Eunchae raises a brow, only slightly amused. She tries her best to not say she warned you, but it slips out anyway. “It’s Sunghoon, babe. What’d you expect from such a…hot-blooded Alpha?”

“He was different! Not that bad! Or Evil!!” You muffle your scream with your sleeve, then lift your head to stare at your best friends with puffy eyes.

The bar doesn’t lose its vibrancy: the bartender doesn’t acknowledge your half hearted attempts at convincing your friends and nosy patrons (by proximity), and the music still plays on. You cry a little harder when a song Sunghoon had on his ‘my life’s a movie fr’ playlist coincidentally blares through the speakers.

Eunchae stifles a groan. “Get a grip, bitch. He’s evil. And dumb. Or evil, because he’s dumb—I don’t fucking know.” Her eyes bulge a little as she leans across Jisoo toward you. Naturally, you cower at the sudden wave of energetic dominance she emanates, and although you’ve been friends for years—Eunchae’s still an Alpha and you’re still an Omega.

She softens, but Jisoo lays a hand over hers before speaking.

“I know it’s frustrating… but maybe it’s a blessing in disguise?” She hesitantly starts. You look up and squeeze the shot glass between your palms, warming its surface.

“What do you mean?”

“I just think a guy who could mentally stimulate you might be a better match.”

Eunchae cackles, quickly butting in after taking a swig from her glass. “—what Jisoo’s trying to say is Sunghoon’s an actual dumbass. Like, the lights aren’t on at home. Ever.”

You pout at that. While a huge part of you wanted to defend him, you couldn’t lie. Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who looked like he walked straight of a Sports Illustrated magazine—a dream in dark blue jersey crop tops and denim low-rise jeans—but he’s an absolute himbo, and most conversations about your hobbies required…further explanation.

“Yeah, but he’s the only Alpha that’s never treated me like I’m dumb.” You say, downcast gaze watching the condensation mark your glass.

“That’s because he’s dumber than you—“

Eunchae groans once Jisoo’s sharp elbow hits her stomach, and stifles a scream.

“I know, sweetie. But if he was an actually good guy, he wouldn’t talk about planning ways to get back with his ex.” She utters gently, doe eyes glistening as she clasped a hand around yours comfortingly.

“What an asshole.” Eunchae grits out, before absentmindedly muttering “If I were you—I’d fuck his ex. Get my lick back, you know?”

You still, the gears immediately churning and straightening your back. You zone out on the array of bottled liquor, squinting as you rolled her words in your mouth.

“That’s a great idea, actually.”

Your best friends whip toward you with wide eyes. “Ayo, it was a joke—“ Eunchae squeaks, folding under the weight of Jisoo’s thinly veiled anger.

You push to your feet abruptly, palms slamming against the bar. Quickly, you smooth a hand over your perfectly glossed curled hair, steadying yourself, then swing around and toss your bag over your shoulder.

“Gotta get my beauty sleep. Big day tomorrow.” You say and vanish—leaving a trail of vanilla and brown sugar in your wake.

Eunchae and Jisoo stare at each other before Jisoo rolls her eyes with a groan. “Oh god—this is so bad.”

Heads turn at the sharp, charming click of your kitten heels against the marbled floors of the art department. After cornering Heeseung—who had originally refused to tell you anything more about Sunghoon, even after guiltily sending those screenshots from the boys’ group chat—you finally wore him down. A few well-placed crocodile tears later, he cracked.

And that’s how you end up in the fine arts building, scanning hallways for the sculpture studio. More people are staring than usual. Not because of your doe eyes and perfectly painted lipstick. But because your heat is only a few weeks away, and you deliberately didn’t take your suppressants so that Sunghoon would catch your scent all over campus—your scent is stronger than it should be.

Another scent dances into the hall the closer you get to the studio: something like yuzu tea and sunshine bottled up into a singular room. It was strong. Effortlessly enticing—Beautiful before you’d even laid your eyes on her. You knew it was her the moment you caught a whiff.

The studio is empty, save for a single silhouette standing at its center. A fitted black sweater clings to a narrow waist, dark hair cut short enough to curl softly at the nape. She’s taller than you imagined—almost as tall as Sunghoon—and the realization stings. You’d always assumed he preferred shorter partners. Most alphas, after all, gravitate toward omegas smaller than them.

Her pale hands dragged along a clay statue, molding the shape with a delicate, deliberate touch. She turns her head at the sound of your steps—

And what you see steals your breath from your throat.

Sharp, fox-like eyes run along your form—his pierced, pale pink tongue licks over the other cold metal piercing on his lips. A natural, dewy flush decorates the bridge of his nose, and his voice shocks you from your trance. Holy fuck.

That’s…not a girl. You think.

“…do you need something?” It’s soft. A little hesitant. Shy. The sound tickles your ears as you duck your head.

You stutter, clasping your small hands together, before bubbling the words out.

“I—oh god, you’re beautiful.”

His lips part slightly at that, a flush creeping down the line of his throat. The two of you lapse into a flustered silence, and he just stands there—wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

After a second, he ducks his head, peering at you shyly through his bangs. “That’s sweet of you to say—” he begins, voice even softer now, before glancing off to the side as if the wall has suddenly become fascinating. “Do you… need help with anything in the studio?”

You stare back at his face with your heart caught in your throat. It’d be easier to lie—to form a ruse just to get close enough to touch—but it didn’t feel right. Staring at him now, you’re struck with the realization of how shady this sort of ordeal would be.

“Honestly? I came here without thinking,” you admit, lifting your chin as you step closer.

You have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes—and he reddens instantly at the shortened distance. God, you’re pretty. There’s something almost doll-like about you, unsettling in its perfection. He has to bite down on the dangerous thought that you might be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen before it distracts him completely.

He waits, silent, patient.

“I—I’m Sunghoon’s girlfriend.” Your fingers tighten around your own wrist. “Or… I was.”

Something in his expression shifts. The light in his eyes dims, brows pulling together in a complicated crease. He fucking hated that guy.

“Oh.”

Oh? That’s it?

You shake your head, and anxiously turn away. “I’m sorry, this was a stupid idea—“

“W-wait.” He pipes up, grasping your wrist hesitantly. “You don’t have to leave.”

To your absolute horror, a tiny sob squeaks out of you. It’s embarrassingly small—but in the quiet studio, it might as well echo. You blink up at him with comically watery eyes, lashes clumping together as you try (and fail) to look dignified. Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms.

“I’m sorry—I came in here with really awful intentions,” you blurt, words tumbling over each other. “I wanted to screw him over by sleeping with you. I thought you were a woman at first, and doesn’t even matter that you’re not—and he’s just so mean. He didn’t even have the decency to break up with me before planning to get you back.”

Sunoo goes completely rigid, eyes wide as he tries to process the avalanche you’ve just dumped on him. Then something sharp—almost offended—flickers in his gaze.

“I would rather get run over by my own kiln,” he says flatly, “than get back with that dumbass.”

“He always wants what he can’t have. Pretty sure his processing rate is below average.” He finalizes blandly. “Take a seat.” He slides a stool forward and gently pushes you to sit.

Sunoo leans back against a table, perching his weight on his palms as they grasped the sides.

“Listen, I don’t want him back. To be honest, I had no clue that he was even trying to reach out because he’s blocked.”

You sniffle, folding your hands on your lap anxiously. This is so embarrassing. What were you even thinking? The next time you see Eunchae, you’re going to wring her neck.

“It’s not even that. Good Alphas are hard to come by nowadays, and I thought I’d found one who actually cared about me,” you admit.

Sunoo watches you thoughtfully before replying, “I get it. Being an Omega’s no easy feat. That’s why I hate Alphas most of the time…guess I got too distracted by his washboard abs when I agreed to go out with him.” He laughs softly.

Being near him is strangely calming. The day drifts on, and you find yourself sitting on that stool for hours, talking about Sunghoon—and then about life as an Omega. You bond over your shared love for beauty and aesthetics, and he even lets you touch his eyebrow piercing while continuing to sculpt. The goodbye is silent, but warm when he drops you off at your dorms before striding off—taking the only sound of his earrings softly clinking with him.

The next day, Sunoo leans against the wall of your Socioeconomics class, quietly watching as you approach in an excited flurry.

His dark hair is styled straight, three silver piercings dangling from each ear. A fitted turtleneck hugs his lithe figure, paired with baggy, low-waisted dark jeans. When you instinctively reach for his hands, the vision of you together is a clash of black and pastel pink.

“Sunoo!” you squeal, the scent of vanilla stronger in the presence of your joy—even after taking suppressants. Gazing up at him, you hold onto his hand. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles softly, voice low, naturally tinged with melancholia. “Yesterday was fun. Stopped by to tell you you’re welcome to come to the studio whenever. Helped me pass the time.”

A genuine smile curls your lips, the sunlight catching flecks on your gloss.

“No takesie backsies.”

Hangouts at the studio steadily turned into hangouts everywhere else. Over time, you became a regular face at the fine arts department—and people took notice of how close the two of you’d gotten in a short span of time.

Friendship with Sunoo’s as easy as breathing: cute friend dates to dessert cafes, shopping for matching collars, cozy nights in with shared self-care routines, and trips to the photo booth—it fit snugly. Comfortably. He never unsettled you the way an Alpha did. Your shared love of physical touch always resulted in the two of you curling your bodies together—or walking around campus palm in palm, and pressing your temples against each other when greeting.

✿

You sit near a large banana tree plant, at the corner of the campus cafe—catching up between classes.

Heeseung sips on his iced coffee loudly, eying you suspiciously. “You’ve gotten…real close to Sunoo, lately. That’s a surprise.”

You giggle, a happy churning in your stomach at the mention of someone who was growing more special to you by the day. “Yeah—I’m surprised too, given the situation. Guess we bonded over having a shared ex rather than fighting.”

He pops open the cap of his cup and tips it back, pouring a few cubes of ice into his mouth before crunching down on them.

“Well, yeah,” he says around the cold, “but Sunoo’s so fucking grouchy all the time. He can be a real asshole. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t bite your head off the second you mentioned Sunghoon.”

Sunoo? Grouchy?

You stare at Heeseung, bewildered. “He’s so sweet and soft spoken most of the time. Not a single mean bone in his body, Hee.”

Heeseung almost spits out his ice.

“The fuck? Are we talking about the same person?”

“Pretty sure?”

“I fucking thought something was up.” He pips, face painted with delight. “He’s into you.”

“Stop it—“ You utter shyly, gaze dropping to your lap. “We’re good friends. He’d never see me like that.”

“You don’t know Kim Sunoo the way I do,” Heeseung says, voice low and a little mischievous. “He might be an omega, but he’s a total menace. The first time Riki met him, he made the guy cry with just one sentence…because he stood too close. Oh, and he also hated Riki’s designs. Brutal, right?”

“You’re not lying?” you ask, voice sweet and innocent, eyes wide. Your fingers reach to fiddle with the thin collar on your neck.

Heeseung almost coos at the sight, completely undone by how earnestly adorable you look: all pastel pink, draped in lace. “Scouts honor.” He replies, his index finger signing an invisible x over his heart.

“Wanna know a secret, though?” He whispers and leans forward, eyes glinting dangerously. Your eyes widen at the sudden dizzying scent of his pheromones—cedar, cinnamon, and black pepper.

You crane your neck towards him, nodding vigorously

“Sunoo’s a huge masochist—that’s why he has so many piercings.” He grins at you, clearly enjoying how red you’ve gone. He could practically see steam rising off you.

You bury your face in your hands and let out a muffled squeak. “Hee, what the—what the fuck?”

Heeseung reaches over to tug your pinky into his grip, holding it playfully for a moment before pausing. He glances over your shoulder, casual yet deliberate. “Incoming.”

You follow his gaze and brighten immediately.

Sunoo’s dark hair is spiked, styled just messy enough to look effortless. Silver rings gleam along his knuckles when he moves, catching the light. Your gaze drifts—slow and shameless—over the rest of him, taking in the long sleeve layered beneath a baggy graphic tee, the matching collar to yours snug around his throat. You stop yourself short of inhaling his scent deeply.

His eyes, however, are trained onto your hand in Heeseung’s.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” He utters at the man dryly, running the ball of his tongue piercing across his teeth. He pops his gum disinterestedly.

Heeseung smiles hard enough to crease his eyes into little moons. “I’d much rather be here.”

“Of course—mommy and daddy are gonna pay your way into graduation, right?” He shoves his hands into his pockets, staring at Heeseung with an empty expression.

Your eyes flicker between them, bewildered. “Why are you guys acting so… strange?” you ask, reaching out to tug gently at Sunoo’s fingers. He softens instantly at the way you look up at him from your seat.

“I got you a slice of matcha cake,” he says, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes, ignoring Heeseung completely. “There’s a cafe I think you’d like.”

He chuckles softly when he notices the white lace parasol perched beside the table and takes in the pale pink baby doll dress you had on. “And what a cute little dress.”

You jump up to spin for him excitedly. “This is the one you picked out, remember?”

Sunoo takes your hands gently, smiling brightly. “I knew you’d look pretty in it.”

Heeseung gags silently in the corner. All he wanted was a chance to tease Sunoo, but now he’s stuck third-wheeling—and on the verge of throwing himself into mid-day traffic. Neither you nor Sunoo notice, still chatting excitedly with each other. Heeseung watches a little longer, smiling softly when he realizes the two of you look like little bunnies side by side.

Seriously—the two of you were the prettiest Omegas he’s ever known, and seeing you side by side was no joke. He stills the moment a…particular scent wafts in his direction. A fragrant haze of pink and hot, gooey vanilla drape across the cafe—turning heads in alarm at its heaviness.

His eyes flash before standing to take a step away from you.

“Sweetie, did you forget to take your suppressants?”

You pause in horror. How could you be so stupid? Your heat’s right around the corner—

With fumbling hands, you tug your phone out of your handbag and check the date.

Fuck.

It’s today.

Your heat cycle’s today and you’re seated in a crowded cafe without your pheromone suppressants.

Shakily, you glance around the room, your heart hammering as several Alphas cast uneasy glances, struggling to control their reactions to your trigger-happy scent.

You’re scared.

Really scared.

And you can’t will yourself to move. Even Heeseung’s struggling to stay neutral, a slow fever bleeding into his eyes. When his chest starts heaving, he hastily turns.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go.” His gaze is heavy with apology—but you knew it was for the best. Heeseung’s an Alpha, and a chaotic one at that. You knew he’d never endanger you willingly, no matter how most Alpha’s scared you.

Sunoo wakes you from your frightened trance.

“Come on—let’s get you out of here.” He slides a slim arm around your neck protectively, sharp eyes pointing defensively at any lingering looks.

You can’t believe you forgot one of the worst parts of breaking up with Sunghoon: having to face your heat cycle alone.

The day has arrived, and you don’t have the slightest idea how you’re going to get through it.

The hot pink corner light casts soft, intimate shadows across your room. Sunoo helps you peel off your dress, leaving you in your undergarments, and gently wipes the sweat from your skin. The heat cycle feels more like a fever the longer you’re not touched.

“Sunoo, it hurts.” You arch your back softly, hair spilling on the pillow messily, as strands stick to the sweat on your skin.

His unreadable eyes stay locked on your face as he watches you writhe for five long minutes. Then he rises, the bed creaking softly under him as he climbs on and begins to peel off his layers slowly.

Your breath catches, pink blooming across your flushed cheeks as you stare at him with glossy eyes. The soft, curved tips of your acrylic nails brush against your lips, trembling as you gaze at him in shock.

He kneels on the bed, abdomen twitching and tensing without meaning to. His pale hand reaches to nervously tug at his collar. “You can…use me. As much as you want.”

After a couple of moments of stunned silence, he squirms. Even under the pink light, the red in his cheeks seemed to glow. “I know i’m not an Alpha, but I can keep up. I can handle most things.”

The slick tacking your thighs together thickens. His flush only deepens when he hears it.

“Sun, you really don’t have to—“

“I want to.” He interrupts.

You rise to crawl towards him on all fours, peering up shyly. He sucks in a breath, slightly flinching.

The soft chime of your collars marks each small movement. His lips part as you slip your fingers inside, pressing gently against the sharp edge of an incisor.

“When I’m in heat… I like biting. And being bitten,” you admit, your voice a soft murmur. “Is that okay?”

“Do whatever you want,” he breathes. “I’ll let you know if I don’t like something.”

“You can do anything to me too,” you reply, your palms resting on the soft flesh of your thighs. The glint of his nipple piercings catches the light, almost winking in the dimness.

Everything about the moment feels strangely innocent, despite the context. The sight of his bare body, his willingness to touch you without any need to dominate, offers a comfort you never knew you needed—or were even allowed to have. Its saccharine. Warm. A clouded devotion that perfumes the air around you with something soft and tender—something Omegas like you both rarely have the privilege of knowing.

You both lean in, necks craning toward each other, breaths mingling in the narrow space between you, just a hair strand away from falling into each other.

Slick pools between your legs almost gelatinously, a soft pour trickling down your inner thigh. He sees it, and his hand rises slowly, fingers curling to cup you, stroking two fingers down the lining of your cunt. You throb at the contact, clenching as he petted the surface.

When the cold metal of his piercings press against your lips, as he slides his thin fingers in you, it settles in softly. The kiss isn’t a dramatic homecoming—it’s gentle. Quietly sacred. Reassuring in all the ways Sunoo knew how to calm the anxiety Omega’s always felt even during the high of being in heat.

Your hands find his shoulders, steadying yourself against their surprising breadth. The slow building pace he settles into physically shakes your body as he switches between driving upwards and rubbing your clit. You push deeper, licking shyly into his mouth, and gasp as he boldly pushes into yours. Your brow lifts at the feel of his tongue piercing, the smooth metal rolling against your own muscle. His left hand reaches to grip onto the meat of your hip with a strength you didn’t know he could summon.

Wet sounds fill the room—saliva strands hanging between your lips every time you pulled away just to dive back in. Your fingers lift to roll over his nipples experimentally, and sigh happily into his mouth when you hear the small moan leave him

Sunoo pulls his hand away, and you whine softly at the sudden loss of contact. When you finally break the kiss, you barely have time to steady yourself before you meet his gaze—and flinch. His eyes are intense, almost dizzying, dark irises blown wide and glossed over with something feverish. There’s a glazed heat in them, a look that makes your pulse stutter.

He pushes you onto your back, and crawls face first between your legs.

Without pause, he drags his nose up the fabric of your underwear—sucking the slick from the fabric, then pushes it aside.

A low whine escapes him as his hips roll instinctively, seeking friction against nothing. His boxers are already soaked, a dark patch spreading where his own cock strains against the fabric. You can see the throbbing length twitch as he laps at you, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit before circling your clit. The metal ball of his piercing glints in the dim light as he flicks it against the sensitive bud, alternating between rapid flicks and deep, suctioning pulls that leave his chin dripping.

Your body twitches in little spasms once it registers the feeling of his tongue piercing rolling around the sensitive bud. His tongue pumps shallowly at first, then deeper, the knob of his piercing stroking your inner walls. Your knees threaten to knock together, but his arms lock around your thighs, holding you open as he buries his face deeper, devouring you

You comb your fingers through his hair.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently. "Sunoo—breathe," you gasp, but he only whines against you, his eyes rolling back as he presses closer. The sound of his collar rattles softly as he shakes his head, refusing to pull away. When your legs lock around his neck, trapping him, he twitches violently, his fingers curling as he finds that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

He shakes his head side to side, collar rattling. He’s right where he wants to be.

The metal on his mouth grows warm. Your body feels like something molten—hot to the touch. D

Sunoo doesn’t notice—already lost in the fog of things, as your legs shook and hands fumbled to softly push at his head. He can’t will himself to pull his mouth away, drunk on the taste and heat of you. All he can smell is your particular scent of vanilla, and to his smug delight, traces of his own clean yuzu—erasing Heeseung’s earlier scent of cedar and cinnamon. The entangling scents calm his own anxieties: the ones that’ve been rearing their head every time he saw you with someone else. With someone bigger. Taller. More dominant.

He fucking hated Alphas.

You hide your hot face in your palms as you watch him continue to practically eat you, taking in the slender of his pale back and the small freckles peppering the surface of his shoulder blades and spine. His eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and hungry, as he widens his jaw, taking all of you in his mouth. Seeing his lips stretched around your pussy, his chin glistening with your release, sends another jolt through you.

Fisting the pillow, you bite your lip so hard it draws blood. Reaching out with a trembling hand, you caress his cheek. “Sunoo, it's sensitive”

He finally comes to his senses with a deep inhale, then slowly unlatches his lips from you. The surface is rubbed raw—pink, plump, and glistening. You clench around nothing at the sound of his voice.

“Tastes so good,” he mumbles, rubbing his cheek over your inner thigh in the moment of quiet, before he peers up at you.

You stare at each other, the reality of what just happened dawning in a flushed silence. Shame heats your face as you remember how much slick your body produces in heat, a detail alphas never failed to tease you about.

Sensing your embarrassment, Sunoo watches you from between your thighs. From there, he sees the muscles in your neck tense, your gaze drift away to something suddenly interesting on your left, and feels the faint tremble running through your legs. Slowly, he rises: sliding his cock out of his boxers with ease.

A gasp tumbles out of you at the sight of his own slick. Calmly, he tugs on your thighs until his cock settles between your folds, rubbing against them with ease. The sound of your combined slick is sinful—jarringly loud. He bites and toys with his lip piercing as his gaze fixes on where your bodies teeter on the edge of entry. “See how perfect this is? Look at you.” He marvels.

Clasping his neck, you press your chest to his, rubbing your nipples against his piercings. He hisses, a pretty moan stuttering from his lips as his head falls, overwhelmed by the sensitivity.

Gliding down, you wrap your lips prettily over his chest, your tits dragging against his abdomen before you flick your tongue across the surface—your pale pink gloss staining his porcelain skin.

Heeseung’s words rise to the surface: Sunoo’s a huge masochist.

And then, you bite.

His eyes widen when your teeth clack! against the metal, and you feel his cock twitch directly above your clit. “A-ah!”

One arm wraps around his waist while your small hand lifts to trace delicate fingers over his right nipple. You widen your jaw and bite again; leaving indentations circling around the glinting piercing. Sunoo’s eyes gleam in the pink light, lashes lining with pearl-like tears from the raw sensitivity.

His hips snap forward, drawing a whine from both of you. “God, you feel s-so good,” he stutters, his hand finding the back of your head to hold you sweetly against his chest. His eyes nearly roll back when you bat your lashes and look up at him innocently. “F-feel so pretty against me like this.”

He stares at how the soft fat of your pussy practically tugs his cock down, hugging it—a sloppy, messy sound resonating from between you. His eyes widen when you pull back, your thin hand moving down to part your pussy with two fingers, revealing the silky pink insides.

Flinching, his abdomen catches the stray droplets from between your damp, rocking bodies.

“Sun'—I want it inside.” You lie back fully, releasing his waist to hold your legs open, your arms hooked under your knees. Sunoo sucks in a sharp breath: never in his life has he seen something so fucking pretty. Your cheekbones catch the light, a blooming flush dusting the bridge of your nose and warming your skin. Your hair falls around you like a soft halo, framing your silhouette in a quiet glow.

“My sweet girl wants it inside?” He cups your face in his palm and presses a firm kisses to your temple, lingering there for a moment before nuzzling his nose into your hair and inhaling softly. One of your eyes squeeze shut at his affection, as you lean into it warmly. Your arms loosen where they’re wrapped around your legs, posture softening as you tip your face up to look at him. Your hands reach to run along his slim silhouette.

You quietly nod, biting back a smile. When he slides inside of you, your hands drag up to delicately wrap around his throat—his cock throbs are the pressure. Your back arches at the stretch.

It’s a cacophony of sweet depravity—each time he pulls his hips away, you draw him back with an open mouthed kiss. Everything’s damp. Heated— in a room full of pleasured sighs and slick skin. You feel his hand slide up your abdomen and hold your under-breast in his palm, tits bouncing erratically at the weight of his surprising force.

Small mumbles leave his mouth like a chant against your throat when the flesh is held between his teeth.

“So pretty.”

“Feels so fucking good.”

“Mine.”

The last one had you practically purring in his arms, pointing your breasts upward so he can latch on and mark them. A guiding hand grasps on the meat of your thighs to roll your hips on him manually.

Everything’s doused pink. Sunoo doesn’t even flinch when you squirt hard around him, only opting to fuck into you even harder.

Eventually, you’re on top of him with your hands pressing down on his throat—shaking on his cock after he fills you up for the third time. And another time, he’s saddled in your throat while his mouth works you into another orgasm.

Instinct takes over and memory gives way to an occasional blackness. If you pass out—you don’t pass out for long.

You don’t know how long it’s been. All you know is that your back is impossibly arched, tits pressed flat against the mattress, and that Sunoo’s fucking you hard enough that your head’s deliciously empty. Even the sides of your mouth are sore and raw from the amount of times Sunoo’s crammed himself down your throat until you cried. The sheets are soaked beyond repair and if you were in the right mind, you’d shriek at the almost… jammy texture.

Both your and Sunoo’s bodies are marred with bite marks, the skin flushed, red, and damp. His hips rolled against the soft flesh of your ass, rhythmically stretching your pussy—devastatingly entranced by the way you’re crying into your pillow, how your body seems to glow under the pink light of your room, and how the meat of your body shakes intensely every time he drove back down into you.

His own slick only aids how seamlessly he glides into you, nipple piercings rattling at his force. You drool a little when he shoves himself deep into your stomach, and you attempt to crawl away instinctively. Sunoo only grips onto your elbow and pulls your back flush against his chest, before sliding back in and fucking into you.

Your collars rattle in unison, soft moans painting the air. His skin is soft. Satin, despite the rough nature of his movements. And you couldn’t help the repetitive thought chanting in your head that you’ve never been with someone so beautiful before.

You piss around his cock the moment he prods at a particular spot, eyes rolling to the back of your head. On cue, he brushes your hair away from your neck, his fingers lingering for a breath before his teeth graze the soft skin at the back. He bites into the flesh mid-orgasm, abdomen caving and tensing as he whimpers against your skin.

Sunoo collapses, chest heaving, eyes squinting from the light peaking over the horizon.

It’s morning already. How long have you been going at it?

You tug on his arm until he settles beside you, then slink into his embrace as the two of you catch your breath. You brush your fingers through his hair—occasionally nipping at the skin of his neck.

His finger traces along your spine, thoughtful and slow, before he speaks.

“Can I be yours?”

You lift your head from his neck, your chin pressing against his chest as you stare up at him with tender eyes. Nervously, you toy with his collar, finding comfort in the soft, bell-like chime of the silver star–shaped charm.

Would he really be okay with you?

He stares at you, wide-eyed.

Shit—you hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Something steadies in him then. He fixes his gaze on yours and speaks softly. “I’m no Alpha. I won’t be the strongest guy in the room, and I probably enjoy getting beat up more than I enjoy throwing a punch—but I’ll keep you safe in the ways I know how. I’ll love you right, in all the ways Sunghoon or any other douchey Alpha didn’t.”

A bright giggle bubbles from your chest.

“I’ll be yours if you’ll have me.”

Sunoo swoops down to steal your breath with a kiss—only pulling away when you’re on the brink of passing out again.

The two of you curl together like Siamese cats at the edge of the bleachers, either oblivious to—or deliberately ignoring—the stares from every direction. People gawk openly; the sight of two Omegas tangled up like this is a rarity.

You’re only here because Heeseung insisted. He’d dragged you both to his home game with a dramatic sigh and a vague gesture between you. “If I hadn’t been around,” he’d said, waving a hand at the two of you, “it wouldn’t have happened.”

At some point, Sunoo’s hands are on you—fingers digging into your waist, tongue warm against yours. The world dissolves into background noise. The roar of the crowd, the sharp whistle of plays, even the game itself fades away.

You don’t notice a thing—until a collective gasp ripples through the stands.

Out on the field, Park Sunghoon goes rigid, the ball still in his hands as he stares at the two of you kissing with reckless abandon. A split second later, he’s flattened beneath a brutal pile of incoming bodies.

Sunoo laughs against your mouth. “Serves him right,” he murmurs, stealing another indulgent kiss. “Maybe I should join the team too. Gives me an excuse to pull something like that.”

You giggle, nudging your nose against his. “Only if you play nicely.”

In the distance, Sunghoon lets out one long, pained groan—and you can’t help but think life has never felt more right.

fin.

A few feet away from you stands your boyfriend—correction, your now cheating bastard of a soon-to-be ex—together with the girl he'd told you not to worry about. His arms are wrapped around her waist as he kisses her in a disgustingly sweet display of romantic ardour, while cherry blossom petals drift all around them in a passing breeze that seems annoyingly shoujo-reminiscent.

What a fucking shitshow. So, he didn't have time for any of your dates, but he had time for romantic nonsense under cherry blossom trees with her?

What a piece of garbage. Wasn't even worthy of the biodegradable can—he'd just pollute his surroundings instead. Should've just dumped him the first time your mother gave him the worst reception she ever gave any of the boys you've brought home.

The can of cola in your hand creaks and groans under the tight grip you have on it, moulding to the force of your anger. Ah, it's such a good thing you'd finished it earlier. Would've been a waste of a can of perfectly good cola over trash otherwise.

The sound of her laughter reaching your ears has them turning red—but whether it's in anger or humiliation, you're yet to figure that out. But what does matter right now is the bubbling, burning rage that seems to be setting your veins alight like dry kindle to a wildfire, demanding that you confront him and set the record straight.

He's already cheated on you—there's no fucking way you'd let him dump you too. So you pull your cardigan closer, apply another layer of your peach lip gloss for extra armour, fix the few loose strands of your hairdo, and then make your way to the two idiots, heels clicking sharply against the pavement.

Daehyun doesn't even notice you standing behind him, too wrapped in her, but lets out a startled gasp when he turns around and comes face-to-face with you, his hand still holding hers. “Hey,” he laughs nervously, subtly pulling her behind him and out of your view, “wha—what are you doing here? I thought you had clinical rotations today.”

You tilt your head and give him a saccharine smile—but it's all teeth and no warmth—as you step closer to him. He instinctively takes a step back, and the twinge of fear swimming in his eyes is absolutely cathartic to watch. Did he think that he could do whatever he wanted and not face the consequences for it? How naive—but then again, he was a little on the slower side.

“Oh, I was on a rotation,” your voice is sickly sweet as your hand reaches for the other drink can—a disgustingly sweet flavour he loved—from your bag, “but then I saw two dogs barking and running around a tree like their leashes were left a little too loose. So I came here to fix that.”

His face crumples like tissue paper, anger flushing his skin. He opens his mouth to retort—perhaps even make a little insult, if his brain could make one up, that is—but you don't let him respond, opening the can and dumping its contents all over him instead.

The red, sticky drink soaks his white shirt, leaving an ugly stain that only adds to his appearance that's growing steadily unpalatable. Seriously, what were you even thinking when you decided to give him a chance? He's like a rotten apple—pretty on the outside, but filled with insects on the inside.

The girl—Soomin from the literature department, if you remember right—shrieks loudly, her hands flying to her mouth. “Daehyun!” her voice is shrill and grating to the ears, as she pulls out a handkerchief and dabs it on the stain to “dry” his shirt, though she might as well be feeling him up with how pathetically she's attempting to do it.

She turns to you, an offended expression on her face, which slowly morphs into what you're pretty sure are crocodile tears. “Why would you do that?! The two of us love each other! If you have a problem with us being together, bring it up with me! I'm the one who asked him out first! He's completely innocent in all of this!”

Your eye twitches in irritation at her audacity. Did she even listen to a single word of the bullshit she's spewing like a geyser? Him? Innocent? Daehyun, to his credit, immediately plays his role of the protective, dramatic boyfriend, and pulls her into his arms, as he glares at you like you were the one at fault.

“Don't you dare touch Soomin,” he hisses, cradling her against him (you're sure you saw her grimace at the feel of his wet shirt, before she hid it away), “if you have a problem, take it up with me. I'm the one who accepted her confession, so if you want to fight somebody, fight me. But don't you dare drag her into any of this. She's absolutely not at fault in any of this.”

Your eye twitches harder, and the vein in your neck begins to throb painfully as you feel your blood pressure rise. Does he not listen to what he's saying too? God, they're absolutely perfect for each other. A true match made in the lowest rungs of hell.

Sighing to yourself, you let out a chuckle, but it's as icy as it can get. “Oh, don't worry,” you smile up at him, reaching up to grab the hair stick—a gift from him on your birthday—and wrench it free out of your hair, letting it fall free.

“I don't particularly like to associate myself with trash I've used and thrown away, so keep your girlfriend to yourself,” you hiss, pouring all the venom you can into the word 'girlfriend,' tightening your grip on the hair stick and rolling it between your fingers, “and stay out of my sight. Or else...” You slam the piece of metal into the tree's trunk, right next to his thigh, a mere inch from his leg, missing on purpose. “... my aim won't miss the next time.”

He stiffens at that, frozen in fear, while Soomin goes as pale as a sheet. Satisfied with the response you've elicited, you dust your hands, and spin on your heel to walk away. Daehyun's yells of your name ring behind you, offended—yet, still unable to hide the quiver of terror in them—as Soomin shrieks like she's the protagonist of a low budget production of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, drawing attention to the both of them from the other students on campus.

You clench and unclench your fists, stopping by a vending machine to grab a can of cherry cola, letting the sugar and fizz of the drink wash away the last vestiges of the violence buzzing in your blood. Good riddance. There was no need for you to expend more of your precious energy on him.

You're almost calm, but just then you remember what exactly he's been doing these past few months—lying to your face, going behind your back, being a two-faced clown, and to top it all off, the spectacle he made of you in public today becomes the final nail in the coffin—and you feel your fury come back stronger, more visceral, and absolutely unbridled at the thought of letting him get away scot-free without any consequences.

The drink in your hand sprays out of the can as it's crushed under your grip, spilling all over your arm and the floor in a wet, sticky puddle. You stare at the mess on the linoleum, before laughing to yourself, running your clean hand through your hair as you chuck the disfigured can into the recyclables bin. Soomin had a boyfriend too, didn't she? The plan slowly begins to form in your head, pieces of the puzzle fitting together like spite and anger fueled them to stay in place. Daehyun had called you the “good kind of crazy” once.

Good. You could show him just how unhinged you could be and ensure that you'd dictate the terms at the same time. He wouldn't get away, and you'd make sure it stayed that way. Now all that's left to do is track down your target and put your plan in motion.

Tracking down your target proves to be a little more difficult than you anticipated.

Kim Sunoo—Soomin's most likely ex, as you've learnt from the past few days of stalking and dissecting all of her social media posts with a burner account—is rather hard to get a hold of. Popular, creative, and mildly terrifying when it came to his work, he was the fashion design department's absolute sweetheart.

While on the regular, one would always see him around campus—his trademark red glasses perched low on his nose, a matcha latte in one hand and his tablet in the other. You'd usually find him speaking to a ton of people like the social butterfly he was—the past few days had a sudden scarcity of his appearance.

There were no flashes of blond hair in the hallways, no sounds of twinkling laughter, and a sudden drop in sales of matcha lattes at the campus café had all been consistent for the past few days—ever since the news broke out that Soomin had cheated on him.

The fashion design department had been especially affected by his absence, judging by their low morale and the way they jumped to fight at the slightest mention of Soomin or Daehyun's names, champagne-coloured lanyards whipping wildly through the air.

Some of them had even offered to punch Daehyun on your behalf—solely for the sake of being able to fight him—and although as amusing as that thought was, you had to decline the offer and shutit down. The fruit of vengeance was always sweeter when cultivated by your own hands, after all.

There hadn't been any news nor sighting of Sunoo—until today, that is. Someone had spotted him at the CS building, talking to Heeseung, and had posted the picture. The hoodie he was wearing had done little to hide the blond hair peeking out from underneath, but he seemed to be doing okay. If you considered his mildly red-rimmed eyes as a sign of him being okay, that is.

Bidding goodbye to your friends, you make your way over to the garden by the Computer Sciences block, sitting down one of the benches. Pulling out a textbook, you read to pass the time, but fortunately, you don't have to wait too long, because Sunoo finds you first himself. Black sneakers come into your line of sight first, and when you look up, you come face to face with the man you've been looking for in the past two weeks.

Sunoo looks down at you, a blank expression on his face that gives nothing away. His blond hair, usually styled impeccably, is all mussed up, like he'd constantly been running his hands through it. Blinking at his appearance, you pull out a can of cherry cola from your bag, and offer it to him.

He stares at the can for a second, before gingerly taking it from you, fingers brushing against yours as he does. Cracking it open, he moves to sit next to you. He's silent for a few moments as he sips at the sugary drink, allowing you to observe him closely. Blond hair, pretty brown eyes, full lips, and a face that seems like it was moulded by an angel's hands. The kind of beauty that was infuriatingly beautiful to be cheated on.

You're still wondering about what on earth drove Soomin to cheat on him with your ex of all people, when Sunoo finally breaks the silence between the two of you.

“... Daehyun's ex, right?” He says, voice soft, yet the words spill out rather coldly. “I've been meaning to talk to you for a while now.” You raise a brow at that, closing your book shut, and turn to give him your full attention. “... Funny. I've been looking for you too, Soomin's ex.”

He rolls his eyes at the title, and gulps down the drink greedily. “God, I hate that title. Don't refer to me that way.” Sighing, you nod and pull out your own can to drink from. “What did you want to talk about, then?” Sunoo glances at you from the corner of his eye, before returning his gaze to the sky. “... Did you know?”

“Know about what? My ex cheating on me with yours?” You question, and he nods in response. “I did notice that he was being a bit distant for the past two months or so, but other than that, I didn't suspect a thing. This seems more like a recent thing to me.”

Sunoo laughs bitterly at your answer, turning to you with a gleam in his eye that speaks of his suppressed rage. “Year,” he corrects you, scoffing at the thought, the can in his hand crinkling just at the edges. “They'd been going behind our backs for nearly a year now.”

A year? That piece of garbage had been playing you like a fiddle for nearly a year, and you'd been none the wiser to it? You stare at him blankly, still processing the thought. Then a scoff slips past your lips, before morphing into a snarl, as you grab your bag and stand up. “That fucker. He's not getting away this time.”

Sunoo tugs you back to the bench by pulling at your wrist, and you sit back down with a grunt. “What on earth was that for?!” You turn to him, huffing in anger. He gives you an unimpressed look, and lets go of your wrist. “If you're going to go after him, you're just going to be giving him what he wants. They're both attention seekers in the worst ways—are you really going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you rage at them? I heard you've threatened him once already. He's just going to get you labelled as a crazy, obsessive ex-girlfriend if you go after him now.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you turn to stare at the old magnolia tree next to the bench, hoping it'd take the brunt of your rage instead. “So what am I supposed to do? Just watch and let them be? Everybody already knows that we've been cheated on. I can't stand the looks of pity they give me as is—it's all going to get so much more worse when they find out that they've been doing so for an entire year, because they somehow will.”

He taps his fingers against the wood of the bench, humming under his breath. “You keep quiet, and stay low. I'm mad too, but do you see me doing anything?” You turn to stare at him, gaze narrowed in suspicion. “You're not doing anything... on the outside, that is.”

He raises a brow at that, but his expression stays blank. You continue to press him, leaning close enough that you can catch a whiff of his cologne—something clean and fresh, one that you can't exactly make out at the moment. “What's your plan, Kim Sunoo?”

He takes another swig of the drink, before turning back to you. “A rather simple one, actually. But I'd like to hear yours first.”

“Why, so you can judge it?” You down the last of your drink, crushing the aluminium. Sunoo tilts his head at the mildly aggressive way you're handling the can, before huffing. “No. But you're similar to me in a way—you wouldn't have come to find me without a particular purpose in mind. So what are you playing at?”

Biting your lip, you weigh your options—on one hand, telling Sunoo about your plan could possibly benefit you if he were on the same wavelength. But on the other, you'd possibly end up on square zero from square one, if he decided that you were being ridiculous instead. Still, the pros outweigh the cons, so you sigh and tell him about the plan anyways.

“... I was hoping that we could be friends,” you say hesitantly, watching his face closely for any reaction, yet he remains perfectly poker faced. You continue when he finally gives you a tiny nod of acknowledgement, “Maybe if they saw that we were doing better off without them, that little performance they're putting on would fall apart. I know I'm kind of the last person you'd want to be associated with, considering my ties to Daehyun, but still, I promise you, I didn't approach you with ill intentions in mind.”

“... Why friends?” He finally questions, tilting his head at you. “You could've asked me to pretend that we were in a relationship with each other. There were twenty different ways you could've handled this, yet you went down the friend route. Why?”

“... I'll be honest with you,” you sigh quietly, “there's two reasons for it. First being that Daehyun absolutely hated when I was friends with other guys—so me being friends with his girlfriend's ex made sense to me. The second reason is that I don't think I'm ready for a romantic relationship, even if it was under pretense. Not in the right headspace, if you know what I mean.”

Sunoo stares at you for a second, before he finally breaks out into a genuine grin—you can tell by the way his eyes crinkle at the corners—and chuckles softly. “Heeseungie hyung was right. I do like you. If you'd come up to me, asking to date for revenge, I would've shut the metaphorical door in your face, but you proved me wrong, and Heeseung hyung right. I'd be more than happy to be friends—it's nice to have someone who's in the same boat that I am, even if the circumstances behind it are... less than ideal.”

You blink in surprise at him. “Why does your friend know me? I'm aware of him, but we've never really interacted with each other before.” Sunoo hums, before answering you, his tone mildly sarcastic. “Chaewon's your friend, right? Heeseung hyung's friends with Chaewon, so that's how he knew about you. I must say, for someone who loves a dramatic flair, you're kind of being subdued right now.”

You hum, kicking a pebble by your feet, and watch it roll towards Sunoo, who kicks it back towards you.

“That's only because I got hit with a life-altering revelation,” you snark, crossing your arms over your chest. “If I were in my regular element, I'd already be shoving glitter into his car's AC vents.” Sunoo snorts at that, chucking his empty can into a nearby trash bin. “I'd go with fine glitter if I were you. Ask me how I know that it sticks to everything, and is almost impossible to get rid of without losing your mind over it.”

“Design experiment gone wrong?” you question, and he gives you a pleased grin. “Smart girl. I was trying to mimic the look of sequins on a paper draft, but I ended up sneezing, so glitter went flying everywhere. I was shining like a vampire from Twilight for nearly a month and a half.”

You laugh before you can stop it, and he gives you an amused raise of his brow. “Here I am, giving you helpful tips, and you're laughing at my misfortune? Some sort of friend you are.” You roll your eyes, lifting up your hands to stop the wind from messing up your carefully done hairstyle. “My apologies for showing appreciation towards your sense of humour, good sir. I'll keep that in mind for the next time.”

Sunoo huffs, shaking his head, before reaching into his bag, and offering you a hairclip—it's a beautiful design, made to look like a vine of jasmine curling around a pillar gently aged by the passage of time. “Here,” he holds it closer to you, “it's one of my designs. It should be the right size to hold your hair in place.” When he sees you try to figure out how to take the clip from him without letting go of your hair, he sighs and leans forward to clip it himself.

“Has anyone told you that you're like a cat?” He quips dryly, carefully pinning your hair in place. “You act all pretty for a second, but then you're howling your head off the next.”

You give him an offended look, scoffing at his words. “Excuse me?” You huff, falling back into your loud, dramatic tone, clutching your hands to your chest. “How dare you? I do not howl my head off as you say I do!”

Sunoo blinks, before gesturing towards you. “That's exactly what you're doing right now,” he snarks, “and I was wrong. You're not a cat, you're more a husky. Always dramatic and loud.”

You gape at him, brandishing your favourite pink highlighter in his face. “You take that back right now! I am not a dog!” He leans in, and plucks the highlighter from your hand, spinning it between his fingers instead. “I never said you were a dog, but you sure like to yip away like one.”

Gasping in mild offense, you reach out to take your highlighter back from him, but he grabs your hand and begins to critique your nails instead. You let him do so for a grand total of three seconds. “I know you're supposed to keep your nails short since you're a nursing major, but that dull colour clashes with your personality. Try a brighter colour next time—it'd suit you better.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull your hand and your highlighter back from him. “I know a brighter colour would suit me better. I just forgot to change it.” He huffs at the way you pout, shaking his head at you. “Let me guess... You wore it for him?”

The silence from you answers him instead, and he lets out a stretched out sigh. “That should've been your first sign, really. Him asking you to change yourself to his tastes meant that he wasn't right for you from the start,” he pauses, mulling over the next part of his sentence in his head. “... And Soomin's always worn bright colours. If you're as smart as they say you are, you'll understand what I mean.”

You clench your jaw, and look away from him. Of course Daehyun had been lying about liking muted colours on you. What else did he lie to you about?

Sunoo glances at you, before turning to stare into the far distance instead. “For all that this situation's worth, I don't think you're at fault here.” You swing your legs against the bench, staring down at the ground as a watery chuckle slips past. “Don't worry, I don't think I'm at fault, either.”

He stays silent for a bit, murmuring his answer. “Good,” he says, as he stands up, “you're not completely an idiot.” He stretches for a moment, before tapping a jasmine on the hairclip now pinned into your hair. “I'll see you around then. Try not to set fire to places, and if you do, make sure you don't leave any evidence behind.”

You watch him leave, and let out a shuddering breath when his figure finally disappears around the corner. The hairclip is still gently warmed from where his fingers had touched it. Sighing, you finally pack up your bag, and leave the garden, wondering about the mess you've found yourself in.

If only you'd heard that little camera's shutter that day—then maybe you wouldn't be stuck in an even bigger mess that came after.

✄ ACT TWO: STITCH OUR ACT TOGETHER

The first thing you wake up to in the morning is Chaewon blowing up your phone like crazy.

Your phone buzzes incessantly, and when you pick it up from your nightstand, there's about a hundred missed calls and two hundred more unread messages from people you know—mostly Chaewon, but some from Yeonjun, Euijoo and Soobin as well—all starting from 1 AM last night.

Frowning in confusion, you begin to go through the messages first. They go from concerned to frantic, mostly being simple texts with your name towards the end. A particular message catches your eye as you scroll back up to the first ones.

[Chae]: hey, I saw the pictures

[Chae]: you okay?

[Chae]: I thought you weren't ready for a relationship again

[Chae]: I'm not judging you, but if you're doing this for revenge, you're going to be hurt later

[Chae]: hey, c'mon

[Chae]: pick up my calls, please

[Chae]: we need to talk

[Chae]: you still there? are you already asleep?

[Chae]: if you're awake and reading this, please just pick up my calls

[Chae]: you know what? I'll just come over in the morning

[Chae]: please don't do anything that'll hurt you later down the line

[Chae]: he isn't worth it, I promise

[Chae]: I'm going to assume that you're asleep now

[Chae]: I'll talk to you in the morning

[Chae]: sleep tight, I guess

The messages from Yeonjun, Soobin and Euijoo all have the same undertone of worry, and they all mention some sort of pictures. Yeonjun even goes as far as to leaving paragraphs upon paragraphs of texts, trying to convince you that “what you're doing isn't worth it.”

Soobin and Euijoo are more teasing towards the start, before evolving into a similar tone of skepticism, and finally, into full-blown concern the way your other two friends were. Your confusion grows with each message you read—not to mention the way your social media accounts have hundreds of notifications as well—all from people you've either seen in passing, or never spoke to at all—in short, from strangers.

It's only when you click on Decelis University's unofficial gossip social media account, that you finally find out what's going on. For a moment, your head goes blank as you stare at your phone's screen. It's a series of a picture carousel from your meeting with Sunoo yesterday.

The first picture is of you and Sunoo, sat together on that garden bench. Normal, unassuming, innocent. But the second picture is of Sunoo leaning over to fix your hair. The third is him pinning his hair clip into your hair to hold it in place. The fourth is you brandishing your highlighter in his face. Suspicious, but passable. The worst of them, however, is the fifth one.

It's the one from when Sunoo was giving you an unsolicited professional critique of your nails. But the angle at which it was taken makes it looks like he's holding your hand and kissing you instead.

You feel your hands go cold at the sight of it—you hadn't seen anyone around, so who had taken your pictures? But then, even through the haze of your disorientation, it slowly starts to make sense to you. Sunoo was quite popular, and very well-liked amongst the campus communities. So for a man this popular—to meet up in secrecy with the ex-girlfriend of the guy his ex cheated on him with—was quite literally asking for the gossip and rumour mill to begin functioning again.

You're snapped out of your daze by your phone ringing again, and it's Euijoo who's calling you this time. Letting out a shuddering breath, you pick up the call. “Please pick up, please pick up, please—oh thank goodness you picked up! Where are you?! Are you alright?! Still at your apartment?!”

You wince a little at the sudden influx of questions, before answering him. “... I'm at home, and still at my apartment, Juju. I'm... okay.” Chaewon's voice rings out in the background, telling Euijoo to ask if you'd seen the pictures.

“Uh, yeah... Did you see the pictures?” You can hear Yeonjun and Soobin in the background as well, having a muffled argument with Chaewon about what to do next. Euijoo yells at them that he's going out to talk, and you hear the familiar, creaking noise of Yeonjun's balcony door. So they were all at Yeonjun's place.

Euijoo clears his throat, before asking you the question again. “Sorry about that... We've been really worried since that gossip account posted your pictures, and those three have taken it especially bad... Did you see them? It's not what everyone else thinks it is, right?”

An unamused scoff makes it out of your throat, before you answer him, softening at the obvious concern in his voice. “Yeah, Juju, I saw them. And no, it's just a weird angle. He was holding my hand to look at my nails, not kissing me.”

Euijoo heaves an audible breath of relief at that. “Thank goodness. We know you can be dramatic, but dating someone for revenge seemed way too out of character for you—but Chaewon and Yeonjun were still worried, y'know? I doubt either of those two has slept more than four hours since last night.”

You laugh at that, because it was definitely true—Yeonjun and Chaewon treated you more like their adoptive little sister than they did a friend, and were rather protective of you. “Tell them I'm sorry,” you say, grunting softly as you push your desk a little to the side, and crouch down to grab your eyeliner that had fallen into the gap last night.

Euijoo clicks his tongue, his tone disapproving. “You shouldn't have to be sorry for anything, okay? You didn't ask to be cheated on, and neither did you ask to be dragged into this mess. Don't apologise for things you can't control.”

Before you can answer, you hear the muffled sound of the phone being passed around, and then Yeonjun's voice crackles to life from the speakers, worry lacing every syllable he speaks. “Hey, you okay? I already know you told Euijoo you're okay, but I need to hear it myself to be sure.”

Smiling softly, you reply to him. “Junnie, I'm fine, really. Tell Chae and Binnie as well, okay? I saw the pictures, and I know what's going on. I'll try and talk to Sunoo to fix this mess, okay?” Yeonjun doesn't answer you for a second, before finally sighing into the phone. “We all know you can't be convinced otherwise if you set your mind to something once, so please just be careful, alright? The last thing we want is for you to end up getting hurt worse because of your cockroach of an ex.”

The insult makes you laugh, because if there was anybody who matched your dramatics the best, it was Yeonjun, the one you'd known for the longest. The older man always played along with your antics, and even defended some of your... more questionable acts in the past (such as the time you'd planted a mint shoot into your neighbour's garden as kids because they wouldn't stop stealing the tangerines from your family's tree, or that time when you'd made your food extra spicy on purpose to catch the thief who kept stealing it during your night rotations), on the merit that they came from emotions.

He was proud of what he felt, and wasn't ashamed to express it—which was why he'd ended up in the theatre department, before you'd followed him to Decelis University a few years later, albeit even if it was to a different major.

“Yeah, Junnie. I promise I'll be careful,” you assure, and he hums softly at that. Chaewon takes the phone from him, her voice noticeably calmer now that she's heard your reassurances. “... Okay, we'll leave you to your devices for now, alright? But if you find yourself in a problem, you call any of us immediately, okay? We'll come over in the evening. Let's talk properly in person. Take care, alright? We love you.”

With a soft laugh, you give them your goodbyes, before hanging up. Your cold hands are much warmer now, the stiffness they'd adopted receding noticeably now that you weren't as tense. At least you could count on your friends to have your back, no matter what.

Sighing, you keep your phone down, and begin to plan what your next course of action should be. The primary priority would be to find Sunoo, but he'd turned all of his social media accounts private since last night, and you didn't have his phone number, either.

You could either approach Nicholas, the fashion design department's student representative, or you could ask Chaewon to get you Sunoo's number from Heeseung. Weighing your options, you decide to go with the second—Chaewon was already aware of everything that was happening, and Heeseung was one of her friends, with a mutual connection to Sunoo—that way, this situation wouldn't get worse than it already was.

The second priority would be to address the elephant in the room—the pictures. Given the sheer amount of comments and likes on the post, it was already obvious that a large number of people were already under the belief that you were dating Sunoo. You could tell your peers that you were just friends, but it would reach only a few people, because if there was anything the students here loved the most, it was the drama and gossip.

There wasn't a way you could convince everybody, because some people will believe in what they want to believe—and if what they wanted to believe was that you and Sunoo were dating, then that's what they would believe. The most you could do was at least try and clear up the rumours.

Groaning at the mess this entire situation was starting to become, you rub your temples, feeling them throb in pain. All this nonsense, and for what? Simply because your ex couldn't keep his hands to himself, and had to land himself a second “girlfriend.”

If he really had to cheat, he could've at least had the courtesy to go for a woman who wasn't the girlfriend of someone as popular as Sunoo was—maybe then you could've stuffed glitter into his apartment without your every move being judged, watched and scrutinised by a thousand eyes.

Putting your phone into DND mode, if only to get away from the constant bombardment of notifications, calls, and messages for a bit, you pull open your skincare drawer and pick out a few face masks, before eventually landing on a pomegranate and honey clay mask as your pick. If you were going to be at the center of the drama, might as well look good during it, no?

Stressing about this would only affect your health, and that was the last thing you needed at the moment. Grabbing a few other skincare items, you pull on your headband, and head to the bathroom for some well-earned self-care.

Perhaps a long shower could ease away some of your physical tension for a bit. Then you could work on fixing this mess in earnest.

Fortunately for you, Sunoo seems to have made it a habit to find you first.

By the time you return from your shower, there's exactly five messages from an unknown number waiting to be read, but one look at the messages tells you immediately who the sender is. Sunoo's mildly infuriating sarcasm shines brightly even through text, his personality apparent through the faceless barriers of digital communication.

[Unknown]: Meet me by the stairwell on the third floor of the food sciences building in an hour.

[Unknown]: It's isolated enough that we won't be caught again, but still keep an eye out for other people.

[Unknown]: And for the love of god, please wear something low-key—I'll throw you out a window myself if you show up dressed like a sequin-covered mannequin.

[Unknown]: I got your number from Chaewon, by the way. Your friends certainly do like interrogations, don't they?

[Unknown]: Don't be late, or I'll stuff glitter into your bag instead. Bye, and try not to make things worse, okay?

Snorting at the texts, you throw your phone back onto your bed, and open up your closet. Ruffling through all the shirts, skirts, and pants, you finally find a plain gray hoodie and a matching pair of joggers.

Fixing your hair into place with another hair clip (making sure to use one that wasn't from Sunoo, despite how pretty his design is), you apply a final layer of lip balm, and grab your shoes. Slipping them on, you sling your bag across your shoulder, put on a cap and a mask to hide your face.

Taking one final in the mirror, you grab your lucky charm keychain (a goldfish charm—gift from Yeonjun on your tenth birthday), before finally heading out of your apartment.

Driving your car would attract too much attention, so you take the bus. It takes twenty minutes for you to reach the campus, and another fifteen to make your way by foot to the Food Sciences building, which housed both the nutrition science and culinary sciences majors.

It's a building with an old-timely charm, with arched windows and red brick walls—presenting a welcoming image. The large golden plaque that reads “Food Sciences” shines in the late morning sunlight, as other students pass by you.

Thankfully, they don't notice you, as you adjust your cap and slip in between the crowd. Weaving through the throng of people, you make your way to the third floor, using the stairs. The stairwell where Sunoo had asked to meet is empty, and you look down at your phone, finding that you'd arrived fifteen minutes earlier. After texting him that you'd arrived, you find an article to read, and decide to wait for him.

Midway through your reading, a pair of sneaker clad feet come to a stop in front of you. “Finally,” you huff, pulling down your mask, “I thought you weren't going to come at all.” But when you look up, you find that it isn't Sunoo who's arrived—instead, Sunghoon stands in front of you, hands in the pockets of his jeans, and an unreadable expression on his face.

You blink, and take a step backwards in surprise. Sunghoon doesn't move from his spot, but he tilts his head to observe you better, raking his eyes over you from head to toe.

“You,” he finally breaks the silence, narrowing his eyes at you. “What are your intentions with Sunoo?” The question takes you by surprise, and you give him a flustered smile. “I'm sorry, what?” Sunghoon takes a deep breath, and steps closer to you.

“I asked,” he repeats, crouching down to be eye level with you, “what your intentions with Sunoo are. You show up right after his ex cheats on him, you're the other guy's ex-girlfriend—and then right after meeting him, there's already dating rumours between the two of you. Anybody would find that timeline suspicious, given the circumstances that lead to it. So answer me—what do you want from Sunoo?”

You sigh, and rub your temples. “There's nothing I want from him,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Sunghoon scoffs, shaking his head. “Bullshit,” he spits, clenching his jaw. “You wouldn't have approached him without a motive in mind. If you're planning to use him to get revenge on your ex, I suggest you abandon that plan at once. We don't take well to any of our friends being hurt.” Before you can answer him, a hand pushes his face out of your line of sight, and a head of blond hair takes its place instead.

“Ignore him,” Sunoo says airily, covering his hair with his beanie again. “He just likes being dramatic.” Sunghoon makes an offended noise at that, looking at Sunoo with an expression of sheer betrayal, a far cry from his impassive face with you earlier. “Excuse me?! Me? Dramatic? I'm just out here, being a good friend for you—”

Sunoo rolls his eyes, and kicks him lightly on the shin. “I was the one who called her here to meet up. And no, she doesn't want anything from me. You're just being dramatic and overprotective, Sunghoon hyung. Look, you pretty much scared the poor girl by getting all up in her face like that.” He reaches out to tap your temple, pointing out your blown pupils and clenched fists to Sunghoon. “C'mon. Apologise to her. She didn't ask for any of this either.”

Sunghoon blinks blankly for a second, as he takes you in for a second time, before his expression softens considerably. “Sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It's just that the pictures... They've stressed out all of us. Soomin cheating on him was bad enough, but the pictures definitely made everything worse. Still not an excuse to get all up in your face like I did earlier, though. Really sorry about that.”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. “... It's alright. I can let it slide because you were just worried for him—I know my friends would do the same for me.”

“Oh, they definitely would,” Sunoo snorts, “they interrogated me for about twenty minutes straight about how I intended to fix this mess.” Letting out a deep sigh, you let yourself relax again. “Sounds like Chae and Junnie, alright. Sorry if they were being asses for a bit.”

Sunoo hums, nodding at your answer. “I don't mind. It's good to know that you aren't isolated in this situation,” he turns to give Sunghoon a pointed look, “and you can leave. I'd like to talk to her and sort this situation out between the two of us. Privately.”

Sunghoon nods, holding his bag tighter, and gives you another apologetic smile as he walks away. “I'll leave you two to it, then. Be careful.” The two of you watch his figure disappear down the staircase, before Sunoo turns back to you, and gives an approving look at your outfit. “Good. At least you do listen—did anyone see you on the way up here?” You shake your head, and he nods.

“How'd you get to the campus, then?” Pocketing your phone, you answer him. “Took the bus. Using my car would've been too obvious, since the nursing department has a day off today.”

“Smart girl,” he praises, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Fortunately, you're not all that much of an idiot,” he says, smile growing wider when he spots your nails—now freshly done, sporting a brighter colour that suited you better, “and you do pay attention to good advice. I'd say that's a great improvement from yesterday's mess.”

Scoffing, you reach out to lightly kick the side of his leg. “Did you ask to meet up so you could critique my personality and appearance, or did you do it to fix this stupid situation we're in?”

Sunoo straightens up, and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back against the railing. “... Right. Pleasantries aside, I did call you here to discuss this.” His serious countenance makes you correct your posture as well, and you mirror his actions, leaning back against the wall. “... Uh huh. Any ideas that you've got in mind?”

He looks away for a moment, before turning back to you. “I'll be frank with you—the only thing we can do is stay low, and wait for this to pass. There's way too many people who've seen the pictures, and no matter how much we try to tell them that there's nothing going on between the two of us, it's not going to change much. They'll believe in the narrative they want to, and the narrative they want is the one that'll bring them the most entertainment.”

You nod, looking down at the floor. “I know, but what if they ask?” Sunoo taps his fingers against the metal. “Then you deny. People will definitely come up to you and ask, so you can deny the rumours in person then, but doing it online is a complete waste of time.”

Sighing, you rest your head against the plaster, already feeling a second headache beginning to form. He notices it, and his expression softens just the slightest. “Hey, don't overthink it too much. It won't do anything much apart from hurting your head instead.”

“Speaking from experience?” you quip, opening your eyes to look at him again. He snickers, rolling his eyes at you. “Years of it. Used to be my speciality, till Jungwon fixed it by forcing me to join him for his meditation sessions. “Inner peace,” or whatever Master Shifu said—but it does work. Most of the time.”

“Oogway said it first,” you retort, and he pretends to stomp your foot. “Forgive me for not having encyclopediac knowledge of Kung Fu Panda's script and dialogue the way you do. God, you're almost as bad as Jungwon and Jake hyung with Zootopia.” You snort, dodging his 'attempts' to do so. “Hey, Nick Wilde has pretty solid advice about press conferences. Maybe we could apply that to our situation.”

Sunoo groans loudly, holding his head in his hands. “Ugh. I'm surrounded by Zootopia fanatics. First my friends, then my not-my-girlfriend girl friend too? I'm going to go crazy.” But the small quirk of his lips tells you that he's joking, even if he tries to hide it.

“Anyways, now that you have my number, text me if you need something—but don't do it unnecessarily, or I'll block you. Permanently,” he threatens, half-amused, “so use your privilege wisely.”

“Aye, your highness,” you snort, already beginning to go down the stairs. “I'll keep that in mind.” You dodge the crumpled ball of paper he throws at your head, watching it drop into the bin in the corner. “Hey!” you yell, turning to him. He stares at you with an amused expression, gesturing at you to continue walking.

“Oi, “Hey” yourself instead. Go on now, shoo shoo,” he waves his hand dismissively, “and don't think too much. Take it as an opportunity to bother your friends some more instead. Off you go, then.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you begin the climb back down the flight of stairs, flipping him off as you do. The sound of Sunoo's loud, twinkling laughter echoing in the stairwell is the last thing you hear as you round the corner to the next floor.

For someone who claimed he wasn't as bothered by this situation as you were, he sure did seem to care quite a bit about you. Talk about being the epitome of a deretsun instead.

Unfortunately for you, it also seemed that the universe was awfully interested in fucking up your plans.

You stare at your phone's screen, eye twitching in annoyance. Displayed on it is a single notification about a message from your ex, who, for some reason unbeknownst to you, had an audacity beyond his means.

Some nerve of him, to be texting you after the fast one he pulled on you. What did he think himself to be? Some kind of campus Adonis, wanted by everyone? But knowing Daehyun and his narcissistic tendencies, it was very much possible that yes, he did think that, and was now acting upon it.

[Roach Killer Reject]: You moved on rather quick, huh? Speaks a lot more about you than it does about me.

Taking a few deep breaths to quell the anger welling up in you like bubbling lava, you resist the urge to throw your phone across the road. The poor thing—at no fault except for delivering that cockroach's message to you—didn't deserve that treatment.

Inner peace, you inhale, embody Master Oogway, you exhale. Then, you unlock your phone, open up your messages, slide open the menu, and promptly block him.

Should've done that sooner, damn it.

Placing your phone back down onto the table, you let your head rest against the wood as Soobin brings over two plates of fried chicken. He'd invited you to eat out at your favourite hole-in-the-wall spot, insisting on it being his treat. And you were never one to deny free food, so of course you went with him.

He places one before you, and takes one for himself, already beginning to dig in. “Who was that?” he questions, having seen your earlier reaction from where he stood in the queue. “People are still bothering you?”

You shake your head, and flip your phone screenside down, before starting to eat yourself. “Eh, it was a nobody. Don't worry about it.” He gives you a look of concern, but doesn't continue to press the matter, and opts to change the subject instead.

“... How's the chicken? Good?” You laugh mid-bite, shaking your head at him. “Binnie, we come here every other weekend. The chicken's gonna taste the same!” He rolls his eyes, puffing out his cheeks. “Hey, they could've changed their recipe, y'know? Don't shut out every possibility that could probably be possible, even if the probability of those possibilities being possible is a possibility in itself.”

“Wow, we've got a philosopher over here,” you quip, shaking your head. “Next Socrates, everyone.” You gesture to an imaginary audience, and Soobin shamelessly plays along, bowing to it. “Thank you, thank you. Being the Fount of Knowledge can be a heavy burden sometimes, but I shall try my best.”

You kick his ankle, and he yelps in response. “Now you're just pretending to quote Shadow Milk Cookie!” Hissing as he rubs his foot, Soobin sticks his tongue out at you. “So what? You defend Pure Vanilla Cookie like it's a matter of life and death! And don't say it's because you like his character design, because Shadow Milk has a pretty cool design too!”

“I'm not denying that,” you blow on your food to cool it down, “but I'll still pick Pure Vanilla over Shadow Milk if I must.” Soobin rolls his eyes at that, drinking some of his water.

“Ugh, so boring. You should try associating yourself with a villain sometimes. Then you'll understand the appeal of the dark side.” You pretend to kick him again, and he reflexively twists himself away from you. “Please stop talking before I eat your portion of chicken too.”

He gasps, and draws his plate closer to himself. “Glutton. Not my chicken!” He stares at you for a minute, before the two of you burst out into laughter. Wiping away some of the tears at the corners of your eyes, you resume your meal, chatting away with Soobin—who definitely succeeds in his objective to distract you from recent events.

Until you reach your apartment after parting ways with him, that is.

And then you're reminded of everything that's going down, because the universe loves giving you physical proof that everything is not fine and dandy with you.

Kim Sunoo stands before your door, a hand raised in preparation to knock. “What are you doing here?” You question from behind him, and he jumps at that, whirling around to face you.

“Oh my god, don't sneak up on me like that! I almost had a heart attack!” He smacks your arm lightly as you come to stand next to him, shoving your keys in to unlock your home. He follows you inside even without an invitation, neatly placing his leather boots next to your sandals, before padding behind you as he shuts the door.

“How'd you even find my address?” You pour some water into a glass, handing it to him. He takes the glass from you, sipping slowly. “Euijoo gave it to me. I needed to talk to you.” Taking the seat next to him on the couch, you grab a pillow and get comfortable.

“About what?” He sets the glass down, turning towards you with a rather serious countenance. “About your ex boyfriend.”

You straighten up at that, sitting properly, and raise an inquisitive brow at him. “.... What about Daehyun?” Sunoo fiddles with his bracelet, before turning back to you.

“Did you perhaps receive a message from him?” Blinking in surprise, you nod. “... I did, but why does that matter?” He doesn't answer you, and presses on with another question of his, shoulders tight with tension. “Did you answer him?” Shaking your head at him, you pull out your phone from your pocket. “No, I didn't.”

“... That's good. Don't answer him. Keep him blocked.” He heaves a sigh of relief at that, slouching back onto your couch. “He already is... But what exactly is going on, Sunoo?” He doesn't reply for a moment, staring up at your ceiling.

Returning his gaze to your confused one, he sighs and sits up again. “Riki overheard some seniors talk about how pissed off your ex is because you aren't bothered by his antics. Apparently, he's planning on confronting you about it.”

“He's going to meet with my right hook instead if he does,” you roll your eyes, but Sunoo doesn't seem amused at all. “I'm not joking. Someone messaged one of my classmates earlier, asking if they knew where to find you. I'm assuming it's Soomin due to the way the text was phrased, but it could be Daehyun for all I know. Don't go out alone for a while. Take a friend with you if possible. Who knows when he might show up?” You sigh, and nod at him. “So you're saying that he's the one acting like a crazy ex instead? And that he's trying to seek me out?”

“Yes, that's exactly what I'm trying to say.” He huffs, grabbing his phone as it lights up with a notification. “Be more aware of your surroundings, don't do shit alone—on second thought, nevermind what I just said.”

That earns him another confused look, and he exhales deeply, before meeting your eyes again. “Okay, remember when I said that we should deny the rumours that we're dating?“ You nod, and he continues. “I think we should accept it instead.”

“What?!” You screech, and he winces at the sudden increase in your volume. “What—what do you mean?! Just—just why? What exactly is going on?!” Sunoo shows you his most recent conversation with Riki, who's sent him a screenshot of a chat with another person. “Riki's childhood friend is a part of the literature department, too. She somehow came to know that Soomin's already telling people that we're dating, and told Riki about it. The university festival's next week, too—I don't want to deal with annoying gossipmongers while I prepare for the department's collection debut, and apparently, your ex said he'd leave you alone if we're actually dating.”

You gape at him, flabbergasted, and he leans in, flicking your nose gently. “It's a win-win situation all around. People already believe that our 'relationship' is real, so why not take advantage of it for our own benefit?” You open your mouth to retort, before shutting up again. “... Right. For our own benefit.”

“For our own benefit,” he echoes, flashing you a mega watt smile, although it seemed to be more mischievous than it was sweet. “So, what do you say, girlfriend?”

You feel your own lips begin to tug into a grin, and he grins wider at that, cheering loudly as he claps his hands.

Ah, seriously. What kind of a mess had you been dragged into? Maybe you really should join Jungwon and his meditation sessions instead—at least you'd have inner bubble of peace, even if other people seemed hellbent on ruining your outer one.

✄ ACT THREE: STITCHES FOR ALL TO SEE

The first thing Yeonjun does when he sees you walk into the campus café, hand in hand with Sunoo on Wednesday morning, is scream.

“What the fuck is this,” he stares at your laced hands, absolutely flabbergasted, “and why the fuck is this happening?!” Chaewon and Soobin mirror his expression, while Euijoo drops his breakfast sandwich in shock.

Sunoo ignores the racket your friends are making, and strides over to pull out a chair for you at their table instead. “Sit,” he guides you to settle down, before taking the seat next to you, his arm coming up to wrap around the back of your chair. “Did you have breakfast?”

You shake your head at him, and he hums for a moment. “A cappuccino, avocado toast and a vanilla stuffed croissant, right?” He lists off the order you'd mentioned to him the other day he'd come to your apartment, and you nod. Satisfied, he heads off to the counter to order, as you feel eyes on you from all the other students in the café.

When you turn back to your friends, Yeonjun is all up in your face, gaze narrowed in suspicion. “Talk, or I hold your bag hostage,” he points to where Soobin is clutching your bag tightly in his lap. When did he even take it?

Sighing, you lean closer to talk to them in a whisper. “First of all, before you say anything, I didn't suggest it; he did.” Chaewon raises a brow at that, setting her macchiato down onto the table. “Second, we're doing this because people kept bothering us about the whole being cheated on thing. Third, Daehyun was apparently trying to corner me because I didn't give him the reaction he wanted to his antics,” Soobin curses under his breath, his mild mannered and gentle countenance completely forgone in favour of cursing out your ex. “Fourth, because his ex keeps telling people that we're dating. Fifth and finally, it's because people already believe that we're dating, so we're just taking advantage of the situation till it cools down.”

Euijoo blinks in surprise at that, pausing mid-bite of lettuce. He looks around for lingering eyes and ears, before leaning in to whisper in a manner that seems rather conspiratory. “So you're not actually dating, is that it?” You nod, sitting back up. “Yup. It's all only for now.”

Chaewon makes a noise of acknowledgment in the back of her throat, mauve nails tapping against the table. “Ah, so that's what it is. I mean... according to me, it's still not the most ideal solution, but if it works out for you, then it's all well and good. Just be careful that you don't end up hurt in the end.”

Yeonjun echoes her sentiment with a soft murmur. “She's right, but know that we've still got your back no matter what, okay?” Euijoo nods, offering you some of his grapefruit ade. “Yeah. And if your ex decides to show up and be an ass to you... Then let's just say that he's going to be on the floor before he can get a word out,” he emphasises with a stab to Soobin's pancakes that has everyone else flinch in mild terror. An angry Euijoo was a rare sight, but it was a terrifying one all the same.

Soobin laughs nervously, extending his plate to Euijoo. “Euijoo, why don't you eat some more? They're good, right?” Before you can say anything, the chair next to you screeches softly as Sunoo returns with a full tray in his hands. He places it before you, and takes his yogurt bowl and mint choco milkshake from it. He runs a glance between you and your friends, before nodding.

“So, I'm guessing you're all aware of what's happening here?” He raises an eyebrow at your friends, with Soobin and Euijoo nodding their heads. Yeonjun and Chaewon, however, take a different approach.

Reclining against their seats, they cross their arms in sync—much like the way older siblings behave—and stare down at Sunoo menacingly. “You get one and only chance with her,” Yeonjun glares, crossing his leg over his other one, “and if you hurt her in form or shape, you're as good as dead,” Chaewon finishes for him, glowering at Sunoo as she makes a threatening motion of swiping her thumb across her throat.

Sunoo stares at them for a minute, before sighing sufferingly. He nods at them solemnly, like a man forfeiting all his worldly possessions. “Of course, you have my word.” They stare at him for a moment longer, then Yeonjun claps him on the back, while Chaewon ruffles his hair.

“Alright! You're one of us now, so let us know if we have someone to fight, okay? Sorry about being weird earlier,” she gives him a sheepish smile. “And while I'd like to say sorry for you being in the same boat as our friend here,” Euijoo gestures to you, “I'm not going to, because your ex being a rotten apple isn't your fault.”

Sunoo gives him an appreciative nod, and sips at his drink. Yeonjun lights up at the sight of Sunoo's drink, only noticing it now, and passes a bag of mini mint chocolates to him. “Consider this as compensation,” he says loudly, all but shoving it into his hands, “for having to put up with her dramatics.” He ruffles your hair, laughing at the way you yell in annoyance. Sunoo watches the interaction with a small smile on his face, as he eats his yogurt bowl.

When your friends begin to argue with each other over whatever new nonsensical thing had caught their attention now, Sunoo leans in close to whisper into your ear. “He reminds me of Sunghoon hyung,” he says, glancing at Yeonjun, “pretending to be all tough on the outside, but a total softie on the inside. It's cute.”

You huff out a chuckle, unable to deny the similarities between Yeonjun and Sunghoon—especially since Sunghoon himself had made a whole show out of “threatening” you for Sunoo's sake—the both of them sure liked playing the roles of protective older brothers.

The feeling of being watched is hard to brush off, considering the sheer amount of people openly pausing their lives to stare at you and your “boyfriend.”

Sunoo must've noticed that you were uncomfortable, because his hand wraps around your shoulders to pull you close to his side, subtly shielding you from their view. “Relax,” he whispers, squeezing your shoulder gently, “you're way too stiff. Planning on giving us away within the first hour, darling?”

“Not my fault,” you retort, laying your head on his shoulder, and snorting when you hear the multitude of surprised gasps ringing out at the action behind your group. “If there's anything to blame, it's your popularity.”

Sunoo snickers, voice low as he brushes against your hair. “Why, you jealous? Don't worry—by the time this little act of ours concludes, you'll be popular too.”

“Being popular's the last thing I want. Messes with my peace,” he scoffs when he sees you roll your eyes at him, fingers drumming against your shoulder. “It's not all that bad, darling. You'll find out that it comes with quite a bit of perks.”

You lift your head from his shoulder to look up at him, raising an inquisitive brow. “What perks? Zero privacy, or the constant attention?” Sunoo blinks at that, before bursting out into a peal of laughter. “Touché, sweetheart, touché.”

That draws the attention of your friends who give you two identical looks of confusion. “What's so funny, you two?” You throw a napkin at Soobin's head, and he ducks down to dodge it. “Nothing, you nosy asses. Can't I talk to my boyfriend without you lot being suspicious?”

Sunoo, sensing an incoming “argument” by the look on Chaewon's face, quickly grabs your hand and tugs you up to stand, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you in place by his side. “If you don't mind,” he says loudly, “my girlfriend and I have classes to get to. See you later~!”

Euijoo and Yeonjun wave you goodbye as Sunoo slings your bag over his shoulder, and quite literally pulls you out of the campus café. People instinctively part ways for the two of you, and Sunoo's grip on your hand is warm and firm, as he expertly leads you through the crowded halls.

Slowing his pace just the slightest to match yours, he walks in step with you to your lecture hall. Coming to a halt in front of the sliding doors, he returns your bag to you, fingers brushing yours. “I'll come by later to pick you up,” he mutters, reaching out to brush some of the loose hair from your face, “so don't go scurrying away like a little mouse. Cute lip combo, by the way.” He smirks, and cups your face to place a kiss on your cheek.

“Try not to break character a little too early,” he whispers softly, meant only for your ears, as he begins to pull away. Smiling, you hold him in place by his tie, and brush your lips against his jaw—grin growing wider when you feel him tense up—before finally answering him with a low murmur of your own.

“Don't act so stiff when I get close to you, either—you're going to be the one to give us away instead.” Then, without waiting for his answer, you pull away and head into your lecture hall, winking at him as you disappear behind the doors.

Sunoo stares blankly at the space where you'd been standing a moment ago, tongue brushing against the inside of his cheek and a hand touching his jaw, where the light stickiness of your lip gloss remained on his skin, before bursting into laughter.

Shaking his head, he lets his hand drop back down to his side, the faint tint of the cherry pink from your lip tint visible against his skin under the hallway lights, not bothering to wipe it off.

Spinning on his heel to head to his own classes, he holds the strap of his bag tighter, a grin threatening to take over his face as he's already planning other ways to push your buttons in his head.

Cheeky and dramatic. That's what you were. Unfortunately for him, it also happened to be his favourite kind of combination—and he couldn't wait to set the stage for the rest of your performance.

Sunoo spots you through the crowd of nursing students rather easily, eyes landing on you, watching as you speak animatedly to Euijoo.

Huffing out a chuckle, he steps away from the pillar he was leaning against to approach the two of you. Euijoo spots him first, nudging you with his elbow to draw your attention to the blond.

Your eyes find him next, and a slow smile curls on your glossy lips—one that he mirrors, stepping forward as the other students part to make way for him. “Hey,” he murmurs, fingers reaching out to brush against yours. “Ready to go?”

Euijoo watches the two of you with a soft smile on his face, and nods at you when you turn to him. Then your hand is slipping into his, fingers lacing tight with his as you tug him along, and he follows behind, strolling at a leisurely pace. “Relax,” he snarks, “you're running like you've got some kind of ghosts chasing you—or maybe that's just your ex, hm?”

“Very funny.” You roll your eyes, but slow your pace just enough to stroll shoulder to shoulder with him. “Absolutely amazing sense of humour you've got there, boyfriend. Are you sure that it isn't you who's trying to run away instead?”

Sunoo pulls you closer to his side as a crowd of students pass by the two of you, laughing quietly. “I doubt Soomin has the audacity to walk up to me the way Daehyun wants to do to you.”

“She'd probably get jumped by your fanclub faster than she could even step foot into the fashion design building,” you snicker, raising a hand to block out a few sunrays. “They've all been out for blood ever since the news got out. Some of them even approached me, asking if I wanted someone to beat up Daehyun.”

Sunoo blinks in surprise at that, an incredulous laugh slipping out of him at the revelation. “Seriously?! I thought it was just a rumour, but they actually came up to you and asked that?”

“Nope, it's all true. Believe me I was really surprised, too.” His arm wraps around your waist, as he moves you to his left when the two of you reach the main street outside the campus, resting firm against you. “By the way, where are we going?” You question, and he simply shrugs in response to the question. “You'll see when we get there. Amazing choice in hair clip design, by the way. Wonder who gave that to you.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you shove him lightly—the hair clip you'd been wearing today had been the one he gave to you a few days earlier—his own design. “Narcissistic much?”

He tuts, kissing his teeth, and then grins when you yelp loudly as he gives a sneaky little pinch to your side. “It's not narcissism if I'm just proud of my work—which, if I might remind you—is very much in demand. You're welcome, by the way—that's an only-one-of-it's-kind, limited edition design of yours truly that you're wearing right now.”

“Gee, how could I ever repay you for this?” He laughs harder at your dramatic gasp, pulling you into a headlock. “You're being a little too mouthy for my taste there, you know? You can repay me by not being such a brat.”

With a bit of a struggle—Sunoo was much stronger than his appearance suggested otherwise—you finally free yourself from his grip, and fix your hair back in place with a grumble. “Everybody loves my drama. You'll love it soon enough, too.”

He pretends to think for a moment, the metallic rose gold of his nail colour shining softly in the light as he taps his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah.... I'm not so sure about that. As I've said before, your drama's like a husky's theatrics—cute at first, annoying and exasperating later.”

Sunoo yelps loudly, dodging your attempts to elbow him, spinning and twirling as he does. “Hey, what's with the sudden violence?! I'm just pointing out the truth!” You make another swipe at him, and he actually laughs as he dodges that as well. “Aw, sweetie. You're so cute when you get all pouty and huffy like that,” he coos, pinching your cheeks. “So much like a husky.”

He sighs in amusement when you swat his hands away and walk ahead, running to catch upto you. “Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I won't compare you to a husky again, no matter how much you resemble one.”

He bites his lip to suppress the grin forming on his face when he sees your side eye, arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. “Aw, come on. Don't be mad at me, yeah?” Sunoo coos, lowering his head to get into your line of sight, as he pokes your cheek. “You look very cute like this, but you look cuter when you're laughing.”

“What?” His words pull an incredulous laugh out of your throat, and he grins brightly at that. “There we go!” You smack his shoulder, and he makes a show out of wincing like it really hurt, even if you didn't hit him that hard. “Are you trying to flirt with me or something?”

“Of course not! This is all for practice, you know?” He runs a hand through his blond hair, coming to a stop next to you as the pedestrian light turns red. “We've got to be as natural as possible if we want to successfully pull this off.”

The little thumps of his boots against the road are in rhythm with the soft clicks of your shoes, as the two of you cross the road to head to the other street, weaving through the crowd of people when the light turns green again. “Besides, you never know what can happen in the next moment.”

The two of you come to a stop before a clothing store, and you turn to look at him in confusion. “Why are we here?” Sunoo herds you into the store, as the employee at the counter greets him enthusiastically, rather familiar with him.

“To buy you a new pair of shoes,” he leads you over to sit at one of the velvet ottomans, “because those,” he points to the pair you're wearing at the moment, “are cute, but totally impractical. You're going to mess up your feet because you nursing kids have so much of walking to do.”

“I find them perfectly comfortable,” you mutter, shivering slightly at the store's air conditioning. “I wouldn't have bought them otherwise.”

He ignores you, already directing an employee to get a few particular models of footwear in your shoe size. “... Why do you know my shoe size? Did my friends tell you again? I swear, they're going to—” Sunoo cuts you off mid-ramble, as he flicks your nose gently. “Hold your horses. No one told me anything, most definitely not your friends.”

“Then how did you know? Because I definitely didn't tell you anything about my shoe size,” you stare at him suspiciously, and he shakes his head with an exasperated huff.

“Because I'm literally a fashion design major. It's my job to know measurements—and after a while, you get pretty good at eyeballing stuff. So it wasn't that hard to estimate your shoe size too.” He crouches by your feet, already slipping off one of your shoes, and slips on a wedge in a rather pretty black and blue design onto your foot. “Does this pinch at the toes or ankles? Tight anywhere?”

“... No. It's the correct size,” you answer reluctantly, and he slips on the other one as well, before standing back up and extending a hand to you. “Come on. We need to get you to walk in these because that's the main point.”

He gently pulls you up when you place your hand in his, and after taking a firm hold on your other one as well, walks backwards as he keeps a keen eye on your gait. You've barely taken one step, when he stops you and sits you back down. “Nope. Not the right ones.”

“What?! I barely walked a step!” You stare at him in confusion, and he shakes his head, crouching back at your feet again. “You were unsteady for a second there. That means they're not the right level for you—easy to twist your ankles in those kinds of footwear, especially if you're going to use them for everyday use, such as walking a lot.”

He slips a different pair onto your feet this time, white and gold trim lining the design. “Walk now.” He lets you take exactly five steps, before calling you back. “What's wrong with these now?” You huff, plopping down onto the ottoman again.

He hums as he unbuttons them and slips them off, already reaching for a third pair. “The toes stick out just a little. Not ideal for a hospital setting—I know it's still within proper dressing code, but I'd rather not risk anything. Okay, try these.”

He continues cycling through a few more pairs, giving you annoyingly practical reasons to reject them, no matter how cute you found the designs (”You'll slip if you run in those,” he'd rejected one pair as soon as he saw them, not even bothering to let you try them on. “Stop pouting, unless you want to be face planting in the middle of a shift.”) he'd picked out—before he finally lands on one design tucked away at the back of the display case.

He quickly fetches them—it's a gorgeous black and red design, with gold details—and just like he did with the others, helps you carefully try them on. “Material's good, craftsmanship is of good quality too. The soles have a good grip... C'mon, up. Walk with me.”

He stands back up, and leads you around the store, watching you closely. Admittedly, they're actually rather comfortable—you barely even feel like you're walking, the insoles and the shoe's design itself snugly supporting your feet. Sunoo comes to a halt before a full length mirror, and steps away to let you observe yourself. “What do you think?”

He leans against a pillar, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you spin and twirl to take a good look from every angle. “They're actually really comfy,” you admit, and he smiles softly, “and they're a very nice design too. Pretty and practical. Man, I don't know what I was thinking when I bought the pair I was wearing.”

“Yeah, you really thought that through, didn't you?” He quips, stepping forward to stand next to you. “Next time, let me know when you're going shopping. Clearly you need someone to vet through your horribly impractical fashion choices.”

You give him an exasperated look, and he smirks at that. “What? It's the truth. But seriously, they're comfortable, right? You don't feel like you have to break them in?” You shake your head, and he gives a satisfied hum at that, before holding out his arm. “Let's go, then. I did say that I was going to be the one paying for them.”

Your hand wraps around his arm as you frown, watching him pick up both your bags, and take yours from him. “Hey, you went through all that trouble of helping me find a proper pair. The least I can do is pay for myself.”

Sunoo gives you a side eye at that, already passing his card to the employee at the counter. “Oh, please. I didn't go through any trouble—I was the one who dragged us here to look at new pairs. And I know you can pay for yourself, but just let me take care of this, alright? Consider it a reward for playing your role well till now.”

You raise a brow at that. “It's been barely a day since we went “public,” Sunoo.” He mirrors the expression, grabbing the bag with your older pair of shoes, as he leads you out of the store. “And? An act is still an act, even if it's been only for a few hours. You still did well, though I wouldn't expect anything less from someone as dramatic as you are.”

“Ugh, can't you give me a proper compliment without turning it into a backhanded one?” He laughs at your complaint, walking in pace with you. “My genuine compliments are a privilege, darling. You'll have to work to earn them.”

You bump your shoulder with his, crossing your arms over your chest. “I'm not working for a man's approval, thank you very much.” He grins wider at that, his smile almost proud in nature. “Good girl. Being, or dressing feminine doesn't mean you need to lie down and take a man's bullshit. Always work for your own approval first—even if this is me we're talking about.”

Something warm curls up in your chest at the praise he's giving out with such ease all of a sudden, and you shake your head to get rid of the feeling.

Sunoo raises his head to look at the sky, which has begun to bleed into a river of reds and oranges with the sunset, before he turns back to you. “... You're a hundred percent sure that those shoes are comfortable? Really, really comfortable?”

You sigh in amused exasperation at his repeated line of questioning. “Yes, Sunoo, I'm absolutely sure that they're a very comfortable pair—” You're cut off when he pats you on the back, and takes off mid-conversation. “Good! Race you to the bistro by the fifth street, then! Let's see how comfortable they actually can be!”

He throws a wild grin at you over his shoulder, and you stare at him for a second in shock, still rooted to your spot, before breaking out into a run as you follow after him.

“Hey, no fair! You got a headstart! Come back here, and we'll have a proper start!” Sunoo's bright laughter mixes with the crisp chill of the breezy air as you dart through the streets, weaving through the crowds of people as night falls over the city, streetlights beginning to light up in soft hues of white and yellow, illuminating the path ahead for you.

Sure, the weather forecast did say that nights were going to be colder as winter was beginning to set in. But despite the cold, for some odd reason, as you chase after Sunoo, all you can feel is warmth, the kind that gently warms your bones from the inside. Oh well—one can never fully trust the weather forecast, can they?

You're standing by yourself in one corner of the hallway, totally minding your own business as you scroll through your phone and bothering nobody, when it finally happens: one of the two pieces of trash finally approach you.

Fortunately for you, it isn't Daehyun.

Also unfortunately for you, it isn't Daehyun.

Because now you have to deal with Soomin and all of her faux courtesy as she comes to stand next to you. The smell of her cherry perfume is nauseatingly sweet, cloying the air around with how strong it is. For a moment, you even hear someone cough somewhere at the back, and a smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it.

Soomin, of course, notices it.

“What's so funny?” She questions, a wide smile on her face, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. “Did Sunoo send you something?”

You straighten up at the question, locking your phone and shoving it into the pocket of your pants. “Yeah, and what if he did?”

“Oh, it's nothing!” She giggles, one hand covering her mouth, while the other comes up to smack your arm rather harshly, disguised as an playful action. “He used to send me funny stuff all the time, you know? Sunoo's sense of humour is rather unique, right?”

You rub your sore arm, eye twitching in irritation at her act. Dramatic you may be, but everything you said and did was genuine to the people around you. Ah, she'd really win an Oscar if I put her into the running. But Soomin also brings out your competitive side, and you refuse to let her get away.

“I don't know what you mean,” you flash her a sweet smile, mirroring her own, “Sunoo is rather sweet. He took me out shopping the other day—didn't let me pay, no matter what I did or said.” She stiffens up at your words, her smile freezing in place. “I'm sorry, he did what?”

“Oh, did you not hear? He got me these!” You chirp, raising a foot to show off the new pair you've taken to wearing everywhere. “Made me sit through seventeen other pairs, but I'm so glad he did because these are soooo comfortable!” Soomin stares at the shoes like she's seen a ghost, her smile dropping for a second, before she meets your gaze again—though she can't hide the low hiss she lets out when she speaks. “He got you a pair of limited edition shoes? Good for you.”

That makes you pause. You'd figured from the quality of the shoes that they were expensive, but to find that Sunoo bought you a pair that were a limited edition too? It made no sense.

You've known Sunoo for a little over two weeks now—why would he buy you something like this? The thought of it makes you uncomfortable for some reason you can't quite understand.

The fact that he'd spent a good sum on them makes you want to return them, but the care he took in finding them—browsing through all those different pairs to find the perfect one for you—makes you hesitant in doing so.

He wasn't the type to show off, unless it was his own work from what you'd gathered with the time you spent with him—so it made sense that he wouldn't tell you that the pair was an expensive one, but what you couldn't understand is why he'd bought you that particular pair, apart from the fact that they were comfortable on your feet. You'll have to bring it up to him the next time the two of you meet.

You don't get to linger in your thoughts much longer, as Soomin's low scoff brings you out of your head. “What?” You question her, with a raise of a perfectly done eyebrow.

She rolls her eyes, apparently done with her nice girl act now—not that she was all that good at it, either—as she takes note of the hair clip tucked away in your hairdo. “So, he bought you a limited edition pair, and gave you his own design?”

She lets out an incredulous scoff, meeting your eyes again, her pretty lips pulled into an ugly scowl. “Sunoo sure does move on fast, huh? Guess he doesn't really care who he's seen with, as long as it's a pretty face.”

Her sarcastic response has your ears flush in anger. How dare she insult Sunoo like that? In the short time you've known him, he's been nothing short of respectful—even if he did like to make fun of you for his own amusement at times, he never took it too far, and always apologised if he sensed you were upset.

If anything, she needed to be the one apologising to him for what she did to the two of you. How fucking hypocritical—but really, why were you expecting basic decency from a cheater, anyways?

“At least he didn't do it while he was still in a relationship,” you snark, smile turning more frigid with the passing second, “unlike a certain someone who was out and about while still dating.”

Her face flushes a bright colour, and as you see her nails dig into the palms of her hands, a sense of satisfaction curls itself into your chest. Of course, there was no way you'd let her get away with insulting Sunoo like that.

“You have no idea what you're talking about,” she hisses, stepping forward, her heels clicking against the linoleum. “Whatever exists between me and Daehyun is real, and no matter how much you try, you can't break us apart. You'd do well to remember that, sweetheart.”

You snort at the declaration, turning away for a second to hide your laughter, before turning back to her. “Good thing I'm not trying then, darling. You can keep him and all of his issues. I'm not the one who has to go behind her partner's back for something 'real,' after all.”

“You—!” Her hand's already reaching for your face, but before the hit can land, you're pulled to the side, causing Soomin to stumble forward from the sudden change in position.

The firm pressure on your arm makes you look up, and when you do, you find Sunghoon standing behind you, his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist. His jaw is clenched tight enough that a vein pops out in his neck, and he glares at Soomin with pure hatred in his eyes. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

She flinches at the frigid tone he uses, but doesn't back down. “This is between me and her, Sunghoon, so don't step in—” He cuts her off, taking a step forward. “If it concerns you harming my friend, then I most definitely will step in, Soomin. What were you trying to do to her?”

With him backing you up, she becomes hesitant to fight you while he's still there, and takes a step back. Sunghoon softens when you place a hand on top of his, his expression shifting into one more gentle. “Are you alright? Not hurt anywhere?”

You shake your head, murmuring softly. “I'm fine. She didn't try anything else.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see her seethe silently at the way Sunghoon's treating you, and her behaviour confuses you. Why was she so mad about Sunghoon being protective over you?

Something about it doesn't sit right with you, so you turn to Sunghoon. “Just give me a few minutes. I need to sort this out with her.” He looks hesitant to let go of you, but ultimately decides to trust your judgement. “I'll be right here,” he mutters, letting go of you to stand next to a pillar, “just scream if she tries something again.”

Glancing at the way Soomin is shifting in her place, you give him a small smile. “I think you scared her quite a bit. I doubt she'll try something else again, but if she does, don't worry I'll scream real loud.” He snorts at that, chuckling softly as he pats your back. “Go on, then. I'd wish you luck, but I think you can handle her.”

Flashing him another grin, you turn back to Soomin, heading over to the corner she's standing in for a little more privacy. “I'll give you one chance. What exactly do you want, Soomin?” You cross your arms over your chest, and Soomin glances at Sunghoon once, before scowling at you.

“Got a little more brave now that he's backing you up, is it?” You sigh in exasperation, and shake your head, spinning on your heel to leave. “If you're not going to talk, I'm just wasting my time here. What was I thinking when I came to talk—”

“It isn't fair.”

Her words stop you in your tracks, and you turn back around to face her again. “What do you mean, 'It isn't fair'? What isn't fair here?” She looks away from you, biting her lip, before meeting your eyes again.

“Everything,” she snaps, breathing heavily, “everything about this is unfair.” Frowning at her, you uncross your arms. “I can't understand what you mean. I'm not an oracle to understand your cryptics, Soomin. If you want to say something, say it outright. I'm not in the mood to play games with you.”

“Neither am I,” she scowls, fists clenched at her sides. “It isn't fair how you can have everything I wanted. You and Sunoo barely know each other—yet Sunghoon's defending you like he's known you for ages! I dated Sunoo for nearly a year and a half, but he's never behaved that way with me, let alone call me his friend! None of them have! What do you have that I don't, for all of them to behave that way with you?!”

You blink at her admission, as some of the situation becomes a little clear to you. Did Sunoo's friends not treat her well? Is that why she's acting out like this? It explains some things, but not all of them.

Glancing at Sunghoon, who raises an eyebrow when you look at him, you turn back to her. “Explain. What do you mean by that?”

Soomin huffs, her cheeks still flushed in anger. “Sunoo's friends—Sunghoon, especially—have always kept me at a distance. They've never behaved with me the same way they do with you. What on earth did you do for them to change their opinion of you?”

“Sunghoon's the only one I've met from his friends so far,” you see her eyes widen at your reply, “and we've only met twice now—today being the second time. So I really don't know what you're talking about.”

She blinks in confusion, before sputtering. “Wh-what?! You've only met once before, and he's already that accepting of you?” You raise an eyebrow at her reaction, cocking your head to the side. “And what's wrong with that?”

She bites her lip, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “It's just... I find it odd, is all. I did date Sunoo for nearly a year and a half, but never got the same kind of treatment. It's the main... reason I felt so distant from Sunoo.”

The more you listen to her, the more you feel like you're gonna go stupid. “So let me get this right,” you wave a hand in the air, “the fact that his friends didn't like you was the reason you went and cheated on Sunoo with my ex for a year?”

Her eyes go wide again at your words, and that's when you know you've got her—so you double down on her instead. “Yeah, Sunoo and I know you and Daehyun have been going behind our backs for a year. You're not fooling anyone here, Soomin.”

Her expression shifts from surprise to anger again, and she snarls at you. “You know nothing! You know nothing about having to sit with everybody, and feeling like you don't belong in their group. You know nothing about being kept at arm's length, about being treated like an acquaintance, while your boyfriend does nothing to fix it. So don't you dare tell me that you know, because you absolutely do not!”

“I may not know what exactly happened between all of you,” you narrow your eyes at her, “but that still isn't a reason for you to cheat on him for a year. It wasn't only your relationship that you destroyed, Soomin, it was mine too—my ex may have been your escape, but what did I do wrong for me to be caught in the crossfire? If I have no right to talk about your situation because I don't know the full details of it, then you don't have the right to pretend that you have the higher moral ground between the two of us just because you felt wronged.”

She looks away, trying to compose herself, before turning back to you. “You're right,” she admits, nodding her head, her eyes rimmed red. “I don't have the right to stand here and accuse you when I was the one who indeed broke your relationship. But put yourself in my shoes for a moment—you're at a café for a group hangout with everyone else. Your boyfriend's sitting right next to you, and you try to make conversation with his friends. All you get is a sentence or two at most from them, but they happily converse between themselves. Your boyfriend doesn't say a word, doesn't defend you—and it happens multiple times. Would you not be frustrated too?”

Multiple times? Why wouldn't Sunoo defend her if it happened multiple times? Something doesn't seem right about that. The Sunoo you know defended you against Sunghoon right away, and you were neither his friend, nor his girlfriend—so why wouldn't he do that for Soomin too? Especially if she was his girlfriend?

Shaking your head, you turn to her again. “Did you talk to him about how you felt about the way his friends treated you?” She blinks blankly at that. “... What?”

Sighing, you repeat your question. “Did you talk to Sunoo about the way you felt regarding his friends' behaviour? Did you communicate clearly to him? Did he not defend you even after you talked to him?”

The more you press her, the more she goes quiet. “Answer me, Soomin. Did you tell him that you were upset about the way his friends treated you?” Her expression answers you enough, and any ounce of sympathy you might've had for her goes up in flames again.

“Of course you didn't,” you scowl, guilt creeping in for doubting Sunoo, even if you had a valid reason to do so. “Were you so blinded by your insecurities that you went ahead and decided that cheating on him was the best option, rather than to talk and communicate your feelings like a normal couple does? Ah, seriously! And here I was, almost feeling bad for you.”

Her expression is ashen, and the look of realisation on her face does nothing but fan the flames of your anger. “If you'd just talked to him, none of this would've been happening!”

“I-I...” She opens her mouth, and closes it shut again, unable to form a response to you. “You're the one who destroyed everything you had. He really did treasure you, and you let your insecurities get the best of you, when a simple talk could've fixed all of your problems,” you scowl, turning to leave.

“Which is why, as you literature majors say, since you dug your own grave, you have to lie in it too. Unless you realise the true gravity of what you've done and want to truly apologise, don't approach Sunoo ever again.”

Soomin doesn't say anything else to you, staring at the ground instead with a crestfallen expression on her face. With a final glance at her, you leave the hallway, walking past Sunghoon, and rounding the corner to your lecture hall.

For a moment, you walk alone. Then, another pair of feet join you, as Sunghoon's shoulder brushes yours. “That looked... intense,” he murmurs slowly, as if trying to find the right words. “I can't say that I've ever seen her make an expression quite like that one.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him sneak glances at you, obviously curious, but restraining himself from asking the question. “... Is that so?” You answer, Soomin's words from earlier still lingering in the back of your mind. “Can I ask you something?”

He comes to a halt, looking down at you with one eyebrow furrowed in a mix of confusion and curiosity, before nodding. “.... Sure. What did you want to know?”

“Did you not like Soomin?”

He blinks at the question, bewildered for a second. “... What..? I'm not sure I quite understand what you mean by that.”

“Soomin said that the rest of you boys always kind of... avoided her. Kept her at a distance.” A look of realisation dawns upon his face at that, and he nods. “... We did do that, kind of, yeah.”

“Why?” You question, and he sighs sufferingly. “... Multiple reasons, actually.”

“I think I have the time, Sunghoon.”

He shakes his head with a sigh at your stubborness, although a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You're as stubborn as Sunoo is, my god. No wonder you two suit each other so well.”

Sighing again, he adjusts the straps of his backpack. “But yeah, coming back to the topic at hand... I'd say it was quite a few things. First, Layla—Jake's dog, she's kind of our people filter—didn't like her. Like at all. Don't look at me like that, I know it sounds ridiculous, but she's so accurate it's kinda terrifying. Apart from that, she was also sort of really friendly to us in the start—it just didn't seem natural, and it made us rather uncomfortable.”

“Then,” he pauses to take a breath, “there was also the fact that she didn't hesitate to touch the rest of us. We did try to brush it off as her being affectionate, but she always lingered behind when she wasn't supposed to. It used to happen even when Sunoo wasn't around, and well, we didn't want him to get any wrong ideas, so that was the time we started being more distant.”

His eyes remain on your face, watching for any change in expression that could tell him what you were thinking. But your poker face gives nothing away, and he sighs once more, before continuing. His voice has a more bitter edge to it now, and his brows pull into a frown.

“And then, well... Heeseung hyung overheard one of her conversations. Said she really did like Sunoo, but liked his popularity more. That being around us made her feel like she was important. That didn't sit right with any of us, but Sunoo really did like her, so I suppose that's the point where we went from civil to wary, because the last thing we needed was for Sunoo to get hurt—but it happened in the end anyway.”

You exhale softly, jaw still clenched tightly, before your shoulders finally sag in relief. “Okay... so that's what happened. Um, thank you for being honest about this.” Sunghoon gives you a soft smile, as he reaches out to pat your head.

“It's alright. And you did the right thing—even if she did hurt you indirectly, you still listened to Soomin, and then came to get our version of the story to set things straight. It's hard to do that when the person you're hearing out is the one that caused you hurt, but you still did it anyways. I'm proud of you for that, you know?”

A chuckle slips out of you at his words, as you run a hand through your hair to fix some of the messy strands. “What are you, my older brother or something?”

Sunghoon laughs freely, fangs glinting in the hallway lights, as he pulls you into a headlock, even when you protest. “Hmm, let's say I am. Come on, this big brother of yours will buy you bubble tea for getting through that interaction successfully!”

Groaning at his insistence, you give up your struggle, blowing your hair out of your face. The sight of you only makes Sunghoon laugh harder, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders as he leads you along the pathway to the campus café.

“Just for ruining my hair twice in the span of five minutes,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “I'm gonna pick the most expensive flavour on the menu.”

“You're welcome to,” he grins, flashing you another fanged smile. “I'm happy to pay.”

“I'll bleed your bank account dry.”

“I doubt a single bubble tea can do that,” he laughs harder, “but you can try.”

Despite your attempts to hide it, a smile's already beginning to tug at the corner of your mouth. Sunghoon, even if he does notice it, says nothing about it, but rather begins to tell you a story about Sunoo's freshman year instead.

The sun's shining down at a gentle warmth, the sounds of the rustling leaves melting into Sunghoon's voice, and for a moment, everything feels like it's going in the right direction.

It doesn't feel all that bad to have another self-proclaimed older brother, but maybe you should be warning Yeonjun that he's got a little competition—Sunghoon sure had begun to rank pretty high on your list of people, after all.

The moment you pull your front door open, you're ambushed by a ball of white fur and energy.

While you're on the floor, groaning at the pain shooting up the back of your head, you hear a chorus of yells, before hands are cradling your head, carefully inspecting it for damage.

When you open your eyes again, the first thing you see when your bleary vision focuses is Jungwon's concerned expression hovering over you, and an excited Layla next to him, her tail wagging so fast, you can briefly hear it cut through the air.

“Layla, why did you do that?! Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I promise she's not usually like this,” Jake joins the two, gently pulling Layla back by her collar, his brows furrowed in concern. “How'd you even jump like that, sweetheart?”

“Jungwon, is she okay? She's not really...responding,” you hear Jay before you see him, and then he's peering at you over Jungwon's head. “Give her a minute,” Jungwon mutters, “she's very much disoriented.” You blink, vision blurring a little again from the small tears in your eyes.

Heeseung joins the other three, waving his finger in your face. “Hey, can you follow my finger when I move it—oh, you're already doing it. Didn't even have to tell you to do it.”

“Of course she'd know what you were trying to do,” Riki snorts, finally pushing his head through in between the others, bangs falling over his eyes as he gives you an inquisitive once over, “she's literally a nursing student. They learn about concussion tests.”

For a moment, everything seems like too much and too little at once, as the five of them stare down at you. “... Jungwon, you're sure we didn't accidentally kill her, right?” Jake whispers, trying to be discreet, but fails at it anyway. Jay smacks his shoulder, hissing lowly. “You idiot! She can hear you! And you saw her follow Heeseung hyung's finger too—like Jungwon said, give her a minute.”

Jungwon's eyes are focused but warm, as he helps you sit up, gently rubbing the back of your head. “Can you speak, or do you want another minute?” You shake your head, blinking as the remnants of disorientation finally melt away.

“I'm alive,” you finally croak out, and Riki snorts at that. “I think we can see that.” Heeseung sends him a chastising glare, his expression screaming 'Be nice to her!' before he turns back to you, crouching down to meet you at eye level. “Are you hurt?”

“... My pride is,” you mutter, “does that count?” Riki grins lazily, finally shutting your front door behind him. “I like her already. We're going to be good friends.” Layla's by your side again, licking your face in apology as Jake's hand hovers nervously above her collar, ready to pull her back if she gets overexcited again.

“You're not bleeding, I don't see any difference in your pupils...but I think I'll have to keep an eye for a little while longer just in case.” Jungwon pulls his hand away, while Jay puts his out for you to take.

“Guess we're staying for a while, then. Hope you don't mind having us around, and me raiding your kitchen,” he says, pulling you up, and adjusting your clothes like a fretting mother. “I can cook you dinner as an apology, but only if you want me to.”

“The day I turn away free food is the day I truly die,” Jungwon stifles a chuckle under the guise of a cough, brushing his jeans as he gets up. “You're more than welcome to raid my kitchen, but I want answers first.” Heeseung grins at you, much relaxed now, as he pets Layla, still crouched by the floor. “Shoot. The least we can do is answer you.”

“Why are you here?” Jake answers you, his hair fluffed up from his hoodie. “Couldn't let Sunghoon be the only one having fun with our newest addition. He wouldn't shut up at all.” Riki echoes his sentiment, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he quite practically drags you in.

“Annoyingly so,” he mutters, “he wouldn't stop bragging about being the first one to buy you bubble tea. So we're here to make you dinner instead, solely so we can one-up him.”

Jay's already making himself home in your kitchen, inspecting your fridge and pantry for ingredients, while Riki plops down onto your couch, pulling you down with him. Heeseung takes the seat next to you, and Jake sits on the carpet, with Layla laying her head in his lap.

He flashes you another apologetic smile, running his fingers through her fur. “I really am sorry about her jumping on you like that,” he murmurs, as she lets out a soft whine. “She only really does that around people she's excited to see, and we didn't really expect her to take off like that.”

“It's okay,” you huff, leaning back into the cushions, already melting at Layla's face. “She's cute, so she gets a pass.” Jake's face lights up at that, and he smiles to himself, as Layla clicks at his face affectionately.

Jungwon, apparently back from helping Jay find whatever it was that he wanted, comes back to join your group, taking a seat next to Jake on the carpet.

When he sees your open textbook laying on the table nearby, he immediately shuts it close with a disgusted grimace. “Ugh, pharmacology. I'd rather be summoning actual demons than to be pretending that I am with all those awful names.” You snort at that, nodding at him.

“I love playing “Drug or Pokémon” every time I pull that textbook out. Drug names have been winning compared to Pokémon so far.” Jungwon nods at your answer, giving you a tired smile in solidarity, a hand reaching out to pet Layla.

Heeseung clears his throat, drawing your attention. When you turn to look at him, he gives you an amused yet confused raise of his eyebrow. “... Are you not going to ask us how we got your address?”

You stare at him blankly for a second, before answering. “... Don't worry. I'm already planning thirty six different ways to torture Euijoo before I finally kill him for giving my address to people.”

He snorts at that, shaking his head. “Morbid, but hold your horses, it wasn't Euijoo. Don't drag the poor guy into this.”

You blink at his answer, shifting in your seat to see him better. “It was Chaewon,” he puts a hand out in front of him, “but before you commit her murder, or at least try to think of a few ways to do so, I must let you know that I quite practically had to beg her with a promise of a year's worth of coffee, before she finally opened her mouth.”

Rolling your eyes, you settle back down comfortably. Of course the caffeine addict got her money's worth before selling you out. “Well, she better be sharing that coffee with me, or she's ending up on the news instead.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jay calls out, an amused smile on his face from the conversation he'd been listening in till now, as he holds up two spice jars, both filled with identical red powder. “I can't figure out which one is paprika and which one is cayenne pepper, since they're not labelled.”

You twist in your seat again, pointing at the jar with the yellow lid. “The jar with the yellow lid is the paprika, and the one with the pink lid is the cayenne pepper. The jar with the blue lid at the back is the Kashmiri chilli.”

His eyes light up at your repertoire of spices, and he thanks you before going back to his earlier task of inspecting your pantry, pulling out jars with more enthusiasm. “You're fine with chicken curry, right?”

“I'll be fine with anything as long as it tastes good,” you answer, and Riki gives you a side eye for that answer. “Have some standards, please. You gotta make people work for what you want.”

“Riki, you're the last person who should be giving anyone advice,” Jake snorts, dodging a whack from the youngest. “Don't listen to him,” he snickers, turning to you, “he's a firm believer in doling out advice but never following it himself, like an—oof!” Jake grunts as Riki tackles him to the floor, leaping off of the couch. “That's because coaches don't play the games they teach!”

Jungwon pulls Layla into his lap, giving the two of them a disapproving glare as they roughhouse on your carpet. “Idiots,” he mutters under his breath in fond annoyance, “I'm surrounded by idiots.”

Layla whines at his muttering, and he kisses the top of her head, an amused smile on his face. “Yeah, Layla. Your dad's kind of an idiot. Thank you for agreeing.”

“I'm sure that's not what she said,” Heeseung snorts, letting Layla's tail brush against his leg, as he stands up to lend a hand to Jay. “Since when did you speak fluent Laylalese, Heeseung hyung?” Jungwon sticks his tongue out at him, and Heeseung playfully whacks him over the head as he finally rounds the couch to head into the kitchen. “Brats.”

Jungwon pulls you into a discussion about the hospital, while Jake and Riki nearly knock down one of your lamps in their roughhousing, as Jay and Heeseung yell at them from the kitchen.

Layla abandons Jungwon mid way through your conversation—much to his despair—and climbs onto your couch instead, laying her head in your lap as she settles down for a well earned nap.

Jake coos over the sight, and snaps nearly a million pictures of you and Layla together, insisting that it's absolutely necessary for the sake of his photo album dedicated to her. Riki lounges next to your legs, scrolling through his feed and showing you posts he finds particularly funny.

Soon enough, the smell of curry begins to blanket your apartment like a comforting hug, and Jungwon lets out an audible groan. “That smells so good,” he stands up to head into the kitchen, “is it done yet? I don't think my stomach can wait any longer before it starts digesting itself from hunger.”

“Now, now. Why is a responsible med student spreading misinformation?” You chuckle at Jungwon's dramatics, pulling out dishes and setting the table. Jake helps you, placing the napkins and the glasses.

“That's hot, don't touch it,” Heeseung warns both you and Riki, setting down the ceramic pot on the table, while Jay appears on your other side, looking strangely determined.

“You need to take me shopping with you the next time you go,” he huffs, staring at your collection of pots and pans, “I need those. I've never seen a piece of crockery hold heat that well.”

You laugh and agree to take him on your next run, and he gives you a blindingly bright smile for that, before nudging you to sit down in a chair. Jungwon takes the seat next to you, while Riki sits across from you, Jake at his other side. Heeseung and Jay take the opposite ends of the table, smiling at the praises the rest of the boys sing about their cooking.

Dinner is a lively affair, and by the end of the night, Riki looks rather proud of himself for how much he's made you laugh. Jungwon and Jake bicker in the doorway, while Heeseung carries Layla in his arms, the canine having fallen asleep on your couch a few hours ago.

“I'll give you my cookbook,” Jay says, as he gives you a one armed hug, patting your arm. His warmth is comforting, and so is the soft smile on his face. “Most of them are my own, so try out a few recipes and let me know what you think of them.”

“I will, I will. Looking forward to seeing it, but no promises that you'll get it back, though,” you tease, and he rolls his eyes, huffing fondly. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

He pauses just outside of your apartment, where the rest of the boys are waiting for him. “Take care of yourself, alright?” He murmurs. “People love to talk. Don't take the things they might say to heart.”

The others murmur agreements of their own, and one by one, shuffle forward to wrap you up in hugs of their own—with the exception of Heeseung, who's arms are occupied with Layla, who only smiles at you, as they bid you goodbye.

You only return back inside when they round the corner and disappear from your sight, shutting the door behind you. Leaning against the wood, you take in your apartment—the smell of curry still lingers in the air, and there's a sticky note in Jungwon's handwriting stuck to the mirror on the wall in the entrance, with a mnemonic for examples of antimicrobial agents.

Shaking your head, a smile tugging at your lips, you finally switch off the lights and head to bed, full from more than just the food.

Guess Chaewon was going to live for a little while longer, after all.

✄ ACT FOUR: STITCHES IN THE SPOTLIGHT, ON THE MEND

The fashion design department's prep room is a chaotic place to be, especially right before the big show at the university fest.

Champagne coloured lanyards whiz past you, as you weave through the crowds of aspiring models and designers, bouquets clenched tightly in your hands.

Most of the students from the department recognise you by now, flashing you a smile or a wave despite being busy, some of the freer ones stopping to have a small conversation with you, before dashing off to help the others who needed an extra hand or two.

You spot Euijoo and Nicholas towards the back, the pink haired perfectionist hunched over a seated Euijoo as he makes last minute adjustments to his outfit. “Euijoo! Nicholas!” You call out as you reach them, and the both of them look up at the sound of your voice, flashing you warm smiles.

“Hi,” Nicholas says, pulling the pins from his mouth, his measuring tape hanging around his neck. “Here to show support for your boyfriend, or are you here for your friends?” You roll your eyes at him, punching his shoulder lightly as Euijoo laughs warmly. “Why can't it be both, huh? Just because I'm dating, it doesn't mean I don't have a life outside of my boyfriend.”

Nicholas grins, wrapping an arm around you for a quick one armed hug, before going back to pinning Euijoo's shirt. “I don't know,” he hums, voice teasing, “thought the fame would change you a little, considering you're dating the Kim Sunoo, you know?”

Dropping into the seat next to Euijoo, you swipe some of his crisps, for which he gives you an offended glare. “Hey! I was going to eat those!” You stick your tongue out at him, batting your lashes innocently. “Should've been faster, darling. Now they're mine.”

“If I wasn't busy, and you didn't have your makeup done so nicely, I definitely would've thrown you into the pool outside for that,” Euijoo grumbles, and Nicholas snorts at that.

“No, you wouldn't,” he snickers, pulling the fabric taut over Euijoo's shoulders, “you love her way too much to do that.” Euijoo glares at him over his shoulder, though it doesn't really have any real heat behind it. “Just airing my business out in the open for everyone, huh?” Nicholas only flashes him a smug smirk, before going back to work in earnest.

Laughing at their antics, you hand Euijoo a bouquet. “For your runway debut, Mr Byun,” you place the second one on the stool next to Nicholas, “and this one is for you, Mr Wang. Looking forward to your collection, and I expect a friendly discount when you launch your apparel.”

The two of them laugh at your words, and Nicholas bumps his shoulder into yours. “Sure, sure. Might as well make you my first brand ambassador too, if Sunoo doesn't do that first.” Glancing around the room, you peek over people's heads, trying to find the blond in the sea of people. “Speaking of Sunoo, where is he? I haven't seen him at all since I stepped foot in here.”

Nicholas points to a room at the back, stealing back some of your stolen crisps. “In the back,” he mutters, wiping at the corner of his mouth, “Mr Kim has an atelier for himself.”

Thanking him, and with a final hug to the both of them, you head over to the door, knocking thrice. “Come in,” comes Sunoo's voice from the inside, muffled by the wood. “Door's open.” Pulling the door open, you step inside, and shut it behind you, drowning out the hustle and bustle of the world outside.

Sunoo looks up from where he's making final adjustments on a model, his eyes softening at the sight of you. “Oh, it's you,” he steps away from the model, thanking her. Shuffling over to you, he pulls you into a hug, kissing your cheek. “Didn't think you'd come this early.”

Laughing at him, you give him a mischievous smirk. “What? Did you expect me to be a no-show, Mr Kim?” He rolls his eyes, pushing his red spectacles higher up his nose. “Hmm. I don't know. But you're here, and I think that's all that matters.”

His eyes flit down to the bouquet in your hands—jasmines, yellow roses, and orchids, wrapped up in a pretty green ribbon—and raises a brow at you. “What's this?” Placing it into his hands, you step back from him, smiling at the sight. “An early congratulations. I doubt I'll be able to catch you after the show—I did see some scouts, so I thought I'd be the first one to offer you my congratulations.”

He carefully inspects the flowers, raising them to his nose to smell their scent. “Thank you,” he murmurs, giving you a soft smile. “They're rather nice—you've got good taste.”

Huffing out a chuckle, you sit down on the mini couch, eyes roving over the rest of his atelier, and over the models talking to each other in the corner. “I know,” you hum, teasing. “That's why I'm so well-loved.”

Sunoo rolls his eyes again, shaking his head as he carefully places the flowers in a vase, before returning to his work. “Could you be any less humble?”

“The narcissism is part of the charm,” you chuckle, resting your head against the back of the couch, “I wouldn't be me if I weren't this way, would I?” Sunoo doesn't answer you outright, but the amused glint in his eyes as he glances at you while fixing a headpiece is enough of a reply.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice one of the models—not yet dressed, her makeup and hair not done either—shuffle in her place, her motions a bit unsteady, and you sit up straighter.

Sunoo notices your actions, and sends you an inquisitive glance, to which you shake your head. His eyes linger on you for a beat longer, before he finally returns to his work. You watch her from time to time, your attention equally split between Sunoo and her.

“Mina, you're up next,” he calls out to her, and her head snaps up at the sound of his voice. She gives him a shaky nod, checking her phone—her hands awfully shaky to be just nerves. It happens when Sunoo turns around to grab a pair of scissors, his back turned to the rest of you. Mina stands up from her seat, and for a moment, she seems fine.

Then, her eyes roll back into her head, and she collapses into a heap of limbs, crashing into the stool. The sound startles everyone—you included—and Sunoo turns around with a start, dropping his scissors to the floor. The other models crowd around her, trying to get her to rouse—while Sunoo stands near his workbench, still in shock.

Taking a deep breath, you head for the door. Pulling it open, you spot Nicholas, going over a list in his hands, and yell for him. “Nicho! Get the medics here—Mina's collapsed!”

Your words bring the entire room to a halt, and Nicholas himself stares at you with wide eyes, before blinking out of his daze, and running out of the room. Turning back to the situation at hand, you walk back to the group, and shove your way through the crowd of concerned girls and boys.

“Move,” you order, dropping to your knees to check for her pulse, finding a steady rhythm. “I know you're concerned, but she needs room to breathe.”

You stay by her side till the medics arrive, and they shift her out of the atelier onto a stretcher, to head to the medbay. When they leave, the atmosphere is dampened—more somber now, the excitement dying down in favour of concern and anxiety.

Turning back to Sunoo, you find him rooted in his spot, his eyes glazed over, and your heart sinks in your chest. Rushing over to him, you grab his face, pulling him down to be eye level with you. “Hey, hey. Breathe. You're okay. Everything will be fine.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, his hands coming up to rest on yours. His eyes are wide and frantic now, and he gasps for air as he shakes his head. “No, it's not,” he rasps, breathing heavily, “it—it can't go on without her.” You keep your eyes on his own, resting your forehead against his. “What can't go on, Sunoo? Talk to me, please.”

“The show,” he croaks out, “it can't go on without Mina—she's the one supposed to model my main piece for today. How will I find another model at such short notice?”

Euijoo and Nicholas burst into the room, making a frantic beeline for Sunoo—Nicholas leads, while Euijoo follows behind. “Sunoo! Are you okay?!” Nicholas calls out, and you step away to let the boys speak. Euijoo comes to stand next to you, brows pinched in concern.

“I wonder what happened for her to collapse like that... That didn't just look like nerves to me.” You glance at him, before returning your gaze to Sunoo, who's talking to Nicholas in hushed, low whispers. “You saw that too?” Euijoo nods, his hair slicked back. “It's just suspicious.”

Nicholas is comforting Sunoo, rubbing his back, as he tries to think of solutions. Euijoo steps forward, his voice clear. “Sunoo,” he calls out, and the blond lifts his head to glance at him. “What do you need? Be specific.”

Sunoo breathes out, his voice small as he answers. “A... A model. One with a height and build similar to Mina.” Euijoo nods, and continues, his voice a comforting, low murmur now. “Okay. We'll try to find one. Can you describe the specifications you want in your model?” Sunoo nods, listing out his requirements.

Euijoo listens to them carefully, nodding his head. He seems to shuffle over possible solutions in his head, his eyes running around the room—model after model—until they land on you. He pauses for a moment, tilting his head as he assesses you, before snapping his fingers in realisation.

His action draws the attention of both Sunoo and Nicholas, who look at him in confusion. “Euijoo, what—” Nicholas begins to question, but Euijoo cuts him off, as he grabs you by your shoulders. “You can sub in! You're of a similar height and build to Mina—it'll be minor adjustments at most!”

You stare at him, flabbergasted. “Euijoo, what are you talking about?!” You hiss, trying to shake off his hands, but his grip on you remains strong. “I don't have any experience modeling or walking a runway!”

Euijoo nods, his eyes softening into a plead. “I know, but you're the only one close enough to Sunoo's requirements. We're really short on time here—won't you consider it, please?” Nicholas backs him up, stepping forward to hold your hand, his other arm still wrapped around Sunoo's shoulders. “Euijoo's right. It could work out—provided we don't waste any more time.”

You run your gaze over the three of them—Euijoo's pleading expression, Nicholas's determined one, and then finally landing on Sunoo, who looks torn between hope and anxiety—and something in you softens. Sighing deeply, you roll your shoulders, your eyes lingering on Sunoo—whose hands still trembled—before nodding at Euijoo. “... Fine. I... I'll do it.”

Euijoo and Nicholas brighten up and that, excitedly turning to Sunoo. “Did you hear that?! Your girlfriend's coming in clutch!” Sunoo himself stares at you in shock, before letting out a drawn out breath.

He pulls you into a crushing hug, murmuring a string of soft “Thank you” into your hair. Your friends herd everyone else out, and Nicholas yells at Sunoo over his shoulder, as he stands in the doorway.

“We'll move you down to the closing show to buy you some time! I'll need you to work fast, Sunoo!” Euijoo gives you an encouraging smile, before finally shutting the door, leaving the two of you alone.

Sunoo pulls away, adjusting his glasses once more. “I... I'll thank you properly later,” he murmurs, holding your hands in his. “The dress is over there, behind that sheet. Could you change into it, please? There's a room over there for changing.”

You squeeze his hands to comfort him, before finally letting go. Heading over to the corner he mentioned, you pull away the cloth, your breath hitching as it reveals one of the most beautiful pieces of clothing you've ever seen.

The dress is off-shoulder, made from a smooth black fabric, with a shimmering, sheer fabric sewn over the top, flaring down to the floor, and extending to the train. There are tiny details—embroidered flowers all over the bodice, and chains of pearls forming a sweeping silhouette from the waist to the skirt, with a vine made of golden metal wire and embroidered leaves climbing from the bodice to the collar, where it blooms into a single, red rose nestled in a bed of embroidered and sequined leaves.

“It's a project I've worked on since my first year,” Sunoo says softly, coming to stand next to you. “It's also the first dress I ever designed—this is seven year old Sunoo's magnum opus.”

You give him a warm smile, hesitantly reaching out to touch the rose. “It's beautiful,” you breathe, taking in a moment to admire the time and effort he's put in to make it. “I'm honoured to be the first one to wear it.” Sunoo softens at that, and steps back to give you space. “... Let me know when you're done changing,” he murmurs, moving to grab his sewing kit. “We'll fix the dress to fit better, and then we can practice your walk.”

His words bring you back to reality, reminding you of what's at stake, and you nod, heading into the room. The dress slips onto your body like water—and for a moment, as you look at yourself in the full-length mirror, it seems to fit you perfectly—save for the slight tension at the waist, and the minor asymmetry in the hem.

A soft knock at the door draws your attention, and Sunoo's voice filters in through the door. “... Do you need help?” Taking a final glance at yourself, you head out of the room.

When Sunoo sees you step out into the light, his eyes widen at the sight of you. “... It's near perfect,” he breathes, watching you twirl around in the dress. “... Almost as if it was made for you.” You giggle shyly at his words, and he sucks in a deep breath, before grabbing your hand, and leading you to the stand by his workbench.

He helps you up, then gets to work, fixing and adjusting the dress to fit you better. His hands are gentle as they run over your body, twisting and pulling at the fabric, the warmth from them seeping into your skin despite the barrier in between.

Even as he works, his hands still tremble, and you finally break the silence. “... You didn't tell me that the shoes you bought me were a limited edition.” He looks up in confusion at your words, before he huffs out a chuckle. “You wouldn't have let me buy you those if you knew. I have high standards, you know? I couldn't let you go without getting them for you—not when they fit like they were made for you. It's a designer's greatest dream, after all.”

You hum at his answer, smiling as you notice his hands being much more steady now. With a final few adjustments, he steps away, letting you admire yourself. “Do you want to work on your walk, before you get your hair done?”

You nod, stepping down from the stand, as Sunoo comes to stand behind you, his warm hands on your bare shoulders. “Shoulders straight,” he murmurs, adjusting your posture, “fix your eyes at a far point in the room. It's okay to smile, but if you don't want to, that's okay too.”

He moves to stand in front of you, holding your hands, as he coaches you through the steps. “Cross your ankles a little when you walk—yeah, just like that. Easy, be careful.” He leads you around the room a few times, letting you adjust to the rhythm and pace.

When he finally lets go of you, he steps back with a proud smile on his face. “You're doing so well. Just a little bit more—come on, walk to me.” He holds his arms open for you, the distance between the two of you seemingly longer than it actually is. Taking a deep breath, you run your hands over the dress, before taking a step.

One step turns to two, two to three—soon enough, you're steadily covering the distance between the two of you, and his smile grows wider at the sight. When you finally reach him, he pulls you into a hug, laughing brightly. “You were fantastic at it—are you sure you haven't modeled in the past?”

You roll your eyes, joining into his laughter. “I wouldn't be clinging to you like a newborn giraffe if I had.” He laughs louder, holding you closer. “Touché, darling, touché. Always the one to get the last word in, hm?”

The door swings open to reveal Nicholas and Euijoo again, and the two of them soften at the sight of you in Sunoo's arms. “You look wonderful,” Nicholas praises, his eyes warm. “It's perfect.” Euijoo joins in, a soft smile on his face. “Ready to get your hair done?”

You nod, and Sunoo lets go of you, but not before squeezing your hand in a silent thank you. The girls in charge of hair and makeup promise you that they'll take good care of you, as you sit down in a chair. They quickly work on you, falling into a comfortable silence, curling and combing your hair, to fit the halo crown headpiece into your hair, while two of them adjust your makeup, adding minor changes to your base.

Throughout the process, Sunoo stands nearby, his eyes never once straying from you, even as he talks to Nicholas for the final adjustments to the show. When they finally pull away from you with praises of your looks, he steps in and thanks them.

The girls giggle, and grab Nicholas and Euijoo on their way out, leaving the two of you alone again. “... Well,” you break the silence, smiling at him. “Do I look like the artistic vision seven year old Kim Sunoo had when designing this dress?” He laughs, nodding his head. “You do,” he responds, helping you up, “everything he envisioned and more.”

“You better buy me some good food after this,” you smirk mischievously, “or I might just work for a rival designer instead.” He rolls his eyes, his hand resting low on your back as he guides you to the place of the actual show.

“I'll buy you the entire restaurant if it means you remain my model,” he huffs, nodding at the staff coordinating the event. The other models wearing his designs give you encouraging smiles and waves when they spot you, muttering small cheers.

The two of you pass them by, coming to the end of the line, as you'd be the final model, closing his show. The noise outside—clapping, murmuring, flashes of cameras—they all begin to weigh down on you, as reality sinks in.

This is it. You're not bringing out a piece of fabric to the world—it's a piece of Sunoo himself. Like always, he seems to notice your distress, and tucks you into his side.

“Breathe,” he reminds you, “or do you want to pass out on the runway to truly make my show memorable?” His quip has you relaxing, falling into a familiar rhythm again.

“Well, wouldn't that be a sight to see? But fine, I'll remember to breathe. I'll be more embarrassed than horrified if I mess up in front of Nicholas and Euijoo—they'll never let me live it down.”

He chuckles in agreement, walking with you as the line moves ahead. Sunoo makes small talk with you, keeping you relaxed and distracted, even as the line shuffles ahead, growing shorter and shorter.

When the staff finally call out your name, asking you to come to the front, he stops in front of you. Brushing a few loose strands of hair out of your face, he looks down at you with an expression you can't quite describe, but it warms you from within anyways.

Taking a deep breath, you give him another smile. “When this is over, there's something I want to tell you.” He nods, before finally stepping away, a soft smile on his face. “I'll be right here, waiting to listen.”

The smallest sliver of light illuminates over your face from the gap in the curtains, and you turn around to take a look at him one last time. He's still standing in his place, and he gives you one final nod.

Smiling, you turn to face the curtains again. Rolling your shoulders, you take in a deep breath, before finally taking the first step, heading out on the runway, as the lights shine down on you, walking with the quiet, single-minded determination of accomplishing one, and one goal only.

It was time to make seven year old Kim Sunoo proud of how far he's come.

✄ EPILOGUE: STITCHED & MENDED

The roar of the crowd's applause is deafening, as you stand breathless at the front of the runway, Sunoo's presence warm next to you.

When you turn to look at him, you find his eyes already on you—something warm and affectionate swimming in his irises as he looks at you. “Hi,” you smile, and his eyes soften some more as he gives you a grin of his own. “Hi,” he echoes, hand coming to wrap around your waist, as the cameras flash brighter. “You did fantastic tonight.”

“I know,” you breathe, chuckling softly. “Hard not to ace it, especially when I had such a great teacher.” He laughs at the praise, pulling you into his side. “Hard not to do so, especially when I had such an amazing student,” he sighs happily, fingers wrapped comfortingly around your shoulder.

Then, the two of you are enveloped into more warmth, as Nicholas and Euijoo turn it into a group hug, cheering loudly at the resounding success of Sunoo's first complete show.

The rest of your time on the runway is a blur of more pictures and posing with the other models, before you're finally allowed to return backstage, with Sunoo, Euijoo, and Nicholas at your heels.

As soon as you step back into the shadows, you're pulled into another hug, as a tangle of arms wrap around the four of you. Jake and Riki laugh the loudest, beaming with nothing but praise. “You were all so amazing out there!” Jungwon nods, nudging you with his shoulder with a small smile of his own. “Mhm, you looked like you belonged there.” You grin at him, and Sunghoon ruffles your hair, as Jay hands a bouquet to both you and Sunoo, before the two of them join Jake to speak to Nicholas and Euijoo.

Heeseung pulls you into a bear hug, muttering softly into your ears. “Thank you for being there for Sunoo,” he murmurs gratefully, “it really means a lot for both him and us.” You laugh warmly, wrapping your arms around him. “Of course I stayed,” you respond, “that's what girlfriends are for.” He laughs a little louder at your answer, and gives you another squeeze, before finally moving to embrace Sunoo.

You watch as Sunoo talks animatedly with his friends, his expression warm and open in a way that tells you he's genuinely happy. He seems to shine the brightest like this—truly in his element, surrounded by the people he loves, while doing the things he loves. When he catches your eyes again, his face softens into that quiet, affectionate look again, and he waves at you.

Grinning, you tilt your head, before pointing in the direction of the prep room. He blinks, before catching onto your train of thought, nodding in answer. 'Go on,' he mouths, 'I'll meet you there in a few.'

Sparing one last look at him, you finally head to the prep room, the exhaustion from the night slowly beginning to catch up with you, as the adrenaline rush begins to fade.

On your way to your destination, several people stop for a brief conversation with you—and what surprises you the most is the way they earnestly thank you for stepping in for Mina, to help out with Sunoo's show. Just goes to show how loved he is. Some of the girls even pull you into a few embraces of their own, before finally letting you go.

As you round the corner of the hallway to the prep room, a sense of satisfaction washes over you, the events of the night seeming more tangible now that you've had more time to process them.

If you'd told the first year you that you'd be walking on a runway at the university's biggest fest, surely she would've laughed in your face.

The prep room is empty when you walk in, with all of its earlier occupants out and about, celebrating the culmination of their months long hard work and effort.

You let your eyes wander over the room, taking it all in—there's pieces of fabric strewn over the floor from last minute adjustments, outfits draped over every surface from tables to chairs, the vanity lights are on at a few tables, and the smell of hairspray lingers in the air—but there's something so... grounding about the mess here, because it represents the effort everyone in the department put in to make the show a success.

You linger there for a few moments longer, before the sound of the door opening behind you draws your attention away from the state of the room. “Sunoo, I need to tell you—” you begin, pausing in your tracks as the person who's entered the prep room is not Sunoo.

Rather, it's Daehyun, standing in front of the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His jaw is clenched tightly, and he stares at you with a blazing fury behind his eyes. The sight of him brings up all your feelings bubbling to the surface, and you let them out with no hesitation.

“What do you think you're doing, Daehyun?” you snarl, crossing your arms defensively. “I think I made my stance on you clear when I blocked your number.”

“What am I doing? I could ask you the same—what are you doing? Going out and about with Sunoo like that, holding his hand and letting him buy you things—like, like we never happened at all. What's up with that, huh?” He steps forward, cornering you by one of the vanity tables.

You huff, standing your ground, and match his intensity. “You're answering yourself, Daehyun. You're right, it's like we never happened, because we never really did—you spent an entire year going behind my back with someone else. Our entire relationship was a lie, and I'm so glad that you showed me who you truly are.”

He falters at your words, clearly not having expected you to confront him like you just did. “But—but out of anyone else you could've chosen, why him?”

Rolling your eyes, you step closer to him, jabbing a finger into his chest, and he backs up. “I need you to get this through your thick skull—I'm not with Sunoo out of some twisted sense of revenge, because he's your girlfriend's ex. I'm with him, because I don't have to hide myself the way I had to around you. That's the only reason why, and it will be the only reason why I'll continue to stay with him.”

Bumping your shoulder into his as you pass him by, while he stands in his place, frozen, you call out to him one last time over your shoulder, hand resting on the door's handle.

“Oh, and don't seek me or Sunoo out ever again—or I can't promise you that you'll have all your teeth in place, because it won't be me, but my fist meeting your face.”

You pull the door open, not bothering to wait for his response, and step outside, your dress's train following behind like a shadow of silk and shimmer.

The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in the empty hallway—echoing the door finally closing on that part of your life.

The night air is crisp as you sit on the wooden bench, swinging your legs idly.

Seeing Daehyun again after everything that had happened felt like opening up a can of worms, but nevertheless, the look in his eye when he'd realised that he no longer had any power over you was strangely... cathartic.

You look down at your nails—now a bright colour that you liked, and truly represented who you were—but once upon a time, they were a dull and lifeless shade of a colour that Daehyun had liked instead. Sunoo's blunt critique of them the first time the two of you met had you realising how unlike it was of you to do that.

“Seriously, what was I thinking when I changed myself for him?” You laugh, shaking your head, before startling as a can of cherry cola appears in your face. “Yeah,” an amused voice drawls out lazily, “what were you thinking indeed?”

You look up to find Sunoo staring down at you, a lazy smile on his face, as he holds out the can for you to take. He seems more relaxed now, his tie hanging around his neck, and the button on his collar open to let you see the slightest sliver of smooth, pale skin.

“Definitely wasn't thinking with my brain, I'm sure,” you grin, taking the can from him. He snorts, sliding into the seat next to you. “It's not as if you do a lot of thinking with it anyways,” he snickers, cracking open his own can of the sugary drink. “Hey!” You stare at him in a mixture of mild amusement and offense. He gives you an amused raise of his eyebrow, raising the can to take a sip. “What? It's true. You're more of a 'think less, do more' type, after all.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull the tab of your can, and gulp down the drink, letting it wash away the night's events. “You're lucky I like you quite a bit, or else I would've hit you.” He smiles, and turns to face you, blond hair falling into his eyes. “Yeah? You like me, is it?”

You stiffen up at his words, realising what you'd just said. He picks up on the shift and moves closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, as he pulls you into his side. “If I recall correctly,” he hums, rather happy about the direction this conversation is taking, “you had something to tell me.”

“Shouldn't you be at the after party? You're the man of the hour.” You grumble, burrowing closer to him for warmth. He laughs at that, brushing a few strands out of your face, his fingers lingering at the hinge of your jaw. “I do need to go, but I'll listen to what you have to say, and then go.”

Closing your eyes, you let out a drawn out groan, and punch his shoulder lightly. “I hate you.” His chuckles grow louder and fonder, as he hums softly. “No, you don't.”

“No, I don't,” you agree, sitting up straighter. He lets go of you, meeting your eyes. Exhaling softly, you turn to see him properly—taking in his messy, relaxed appearance and the lopsided smile on his face—before holding up a finger to his face. “I'll only say this once, so listen closely, with your ears wide open, okay?”

He only nods, leaning in closer. His eyes twinkle with mirth and something knowing, like he's already aware of what you're going to say, but wants you to say it out loud anyways.

“I like you, Kim Sunoo.”

You don't get to say anything past that, because Sunoo's hands are already curling around your face, and he pulls you into a lazy, unhurried kiss, almost like he's got all the time in the world to kiss you. He pulls away with a breathy laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “I guess it's my turn to tell you something.”

“Go on,” you whisper, grinning at him, “I'm all ears.” He mirrors your smile, before peppering kisses along the side of your face. “I'll only ask you this once too, so you better think and answer me wisely.” You nod, and he sits up straighter, clearing his throat loudly, before finally speaking.

“I already asked you to be my fake girlfriend before, so let's change that question a little. Hi, my name is Sunoo, and I would like to know if you want to be my actual, very real girlfriend for my also actual, absolutely real relationship?”

“Yes,” you laugh loudly, throwing yourself at him, and he catches you on instinct—wrapping his arms around you, and joins you in your laughter.

“Great,” he muses, winking at you, “because I'm definitely not letting go of you. Ever.” Then he's pulling you into another kiss, his hands warm as they cup your face and tangle into your hair.

“I like you,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you so, so much.”

Fireworks explode in the sky overhead, bathing everything in hues of red, yellow, gold and blue, and you laugh loudly as you pull him off the bench and onto his feet.

“Come on! The fireworks show has started without us, boyfriend!” He grins, sweeping you into his arms without hesitation, before taking off for the arena. “Then we'll have to hurry to make it in time, girlfriend!”

The sound of your heartbeat is loud in your ears, but the joyous scream you let out into the air is louder. Sure, this relationship might have started as an act, but right now, at this moment, as you look down at Sunoo's bright eyes and see nothing but love and affection in them, everything feels as real as it can be. Not that you'd have it go any other way.

Wounds that need stitches often do hurt, but they mend easily, given enough care and time.

Lucky for you, stitching things together to be mended happened to be a specialty you shared with Sunoo—and if anyone else happened to know the story of how this not-so real relationship happened to turn into a very real one, you could count on your friends to have your back when it came to the rest of the world.

Stitches before snitches, after all.

taglist: @kristynaaah @isa942572 @asa-is-acinggg @cherryw0n @opwolfe @seongiewon @yethoughts @mixxie2203

The night was young, your date with Sunoo was going to plan so far — you got ready, wore the outfit Sunoo helped you picked out, prior.

It was all perfect, then he showed up in those fucking glasses.

The glasses he knew you adored. A small sly smirk gracing his lips as you clearly try to comprehend the glasses framing his fox like eyes.

The whole night you were quiet — not because you were mad at him, not at all. You couldn't meet his eyes, every time you did your mind flooded with thoughts you were scared the people around you could hear.

Sunoo knew, of course he did — he knew you like the back of his hand, he anticipated this reaction that's why he wore them in the first place.

The dinner was nice, food was good, so was the in-house entertainment — not that you were focusing on that. You were walking hand in hand out of the restaurant, Sunoo talking about his day, how practice was, what the guys were up to. When you got to the car he opened the passenger door for you, slipping around to the drivers seat.

As he drives back to your shared apartment you cant focus on the gossip hes sharing — roughly understanding what hes going on about. You're not focused on it at all, or the way his hand settles a bit higher on your thigh then it usually does — No, your focused on his profile, his gaze focused on the road, eyebrows quirked as he dramatically recalls whatever pisses him off lately, the way his nose slopes so perfectly, the way his lips are slightly pink from your kisses earlier — your makeup transferring on his lips. The way the frames are shifted on the bridge of his nose, unbothered to fix them.

The clear frames perfectly framing his eyes — its all overtaking you, unable to focus on anything but those stupid glasses and how they accentuate his already pretty features.

How they reflect the light making him even prettier somehow, how they fogged up slightly from the changing temperatures — and now all you can imagine is them fogging up as he fucks into you.

"Are you even listening, angel?" He gasps in feign annoyance, smiling slightly glancing at you, squeezing your thigh to regain your attention.

"Not really." You don't even deny it, your brain working overtime trying to focus on anything.

"I'm more than a pretty face for you to look at." He teases, pouting slightly turning into another street — the motion sliding his glasses down the bridge of his nose as you take a shakey breath.

"Pull over." You say with no debate, your need overtaking every ounce of logic.

"Excuse me?" He giggles slightly glancing at you — seeing your serious expression. The way your eyes are dark with want, the way you have unintentionally been squeezing your thighs together the whole drive.

"You know what you're doing, Sun." you say flatly, not even bothering to act shy.

Sunoo suppresses a sly grin and he taps against your thigh, looking around the area. The energy in the car shifting from a one-sided conversation to a charged one. The car suddenly feeling warm.

Sunoo pulls into a spot on the side of a dead road, turning the engine off.

"Couldn't wait till we even got home? Unbelievable —" His teasing is interrupted by you unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing over the center console, barely even making it into his lap as you pull him into a heated kiss.

Your lips attacking each others, gasping into the kiss, your hands finding any part of him to hold onto — settling in his hair, his rest on your waist. Teeth clashing as you fight for dominance — Sunoo groaning into the kiss his hands slipping under your shirt thumbing at your stomach making you moan into the kiss.

The kiss breaks and you both are panting, you swallow the lump in your throat as you look at him, his glasses, on the tip of his nose — foggy from the heated make out.

"Backseat, now" He breathes out, catching his own breath.

You don't even nod — just shifting as you climb over the console, falling into the backseat with a thud, your head resting on the seat, thighs pressed together.

Sunoo joins shortly after climbing over a bit more gracefully, settling in between your thighs hovering over you, his lips press on yours, his fingers lacing through yours next to your head, caging you in.

The kiss breaks when you push up, your hand on his chest pushing him back on the seat, affectively swapping positions. Your sitting on his lap hands splayed on his chest.

He looks ethereal, hair a mess, lips swollen, glasses barely on and foggy.

"Sit on my face" he says bluntly, you swallow the lump in your throat, your breathing uneven. as you whimper at his bold words.

"Cant just say that, Sun." You stammer, your previous confidence gone.

"Please?" He whispers, looking up at you — begging.

You let out a ragged breath as you slide your panties off, keeping your skirt on. Trying to squeeze your legs together, stopped by Sunoo as his hands pulls you forward onto his face.

Still hovering, one hand rests on the back seat the other on the headrest of the front seat, looking down at the boy beneath you you let out a whimper the sight making you wet.

Sunoos hands trace your thighs, almost salivating at your bare, dripping pussy above him. He moves to take off his glasses when you immediately stop him, getting flustered doing so.

He holds back a grin, keeping them on as his arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you onto his face. His tongue immediately diving into you, licking up all the slick from your folds, his tongue prodding your hole, sliding up sucking on your clit as you shift on him.

You let out a series of cries and moans, hands holding onto his hair and the headrest, trying to ground yourself, ending in you grinding down on his face.

Sunoos actions don't stop, eating you out like he was starved, moaning into your pussy, arms tight around your thighs keeping you on his face.

Every so often his nose nudges your swollen clit as he licks through your folds, licking up all the slick your making. His tongue prods your hole making you whimper and grind down onto his face. His movements fast but precise, trying to bring you over the edge.

The tip of his tongue teasing you, poking into your weeping hole then licking through your folds and drawing soft moans from you.

At this point the car is fogged up, unable to see through the windows, people passing by most definitely able to guess correctly whats happening in the car.

After he gets impatient, wanting to taste all of you his tongue breaches your tight hole. earning a relieved whimper from you your hips humping against his tongue.

You're more riding his face, him letting you seek your own pleasure using him to to do, every so often, his fogged glasses bump against your clit making you let out a pathetic sound. Its all too much, your orgasm comes crashing over you, riding through your high.

When your orgasm slows, he doesn't — instantly licking up all your cum, moaning against your heating — eating you like its lifeline. Sucking up all of your wetness sending you into overdrive. He only stops when you physically have to push him off your pussy.

When you pull back off his face its a sight. the bottom of his face slicked up, a proud grin on his lips, his eyes peaking out from the glasses hanging low on his noses.

Catching his breath, he sits up, pulling you into his lap kissing you.

You moan into the kiss, tasting your cum on his tongue sending you insane. When you pull back you raise your hips, tugging down his pants, palming him brought his boxers earning a whine from his as he tilts his head back on the headrest.

"You're insane — all this over glasses" he says breathlessly his thumbs rubbing circles on your waist.

"Not just the glasses, its you in the glasses" you whisper softly looking into his eyes.

He makes an unrecognizable sound as he breathes heavily, his hands fumbling his boxers as he pulls himself out, pumping himself before lining himself up with your entrance.

Your hands rest on his shoulders as you sink down onto him, the car filling with the sounds of your combined moans

"I'm not gonna last." He whimpers leaning his head back, eyes scrunching, already dangerously close from you riding his face.

You mumble something incoherent, your walls pulsating against him cock, whimpering trying to adjust to the position, you look at him and instantly moan closing your eyes, its too much — hes too much.

You rise from him, only the tip still in as you sink down, the pace slow and steady but perfect, Sunoo's hands guiding you, helping you ride him.

His lips attach to yours quickly, moaning into his mouth as you clench around him, grinding your hips against his desperate for release.

He notices your legs shaking, quickly taking over — his hands holding onto your hips, fucking you down onto him sharply, he fills you perfectly — feeling him everywhere, his tip kissing your cervix with every deep thrust.

Sunoo can feel his orgasm coming embarrassingly soon — he cant have that. Despite his hand snaking down, his thumb rubbing fast finger 8s on your clit making you scream in pleasure.

The duel stimulation pushes your orgasm on you like a train, no warning, your legs shake as you pretty much let him take over fully, riding out your orgasm as he fucks you down onto his cock.

Sunoos orgasm is triggered by yours, your walls clenching, sucking him in, milking him dry — a whimper leaves his lips as his movements halt — his orgasm washing over him.

His movements on your clit stop when you wince slight, pressing a kiss on your neck as an apology, then on your lips as another one.

Staying inside you as his cock softens, both of your orgasms fading out as you droop your head onto his shoulder, your body spent.

Sunoos arms wrap around your waist, his cheek leaning against your hair pressing soft kisses to the side of your head rubbing soft shapes on your exposed skin.

His free hand finally removes his glasses, setting the on the seat beside you both, his fingers threading through your hair admiring your post sex haze.

Your fuzzy, the intense heat from the sex fading, the air from outside coming in cooling your hot skin. One of your fingers draw shapes in the fog in the window — earning a laugh from Sunoo who just kisses your hair.

"So i should wear the glasses more, hm?"

Episode Guide :

S1E1 - A Lesson In Skating

Jake Sim is determined, that's what every announcer and critic will say. And yeah, they're right, Jake is determined. He's determined to support his team, determined to correct his mistakes, and determined to teach you how to skate. The only problem – you keep declining. But, when you do accept, Jake is determined to turn the lesson into an unforgettable date.

Fluff | 2.9k | Jan 16, 2026

S1E2 - Five-Hole

You told Heeseung Lee over the phone (and over 2000 miles away) that if he won more than three starts in a row, you'd sit on his face. Now, he's won eight starts in a row. The only problem? You're still in Anaheim, while he's in Buffalo. A quick packing up of your entire life and a seven hour plane ride later, you're standing at the door of your new shared apartment without your boyfriend's knowledge. What Heeseung doesn't know won't hurt him – only get him rewarded.

Smut | 2.9k | Jan 21, 2026

S1E3 - Proof of Identity

Everyone has a favorite player, it's part of the culture. However, most people dating a professional athlete would say their boyfriend is their favorite player. You mean well – really, you do – but you can't help but be absolutely starstruck when your boyfriend, Sunghoon Park, finally plays against your favorite player: Bowen Byram. Unfortunately, Sunghoon can't help the jealousy that overcomes him, and he also can't help the overwhelming urge to show you who you belong to.

Smut | 2.9k | Jan 23, 2026

S1E4 - Lord Stanley

Sunoo Kim would 100% say that you are the best thing that's ever happened to him – but, damn, winning the Stanley Cup is an extremely close second. Especially when he was the one to score the game-seven-winning goal. The cup was right there, ready to be hoisted by his own hands, but the same thought kept flashing through his mind – where were you?

Fluff | 2.3k | Jan 28, 2026

S1E5 - The Park Bowl

#23Park, that's what every single news outlet, fangirl, and social media will tag the game. Because when's the next time two professional hockey players who play for two different teams will have the same number and the same last name? Never – that's what makes it so special. Well, Jay Park wishes this specialty would be delivered to someone else because he hates Sunghoon Park. Sunghoon's always shoving Jay; so, what's wrong if he shoves him back – your lecture waiting at home, that’s what.

Fluff | 1.8k | Jan 30, 2026

S1E6 - Five Minutes Each

It's not Jungwon's fault he's so talented and constantly compared to every other 1st overall pick. Jack Hughes can be upset with the comparisons, it doesn't affect Jungwon Yang. Well, until it does. Because Jungwon – who is undoubtedly, obviously, and incredibly obsessed with you – is absolutely livid when Jack makes a comment about the recent cheating rumors. Suddenly, a new rivalry has sparked between the two forwards.

Fluff | 1.7k | Feb 01, 2026

"I’m coming back, don’t you dare get up" You warn from the kitchen.

He closes his eyes quickly, making his best expression again of those who can barely lift their head from the pillow.

When you kneel down beside him, gently pulling some strands away from the fringe of his forehead to touch the warm cloth, Sunoo almost loses.

"I told you not to stay in the rain." You murmur, worried.

He just gives off a low grin, enjoying every second of your attention.

"I think I’ll need some medicine..."

"I'll get it for you."

Your hand barely leaves his forehead when Sunoo gently holds your fingers, pouting.

"How dare you leave your poor sick boyfriend alone here?" he says in the faintest voice he can pretend to be, looking at you. "Maybe a little kiss will get better faster.."

You raise an eyebrow, staring at him for a few seconds before laughing.

"Funny... because flu does not usually have that kind of treatment."

"This is a very specific flu." Sunoo says, pouting even more.

You roll your eyes, but end up giving in. With a discreet smile, you approach his face and leave a gentle kiss on his lips.

Sunoo smiles at the kiss before it even ends.

"Better?" you ask, funny.

"A little..." He murmur.

"Just a little?"

He gently holds your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"I think I'll need a lot of kisses before I'm one hundred percent better."

You huff playfully, pinching his flushed cheek.

"Then you'd better hope I keep believing in this flu."

Heeseung froze. For a second, you thought the prank failed, until his gaze darkened, slow and deliberate, traveling down your body. A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back against the wall, blinking like you’d just handed him the world.

“…do you want me to make you scream then?” His voice was low, taunting, and your stomach dropped when he already started tugging his belt loose.

“W-Wait! It’s just a prank!” you yelped, hands flying up. But Heeseung only chuckled, the sound dark and hungry as he caged you against the door with his body.

“A prank? No, baby. You don’t get to say things like that and back out.” His mouth brushed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re mine now.”

Your heart raced. This was not how the prank was supposed to go—

Jay:

Dragging Jay into the dim storage closet, you tried to keep a straight face as you whispered, “No one will hear you scream in here.”

He blinked once. Then twice. Then that slow, knowing smirk spread across his face—the one that always spelled trouble.

“Ohhh,” he drawled, leaning back against the shelves like he owned the place. “So that’s what you’re into? Risky business, huh?”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait, no, Jay, it’s a prank, I didn’t—”

“Shhh,” he cut you off smoothly, already rolling up his sleeves like this was some kind of board meeting gone wild. “You drag me into a secluded space, tell me no one will hear me scream… and I’m supposed to believe you didn’t want me to fuck you against these boxes?”

“Boxes?!” you squeaked, flustered.

Jay tilted his head, smirk deepening. “Guess we’ll see if the boxes can hold up… or if you’ll break first.”

You slapped his arm, stammering, “It’s a TikTok trend!”

Jay just laughed, leaning down close enough that his lips brushed your ear. “Then let me show you why I don’t do trends.”

Jake:

You shoved Jake into the maintenance closet like a giggling idiot and hissed, “No one will hear you scream in here.”

He let out a nervous laugh that sounded way too high and jittery for how much it made your stomach flip. His eyes flicked around like he was checking the door, but the second they landed on you, they softened into adoration, and something else. Something hungry.

“Wait, wait, you mean like… no one’s gonna know if we do something here?” His voice wobbled, hopeful and stupidly earnest. You felt the heat of him before you felt anything else; his hand ghosted over your hip and you could tell, from the way his fingers tightened, he was already hard.

You tried to backpedal, panicking, “Jake, it’s literally a prank—”

He cut you off by leaning in, cheeks pink, breath warm on your ear. “Ohhh, it was just a joke?” he murmured, voice thick. Then he smiled, the kind that made your knees weak, and added, low and pleased, “Good. Because now it’s my turn to play.”

Before you could protest properly, he’d got you pressed against a stack of cleaning supplies, and the closet somehow felt a whole lot less like a joke.

Sunghoon:

You shove him into the rehearsal hallway alcove, heart stuttering as you whisper, “No one will hear you scream in here,” and immediately regret everything.

He pauses like he’s considering a math problem, then that cold little grin slides across his face and the world narrows until it’s only him and you. “Why would you say something like that unless you wanted me to prove it?” he asks, calm as a threat.

Before you can sputter out, his hands are on your wrists, lifting them above your head and pinning them to the wall. The metal of the rail presses into your spine; his body is all controlled heat against yours.

You start to stammer, “I—no, it’s a prank, Hoon, I swear” but he silences you with one finger, pressing it to your lips like you’re a naughty child. “Shhh,” he whispers, and the single syllable hums straight through you.

His other hand ghosts down, thumb tracing a careless arc that somehow makes your knees go soft. “Don’t waste your breath,” he murmurs, right by your ear. “You’re going to need it.”

You laugh, half-crying, because this was not the prank you rehearsed in your head, but the way he’s looking at you, so composed and utterly intent, makes your voice short and high. He smiles, purely satisfied, like he’s won something delicious.

“You sure you meant prank?” he asks, and it isn’t a question. You’re not sure you can answer.

Sunoo: 

You dragged Sunoo behind the bleachers, whispering with way too much confidence, “No one’s gonna hear you scream out here.”

He jumped like you’d slapped him, eyes huge and dramatic. “Yah! You can’t just say that, do you know what I thought you meant??” He smacked your arm with theatrical outrage, cheeks flushed with a mix of scandal and something much sharper.

You’re babbling, hands flying, “No no no it’s—it's a TikTok trend I swear—” but he’s already clutching his chest like you stabbed him. “A prank?” He gasps, overacting so hard you almost laugh. “And here I was ready to ruin you.”

Then his face changes, just for a heartbeat, and the hyperbole drops away. He leans so close you can feel his breath. Softly, almost private: “Unless… you did mean it.”

Before you can protest, he’s got a hand at the small of your back, dragging you flush to him. His other hand slides up to your jaw, thumb brushing your lip in a weirdly gentle, possessive motion. “You’re not leaving until I hear you scream anyway,” he says, voice low but still with that bright, playful edge that makes everything feel dangerous and adorable.

You try to squeal that it’s a prank but the sound comes out suspiciously like a laugh, which only makes Sunoo grin wider, pleased, delighted, already plotting the ways he’s going to make you regret teaching him new TikTok content.

Jungwon:

You shove him behind the storage doors like a lunatic and hiss, “No one will hear you scream in here.”

He tilts his head like he’s solving a puzzle and you nearly melt because the sight is stupidly earnest, until the color floods his ears and that tiny smirk starts. “No one can hear me? …you’re braver than I thought.” His voice is soft but the word braver lands like a dare.

He starts closing the space between you with that quiet leader-confidence that makes your knees weirdly wobble. You try to scramble back, throat tight with panic, but the way his eyes glow with mischief shuts you up faster than any words could.

“A prank? Tsk.” He lets out a breathy laugh that’s more amused than amused, and the playful edge drops just enough to make you notice the shift. “That’s what you call it?” He reaches up and pins one hand at the small of your back, not rough, but not gentle either, guiding you to stay exactly where he wants.

Then, so close you can see the fleck of gold in his iris, he murmurs, low and teasing: “Then let me show you what a real punishment feels like.”

It’s equal parts threat and promise, and your heart cavorts like a trapped animal. He doesn’t rush; he lets the suspense do the work, letting you stew in the delicious panic you created. You’re supposed to be the prankster, but it’s embarrassingly clear who’s really in charge now.

Ni-ki

You tugged him into the empty corner of the gym, grinning like a genius. “No one will hear you scream in here,” you whispered.

Ni-ki blinked once. Then he laughed, a low, sharp sound that immediately made your stomach do a backflip. “You sound like a villain,” he said, tilting his head, that mischievous glint already in his eyes.

You stammered, hands waving, “I-I swear, it’s a prank! Just a TikTok thing—”

He ignores you completely, stepping closer until you’re pressed against the wall. “So… should I make you scream then?” His grin widened, teeth flashing, and the way he leans down to your ear makes your knees threaten to give out. “Because you said it. And now… you’re going to take it.”

Panic floods you. “Ni-ki! It’s a joke! I didn’t mean—”

“Too late,” he interrupts, voice low, teasing, but there’s a dangerous edge to it that makes your heart hammer. “You dragged me into a secluded space. You whispered that line. You don’t get to back out. You’re mine… and I always play to win.”

Your hands flail uselessly, your voice cracking somewhere between laughter and terror, but Ni-ki just watches, amused and sharp, like a cat that knows exactly how much panic you can handle before he pushes you over the edge.

~Fin

masterlist

⟡ @tashmonellloveskpopboybands, ⟡ @kookiesnkim, ⟡ @picklemafia, ⟡ @xxjoyridingxx,⟡ @enjakey, ⟡ @noidnoentry, ⟡ @avadie,  ⟡ @enhaheart8, ⟡ @yourislandgirl, ⟡ @meowwwon, ⟡ @saodk  ⟡ @inlovewithparkjisung, ⟡ @verycutesyverymindful,  ⟡ @fleurdelises, ⟡ @tyongielee, ⟡ @amzingjellyfish, ⟡ @enbplvr, ⟡ @6abriellaa, ⟡ @fateismoonstruck, ⟡ @artemesiareads, ⟡ @d0einheadlights, ⟡ @miuuuw,  ⟡ @butwhyareyoureyessosad, ⟡ @rainofcrime, ⟡ @darkblueblueberr, ⟡ @zone444girls, ⟡ @bombombakudanmeow, ⟡ @en-cityy,  ⟡ @koya2000, ⟡ @tttbearblog, ⟡ @yb763, ⟡ @freakseung2001  ⟡ @nics-fxy, ⟡ @irers, ⟡ @seungsoftly, ⟡ @iyaiyaohhh, ⟡ @xnatqq, ⟡ @strawberrykkk1

✧༚ ˗ˏˋ 𐙚 ˎˊ˗ ༚✧✧༚ ˗ˏˋ 𐙚 ˎˊ˗ ༚✧✧༚ ˗ˏˋ 𐙚 ˎˊ˗ ༚✧✧༚ ˗ˏˋ 𐙚 ˎˊ˗ ༚✧✧༚ ˗ˏˋ 𐙚 ˎˊ˗ ༚✧

you never skipped a ‘you wanna smoke?’ text from your best friend sunoo ; grabbing your essentials — your phone and shoes , immediately going over to his house , letting yourself in where he was waiting in his room; the blunts, pre-rolled. snacks stacked on his nightstand with your favorite dumb tv show queued up and ready for you.

soon the two of you were cuddled up together watching the tv show , half awake. “why do we watch this?” he shrugged. “i think we’re too deep into now , so we can’t just stop it.” his arm draped across your shoulders. “no matter how dumb it is.” you hummed turning back to the television , the day slowly coming to an end , silence once again filling the room. “you wanna makeout?”

he looked down at your form , his cheeks rosy from his high as he answered. “you’ve definitely had too much , make only one pre-roll and quarter of a brownie next time.” he couldn’t help but look at your lips — back at your eyes which were half open , but you looked serious. “what makes you think i’m joking?” he scoffed. “because we’re best friends.” you shrugged , “is that what’s stopping you from making out with me?” “or have you never made out with anyone before and you’re scared it’s gonna suck.” teasing him , but he didn’t take that lightly. “yeah?”

maybe it was the cannabis running through his system , or the condescending smirk on your face , but sunoo couldn’t stop himself — soon his hand found your neck , not choking you but definitely stopping your high giggles , your eyes opening in shock . “you think that?” his tongue swiping across your bottom lip , teasing you before kissing you. he held you by your neck as he ravished you , his tongue slipping into your mouth. it was slow; messy and lazy — but it was the hottest fucking kiss you’ve ever shared with someone , and it was with your best friend.

eventually you both had to pull away , he gave your lips a few pecks — he smirked looking at your state. “look at you.” his thumb swiping across your lip , wiping the spit off ; pulling at it , a whimper emitting from your lips. “you like that didn’t you?” his fingers ghosting your waist. “i’m barely touching you and you’re twitching.” head tilting to the side , the boy currently above you didn’t feel like your best friend. “that kiss did a number on you pretty didn’t it?” hands slipping into your sweats. “su-sunoo.” his finger stroking your clothed clit. “you’re so sensitive baby.”

pushing your panties to the side , pushing a single finger inside. “so wet , my finger just slipped inside.” you had to be dreaming , a side effect of the weed — were you greening out right now? there was no way your best friend of so long , was currently fingering you right now , he added another finger , speeding up, you gripped his wrist as he continued his ministrations on your clit. “fuck sunoo i’m gonna cum..” you gasped , he hummed. “you gonna cum ? make a mess all over my finger?” he groaned , cock straining against sweats. “come on , cream my fingers.”

before you could even get through your first bliss , he was shoving his pants down , his cock springing up , nice sized and thick — he had a pretty cock , his tip red and dripping with pre-cum. “you want it baby?” he kissed your cheeks softly. “sunoo please fuck me.” whining as he teased your clit , pushing himself inside you. “sh-shit.” he groaned , his cock filling you up. “fuck you’re so tight.” rocking his hips , his dick sawing in and out of you. “fuck sunoo!” pinning your waist down to the bed as pounded into you. “so fucking good for me.” he groaned. “tell me you love it pretty , tell me you love my cock stretching you out like this.”

you couldn’t speak , your head was spinning. “su-sun.” he chuckled as your tried to get the words. “poor girl , fucked dumb -fuck- yo-you thought i didn’t even know how to kiss you , but now -fu..fuck- now you’re dumb on my cock , you gonna cum again.” his thumb circling your clit. “cum baby , cum all over my cock.” the slapping sounds filling the room along with the tv as you reached your second peak , moaning sunoos name over and over as he pushed you past your orgasm. “fuck i’m cumming.” he cursed. “shit…” pulling out just as spurts of his cum landed on your cunt , he tapped the head of his cock on your folds as you came down. “you okay?”

he looked at you with low hazy eyes. “you aren’t in pain are you?” the sudden personality switch gave you whiplash. “talk me pretty.” you nodded. “i’m okay.” he smiled. “good.” making sure you had enough water , the snacks not seemly enough for you in his mind. “i should order you some food , i don’t think snacks are enough.” cleaning you up the pre-rolls and infused treats sitting on the nightstand ready to be used again. “did we just fuck up?” he asked. “do you feel like we fucked up?” he shook his head no. “then no we didn’t , you wanna do it again?” his cheek turned red again , he nodded and you climbed into his lap , taking a piece of brownie , feeding it to him.

“but this time i’m on top.”

your eyes widened at his assertiveness, blinking a couple times to make sure the guy carrying a clipboard like an accessory wasn't some angel.

"oh, um- nice to meet you, noo. im-"

"i know who you are, silly! nation's first love, kpop royalty, and the ultimate trendsetter already? trust me y/nnie, i've done my research!" he chirped, his eyes curving into crescents.

you couldn't help but laugh, cheeks warming. "that's...slightly terrifying."

"you got it all wrong! it's just proof i'm a dedicated manager." he retorted matter-of-factly.

and he wasn't lying. a deceptively soft wafer on the outside, sunoo turned out to be more like firm pudding underneath—balanced and put together. he had your schedule memorized to the t, booked your appointments, and was most importantly your very own hype boy.

if someone thought they were your biggest fan, they had clearly never met sunoo.

"you did amazing today, y/nnie!" he'd gush after every stage, already shoving a water bottle in your hand. "your high note was perfect; i almost fell to my knees back here."

"sunoo," you groaned, hiding your face in your palms. "you're my manager, not my fanboy."

"manager, fanboy, coach, emotional support system—same thing." he'd sing.

your favorite memory of all was the night of your first solo stage at one of the biggest award shows. the crowd roared, lights gleamed, and as the final note left your lips, you glanced backstage only to find sunoo crying.

like, full on sniffling with a couple wet tissues stuffed in his pockets.

"noo—are you crying?" you gasped, rushing over as soon as the music stopped. "what's wrong? did something happen?"

he waved his hands in dismissal, trying to find his voice again. "n-no, i'm fine! i just—" he sniffled, "you've grown so much since the first day i became your manager wahh!"

you laughed, eyes softening. "you're such a baby."

"i'm a empath!" he corrected, choking back tears.

but if sunoo's breakdown couldn't have made your life even more interesting, the headlines could.

"infamous idol, y/n, caught on a secret date with manager kim sunoo?"

you knew this was coming. you were often spotted together anyways. shopping, getting breakfast, him holding an umbrella over you when it decided to rain after a music show—the list goes on. it was all perfectly innocent, but the tabloids painted it as something else.

you watched sunoo sit frozen at the company office, gripping his phone tighter. "this isn't true!" he squeaked defensively. "y/n i swear i didn't leak this—i mean, not like i wouldn't date you, wait i mean—"

you cut him off with an amused laugh, leaning against his desk.

"relax, noo. i don't mind the rumor."

the look on his face was gold. he blinked cautiously, staring at you like he just saw a ghost. "you don't...?"

you shook your head, shrugging. "nope. i dunno... 'manager-boyfriend' has a nice ring to it."

his ears went bright pink. "y/n!"