute of silence, he craned his neck to the side to see your face buried in his chest, eyes closed.

to be fully honest, you haven’t slept properly in days. sunghoon somehow always had that affect on you: his soft voice that he reserves only for you, his calm breathing in contrast to your constant anxious state, and his scent that always smelled like home to you… it almost made you forget the whole thing.

you knew you weren’t going to leave, but you also knew it wasn’t going to be the same, either. there was some trust you had to rebuild, some new friends you had to make. you both knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

he chuckled at your cheek squished against his chest and kiss your head, before laying you back with him on the couch.

honestly, rebuilding seems like a tomorrow problem. you were going to stay here for now, at the safest place where you know you could be.

a/n: yes i know the ending is ahh im trying to get this out before finals week

Silence settled over the car, thick and suffocating, broken only by the fierce wind whipping against the glass. No cell service, zero visibility, and miles from the highway. Wrapped in your winter coat, you gripped the steering wheel, watching your breath bloom into white mist in the freezing air, realizing very quickly that staying in the car meant freezing to death.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the heavy car door, stepping out into the biting cold to search for any sign of life.

The freezing wind cut straight through your coat, tearing the breath right out of your lungs. Every step into the knee-deep drifts felt like dragging lead weights, and within minutes, the numbness creeping into your fingers and toes turned into a dull, terrifying ache. You couldn't see five feet in front of you—just a blinding wall of white and the roaring gale in your ears.

Your knees buckled, the cold sapping the last of your strength. As you stumbled forward, braced to hit the ice, a pair of broad, solid hands caught you by the arms, instantly steadying you.

"Easy," a deep, quiet voice cut through the howling storm.

You gasped, flinching slightly as you looked up. Towering over you was a man wrapped in a heavy, dark coat. His features were striking—sharp jawline, pale skin, and intensely piercing eyes that seemed almost unnaturally clear despite the blizzard blinding everything else. He looked formidable, like someone who belonged in the wild shadows of these woods, but the grip on your arms was remarkably gentle.

"You're going to freeze out here," he said, his warm breath fanning across your frost-bitten cheeks as he stepped closer, shielding you from the worst of the wind with his broad frame. "My place is just up the ridge. Can you walk, or do you need me to carry you?"

"Uh um.. I can walk," you stammer, your teeth chattering so hard the words barely make it out. You glance back over your shoulder into the wall of white, panic fluttering in your chest. "What about my car? It's in the middle of the road."

"Don't worry about the car right now," he says softly, his voice a steady anchor against the roaring wind. "Nobody else is driving out here in this mess. It'll be safe where it is until the storm clears."

Before you can protest, he steps slightly behind you, keeping one large, warm hand lightly on your back to shield you from the harsh gusts and guide your steps through the deep snow.

"Just focus on moving your feet," he adds, his tone laced with a quiet, reassuring warmth that feels completely at odds with his towering, imposing presence. "It's not far."

Together, you trek through the dense pine trees until a massive, dark timber cabin emerges from the snow. Firelight flickers through the high front windows, casting a golden glow across the porch. He leads you up the wooden steps, pushes open the heavy oak door, and ushers you inside.

The moment the door shuts, the brutal noise of the blizzard vanishes, replaced by the crackle of a burning fireplace and the rich, subtle scent of cedar and old paper.

"Sit by the fire," he instructs gently, unbuttoning his coat to reveal a thick sweater underneath. "I'll grab you a dry blanket and something warm to drink. I'm Sunghoon, by the way."

In the kitchen, the soft clatter of a mug against the counter was the only sound breaking the warmth of the cabin. Sunghoon's hands trembled—a rare, foreign sensation for a creature who had spent centuries in absolute control.

When he had found you out in the storm, your eyelashes dusting with frost and cheeks flushed red from the cold, his dead heart had given a sudden, agonizing tug. It was the face. The exact arch of your brows, the slope of your nose, the gentle curve of your lips. You were the spitting image of Suhyeon—his late wife, his lost love, the woman whose absence had left him wandering in frozen isolation for over a hundred years.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The scent of your blood—warm, rich, and painfully alive—swept over his senses, mixing with the scent of pine and rain. A normal human would have written off the resemblance as a coincidence, but Sunghoon knew better. The feeling settling deep in his chest wasn't just shock; it was an undeniable, magnetic pull.

You came here for a reason, a quiet voice inside him whispered.

He poured the hot tea into a heavy ceramic mug, watching the steam rise. Outside, the blizzard howled, piling snow high against the door, sealing the cabin off from the rest of the world.

He wasn't going to let you go back out there. Not tonight. Not after the universe had finally brought you back to him.

Carrying the steaming mug back into the living room, Sunghoon offered you a warm, faint smile—a soft contrast to the intense, unreadable look in his pale eyes as he handed it to you.

"Here," he said, his voice smooth and hushed. "Drink up. It'll help get the chill out of your bones."

"Thanks, I'm Suyeon, by the way"

Sunghoon’s hand froze for a split second as he handed you the mug, his fingers brushing yours. The heat of your skin sent a jolt straight through him, but it was the name that nearly shattered his composure.

Suyeon.

It sounded almost identical to Suhyeon. A single syllable's difference, yet it echoed in his mind like thunder. He inwardly cursed at the sheer absurdity of it—at the cruel, beautiful trick the universe was playing on him. First her face, now a name so terribly, painfully close to the woman he had mourned for over a century.

He forced a slow, steady breath, swallowing the sudden wave of emotion before it could reach his face. Smoothly masking his shock, he offered you a soft, polite smile that didn't quite reach the guarded intensity in his eyes.

"Suyeon," he repeated quietly, letting the name roll off his tongue as if testing the weight of it. "It's nice to meet you, Suyeon. Though I wish it were under better circumstances."

He stepped over to the hearth, stoking the fire until crackling golden embers illuminated the cozy living room.

"You should get off your feet," Sunghoon said, turning back to face you, his tall frame blocking out the dark chill of the window behind him. "The storm is supposed to worsen overnight. You're safe here for as long as you need."

Holding the warm mug in your hands, you look around the spacious, dimly lit cabin, feeling the chill slowly leave your bones.

"It's just... so eerie," you say softly, wrapping both hands around the ceramic mug as the hot tea warms your palms. You look around the spacious room—the towering bookshelf packed with old, leather-bound volumes, the dark wood paneling, and the quiet shadow cast by the high ceiling. "My GPS completely lost its mind. I didn't even know these backroads existed."

You take a small sip, looking up at him through the rising steam. "Do you live out here in these woods all alone?"

Sunghoon stands by the hearth, the firelight catching the sharp, elegant angles of his face and casting long shadows across the floor. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze resting on you with an intense, quiet fascination that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I do," he answers, his voice smooth and low, carrying a deep, timeless calm. "It's quiet out here. People rarely pass through these parts... especially not in weather like this. Most avoid these woods entirely."

He takes a step closer, the floorboards barely making a sound under his weight.

"You're the first person to cross my threshold in a very long time, Suyeon," he adds softly, the way he says your name sending a subtle, unexpected shiver down your spine. "It seems the storm brought you right to my door."

You tilt your head, holding his stare.

"Is there any chance the roads will be cleared by tomorrow?" you ask, a trace of anxiety bleeding into your voice. You set the mug down on the low wooden coffee table. "My best friend is probably panicking by now. I was supposed to be at her place hours ago, and if the storm lets up even a little in the morning, I need to try and reach her."

Sunghoon’s expression softens, though a subtle, unreadable shift passes through his dark eyes. He steps toward the frost-covered window, peering out into the swirling abyss of white.

"I wouldn't hold my breath for tomorrow," he says quietly, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. "These mountain roads are the last to be plowed. When a storm like this hits, the passes usually stay blocked for days."

He turns back to you, the warm glow of the fireplace accentuating his striking features—and for a fleeting second, as the firelight hits his eyes at a strange angle, you could swear they flash a deep, crimson shade before settling back to black. You blink, convinced it’s just a trick of the firelight and your own exhaustion.

"You're welcome to stay as long as it takes," Sunghoon adds, stepping closer and offering a reassuring, gentle smile. "I have plenty of supplies, heat, and space. You don't have to worry about a thing."

Your stomach chooses that exact moment to drop, the realization settling in that you are truly trapped here with a handsome stranger until the weather clears.

"Is there a way I can um… call her? let her know i'm safe"

Sunghoon’s gaze softens with a touch of quiet sympathy, though he makes no move toward a phone.

"I wish I could tell you yes," he says softly, his voice impossibly smooth. "But the snow brought down the main lines miles back, and there are no cell towers out this deep in the ridge. Even if you had full battery, there's no signal to catch."

He sees the flicker of distress cross your face and takes a slow step closer, his presence warm and oddly soothing despite his intimidating frame.

"She knows you were heading into a storm, Suyeon," he reassures you gently, letting your name linger once more. "She'll assume you pulled off the road to wait it out safely—which is exactly what you're doing. As soon as the lines are clear, you'll be able to reach her. I promise."

He gestures toward a hallway just beyond the living room.

"You're exhausted, and you've had a long night. I set up the guest room upstairs for you. Fresh blankets, and it stays warm through the night."

"Thank you, Sunghoon. For everything," you say, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. The sheer adrenaline from the wreck and the freeze is finally wearing off, leaving your limbs feeling heavy as lead. "I really appreciate you taking me in."

"It's no trouble at all, Suyeon," he replies, stepping aside to give you room.

He leads you down the dimly lit hallway and up a set of sturdy wooden stairs. The guest room at the end of the hall is surprisingly cozy—a large four-poster bed made up with thick, soft quilts, a crackling hearth already warming the space, and the quiet tap of snowflakes against the glass.

"If you need anything during the night, my room is just down the hall," Sunghoon says, standing in the doorway. His dark eyes linger on your face for a beat longer than necessary, filled with a deep, unreadable intensity before he softens into a gentle smile. "Get some rest. You're safe here."

"Goodnight, Sunghoon," you whisper.

"Goodnight, Suyeon."

He gently closes the door behind him. You sink into the plush bed, the exhaustion pulling you under almost instantly.

Hours later, in the dead of night, you wake up. The fire in your room has burned down to low, glowing embers, painting the room in soft orange shadows. Outside, the blizzard is raging louder than before, the wind howling against the timber walls.

Your throat is completely parched.

Slipping out from under the heavy blankets, you quietly open your bedroom door and step out into the hallway, heading toward the staircase to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you hear low, hushed sounds coming from the living room below.

"Sunghoon?" you call out softly, your voice barely carrying over the creak of the floorboard beneath your bare feet.

The low rustling sound below instantly stops. Dead silence falls over the house, so absolute it feels heavy.

You take a cautious step down the wooden staircase, holding onto the handrail. "Sorry to disturb you, I just... I was really thirsty and wanted to grab a glass of water—"

You round the bend of the stairs and freeze mid-sentence.

Sunghoon is standing in the dim light near the fireplace, his back half-turned to you. He freezes at the sound of your voice, turning his head slowly. In the dying amber glow of the embers, his pale skin looks almost translucent.

On the table beside him sits a small, antique crystal decanter filled with a thick, dark crimson liquid—and in his hand, a heavy glass stained with the exact same deep red ring.

For a split second, before he reacts, you see it: his eyes aren't the soft, dark obsidian from earlier. They are a vivid, terrifying shade of crimson, glinting in the dark.

"Suyeon," he says, his voice dangerously low, almost a whisper.

In the blink of an eye—faster than any human could possibly move—he is standing right at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you.

"Thats… red wine.. right?" your fear starts to creep more and more

Sunghoon doesn't answer immediately. He stands at the foot of the stairs, towering and completely still, not even the faint rise and fall of a breath moving his chest. The silence between you stretches out, heavy and suffocating, until the wind outside slams against the glass with a sharp, rattle.

Slowly, deliberately, he sets the heavy glass down on the wooden banister post next to him.

"Yes," he says softly, his voice impossibly smooth, carrying a calm, hypnotic cadence. "Just wine, Suyeon. Nothing to be frightened of."

He steps back half a pace, lowering his hands to his sides in a gesture meant to appear harmless and non-threatening. But as the firelight catches his face again, you watch the vivid crimson in his eyes bleed back into that deep, dark obsidian, as if fading into the shadows.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he continues, his gaze fixed on yours with an unnerving, tender intensity. "You're safe. I promise you, you have no reason to be afraid."

Despite his gentle words, every instinct in your body is screaming at you that something is terribly, dangerously wrong.

"Wine doesn't explain how you were across the room a second ago," you say, your voice trembling as you press your back against the cool plaster wall of the staircase. "You were standing by the hearth, Sunghoon. You didn't walk over here. You just... appeared."

Sunghoon’s mask of easy composure slowly cracks. The soft, gentle expression fades, replaced by a quiet, heavy stillness. He doesn't laugh it off, nor does he offer another polite lie. He simply looks up at you, his tall frame blocking the way down, towering in the dim hallway like an ancient shadow.

"You're very observant," he says softly, his deep voice carrying a strange, sorrowful weight.

He takes one slow, deliberate step up the first tread of the stairs. The air around him seems to grow noticeably colder, thick with a power you can feel pressing against your chest.

"I told you the truth when I said you're safe here, Suyeon. I would never lay a hand on you to hurt you," he continues, his dark eyes searching your terrified face. "But I won't lie to you anymore, either."

Your heart pounds against your ribs like a trapped bird. Every instinct tells you to run, but there is nowhere to go—the storm outside is a death sentence, and the man standing between you and the front door isn't human.

You freeze, your legs feeling like lead as he takes another step. The sheer, impossible presence of him pins you in place.

"What... what are you?" you whisper, your voice barely audible over the roaring gale outside. You swallow hard, clutching the wooden banister until your knuckles turn white. "And why... why do you keep looking at me like that? Like you know me?"

Sunghoon stops three steps below you. Up close, his pale features look carved from marble, flawless and entirely unearthly. The sorrow in his eyes deepens, raw and aching.

"Because I do know you," he whispers, his voice dropping to a fragile murmur. "Or... I knew someone who carried your face. Your voice. Even your name."

He reaches out a hand, hovering it an inch from yours, as if terrified that touching you might make you vanish into thin air.

"Her name was Suhyeon," Sunghoon says, the centuries of grief heavy in his tone. "My wife. A hundred years ago, I lost her to a winter just like this. I was turned into this monster... and I couldn't save her."

He looks up into your eyes, his dark irises reflecting the faint, dying firelight.

"I am a vampire, Suyeon," he admits, leaving the truth bare between you. "I drink blood to survive. I move faster than the wind. But I swear on whatever soul I have left—I will never, ever harm you. You are the second chance I never thought I would get."

The quiet confession hangs in the cold air between you, surreal and terrifying.

"Did you... did you do this?" you ask, your breath coming in ragged, terrified hitches as you shrink away from his hovering hand. "The storm. My GPS breaking. Did you bring me here on purpose just to trap me?!"

A look of genuine, sharp pain flashes across Sunghoon’s face, his hand dropping back to his side.

"No," he says quickly, his tone laced with a desperate sincerity. "No, Suyeon, I swear to you—I have no control over the weather. I didn't lure you here. I didn't even know you existed until I saw you collapsing in the drift."

He takes a step backward down the stairs, giving you space, trying to show you he isn't a threat.

"I was just as shocked as you are," he continues softly, looking up at you from the landing. "I thought I was hallucinating when I saw your face out in the blizzard. The storm is real, the roads are blocked, and your car is stalled. I didn't plan any of this... but I can't deny that finding you feels like a miracle."

He pauses, his dark eyes searching yours, filled with a mix of ancient loneliness and quiet pleading.

"I know I am a monster to you right now. I know you're terrified. But I give you my word—the door is not locked. The second the snow clears and the roads are open, if you want to leave and never see me again, I will let you go. I will not keep you here against your will."

──𝄞𝄢────𝄞𝄢──

Sitting side-by-side on the plush rug in front of the warm hearth, the initial terror had slowly dissolved into a heavy, quiet ache. The framed black-and-white photograph he held showed a couple laughing under a sunlit tree—and looking at Suhyeon felt like staring into a mirror.

Sunghoon’s voice had been barely above a whisper as he recounted that dreadful night decades ago. He spoke of the sudden, brutal ambush by rogue immortals, the scent of smoke, and the absolute helplessness of watching the love of his life fade away in his arms just moments before the dark curse of vampirism was forced upon him. For over a century, he had lived in this secluded cabin, frozen in time, carrying the crush of that memory alone.

You look down at the old photograph, then back up at Sunghoon. The terrifying monster from the staircase was gone; sitting beside you now was just a broken man who had carried an unbearable grief for far too long.

"I'm so sorry, Sunghoon," you say softly, the chill of fear finally leaving your chest, replaced by a gentle warmth. "No one should ever have to go through that."

Sunghoon turns his head to look at you, his dark eyes shimmering with a quiet, profound emotion as he takes in your gentle expression.

"Hearing you say that..." he murmurs, his voice thick with unexpressed tears, "...it feels like a weight I've carried for a hundred years is finally lifting."

He carefully sets the photograph on the coffee table, turning his full attention back to you. The blizzard outside continues to blow violently against the log walls, but inside, the atmosphere between you has completely shifted.

"How have you survived out here all these years?" you ask softly, curiosity outmatching your remaining caution. "Without... hurting anyone?"

Sunghoon lets out a soft, breathy laugh—a quiet, musical sound that softens his sharp features.

"I made a promise to myself the night I lost Suhyeon," he says, staring into the flickering flames of the hearth. "I swore I would never become the kind of monster that took her from me. I survive on preserved animal blood—supplied by a small, trusted circle of immortals who live far off in the northern mountains. I never hunt humans. I never kill."

He turns to look at you, his dark eyes brimming with a sincerity that makes your chest feel tight.

"I built this cabin far away from towns so I wouldn't be a threat to anyone. I've spent a century in self-imposed exile, Suyeon. Until the storm brought you to my doorstep, my only companions were memory and shadow."

He hesitates, reaching out with agonizing slowness. This time, he doesn't stop. His pale, cool fingertips gently brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The touch sends a faint shiver down your spine, but it isn't from fear.

"Being near you..." Sunghoon whispers, his gaze searching every detail of your face, "...it makes me feel human again. More than I have in a hundred years."

"You must be hungry then?"

A faint, bittersweet smile touches Sunghoon’s lips at your question. He gently lowers his hand from your hair, though his dark eyes remain fixed on yours, filled with a quiet warmth.

"Technically, my body is always somewhat starved for a true hunt," he admits softly, a slight tilt to his head. "It's the price I pay for choosing not to harm anyone. But I drank enough of my reserves earlier tonight to keep the instincts at bay."

He glances down at your hands, noticing the subtle tremble in your fingers—not from fear anymore, but from sheer cold and emotional exhaustion.

"You, on the other hand..." Sunghoon says, his voice dropping into a smooth, caring murmur, "...are very warm, very alive, and probably starving. You haven't eaten a real meal since you got stranded."

Before you can even open your mouth to answer, he stands up in one fluid, effortless motion.

"Stay right by the fire," he instructs gently, offering you a reassuring look over his shoulder. "I might not eat human food, but I keep a fully stocked pantry for... well, on the rare chance I ever had a guest. Let me fix you something proper."

As he glides off toward the kitchen, leaving you wrapped in the cozy heat of the fireplace, a soft realization settles over you: you are snowed in, miles from civilization, sitting in the home of a century-old vampire—and somehow, you feel safer here than anywhere else.

Three months had passed since the night your car slid into that snowbank.

The winter that trapped you at Sunghoon’s cabin had turned out to be the harsh season in decades, keeping the mountain passes buried under feet of ice long after your car was towed and your panicked best friend was finally called. But by the time the snow began to melt, revealing the early greens of spring, you realized you no longer wanted to leave.

What started as a forced refuge had blossomed into something steady, profound, and undeniably real.

You stood by the large kitchen island, slicing fresh strawberries into a bowl. Sunlight flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows—UV-filtered glass Sunghoon had installed years ago so he could enjoy the daytime views without harm.

A pair of cool, strong arms slid gently around your waist from behind, drawing you back against a broad, familiar chest. Sunghoon rested his chin softly on your shoulder, his breath a cool, soothing brush against your neck.

"Good morning," he murmured, his deep voice thick with sleep. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your neck, making you smile despite yourself.

"Good morning," you replied, leaning back into his embrace. "You slept late today."

"I was having a good dream," Sunghoon said, his dark eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. The dark, sorrowful ghost who had haunted this cabin three months ago was gone, replaced by a man who laughed easily, held you tightly, and looked at you like you were his entire world. He reached over, casually popping a strawberry slice into his mouth—a habit he’d picked up purely to make you smile, even if human food did nothing for him.

He gently turned you around in his arms so you were facing him, his hands resting comfortably on your hips.

"Your friend called while you were making coffee," Sunghoon noted softly, a playful glint in his eye. "She wants to know if you're ever coming back to the city, or if I've completely stolen you away for good."

You look up at him, surrounded by the cozy warmth of the home you now shared.

"She knows I'm not leaving you but… maybe she can come here?"

Sunghoon’s dark eyes soften, a warm, genuine smile breaking across his pale features. He pulls you a fraction closer, resting his forehead gently against yours.

"I would love that, Suyeon," he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet sincerity. "This is your home now, too. You should have your friends here."

He pulls back slightly, looking down at you with a mix of affection and a touch of nervous charm.

"Though... we might need to lay down a few ground rules before she gets here," he adds, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "Unless you want me to explain why I only drink from dark crystal decanters and never seem to catch a sunburn."

You laugh, the sound filling the sunlit kitchen, and Sunghoon’s face lights up at the sound—a sound he clearly treasures more than anything else in this world. He presses another gentle kiss to your temple, his cool hands resting comfortably on your waist.

"Seriously, call her back," Sunghoon says softly, his gaze locked onto yours with absolute devotion. "Invite her for the weekend. I'll make sure the cabin is perfect."

You lean up on your tiptoes, sliding your arms around his neck, and press a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips. Sunghoon responds instantly, his arms tightening around your waist to draw you flush against him, holding you with a protective, gentle warmth.

When you finally pull back just an inch, a playful smirk touches your lips.

"And how, exactly, does a century-old vampire plan to play the role of a 'normal' human host for an entire weekend?" you tease softly, running a thumb along his jawline. "Are you going to pretend to eat my cooking? Pretend you need to sleep at night?"

Sunghoon chuckles—a low, melodic sound that vibrates against your chest. He tilts his head, putting on a ridiculously serious, theatrical expression.

"I have practiced my human routine extensively, thank you very much," he says smoothly. "I will casually swirl a glass of red wine, nod thoughtfully during normal human conversations, and occasionally complain about... back pain? Isn't that what humans do?"

You burst out laughing, shaking your head against his chest.

"You're hopeless," you laugh.

"Maybe," Sunghoon murmurs, his expression softening as his playful look shifts into pure, quiet devotion. He cups your cheek, his cool thumb gently stroking your skin. "But as long as it keeps you smiling like that, I'll play whatever role you want."

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Now go call her before she thinks I've hidden your phone."

You head into the living room with your phone in hand, settling onto the plush couch as the call rings through.

"Suyeon! Oh my god, you're actually calling!" your best friend's voice bursts through the speaker, full of energy and relief. "I was starting to think that gorgeous, mysterious guy in the woods had completely stolen you away from society!"

"He hasn't stolen me," you laugh softly, looking back toward the kitchen doorway. "Actually, I was calling to see if you wanted to come up this weekend? He wants to meet you properly."

"Are you serious?! Yes! Absolutely! I need to inspect this man who convinced you to move into the mountains—"

While she rambles on excitedly, you hear a sharp, heavy clatter from the kitchen.

It sounds like glass shattering on the tile floor.

"Sunghoon?" you call out, pulling the phone slightly away from your ear.

There's no answer. Just a quiet, harsh gasp—ragged and unnatural.

"Hold on a second," you tell your friend, setting the phone down on the cushion as a sudden knot of anxiety forms in your stomach.

You stand up and hurry into the kitchen. "Sunghoon, is everything—"

The words die in your throat.

The antique crystal decanter lies smashed on the floor, thick, dark liquid pooled across the tiles, rapidly draining away. Standing over it is Sunghoon, clutching the edge of the marble counter.

He looks horrifyingly different.

The healthy, warm color he’d had just minutes ago has completely vanished. His skin is a sickening, deathly translucent white, the dark veins beneath his skin standing out like bruised branches against his temples and jaw. He is trembling violently, his knuckles white as he tries to keep himself upright.

"Sunghoon!" You rush forward, but stop short when he lets out a low, agonized hiss.

"Don't... come closer," he rasps, his voice trembling, stripped of all its usual smoothness. He doesn't look at you—he can't. His dark eyes are gone, consumed by a wild, burning crimson that flickers with sheer, desperate starvation.

"What happened? What's wrong?!" panic spikes through your chest as you look at the spilled liquid on the floor.

"It was... the last of the supply," Sunghoon choked out, his chest heaving even though he didn't need to breathe. "I... I thought I had more in the cellar. I tried to stretch it... but it's gone. It's completely gone."

For three months, he had been hiding the truth from you. He had been starving himself, drinking less and less of his animal blood reserves just so he wouldn't have to leave your side to get more.

"Sunghoon, look at me—"

"I can't!" he chokes out, a look of pure, heartbreaking torment tearing across his pale face. "Your heart... it's beating so fast, Suyeon. I can hear it. I can scent you. The thirst... it's taking over. I can't... I can't hurt you..."

He tries to push himself away from the counter to distance himself from you, but his body gives out entirely. With a heavy, hollow thud, Sunghoon collapses onto his knees, his forehead pressing against the cold wood floor as he gasps for air he doesn't need, his entire frame shaking violently under the crushing weight of his hunger.

He is completely helpless, burning from the inside out, terrified not of dying—but of losing control and hurting the woman he loves.

From the living room, your phone lies on the couch, your friend's muffled voice still calling out, "Suyeon? Hey, is everything okay over there? Suyeon?"

You ignore the phone completely, leaving your friend’s voice fading into the background as you rush across the kitchen.

Slipping on the tile, you drop to your knees directly in front of him. The smell of copper and pine hangs thick in the air, but all you can see is Sunghoon—writhing, pale as marble, trembling violently against the floor as he fights the monster inside himself.

"Sunghoon," you whisper, your voice trembling but resolute.

"Get... away," he rasps, his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists on the floorboards. He forces his eyes shut, but you can still see the crimson glow leaking through his lashes. "Suyeon, please... I can't control it... if I bite you... I won't be able to stop—"

"Look at me."

You reach out, taking his cold, trembling face in your warm hands. He flinches at your touch as if burned, a shuddering gasp ripping from his throat. The heat of your pulse beating right against his palms, right against his senses, is pure agony for him.

Slowly, his eyes snap open. The vivid, predatory crimson burns in his irises, wild and starving. But deep beneath that animal instinct, you see the sheer, heartbreaking terror in his gaze—the fear that he is about to become the nightmare that ruined his life a century ago.

"You saved me in the snow," you say softly, leaning close so he can hear every word over the frantic pounding of your heart. "You kept me safe. You starved yourself just to stay with me... I am not going to let you fade away."

Without hesitation, you pull back the collar of your sweater, exposing the side of your neck where your pulse throbs warm and alive.

"Suyeon... no..." Sunghoon chokes out, a tear of pure anguish tracing down his deathly white cheek. "I can't—"

"Take it, Sunghoon," you command gently, leaning down and pressing your neck against his cold lips. "I trust you."

The moment your skin touches his mouth, the last thread of his restraint snaps.

A low, guttural groan escapes his chest—a sound of painful relief and overwhelming desperation. His hands fly to your waist, gripping you tight, drawing you flush against him on the floor. You feel the sharp, icy pricks against your skin, and then—

A sharp sting pierces your neck.

You gasp, your fingers clutching tightly into the fabric of his shirt as a sudden wave of heat and dizziness washes over you. Sunghoon holds you with a desperate, fierce tenderness, his body shuddering as the warm life floods into him.

Almost instantly, the deadly chill leaving his skin begins to fade. The dark, bruised veins on his temples recede, and the color slowly returns to his cheeks. The wild, chaotic air in the room stills, replaced only by the quiet, rhythmic sound of him breathing against your throat.

Realizing what he's doing, Sunghoon suddenly pulls back with a sharp gasp, tearing himself away.

"No—enough—" he breathes, his voice thick with horror at his own hunger.

He presses his cool hand firmly over the small puncture marks on your neck to stem the faint bleed, his dark eyes wide and horrified as he looks at you. The crimson hue in his eyes has vanished, replaced once more by the deep, obsidian warmth you know—now swimming with heavy, unspilled tears.

"I hurt you," he whispers, his hands shaking as he holds you close, resting his forehead against yours, his chest heaving with deep, shuddering breaths. "God, Suyeon... I drank your blood... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..."

As he presses his cool hand against your neck, the sheer intensity of what just happened hangs thick in the quiet kitchen.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder, letting out a soft, heavy breath. "Sunghoon... stop apologizing," you murmur, your voice trailing off into a breathy whisper. "I offered. I wanted to."

Sunghoon freezes. His dark eyes lower to your lips, his chest heaving against yours as the dark, intoxicating high of your blood coursing through his veins takes hold. The deadly weakness is gone, replaced by a sudden, surging heat that makes his pale skin flush.

His hand on your neck doesn't pull away—instead, his long fingers slide down to your collarbone, his cool touch leaving a trail of electricity across your feverish skin.

"You don't understand what you just did to me," he rasps, his deep voice dropping into a dangerous, velvet register that sends a shiver straight down your spine. "The taste of you... Suyeon, it's unlike anything I've ever known."

His grip on your waist tightens, shifting you effortlessly until you're sitting in his lap on the floor, pinned flush against his broad chest. He leans in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear, lingering on the hot pulse point he just marked. A low, needy hum vibrates in his throat as he inhales your scent, entirely drunk on you.

"Sunghoon..." you gasp, your fingers tangling into his soft hair, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

He lets out a dark, breathless chuckle against your skin, his cool lips trailing down the curve of your neck to the edge of your sweater. His thumb strokes the side of your waist, pressing firm and possessive through the thin fabric.

"You look so beautiful like this," he whispers, his breath hot against your collarbone, his obsidian eyes dark with a wild, hungry desire that has nothing to do with vampire instincts anymore. "Weak for me... letting me take from you."

He turns his head, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is no longer gentle or hesitant. It's deep, desperate, and possessive—tasting the faint, metallic sweetness of your blood still lingering on his tongue. You melt into him, completely breathless as his hands slide up your back, pulling you so close there isn't a shred of space left between you.

When he finally breaks the kiss for air, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing heavily in the quiet room. His dark eyes search yours, heavy with an agonizing, addictive desire.

"Tell me to stop," he breathes, his hand sliding slowly up your thigh, his touch searing through your clothes. "Tell me to stop right now, Suyeon... or I won't be able to."

You don't tell him to stop. Instead, your hands tighten on his shoulders, your heart thudding violently against your ribs as you pull him back into you.

"Don't stop," you breathe against his mouth.

A low, guttural growl escapes his chest, the sound vibrating against your lips. Sunghoon doesn't hesitate. His arms sweep under you, and in one swift, effortless movement, he stands up from the kitchen floor, carrying you like you weigh nothing at all.

You wrap your legs firmly around his waist, clinging to him as he carries you down the dim hallway. He doesn't take his eyes off yours for a single second, his dark obsidian gaze burning with a heavy, unadulterated hunger. The contrast of his cool skin against your feverish, lingering lightheadedness sends another wave of electricity straight through you.

He kicks open the bedroom door and presses you back against the plush mattress, hovering over you instantly. The heavy quilt catches under your body as he settles his weight between your thighs, pinning your wrists above your head with one large, cool hand.

"You're entirely too undoing, Suyeon," he rasps, his voice dropping an octave, thick with a possessive heat.

He lowers his head, trailing scorching, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your jaw, sinking his lips right back into the tender crook of your neck where he fed. You let out a soft, sharp gasp, your hips arching off the bed into his. The sensation is intoxicating—a intoxicating blur of sharp bite and unbearable tenderness, the lingering taste of copper on his lips, and the sheer, overwhelming power of a creature who could snap you in two, holding you as if you are the most precious thing in the universe.

His free hand slides beneath the hem of your sweater, his long, cool fingers tracing the warm curve of your waist, trailing upward over your ribs with a deliberate, agonizing slowness. Every place he touches feels branded by him.

"Sunghoon..." you whisper, your fingers twisting into his dark hair, pulling him flush against you.

"I'm yours," he murmurs against your hot skin, his cool breath sending a shudder through your entire body. "Every part of me... for the rest of my existence. Say you're mine, too."

"I'm yours," you breathe out, completely lost in him. "Always."

He smiles against your neck, a slow, dangerous, devouring smile. Then he leans up, capturing your lips in a deep, ruthless kiss that takes the rest of your breath away, drowning out the world, the storm, and time itself.

──𝄞𝄢────𝄞𝄢──

The high collar of your knitted sweater hid the soft, faint pink marks on your neck, but nothing could hide the quiet, glowing intimacy that now lived between you and Sunghoon.

Every touch over the past few days had carried a new weight. Walking past each other in the hallway resulted in slow, lingering kisses; sitting by the fire meant being wrapped entirely in his arms. Giving him your blood hadn't just saved his life—it had shattered the last remaining wall between you, binding you together in a way that felt permanent and unspoken.

Now, the hum of a car engine echoed down the quiet gravel driveway, signaling her arrival.

Sunghoon stood beside you near the large front window, impeccably dressed in a dark, fitted sweater, looking completely composed. But as he adjusted his cuffs, you caught the faint, nervous tension in his posture.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, reaching out to slide your hand into his. His cool fingers instantly intertwined with yours, squeezing tight.

"I've faced dark covens, centuries of solitude, and deadly blizzards," Sunghoon murmured, turning his dark eyes to yours with a helpless, gorgeous smile. "And yet, the thought of your best friend interrogating me is genuinely terrifying."

You let out a soft laugh, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek just as the car door slammed shut outside.

"Just be yourself," you teased, running a thumb over his cheekbone. "And remember... try to look like you're breathing normally."

A sharp knock sounded at the door, followed immediately by her voice shouting through the timber, "Suyeon! Open up, I know you're in there!"

Sunghoon took a slow, grounding breath, stepping up to the door with you at his side. He pulled it open, revealing your best friend standing on the porch, bags in hand, eyes wide with excitement.

"Finally!" she gasped, stepping inside—and then her eyes landed on Sunghoon. She froze mid-step, her jaw dropping just a fraction as she took in his tall, breathtaking presence.

Sunghoon offered a smooth, charming smile, extending a hand. "Welcome. You must be her best friend. I'm Sunghoon."

She blinked, regaining her composure, and shook his hand with a sharp, suspicious squinched look. "Okay... wow. Suyeon, you definitely didn't exaggerate."

You smack her arm with a slight laugh, feeling a faint blush creep up your cheeks. "You're embarrassing me!"

She just laughs, entirely unbothered. "Oh please, he's your boyfriend, there's nothing to be embarrassed about, right Sunghoon?" she asks, turning her full attention to him with a teasing grin.

Sunghoon, the powerful, century-old vampire who could move faster than the wind, looks hilariously flustered under her sharp gaze. He clears his throat softly, giving a short, endearingly nervous nod.

"Yeah..." he replies, his voice dropping an octave as a rare, adorable pink flush touches the tops of his pale cheekbones. "I mean—yes, of course."

Your friend casts a quick, sly glance back at you, whispering under her breath, "He's stunning, Suyeon. And he gets flustered? 10 out of 10."

Sunghoon recovers his composure with that effortless, charming grace, smoothly taking her heavy duffel bags from her hands with zero effort. "Please, come in. Make yourself at home. Suyeon has talked about you so much, it feels like I already know you."

"I'll go set up some hot tea and coffee in the kitchen," he adds, his dark eyes instantly finding yours with a soft, affectionate warmth. "I'll leave you two to catch up for a bit."

As he glides past you toward the kitchen, his cool fingers subtly brush against yours in a quick, secret touch. The fleeting warmth of his hand against your skin sends a tiny shiver down your spine, a silent reminder of the dark, intense connection you shared just days ago.

The second he disappears around the corner, your friend whirls around, grabbing both of your hands with a dramatic gasp.

"Okay, spill!" she demands, her eyes scanning your face. "He is completely head over heels for you! But wait... why are you wearing a turtlenecks-and-high-collars vibe in early spring?"

You automatically touch the edge of your high sweater collar, feeling the phantom tingling sensation of the two bite marks hidden safely underneath.

You bite your lip nervously, taking a small step back. "No reason! It's... it's just cold in here," you lie, praying your flushed face doesn't completely give you away.

She reads right through you in a heartbeat, her eyes narrowing with a wicked, triumphant grin.

"Don't tell me..." she gasps, leaning in close and lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Is it a hickey?! Suyeon! You sneaky thing!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" you whisper frantically, slapping a hand over your face as your cheeks burn bright red. "He's literally in the next room!"

"Oh, I knew it!" she giggles, nudging your shoulder playfully. "Mr. Quiet and Reserved has a wild side, huh? I knew those brooding, dark-eyed types were always the passionate ones."

Right on cue, Sunghoon glides back into the living room carrying a tray with two steaming mugs of tea. He looks completely innocent, his dark hair falling softly over his brow, but the sharp, amused twitch at the corner of his lips tells you everything: with his vampire hearing, he heard every single word.

He sets the tray down on the coffee table with smooth, deliberate grace, then steps up behind you. His cool hands settle naturally onto your waist, pulling you gently back against his chest.

"Everything alright over here?" Sunghoon asks smoothly, resting his chin lightly near your ear. His cool breath brushes against the exact spot beneath your high collar, sending a thrilling, secret shiver straight down your spine.

Your friend smirks, taking a sip of her tea. "Oh, perfectly fine, Sunghoon. We were just discussing how... attentive of a host you are."

Sunghoon’s dark eyes meet yours, a dangerous, dark glint flashing in their depths before he looks up at her with a polite, charming smile. "I only aim to give Suyeon everything she needs."

"Everything," Sunghoon replies without missing a beat, his deep voice carrying a smooth, velvety confidence.

His cool grip on your waist tightens just a fraction, pulling you flush against his chest so you can feel the low, quiet rumble of his chest as he speaks. He tilts his head down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear in a gesture that looks utterly devoted—though the playful, dangerous glint in his dark eyes is meant solely for you.

"I take very good care of her," he adds, looking back at your friend with an effortlessly charming smile that completely hides the century-old predator beneath. "Whatever Suyeon wants, she gets."

Your friend practically swoons, shaking her head as she takes another sip of her tea. "Okay, wow. Suyeon, if you ever break up with him, I'm stealing him. I'm serious."

"She's not going anywhere," Sunghoon murmurs softly into your hair, his tone possessive, warm, and entirely serious.

You feel a hot flush spread across your face, your pulse spiking right beneath the high collar hiding his mark. Through his touch, you know he can feel your racing heart—and he's enjoying every single second of driving you crazy right in front of your friend.

You swat at his hand on your waist, though you don't actually pull away.

"Okay, that's enough from both of you," you say, trying to regain control of the conversation before your face catches fire.

"Come on, let me show you where you'll be sleeping," you say, quickly using the guest room as an excuse to escape the sudden heat in the room. You grab your friend's duffel bags before she can object and start heading down the hallway.

"I'm right behind you, lead the way to the luxury suite!" your friend calls out, taking a final sip of her tea and following you down the corridor.

Sunghoon steps out into the hall right behind her, his movements smooth and silent. As your friend steps into the guest room to marvel at the cozy setup and the mountain view from the window, you turn around in the doorway, catching Sunghoon by the front of his dark sweater and pulling him a few steps back into the shadows of the hallway, out of her line of sight.

"You," you whisper fiercely, though a smile threatens to break across your lips, "are a terrible influence. You heard every word we were saying, didn't you?"

Sunghoon lets out a quiet, velvety chuckle, his cool hands settling seamlessly back onto your waist. He leans down, his dark eyes sparkling with wicked amusement as he brings his face inches from yours.

"I have extraordinary hearing, darling," he murmurs against your lips, his deep voice dropping into an intoxicating whisper. "I couldn't help it. Besides... I was simply confirming her suspicions. I do take very good care of you."

He tilts his head, his lips brushing over the fabric of your sweater collar right above the hidden bite marks, making a sharp, secret shiver run down your spine.

"And," he adds softly, his thumb tracing a slow, lingering circle against your hip, "if you keep looking at me with those flushed cheeks, I might just have to take you back to our room and prove it to you all over again."

From inside the guest bedroom, your friend's voice echoes out: "Suyeon! Where do I find extra towels?"

Sunghoon pulls back just an inch, a playful, satisfied smirk resting on his lips as he waits to see how you'll handle him.

You scoff and roll your eyes "because of you, she thought I had a hickey!"

Sunghoon’s smirk only grows wider, his dark eyes burning with a sudden, wicked heat.

Instead of stepping back, he closes the small distance between you, trapping you flush against the hallway wall. He leans down until his cool lips are brushing the soft skin of your jaw, his deep voice dropping into an intoxicating, velvet whisper.

"Well..." he murmurs, his thumb tracing a tantalizing line up your waist to the hem of your high sweater, "...if it bothers you that much that she's mistaken... I can actually give you a real one right now just to prove her suspicions right."

Your breath hitches as his cool breath tickles your neck, right where your pulse is hammering wildly against your skin. He tilts his head, his lips hovering an inch from your collarbone, teasing you with the explicit threat of making good on his word.

"Sunghoon!" you gasp under your breath, slapping his broad chest, though your fingers end up clutching the soft fabric of his sweater instead of pushing him away.

He lets out a low, breathless chuckle against your skin, dark eyes flashing with pure flirtatious triumph as he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye.

"Just offering to be helpful, darling," he teases smoothly, a breathtaking, cocky grin gracing his pale face.

From inside the guest room, your friend's voice echoes out again, louder this time. "Suyeon! Are you getting the towels or are you two making out in the hallway?!"

Sunghoon winks at you, smoothly stepping back and smoothing down his sweater with effortless grace, looking entirely like the picture-perfect host once again.

"Duty calls, my love," he says softly, gesturing toward the door with a lingering, dangerous glint in his eyes. "Go save your friend... before I decide to take up on my own offer."

You lean in closer, your eyes narrowing with a breathless, mischievous challenge as you look up at him.

"You wouldn't dare," you whisper, your voice low and teasing. "Not with her standing three feet away in the next room."

Sunghoon’s dark eyes darken instantly, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his pale face. He steps back into your space, leaning down so close his lips nearly press against yours, his hand resting firm and warm against the small of your back.

"Is that a challenge, Suyeon?" he murmurs, his voice a thick, velvety purr that sends a sharp thrill straight down your spine. "You know how terrible I am at turning down a challenge from you."

He lets his lips graze yours—just for a fraction of a second, tantalizingly brief—before pulling back with an infuriatingly cool, confident smirk.

"Suyeon!" your friend shouts again from inside the room. "I'm literally opening drawers looking for towels! If I find something weird in here, that's on you!"

You roll your eyes, though a helpless smile tugs at your lips as you push against Sunghoon's chest. "I'm coming!" you call back, glaring playfully at him one last time as you smooth down your sweater.

"Be good," you whisper to him over your shoulder.

"Never," Sunghoon replies softly, his eyes following you with absolute, unyielding devotion as you finally walk into the guest room.

The front door clicked shut, the sound of your friend's car engine fading down the long gravel driveway until absolute silence reclaimed the mountain estate.

You let out a long, heavy sigh, resting your forehead against the cool wood of the front door. The weekend had been a chaotic whirlwind of hiding neck marks, deflecting teasing comments, and watching a century-old vampire play the ultimate charming host.

Suddenly, a pair of cool, strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

Sunghoon pulled you flush against his chest, burying his face into the side of your neck with a soft, lingering exhale. The high collar of your sweater was gently pushed aside as his lips traced over the sensitive skin right above his bite marks.

"Finally," Sunghoon murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling hum against your skin. "I thought she was never going to leave."

You laughed softly, leaning back against him and letting your head fall onto his shoulder. "She was here for two days, Sunghoon. And you were incredible. She completely adores you."

"I don't care about her adoring me," he whispered smoothly, his hands sliding up beneath the hem of your sweater, his cool fingers searing against your warm waist. He turned you around in his arms, his dark obsidian eyes locking onto yours with an intense, long-awaited hunger.

"I spent the entire weekend watching you cover your neck, listening to you tease me, and playing the perfect human," Sunghoon rasped, stepping forward until your back pressed gently against the wall. A wicked, devastatingly handsome smirk played on his lips. "I believe you owe me for my good behavior."

He tilted his head down, his lips brushing against yours, hot breath mingling in the small space between you.

"Now... where were we before she interrupted us?"

"wow, great memory you have" you say

"My memory is immortal, darling," Sunghoon murmurs, a low, quiet chuckle rumbling through his chest as his dark eyes drop to your lips. "And every single second with you is etched permanently into it."

He slides his hands up to cup your face, his cool thumb gently stroking your cheekbone while the other hand rests possessively on your waist, keeping you pinned softly against the wall. The playful smirk on his face melts into something far more intense, dark, and utterly devoted.

"Two days of pretending not to hear your heart beat every time I walked past you," he whispers, leaning in until his lips are practically grazing yours. His breath is warm, sending a sharp, intoxicating shiver straight down your spine. "Two days of watching you hide my mark under that high collar... driving me completely insane."

He tilts his head, his lips trailing down to the sensitive skin right beneath your jaw, pressing a slow, lingering kiss right where your pulse is hammering wildly.

"Now tell me, Suyeon," he rasps against your skin, his voice dropping into a thick, velvety purr. "How are you going to make it up to me?"

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly undo the top buttons of your knit sweater. As the fabric falls open, the pale skin of your collarbone and neck is exposed, revealing the faint, healing marks of his bite.

Sunghoon’s breath hitches. The playful glint in his dark eyes instantly vanishes, consumed by a deep, dark hunger that burns far hotter than any bloodthirst ever could. His gaze tracks down to the exposed skin, his chest heaving with a slow, heavy breath.

"You're going to be the death of me, Suyeon," he rasps, his voice dropping an octave into a low, velvet murmur.

His hands slide up from your waist, cool long fingers trailing searing heat over your collarbone. He steps into you, pinning you firmly against the wall as his forehead rests against yours. His cool breath brushes over your lips, sending a sharp, intoxicating shiver straight down your spine.

"No more hiding," Sunghoon whispers against your mouth, his grip tightening around your waist as he tilts your head up. "No more playing nice."

He leans down, his lips claiming yours in a deep, desperate kiss that takes all the air from your lungs, sweeping you off your feet as he carries you down the hall toward the bedroom.

The bedroom door thuds shut as he kicks it closed, the soft click of the latch echoing in the dimly lit room. Sunghoon doesn't break the kiss for even a second, his tongue sliding past your lips with a fierce, possessive hunger that leaves you completely breathless.

He lowers you onto the plush mattress, his heavy frame settling between your thighs with effortless, intoxicating grace. The cool air of the room brushes against your exposed collarbone, but the heat radiating from him burns away every drop of chill in an instant.

"Say it," Sunghoon murmurs against your lips, his dark eyes burning into yours, dark as obsidian and utterly consumed by you. His long, cool fingers thread through your hair, angling your face up to his. "Tell me who you belong to."

"You," you whisper back, your chest heaving as you frame his sharp jawline with your hands, pulling him down to you. "Always you, Sunghoon."

A low, guttural sound vibrates deep in his chest. His lips trail down your jawline, pressing a fiery, open-mouthed kiss straight over the faint marks on your neck. You let out a soft gasp, your hips arching instinctively off the bed into his as a shiver of pure sensation rushes through you.

He catches your waist in a firm grip, holding you flush against him as his lips move down the line of your collarbone, devouring every inch you uncovered for him.

"Every century I spent alone..." he rasps, his breath cool and sharp against your heated skin, "...was just waiting for this. For you."

He captures your lips again, deeper and more ruthless this time, drowning out the world beyond the cabin walls until nothing exists except the touch of his skin, the rhythm of your racing heart, and the timeless, dangerous pull between you.

He shifts his weight, sliding one knee higher between your thighs, pinning you flush against the mattress. The heavy contrast of his cool, unyielding body pressing down on your feverish skin sends a thrilling wave of electricity straight to your core.

"I've been visualising this all weekend," Sunghoon rasps, his voice dropping into a thick, low growl against the shell of your ear. His breath is a searing shock against your sensitive skin. "Every time you pulled that sweater tight... every time you looked at me knowing what we did in this bed."

His hands slide smoothly beneath the hem of your sweater, his long, cool fingers tracing an agonizingly slow path up your ribs. The contrast of his chilling touch against your rising heat makes you shudder, your back arching off the bed, bringing your hips flush against his.

A dark, dangerous smirk touches his lips as he feels the sharp hitch in your breath.

"You like how cool I feel against you, don't you?" he murmurs, his lips dragging down your neck, lingering tantalizingly over your collarbone. "You're burning up for me, Suyeon."

His hand slides further up, cool palm cupping you through the thin lace of your bra, his thumb brushing over your peaked nipple with just enough pressure to draw a sharp, helpless groan from your throat. He captures the sound instantly, his mouth devouring yours in a deep, filthy kiss that tastes of sweet heat and possession.

"Sunghoon..." you gasp into his mouth, your fingers tangling desperately into his dark hair, pulling him closer, needing every inch of his weight on top of you.

"Tell me what you want," he whispers, shifting his hips forward, leaving no doubt about the sheer intensity of his desire. His dark obsidian eyes lock onto yours, heavy-lidded and brimming with an unholy hunger. "Tell me, Suyeon, before I lose whatever control I have left."

"I want you," you breathe out, your fingers tightening in his hair. "I want all of you."

Sunghoon’s dark eyes flare, the faint ring of deep crimson flashing in his irises as his remaining restraint shatters completely.

With effortless power, he hooks his fingers beneath the hem of your sweater, pulling it over your head in one swift motion and tossing it onto the floor. His cool hands instantly slide up your warm sides, his thumbs stroking up the line of your ribs until his palms rest flat against the bare skin of your back, pulling you flush against his chest.

The contrast is intoxicating—the sheer heat of your skin melting into his Chilled, unyielding frame. He drags his hips against yours in a slow, agonizing rhythm that draws a ragged gasp from your throat.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he growls against your mouth, his lips devouring yours again, deeper and more possessive, his tongue sweeping past your lips to steal every last drop of your air.

He shifts, trailing scorching, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, past your chin, and down to the sensitive dip of your collarbone. You arch into his touch, your hands sliding down his broad shoulders, clinging to him as the room spins around you.

His cool lips find the tender skin of your neck right over the faint, healing marks of his last feed. He lingers there, his warm, panting breath sending shivers straight down your spine.

"May I?" he rasps, his voice a thick, velvety purr against your pulse point. His sharp fangs scrape ever so lightly against your heated skin—a dangerous, delicious promise that makes your blood run hot. "Tell me yes, Suyeon..."

"Yes," you whisper helplessly, tilting your head back to give him complete, uninhibited access. "Take whatever you want."

A low, primal growl hums deep in his chest. In one quick, deliberate press, his fangs pierce the delicate skin of your neck.

A sharp gasp rips from your throat, but the sting vanishes almost instantly, replaced by a wave of pure, dizzying ecstasy. As he begins to feed, a heavy, intoxicating warmth rushes through your veins, making your head roll back against the pillows.

Sunghoon groans against your neck, the sound thick and heady as he drinks from you, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force, pulling you tight into the rhythm of his body. Every slow, deliberate swallow he takes sends a rippling tremor through your core, binding you closer to him than humanly possible.

His hips press forward, matching the rhythm of his feed, trapping you in a dizzying haze of pleasure, pain, and absolute surrender.

"Sunghoon..." you whimpered, your nails digging into the muscles of his back as the world narrows down to his cool body, his hot breath, and the fierce, consuming fire between you both.

──𝄞𝄢────𝄞𝄢──

The sharp, metallic scent of copper hung heavy in the air of the dim living room, completely replacing the cozy warmth that had filled the cabin just a few hours prior.

Outside, a sudden summer storm battered the tall windows, rain lashing against the glass in heavy, erratic sheets. Inside, the silence was suffocating.

Sunghoon stood near the cold fireplace, his back turned to you. His hands were gripping the stone mantle so tightly the knuckles were stark white, his tall frame locked rigid in the shadows. He hadn't spoken a single word since pulling his fangs from your neck, since laying you gently on the bed and quietly walking out of the room.

You stepped into the living room, wrapping a thick wool cardigan tightly around your shoulders to ward off the sudden, icy chill in the air. The faint, dull ache on the side of your neck was a quiet reminder of what had happened—a physical anchor to the dizzying haze of a few hours ago.

"Sunghoon?" your voice was barely a soft whisper, but in the quiet cabin, it sounded like a crack of thunder.

He didn't turn around, but you saw his shoulders tense even further.

"Don't come near me, Suyeon," he said. His voice wasn't the smooth, velvety murmur from earlier. It was cold, hollow, and dangerously sharp—a tone he had never once used with you before.

You froze mid-step, a sudden twist of unease tightening in your chest. "What... what's wrong? What happened?"

"I almost killed you."

The four words hung between you, heavy and lethal.

Slowly, Sunghoon turned around. His face was paler than usual, stark against the dark shadows of the room. But it was his eyes that made your breath catch—they weren't the warm obsidian or even the faint flushed crimson of his desire. They were a bright, blood-red, terrifyingly devoid of the gentle warmth you knew.

"Look at you," Sunghoon rasped, stepping out from the fireplace, his dark clothing rustling softly as he kept a strict ten feet of distance between you. His red eyes flicked down to your pale face, to your slightly trembling hands. "You're weak. Your pulse is sluggish. I got lost in the taste of you, in the feeling of you... and I didn't stop when I was supposed to."

"Sunghoon, I'm fine—"

"You're not fine!" he roared, the sudden power in his voice causing the glass in the windowpanes to rattle. He flinched at his own outburst, taking a sharp step backward into the shadows, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration.

"You don't understand," he whispered, his voice cracking with a raw, agonizing grief. "For a fraction of a second... I didn't care that it was hurting you. All I wanted was more. I am a monster, Suyeon. A monster that just played pretend for a weekend while your friend was here, pretending I could be normal, pretending I could give you a life."

He looked up at you, the bloody crimson in his eyes shimmering with unshed, immortal tears.

"I can't do this to you. I can't keep putting your life on the line just because I'm selfish enough to crave you."

The room felt suffocatingly large, the space between you and Sunghoon stretched thin with a painful, sharp tension.

"Don't do that," you said softly, your voice trembling slightly as you stepped toward him. "Don't sit there and pretend that what happened was just you being a monster. I gave you my consent, Sunghoon. I wanted you."

"You don't know what you're asking for!" Sunghoon snapped, his crimson eyes flashing wildly as he took an immediate step back, keeping the distance between you like a physical boundary. His breathing was heavy, ragged, though his immortal lungs didn't even need the air. "You see me as your protector, as your partner. But when that bloodlust takes over, Suyeon, I don't see you. I just see a source. A thrill. An addiction."

He turned away, pressing his palms against his face as a low, agonizing sound escaped his throat.

"If I had lost control for five more seconds... just five seconds... your heart would have stopped. And I would have been left in this empty cabin with your cold body, knowing I was the one who destroyed you."

He dropped his hands, looking back at you over his shoulder. The terrifying crimson in his eyes was slowly receding back into dark obsidian, but the hollow, devastated expression on his face broke your heart far worse than his red eyes ever could.

"I can't risk your life for my hunger," he whispered, his voice dangerously quiet, stripped of all its usual warmth and smooth charm. "I think... you need to go back home, Suyeon. Before I do something we can never take back."

"You don't mean that..." your voice barely carried over the steady thrum of rain against the glass, small and fragile in the heavy, lingering silence.

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened, the muscle working under his pale skin as if holding back a physical scream. He turned his face away from you, staring intently into the dark, empty hearth. His posture was rigid, locked, every line of his body screaming restraint.

"I mean every word," he said softly, though the slight tremor in his deep voice betrayed him. "Look at me, Suyeon. Look at what I almost did. I am a predator. I have been one for over a century, and no amount of human domesticity in a pretty cabin changes what lies beneath my skin."

You took a single, slow step toward him. He flinched at the sound of your footstep, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides, but he didn't run.

"You're terrified," you whispered, the truth cutting cleanly through the thick layer of self-hatred he was hiding behind. "You aren't pushing me away because you don't love me. You're pushing me away because you're scared of yourself."

Sunghoon let out a harsh, dry breath that sounded almost like a laugh—cold and devoid of humor.

"I should be scared," he rasped, finally turning his dark eyes back to you. The crimson had faded entirely, leaving behind a deep, abyssal black that looked raw and utterly shattered. "Because I love you more than my own immortal existence, and yet I still came within seconds of draining the life out of you. That isn't love, Suyeon. That's a hazard."

He closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath as if the very air burned his lungs.

"If I lose control again... if I hurt you past the point of fixing... I won't survive it," he whispered, his voice cracking on the last word. "Please. Don't make this harder than it already is. Just... pack your things."

You cross your arms, taking a firm step forward instead of backing away, your eyes locked steadily onto his.

"I'm not packing a single thing," you say, your voice ringing clear and unyielding in the quiet room. "If you really want me to walk out that door, Sunghoon, you look me in the eyes right now and tell me you don't love me anymore. Tell me you want me out of your life, and I'll leave."

Sunghoon flinches as if you’ve struck him. His dark eyes snap to yours, filled with an agonizing storm of shock, desperation, and deep-seated pain.

"Suyeon... don't do this," he pleads quietly, his voice barely a rasp. "Don't weaponize that against me."

"I'm not weaponizing anything," you counter, taking another step closer until you're standing right in front of him, close enough to feel the cold air radiating off his frame. "I'm asking for the truth. You're hiding behind this 'monster' routine because you're terrified. But I know who you are. I know how much you care, and I know you would never let yourself cross that line, no matter how close it felt."

Sunghoon stares down at you, his jaw working as his chest heaves with phantom breaths. He opens his mouth to speak, to try and maintain his cold, distant facade, but looking at the absolute trust in your eyes breaks something inside him.

The dark walls he spent the last hour building up crumble to dust in an instant.

"I can't say that to you," he chokes out, his voice cracking completely. "You know I can't. I love you so much it frightens me."

Before you can answer, he closes the small distance remaining and buries his face into the crook of your neck, his tall frame trembling as his arms wrap tightly—almost desperately—around your waist, holding you flush against him like he's terrified you'll vanish into thin air.

"I'm so sorry," Sunghoon whispers against your skin, his cool breath fluttering over your collarbone as he holds you close. "I'm so sorry I scared you. I'm so sorry..."

You wrap your arms tightly around his neck, sinking your fingers into his dark, soft hair and pulling him closer until there isn't a shred of space left between you.

"I know," you whisper softly against his ear, rubbing gentle, reassuring circles into the back of his head. "I know, Sunghoon. I'm right here. I'm safe, and I'm not going anywhere."

The rigid tension locked into his spine slowly begins to melt under your touch. Sunghoon lets out a long, shuddering sigh against your skin, his grip on your waist relaxing from desperate to tender, though he still holds you like you're the only anchor keeping him grounded in the world.

He buries his face deeper into the curve of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of your skin, letting the steady, calm rhythm of your heartbeat soothe the raging storm inside his mind.

"I was so terrified," he murmurs, his deep voice muffled against your collarbone, raw with an vulnerability he rarely ever showed. "When I saw how pale you looked... I thought I had destroyed the best thing that ever happened to my miserable existence."

"You didn't," you say gently, your hand tracing down to stroke the back of his neck, feeling the cool silk of his hair beneath your fingertips. "You stopped. You always stop. I trust you, Sunghoon. More than anyone."

Slowly, Sunghoon pulls back just enough to look at you. His obsidian eyes are clear again, softened by an overwhelming depth of adoration and sheer relief. He reaches up with a trembling hand, his cool fingers gently tracing the contour of your jaw, brushing over your lips with infinite care.

"I don't deserve you, Suyeon," he whispers, a small, tentative smile finally breaking through the shadows on his face. "But I am never letting you go."

"Good," you answer softly, leaning up to press a lingering, warm kiss to his cheek. "Because I'm not giving you a choice."

Sunghoon lets out a quiet, breathless laugh—a sound full of warmth that fills the quiet room—and leans down to rest his forehead against yours, completely content just to breathe you in as the storm continues to roll outside.

A soft, quiet stillness settled between you as the fire crackled back to life in the hearth, casting long, golden shadows across the dark wood of the cabin. Sunghoon still held you close, his cool hands gently resting on your hips, refusing to let even a fraction of space part you.

You looked up at him, tracing the sharp, beautiful line of his jawline with your fingertips.

"You know..." you whispered softly, your voice breaking the quiet hum of the rain outside. "It took a year."

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, his dark obsidian eyes softening as he looked down at you, listening intently. "A year for what, darling?"

"A year of being together for me to finally make up my mind," you admitted, a faint, tender smile gracing your lips. "A year of seeing every side of you—the charming host, the fierce protector, the dangerous immortal, and the boy who gets terrified of losing me. It wasn't until tonight... seeing how deeply you care, that I realized it."

Sunghoon’s breath hitched, his cool fingers tightening on your waist. "Realized what?"

"That I want to be with you forever," you said, your voice ringing with absolute certainty. "Not just for a human lifetime, Sunghoon. Forever."

Sunghoon’s smile froze mid-rise, his dark obsidian eyes widening in sudden, stark confusion. The warmth that had been settling over his features dissipated into a stunned, rigid silence.

He slowly set your feet back onto the cabin floor, his hands lingering on your arms not to draw you close, but as if holding you at arm's length to process what you had just said.

"Forever?" he repeated, the word sounding foreign and heavy on his tongue. "Suyeon... what do you mean, forever?"

"I mean what I said," you whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. "I want to be changed. I want to spend eternity with you."

Sunghoon flinched away from your touch, taking a full step back. His head shook in rapid, sharp denial, a look of genuine panic dawning in his dark eyes.

"No," he said, his voice dropping into a flat, immediate absolute. "No, Suyeon. Absolutely not."

"Sunghoon—"

"Do you have any idea what you're asking for?!" His voice cracked, the raw desperation from earlier returning with double the force, but mixed with a furious, protective refusal. "You're talking about giving up your life! Your future, your beating heart, the warmth in your blood, the sun—everything that makes you human and light and good!"

He began pacing the floor, running a hand through his dark hair, his immortal breath coming in ragged, phantom gasps.

"I spent the last year terrified that I was going to accidentally take your life, and now you're asking me to deliberately destroy it?" He stopped, looking at you with a heartbroken, unyielding intensity. "I will give you every single second of my dark, endless existence. I will protect you, cherish you, and love you until your very last breath. But I will never turn you. I love you too much to damn you to the cold."

"You think it's a damnation," you said softly, taking a step toward him despite his defensive stance. "You see yourself as a cold monster, but to me, you're the safest place I've ever known. It's not about losing my humanity, Sunghoon. It's about not wanting a single lifetime where I eventually have to leave you behind."

Sunghoon’s shoulders trembled, his fists clenched tight at his sides. He looked at you, his dark obsidian eyes shimmering with an agonizing conflict—a centuries-old creature torn between his selfish, bottomless desire to keep you forever and his fierce, unyielding need to protect your soul.

"You don't know the weight of eternity, Suyeon," he whispered, his voice cracking with a sorrow so heavy it seemed to freeze the air around you. "You don't know what it's like to watch the world change, to watch everyone and everything you ever knew turn to dust while you stay frozen in time. I watched my past vanish. I won't be the reason you lose yours."

"I'm not losing anything if I'm with you—"

"You would lose yourself!" Sunghoon snapped, closing the distance between you in a blinding flash, his hands coming up to gently, desperately frame your face. His cool palms rested against your burning cheeks, his eyes scanning every inch of your features as if trying to memorize them forever.

"I love the warmth of your skin," he rasped, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, trembling slightly. "I love the sound of your heart racing when I hold you close. I love that you belong to the light. If I turn you... if I make you like me... I destroy the very thing I fell in love with."

He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shuddering against your lips.

"Ask me for anything else," Sunghoon pleaded, his voice dropping into a desperate, heartbreaking whisper. "Ask me to give you the world, to protect you from every threat, to stay by your side until your hair turns grey and your pulse finally slows. I will be there for every single second. But do not ask me to kill the woman I love just to keep her."

"so you'd rather suffer another century once i'm gone to?!"

The words hit him like a physical blow. Sunghoon flinched, his grip on your face slackening for a fraction of a second as the brutal reality of your question pierced straight through his defense.

"Suyeon..." he breathed out, the name escaping him like a broken prayer.

"Answer me!" you demanded, your voice breaking as hot tears finally welled in your eyes. "You say you want to give me a normal life, a human life. But what happens when that life ends, Sunghoon? You’re going to sit in this empty cabin, in the quiet, carrying another fifty, a hundred, a thousand years of solitude? You’d rather bury me and spend the rest of eternity grieving than let us stay together?!"

Sunghoon’s dark eyes locked onto yours, a wave of pure, unadulterated anguish crashing over his features. He couldn't answer immediately. He couldn't lie to you, and the truth was a jagged pill he had been refusing to swallow.

"Yes," he whispered, the single word torn violently from his throat.

Tears spilled down your cheeks, but before you could pull away, his hands tightened softly on your face, refusing to let you look away from the sheer devotion and tragedy burning in his eyes.

"Yes, Suyeon!" he repeated, his voice rising into a raw, tortured cry. "I would suffer a thousand centuries of endless, agonizing solitude! I would let my heart shatter into a million pieces and spend eternity bleeding in the dark if it meant you got to live a full, beautiful, untainted life!"

He pulled you closer, pressing his trembling lips to your forehead, his cool tears mingling with yours on your skin.

"I have already accepted that my punishment for loving a human is the grief that follows," he rasped, his voice dropping into a broken whisper against your hair. "I will carry the pain of losing you for the rest of time. But I will never force you to carry the curse of being like me."

"Eternity isn't promised to a human Sunghoon. I don't know if I would live to see tomorrow or the day after that"

His breath caught, the sharp intake of air cutting off the desperate protest lingering on his tongue. Your words hit him with the terrifying weight of human fragility—a reality he fought every single day to pretend didn't exist.

"Don't say that," Sunghoon choked out, his voice cracking as his thumb swiped over your wet cheek, his cool touch trembling against your warm skin. "Don't... don't talk like that. You are going to live a long, beautiful life. I won't let anything harm you. I won't let—"

"You can't control fate, Sunghoon," you whispered, reaching up to cover his hand with your own, holding it tight against your face. "Humans break easily. We get sick, we have accidents... life can be stolen in a single second. If I die tomorrow as a human, you get your grief, and I get nothing. We get nothing."

A tear slipped from his eye, tracking down his pale cheek as he stared at you, utterly undone. The stoic, unyielding shield he built around his refusal was crumbling under the sheer, heartbreaking truth of your mortality.

"I am terrified of losing you," you continued, pressing your forehead against his chest, right over where his still, silent heart lay. "Not of becoming a vampire. Not of the dark. I am terrified of running out of time with you when we could have forever."

Sunghoon closed his eyes, a low, agonizing sound escaping his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you so tight against him it felt as if he were trying to merge your two souls together. He buried his face in your hair, his shoulders shaking with the quiet, overwhelming agony of a century's worth of love and fear colliding.

"You're cruel, Suyeon," he rasped into your hair, his voice raw, thick with a painful, terrifying shift in his resolve. "You know exactly how to shatter me."

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his dark obsidian gaze searching yours with a desperate, terrifying intensity.

"If I do this..." Sunghoon whispered, his breath fluttering over your lips, trembling with the weight of a life-altering choice, "...there is no turning back. I will bind your soul to mine for the rest of time. You will never see the sun the same way again. You will only have me."

He cupped the back of your neck, his fingers cool and possessive, his eyes pleading for a sanity you were both ready to abandon.

"Tell me you're certain," he breathed. "Tell me, before I give in."

"if you truly love me you'd do this"

Sunghoon froze, the air in the room dropping to a bone-chilling cold as your words hung between you.

For a long, agonizing moment, he just stared at you. The desperate warmth and panic in his eyes hardened into a profound, devastating sadness. The cool hands framing your face slowly dropped to his sides, the physical distance between you widening as he took a slow step backward.

"Do not use my love for you as a weapon, Suyeon," he said softly, his voice dangerously low, stripped of all rage, leaving only a quiet, hollow ruin behind. "That is the one thing you can never question. My love for you is the only pure, tethered thing left in my existence."

He shook his head, a single, bitter laugh escaping his lips as he looked up at the ceiling before bringing his dark obsidian eyes back to yours.

"I love you enough to tear this entire world apart to keep you safe," Sunghoon rasped, his voice trembling with a terrifying mix of grief and absolute resolve. "I love you enough to endure every second of the dark, bloody torment I live with every single day. And yes... I love you enough to let you hate me for keeping you human."

He walked over to the tall french doors overlooking the rain-slicked balcony, standing with his back to you, his reflection ghosting in the dark, storm-streaked glass.

"If turning you into a corpse, draining the warmth from your body, and damning you to an eternity of bloodlust is the only proof of love you'll accept..." Sunghoon whispered, his shoulders rigid, "...then you don't understand what my love for you truly is."

He turned his head slightly, looking at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes filled with a heavy, unshakeable finality.

"I will not turn you out of guilt, and I will not do it under an ultimatum," he said quietly. "If we are going to cross that line... if I am going to end your human life... it will be because we both choose it with our eyes wide open. Not because you forced my hand."

"if thats the case, then i'm sure"

The silence in the room stretched thin, fragile as spun glass, before your words finally sank into the dark space between you.

Sunghoon didn't move for a long, breath-stealing moment. His reflection in the storm-streaked glass remained completely still, his rigid shoulders locked in place. But slowly, the cold, defensive wall he had built around himself shattered entirely.

He turned back to you. The sharp finality in his posture melted away, replaced by an expression so raw, so utterly overcome with devotion and quiet fear, that it made your breath catch in your throat.

"You're sure..." he whispered, the two words carrying the weight of a lifetime—and the eternity to follow.

He crossed the room toward you with effortless, fluid grace, stopping just inches away. His hands came up, cool fingers gently cupping your cheeks once more. His thumbs brushed away the faint, remaining dampness of your tears, his dark obsidian eyes searching every line of your face, looking for even the slightest flicker of hesitation.

Finding none, Sunghoon let out a low, shaky exhale—the sound of a immortal man surrendering his last defense to the only person who had ever held power over him.

"No regrets, Suyeon?" he rasped, his voice dropping into a thick, velvet purr, heavy with absolute reverence. "No turning back. When the sun comes up tomorrow, you will look at it with different eyes. The world you know ends here."

You reached up, placing your hands over his, leaning into his cool palm. "No regrets."

A slow, devastatingly beautiful smile broke across his pale face, dark eyes softening with an intensity that burned brighter than any fire. He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours, his hot breath brushing over your lips as he closed his eyes.

"Then I am yours," Sunghoon whispered, his cool lips pressing a sweet, lingering promise against yours. "In this life, and in the endless darkness after."

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes locking onto your pulse point where your heart was thumping wildly against your neck. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his chest as his sharp fangs slowly extended, glistening faintly in the dim firelight.

"Trust me," he murmured against your throat, his cool breath sending a final, thrilling shiver straight down your spine. "I'll make it beautiful."

His cool fingers trailed down your spine, guiding you down onto the soft velvet rug before the hearth. The ambient amber glow painted your skin in warm tones, casting a dramatic shadow over Sunghoon as he hovered over you.

Every trace of hesitation, fear, and conflict had dissolved from his face. What remained in his dark, obsidian eyes was a terrifyingly pure, absolute devotion.

"Look at me, Suyeon," Sunghoon murmured, his voice a thick, hypnotic purr that echoed softly in your chest. His hands slid beneath your thighs, positioning himself between them, his heavy, cool weight pinning you flush against the floor. "Don't close your eyes. I want to see you choose me until the very last beat."

You kept your gaze locked onto his, your pulse hammering violently against your skin—a rapid, fragile rhythm that filled the quiet cabin.

Sunghoon leaned down, his lips dragging a agonizingly slow path over your jawline, down the sensitive length of your throat, until he reached the delicate curve where your shoulder met your neck. His breath was warm, contrasting sharply with the icy press of his lips.

"I love you," he whispered against your skin, a quiet vow delivered straight into your bloodstream. "Forever."

Then, with an unhurried, deliberate pressure, his fangs pierced the soft skin of your neck.

A sharp, gasp ripped from your throat, but the immediate flash of pain dissolved almost instantly. In its place came a heavy, overwhelming surge of euphoria—a blinding, intoxicating tide that rushed through your veins as he began to drink.

Your vision blurred into a sea of golden light and dark shadows. The steady thrum of your heartbeat began to slow, each beat spacing further apart, dropping from a panicked frantic tempo into a soft, fading echo.

Sunghoon groaned softly against your throat, the sound thick with possession and an overwhelming grief he was finally letting go. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling your body tightly into his as if he could physically tether your vanishing mortality to his immortal frame.

"That's it, my sweet love..." he rasped against your skin, his voice sounding as if it were coming from under water. "Let it go. Give it all to me."

The room spun. The sound of the rain outside receded into complete silence. You felt your chest rise with one last, shuddering breath, your fingers slackening in his dark hair, the world fading to a quiet, serene black as your heart gave its final, quiet flutter.

Silence.

Cold, pristine silence greeted you first.

Then came the senses—not soft or gradual, but a violent, explosive rush of absolute clarity.

You could hear the microscopic scrape of individual rain droplets hitting the glass windows three rooms away. You could smell the cedar wood of the cabin floor, the metallic sharpness of copper, and the distinct, intoxicating scent of rain and night air.

Your eyes snapped open.

The dim room wasn't dark anymore. The shadows were rich with impossible colors, every grain of dark wood on the ceiling rendered in breathtaking, hyper-real detail.

Above you, Sunghoon was waiting.

His dark eyes were flushed with a deep, vibrant crimson, his chest still, his breath nonexistent. A single tear hung suspended on his pale cheekbone, glittering like a diamond in the faint firelight.

When he saw your eyes open—clear, bright, and completely changed—a sound of profound, breathless relief escaped his throat.

"Suyeon..." he breathed, his voice clear as glass, echoing straight into your mind.

You sat up effortlessly, the lingering weakness of human flesh completely gone, replaced by a dark, terrifying surge of absolute power. You looked at your hands—pale, flawless, and completely still. No pulse thrummed beneath your skin.

You looked back up at Sunghoon, reaching out to touch his face. For the first time in a year, his skin didn't feel cold. It felt perfect.

"You stayed," you whispered, your own voice sounding deeper, velvet-smooth and melodic.

Sunghoon leaned into your palm, a breathless, dark smile curving his lips as he captured your hand, pressing a kiss to your pale knuckles.

"I promised you forever," he murmured, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an eternal, unshakeable devotion. "Welcome to the dark, my love."

the end

the two of you split up the bags of party supplies and headed towards the gym where the rest of the council and student volunteers were waiting. 

setting up for the fundraiser was easy until you and sunghoon started yelling at each other over which color streamers should be used over the doorway. 

jake had to drag you away by the shoulders to come to help him with the balloons. sunghoon felt a bitter taste when he saw jake with his arm around your shoulder but decided to ignore it. 

“hoon,” jungwon calls out. “we’re out of balloons!”

“that’s why i should have bought the decorations…” sunghoon mutters under his breath before walking up to where you and jake were giggling. 

sunghoon walks up behind you and places a hand on your shoulder. “we have to go back to the store.” he whispers in your ear. 

you freeze at his touch but nod and say goodbye to jake. he lets go of you and the two of you walk out the exit leading to the parking lot.

the two of you get into sunghoon’s car and he drives off to the mall. 

there’s an awkward silence between the both of you, which you can’t decide if you like bantering with him over it. there’s so much tension due to sunghoon’s lingering touch from earlier.

once inside the mall, you quietly walked side by side into the automatic doors. 

only a few feet from the party supplies stores you halt. spotting your ex-boyfriend and old friend seemingly on a date.

“sunghoon,” you whisper, tapping on his shoulder. “do you see what i see?”

he rolls his eyes at you finally breaking the silence but then looks up to see for himself. once he does that the two seem to have had the same idea, making eye contact with the other.

“oh shit they saw us,” he panics, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the photo booth you were conveniently standing next to.   

the photo booth is small. way too small. sunghoon is already sitting as you uncomfortably sit on the ledge with your legs peeking out from the curtain. 

“get up,” he instructs. 

“what?” you raise an eyebrow. “i’m not letting them see me again! especially not with you!”

“i meant like come here,” sunghoon grabs you and settles you on his lap, so the both of you fit into the small space.

“oh my god, what if they come over here!” you panic resting your hands on his shoulders. “this is bad! especially since i’m with you of all people-”

“with me?” sunghoon questions. 

“well, like when we were dating, he always thought you had a crush on me, which isn’t impossible! i had to keep reassuring him but he never believed me! like me and you are barely even friends-” you ramble, balling sunghoon’s shirt in your fists as you freak out. 

“woah, calm down,” he tells you, prying your hands from his uniform so you don’t wrinkle it. “it’s not like they’ll come to talk to us.”

just as the words left his mouth the sound of two sets of footsteps were picked up by your ears. you started to become overwhelmingly nervous. it was the first time seeing your ex-boyfriend since the split and the fact your childhood best friend was on a date with him. 

even if you drifted, shouldn’t she have some sense of girl code?

“you’re shaking,” sunghoon stares at you. 

“no i’m not!” you shake your head, your heartbeat being undeniably fast. “but like i haven’t had a date since him and that’s kind of sad for me-”

“i swear i saw her,” the familiar voice of your old friend says, sounding so close. “it could have been anyone though.”

“no, i saw her and that motherfucker,” your ex hisses. 

“wow, i’m ‘motherfucker’,” sunghoon whispers, rolling his eyes.

“if he made a move on her i swear.”

“hey, i have an idea,” he says in your ear. 

sunghoon reaches for his phone out of his pocket, holding you close as he leans over slightly to pay the machine for a photo. the screen activates after processing his card and he selects a random frame. 

the camera starts going and you sit confused as sunghoon starts posing. you can’t help but watch him. he always looks pretty but you must admit he knows how to pose. 

you peek over to the curtain to see two pairs of legs standing outside the photo booth. you can only assume it’s them. 

“you weren’t looking in any of them,” sunghoon recalls, pressing print on the screen. 

“oh, sorry,” you turn your attention back to him. 

“it’s fine, let's do another one,” he says nonchalantly as he pays for another photo strip.

this time sunghoon shifts in his spot, making it so that your face can be seen on the screen without having to turn you around in his lap.

you awkwardly copy sunghoon’s poses until by the second to last picture you hear him again.

“that fucker is in the photo booth,” the male voice outside says, seeing as he drops the photo strip back into where it fell from. 

“come closer,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“fine,” you lean onto him. “but don’t show my face too much. i’m not wearing concealer today.”

“you look just as pretty,” sunghoon leans closer so your lips barely brush the others. “maybe even prettier than usual.”

he brings his thumb to your bottom lip, gently stroking it before closing the gap. 

you hate to admit it but kissing sunghoon was everything you expected and more. you’ve caught yourself daydreaming about his lips on yours during one-on-one meetings in the conference room. when his hair is still damp from his after-shower practice and his face is still slightly flushed.

park sunghoon can make you mad, especially when he got secretary over you in freshman year. but you cannot deny that even when bitter about the council's choice you wanted to kiss that proud smile on his face. 

he made you mad when he stole your posters when you were running for secretary again the next year. but after he found you crying in the far stairwell he explained he only did that because he thinks you should run for president instead. sunghoon even pulled out another stack of flyers he made for you that he spent the whole night doing.

the sunghoon that got you both kicked out of a council meeting for arguing with each other is the same sunghoon with his lips molded perfectly against yours. 

the same boy that had you studying your ass off when class ranks came out, since he’s your only competition, is the same boy in front of you now with his lips locked on yours.

you start to feel dizzy by the decreased amount of air in your lungs by the minute but you can’t bring yourself to let go just yet. when you start seeing black specs dotting your vision you finally pull away to see a heavily panting sunghoon with a flushed face. 

“sorry,” sunghoon apologizes as he catches his breath.

your heart sinks. he only kissed you to distract you and probably so your ex will see the photos when they print.

“oh,” you fight the frown threatening to appear on your face. “it’s okay. he’s probably gone now.”

“i would have asked for your permission but you looked really stressed and i thought it would help you get your mind off your asshole ex.”

“thanks,” you say with a pout sunghoon finds adorable.

“you still seem sad,” he pokes at your sides, making you squirm in his hold. “maybe another kiss?”

“maybe,” you say shyly. 

sunghoon is out forty dollars by the time you and he are done kissing in the photo booth. he kept mindlessly swiping his card as his lips stayed on yours to prevent anyone from kicking you two out since you were there for a considerable amount of time.

you’re interrupted by sunghoon’s phone ringing profusely. 

“where are you two?” jungwon asks in a panic. “we need those balloons.”

“traffic,” sunghoon says as you plant a line of kisses down his neck, hands tangled in the hair at his nape.

“hurry up,” jungwon advises him.

you and sunghoon return to school an hour and a half after you originally left. with a bag of balloons and a stack of photo strips. most of them capturing purely just of you two making out.

when stepping foot in the gym and you go over to hand jungwon the balloons he so desperately needed. he quickly notices the matching hickeys forming on both your necks and how disheveled your uniforms and hair appear.

“traffic huh?” jungwon asks as his eyes flicker between both of you.