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You didn't notice him though, so absorbed in your own world with earphones blocking out reality that a tsunami could've gone unnoticed. So Sunwoo took advantage to climb over onto the opposite bleacher and, after ensuring that your back wouldn't turn to greet him, leaned over the separation to catch sight of a lone figure cartwheeling freely over the page. Woah. You were talented alright. There was nothing else to describe the fluidity of movement you caught with your pencil. It made Sunwoo's breath catch in his throat. He had the sudden urge to know exactly what kind of face hid behind the visual mastery manifesting before his very eyes. After all, there must be other things for them to see rather than the boring literal reality that most people settled for. What kind of imageries were they creating in their heads? What beautiful stories were they crafting? Worlds they got lost in? You moved then, causing Sunwoo to jolt back and scurry away with his heart beating out of his chest, deciding that it was enough spying for the day. After that day, he made sure to seek you out every time after practice although he noticed you never strayed too long in the same place, always moving about like a shadow lingering in the corner, invisible yet omniscient. Sometimes you would find a quiet spot in a patch of sunlight by the tennis courts. Sometimes you'd be found on the bleachers, alert eyes observing every pass, every move, every twist of a body like  camera taking everything in. Sunwoo never approached you. Not that he didn't want to, but he found it awkward to just come up to you and present himself as the guy who'd been stalking your drawings. So he admired you from afar instead, relished in the passion of your dark coffee coloured eyes and in the attentive focus dipping your eyebrows in a soft frown, lips paeted slightly in concentration. "Do you know her?" He'd asked one of his friends from the volleyball team once, during their lunch break as he saw you line up at the cafeteria. Changmin took a peek at your face before he shook his head, "she might be in one of my electives." "Which one?" "I think it's art." Sunwoo forced his face to remain in a mask of calmness as he grabbed a steak sandwich, no fries, "do you know her name?" "Nah. I don't think she's ever spoken in class," Changmin's eyebrows quirk up then, "why'd you ask?" "No reason." Changmin's pointed look defined anything but that.  Although he did have the decency to drop the subject as soon as the rest of the volleyball team joined the table. Sunwoo got his answer a few days later when he practically toppled over you and your drawing crayons. It was his mistake. He'd been leaning too far out from the top of the basketball bleachers, struggling to get even the smidgest glimpse of what amazing piece of art hiding under your jacket sleeve, only for his foot to slip. Down he went with a curse, crashing straight into your body and quickly scrabbling to wrap his arms around your head, a pathetic attempt to cushion your fall as you fell into a heap in front of the bleachers. "You--you okay?" He huffed out, breathless and heart beating like a time bomb. Pulling his arms away slowly, gently, he finally met your gaze straight on and --oh my, your eyes were not coffee coloured at all.  But more of a honey-brown, wide open and framed by soft lashes. Currently dilated in panic. "I'm fine! What--What about you? Oh gosh, I'm so sorry--" "No it was my fault," he made a grab for your sketchbook and scattered pens only for his orbs to register the face messily etched onto the paper. His breath caught. For a minute, he could do nothing but stare at the replica of his face made in charcoal. Those were his eyes, his slightly crooked nose. The scowl he wore during his soccer matches. That was him. The resemblance was akin to that of perfection. That was before your hands snatched away the sketchbook before you quickly slammed it closed, cheeks blazing red, "that's-- I swear I"m not a creep, I-- I just do that for practice--" "It's amazing." Your head-- which had been bowed this entire time for fear that anger would be his response -- shot up in surprise, "what?" "It's amazing," Sunwoo repeated. He wouldn't mind repeating it forever, he realized, if that meant he got to see that aforable blush of yours. He reached out with his hand, "can I look at it again?" So you allowed him after some slight hesitation, and if he noticed, he didn't comment. Fingers brushing against yours slightly, he handled the sketchbook with utmost care as he flipped through the pages with child-like awe. He'd seen your drawings, sure, but mere glimpses here and there, a sneak peek, always accompanied with the fear of being found. But now, he could take his time and actually relish in the soft tracings of your crayon, admire the gentle shadings that made up the tip of his nose. You had managed to capture that frown -- the one he used whenever he concentrated -- to perfection and for a minute he swore he'd fallen in love with himself. "You're really good," he murmured, though that definitely banalized the array of praises popping through his head, "you should keep doing them. I mean it." "So, you're not--" you paused, "mad?" "Well I think you'd have more reason to be mad if you knew I was stalking you from before." "What?" Oh Sunwoo, you idiot. Your eyes had tripled their size and you were looking at him like he'd just grown a second head. He lifted his hands as defence, "that sounded so much better in my head. I swear I'm not that creepy, or a stalker, I just--well you're always drawing and I got curious but I can't really come over and tell you to show me so I had to hide and peek and--" You burst out laughing in his face and despite the fact that he was the cause, he couldn't help joining in with a small chuckle, a grin spreading across his features at how alive you looked at this very moment. "You can ask me next time," your grin settled into a soft smile, "I don't bite." "Your words, not mine," he said, tone lighter and teasing. He helped you gather your belongings and as the pair of you started towards the school gates, he asked for your name. "Y/N," you answered, "and you?" "Sunwoo," he noticed the sky was darkening into purple, a sign that twilight was approaching. Usually, he'd be in a hurry to catch the last bus of the evening to avoid the pain of traffic after six. But it was like his body was slowing down on its own to join your pace, as if he was automatically tuning in to the rhythm of your steps. He found he didn't mind. "So why athletes? Any special reason why you like drawing them?" He asked as you reached the gates. "I just like watching the way they move. It's ...graceful," a hand went to rub the back of your neck, "and they come in handy for figure practice." "I mean, we're not that graceful when you're on the pitch ready to get blown away," he chuckled, "but thanks. At least we know we don't play like animals." "Oh god no. The volleyball team's pretty good. The rugby team on the other hand..." you sigh before you shake your head, "that team is nearly impossible to draw." His shoulders shook as he laughed, "well I don't think they aim for graceful. They look like a pack of wild dogs. Even I don't understand how they play." You had reached the said bus stop by then before you spotted your mother's car along the sidewalk, "oh, my mom's here," you turn to him, "where do you live? Maybe we can drop you--" Meeting your mom? On the first day of meeting you? Sunwoo's hands flew up, shaking them wildly in response, "oh no no, that's not necessary. I'll see you tomorrow!" Thank god for the bus that pulled up at the right time so that he didn't have to linger longer than he needed to. But he didn't miss the small wave of your hand as you watched him go, the smile on your face warming his heart even when it was one of the coldest winter days of the year. From that day onwards, Sunwoo made it a must to make his presence known whenever you were deep in your sketches, always observing, sometimes silently keeping you company and sometimes getting so wrapped up in conversation that your pens would lay forgotten by your bag as you bantered back and forth about subjects that would've made people throw you looks of concern. It became routine to have Sunwoo's head pop up from behind the bleachers or to see him walk up the path to your special hiding spot, right where your gaze would meet the tennis court. You sketched him more and more, folding your drawings into your bag so that he wouldn't see although the urge to catch his face on paper was a growing addiction you couldn't ignore. Even your friends had noticed his lingering presence, proceeding to prod you with questions reflecting their curiosity. "He's from the vòlleyball team isn't he?" Yeji asked one time during lunch, upon noticing the way the said young man's stare lingered over the back of your head before turning away just as quickly, "do you know him?" "We've spoken once or twice." "How do you know him?" Your other friend, Saeron, nudged you with a wriggle of her brows. You brushed her teasing away, "we bumped into each other and then he saw my drawings." "Oh right, you do sketch athletes," Yeji leaned forward, mouth full of bread, "did you sketch him?" "I did, actually." "Oh awkward," Saeron giggled, "he's handsome though, can't deny that. You gotta introduce us sometime." You mumbled out an agreement even though you sat with them just for the sake of having people around. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate them. You did. But they seemed to speak a language you couldn't quite grasp. You would rather sit in your own silence, enjoy your own company if that made sense. Maybe that was why it was so surprising, that you allowed Sunwoo to linger as long as he wanted to. There was something authentic about the way he reacted to your words, an unguarded expression that made you comfortable enough to speak up without fear of judgment. Spending time with Sunwoo was listening to water trickle down the river. Smooth and free. Peaceful. But Sunwoo seldom knew of your high regards, was not aware of the tiny sketch of his figure in mid-spike that was hidden in the pocket of your school skirt so that you could take a peek whenever you felt out of place or nervous. It calmed you down to admire his composure, even if his expression was a mere mimic that could not replace reality. "Do you have any material in particular that you like to use?" Sunwoo asked one cloudy afternoon, breaking the silence while huddling a little closer to peek at your newest sketch of Lee Juyeon; a basketball star player known for his quick reflexes and adept playing style. Not only was his skill on par with that of a Nationals team, but his looks had garnered him quite a fanbase from the get-go. Sunwoo would've liked to say that he wasn't jealous of the way your thumb gently applied shade to Juyeon's lower lip. But the spike in the middle of his chest proved him otherwise. "I like charcoal the most, it's the easiest to work with," pausing to admire your work, your eyes glanced over at him, "do you draw?" He scoffed, "like a five year old." "Wanna try?" "No way. I'll ruin it. I'm okay with admiring it from afar." You hummed an unknown tune as you pulled back your sketchbook, "how is practice?" "Alright. Could be better. We won a practice match last week so we're kind of taking it easy." "That's good though isn't it?" Your gaze met his. His eyes were various gradients of warm maroon and you wished-- at this very moment -- to paint his features into memory. That was when you realized how close you were. You shuffled slightly back and didn't notice the frown Sunwoo threw you in response, "it is. And I'm happy we get to rest. The team deserves it." "You're pursuing it in College?" Your eyes tried not to linger too much over his lips, "volleyball, I mean." "Depends," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "if we make it to the Nationals." "You will." "Someone's confident," he chuckled. "Well I'm no pro but even I can tell you're talented, Sunwoo," you peeked at him from behind your fringe, glad that you could blame the cold for your red cheeks when just the intensity and closeness of his entity made you want to squirm, "so if there's anyone who can do it, it's you." It was impossible to keep eye contact after such a confession. You lowered your gaze, glad for your sketchbook that acted as a distraction. It was at that very moment that the paper tucked so neatly in your pocket slipped out, causing Sunwoo to quickly make a grab for it. You made a noise of protest before trying to snatch it back, but the boy only chuckled before unfolding the creased page so that there he was, depicted in all his glory. "Is that--" his voice was hoarse and you took this as your chance to steal it from his grasp, reddened cheeks burning and fingers shaking as you folded it back to its tiny square shape, "is that me?" "Y--yes." "You--you keep that with you?" "I--I do," you lifted your chin up defiantly, though you felt your limbs trembling. His eyes, they pierced your own, piecing together a coherence that caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. When he spoke next, his words were a mere murmur. "Why?" "I--I don't know," eyes darting towards the ground, you mumbled, "I just like watching you...play." A pause. Then, Sunwoo shifted a little bit closer. "You like watching me play? Or do you like," he cocked his head, "watching me?" If you were red before then you were probably the colour of a fire engine truck by now. Averting your eyes and turning your head away were instinctive responses due to the blood rushing through your face. "Stop flirting with me," came your mumble. Laughing softly in response, he scooted himself a little closer, so close that his shoulder brushed your back. He leaned over, head tilted to catch your expression. "Cute," his lips broke out in a crooked grin and you swore you felt your heart explode. Flustered, you shoved him away out of instinct but he wasn't having any of that. His hand grabbed your wrists and with a yelp, you were dragged even closer to his chest. "You like looking at me that much huh?" His tone was teasing while his eyes glimmered with playful mischief, "why is that,Y/N?" "You ask as if you don't know," you mumbled out through jumbled words and you were glad he actually understood you. But instead of laughing some more, his features softened into a smile instead as he proceeded to gaze down at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was in your normal behaviour to admire people. Not the other way around. And at this very moment, you felt way out of your comfort zone. "I don't know." Your orbs flew up to his in surprise and what you found in those coffee-coloured pupils made your breath stutter, heat coiling through your abdomen. "It...it calms me down," your whisper was barely louder than a breath but by the way Sunwoo's smile widens to reach his eyes, you could tell he heard you just fine. "I like watching you too," he replied. A strand of your hair caught in the wind and he raised his hand to curl it around the back of your ear, his touch ghosting with sparks wherever flesh bumped into flesh. You felt warm. He didn't pull away. Didn't bother hiding the slight dust of pink in his cheeks either, as he slowly allowed his palm to cradle the side of your face. Gently. As if he feared you might run away, recoil back. But you didn't. Even with your breaths going staccato, even if your heart felt like a wild animal. You calmed yourself down with the knowledge that he seemed just as nervous as you were and suddenly, out of a stroke of boldness, your hand went up to hold on to his, pressing it close to your cheek. His breath hitched. You shivered. The wind blew against your figures, a gentle reminder that the day was coming to an end. You weren't exactly sure what changed that day. There were no verbal agreements, nothing that suggested your relationship had changed. Yet, the subtle touches of his hand against your back, your shoulders, moving your hair from one shoulder to another, complemented by his gentle doe-eyed stare that made your toes curl, these changes were small, but significant. And you couldn't find it in your heart to say that you disliked it. What are we? The words lingered at the tip of your tongue, as bitter as the aftertaste of coffee as you stole small glances in his direction. You were sitting comfortably under a tree that overlooked the tennis court where Sunwoo had decided to join you. He'd fallen asleep halfway through your beginning sketch and was now leaning against the tree trunk, face relaxed and body leaned towards yours, close enough that you could admire his face. Countless hours you had spent tracing Sunwoo's features on paper. Countless times you had imagined tracing his lips with your thumb, wondered whether they were as soft as they looked. Maybe it was just curiosity or maybe you had let him walk into your heart so easily that you hadn't realized it yourself. But if there was one thing you could swear your heart upon it would be that you could no longer imagine every day without Sunwoo's presence at your side. As if on instinct, your fingers took a life of their own as they reached up to push a few strands away from his face. They gently carved a path down his cheek, landing at the corner of his jaw. Dangerously close to his open mouth. There was no denying it. Sunwoo was beautiful. Handsome. Had those features on par to that of a model's. You were so focused on edging your way to touch his lower lip that you didn't realize you had been staring, until you glanced up to see his brown orbs fixated on yours. You froze. Shit. "Like what you see?" He murmured. Then, before you could scramble back and probably run with your tail between your legs, his own hand grasped your own and he pushed himself off the trunk before his head angled towards yours, finding your lips. Soft. Sunwoo's lips were soft. You panicked. Not used to the closeness. The fire that sparked between your lids. But his other hand went to clasp your jaw, holding you close as he kissed your next protest away and unconsciously brushing his thumb against your cheek. Shivering in his touch, there was no running away from the way his mouth molded against yours so snugly, and you didn’t want to. You found yourself addicted to the sweet pressure of his upper lip meeting your lower ones and soon enough -- without realizing -- you melted into his touch. 

Sunwoo made a noise that sounded like a soft grunt, his other hand lacing around your waist to pull you closer so that you tumbled halfway into his lap. With embarrassment suddenly flooding through you, you let out a squeak that he answered with a chuckle of his own before distracting you once more with a series of kisses that left you gasping.

Your hands, initially balled into fists in your lap, went to rest against his chest and you didn’t realize that you were gripping onto his school shirt until you parted for air. Only were you aware of your compromising position, of the hard ridges of the young man’s thighs, of the firmness of his chest against your palms, of the way he seemed to be so much bigger than you even though he was a lean athlete, meant to be light and as speedy as the wind. 

Breaths coming out ragged, you tried to slow the beating of your heart. Though it seemed to be quite the challenge, given how lovingly, how intense, Sunwoo seemed to be in making love to your neck, nibbling on your pulse point and causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips. 

A whistle blew in the distance.

The soccer team. They’d be crawling up the hill any minute now.

“Sunwoo,” you breathed out, eyes hazy with mixed feelings of desire and embarrassment. You feebly tried pushing against his chest, to no avail. He merely groaned, head tilting upwards to catch your mouth into another kiss. 

“Sunwoo,” you groaned against his lips. But he held on for dear life, one hand clasping the back of your neck, tangled into your locks. The other around your waist, pressing you as close as he could possibly get you to be. 

“Just one more,” he mumbled in-between kisses, hooded eyes fluttering closed and head slanting to kiss you a little deeper, a little harder.

Your body was on fire. You weren’t used to this intimacy, nor all of the affection he was raining down upon you. 

But it felt good. It felt amazing. Eye-opening.

He finally relented after what seemed like an eternity and you quickly made a move to scramble out of his lap. Though he wasn’t having any of that, grip made of iron as he held on. You looked up to snap at him to let go before everyone saw but was faced with his pout instead, which was enough to bring down your defences. 

“Please,” his pout deepened and your heart practically vaulted through your chest. Cute. Cute. Cute. Stop. Burying his face into your neck, he whispered, “I just wanna hold you.” 

So he did. And thank god the team had decided to take a different route so that you would avoid their imploring, questioning gazes. Though Sunwoo admitted that he’d already known they would go up from the other side of the gymnasium, considering they did that every other week to train their stamina in the process. 

That earned him a light smack on the side of his head, making him whine, “What did I do to deserve this Y/N?” 

“You knew!” You wanted to throw him a glare, but it was impossible when you were busy fighting the grin spreading across your face. 

He grinned back at you, that crooked smile that always resulted in a burst of butterflies roaring through your abdomen. Just like now. 

“So, since you have a drawing of me that you keep staring at every day--” his words died into laughter when you tried smacking his arm, proceeding to cage your wrist with his hand before kissing your knuckles. You squirmed as he continued, “does that mean I can get a picture of you?”

You let out a noise of protest, “that depends,” you mumbled, unconsciously finding refuge in his neck.

Chuckling, Sunwoo grasped your chin lightly to pull you back so that his brown orbs gazed right into yours with a gentleness that had you weak at the knees, “on what?” 

“On what I get in return.” 

“What if I say I’ll take you on a date?” he said wickedly. 

You couldn’t help your smile. 

You duck, hands covering your face and hair -- to no avail -- before splashing him back in retaliation. It's cold and soaks you right to the bone, but nothing can compare to the stupid grin that's been permanently stretched across your face from the moment Changmin had greeted you with a coffee and a promise to soak up the sunlight at twilight.

He had a tendency to do that. Just appear out of the thin air whenever you were having a hard time and drive you along the coast of the country till the weight in your heart had lifted.

"Ha! Take that!" Changmin childishly sticks out his tongue when you got drenched by an ongoing wave, only to yelp himself when it swept him off his feet.

You burst out laughing, "say what?!" You taunt, giggles intensifying when he sticks out the finger in mock annoyance.

The sun is slowly setting in the horizon as you clamber back into his used-up, battered red Honda and get hit in the face with Changmin's towel, "ow!"

"That's for laughing at me earlier," comes his muffled alto. Then, before you can retort, his hands come on either side of your head. He rubs att your hair, drying it off, and your heart warms up at his gesture.

When your eyes manage to peek out of the towel, you offered him a soft smile, "thanks."

Changmin stills for a moment as he gazed back in your eyes. Features softening, he leans down to drop a shy kiss at your temple, "pleasure," his words tickle your forehead and you swear that heat has blossomed through your limbs at his sweet countenance.

"Want me to drive?" You offer while watching him pull out of the parking lot, eyes lingering over the curve of his arm, the way the golden hues of the sun bathes his side profile.

Changmin snorts, "and get myself killed? No thank you."

"Says the one who failed his driving test three times."

"That was the policeman's fault."

"It's okay Changmin. Not everyone can be as talented as I am in driving," you taunt as you reached for some chips you'd packed in your bag, pop it open to offer him some, "also, was it necessary to drive all the way out here just for the beach? There's a beach back home too, you know?"

"So that we could bump into people we know? No way," he shakes his head, "not my style. Anyway, it's prettier here."

The more you gaze fondly at the young man sitting beside you, the more your heart beats for him, dances to the rhythm of his laughter and reacts to the curve of his smile.

You are lucky. Oh so lucky indeed.

A comfortable silence eases your nerves and as you settle comfortably in the passenger seat, you let out the softest of sighs while taking in the array of trees spilling on both sides of the quiet road. It's almost as if only you and Changmin are present in this very moment. Reddish gold sunlight streams through the leaves, the darkening purple sky softening life and all its forms. Somewhere in the distance, you catch the sound of a bird singing.

"Oh let's stop here for a minute," Changmin says. You follow the direction of his gaze towards the edge of the forest lining that gives view of the ocean lying beyond. Pulling onto the side of the road, he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and ushers you out so that you stand only a few feet away from the edg of the cliff.

"Now that-- that's what I brought you here for," his murmur gets washed out by the crashing of waves below. A deathly drop if one was to jump. You are so mesmerized by the swirls of foam that you don't miss your boyfriend's absence -- until coldness suddenly presses to your cheek.

Jumping slightly, you turn towards him to see that he's holding out a beer that he has previously cracked open, and gratefully take it from him with a soft thanks. He takes his place next to you amidst the tall grass and it's almost like instinct that your body curves into his ever so slightly, your shoulder meeting his own while admiring the gradation of blues and mixed purples and soft dimming oranges that are washing out by the minute.

"Is it safe here?" You can't help but wonder aloud.

"I'd like to say yes," his face looks so determined that you giggle slightly, "you're so dumb."

"Is that what you say to the best boyfriend in the world?" He gasps mockingly, hand over his chest to stare at you. Trust Changmin for always being a drama queen, "I am hurt, Y/N!"

"Oh shut up."

"Only if you kiss me."

"Dream on," your cheeks flush despite the tone of finality in your voice, though you don't protest upon feeling his arm wrap around your shoulder to pull you close. He giggles in response as his nose bumps against the side of your head and you flush with even more heat.

To distract yourself, you take a sip of your beer, "I gotta say, you impressed me today."

"I did, didn't I?" He sounds smug, "so admit it, I'm the best boyfriend you could ever ask for--"

"You--" your finger reaches up to shove his forehead back, "need to stop being so cocky. It doesn't look good on you."

"Are you saying I'm not the best boyfriend you could ask for? After everything I did for you?" That's when he pulls you even closer before pressing the softest of pecks along your brow line. Heat explodes through your cheeks, and you know it's not from the cold that suddenly sweeps in without warning.

"I never said that," you manage to mumble out. Proceeding to hide your face in the depths of his chest as his arm curls around your middle, you continue, "actually, I do think you're winning the best boyfriend title today. With everything that you did."

"Well I gotta keep up my game. Can't have my girlfriend always being better at courting than I am."

You shove him then, "you know what? Screw you, I'm trying to be serious and grateful here."

"And I'm trying to compliment you," his lips skim along your cheekbone. He peppers a few kisses there before mumbling out, "you smell like the sea."

"Wise observation, considering we just went swimming," your face turns ever so slightly to face your boyfriend's doe-eyed gaze and in the warmth of his brown pupils your breath stutters at how beautiful he looks. That, and the fact that it feels as if he can't seem to look at amything else but you.

Beautiful, your throat closes up. Beautiful. Changmin's features rendered soft in the dim shades of the evening, the angular curve of his brows matching the feline tilt of his eyes, and then of course--

His mouth. Curled slighrly upwards in amusement because he just knows that you're ogling him openly without excuse. He knows.

"I know you've been struggling," Changmin's eyes search yours, "and it hurts me to see you like that."

"It hasn't been all that bad though," you murmur out before your throat clogs up as his palm cups your cheek, stroking slightly, "I've ...been okay."

Changmin snorts, "Y/N, anyone who knows you can see it. It's not that hard," his gaze softening then, his nose nudges yours and very lightly, as if you're made out of glass, he pecks your lips, "and honestly, it hurts me more to see you sad. You can be angry or moody or snappy. I don't mind that. I can take all that. But your sadness, that hurts more."

Guilt coats your tongue in a bittter aftertaste. You hate it, how much your mood affects Changmin and how you get overly sensitive, how the tiniest things can trigger you.

"I'm really sorr--" his finger presses upon your mouth to stop your attempts and he pins you down with his gaze, now hard and firm, "don't. It's my duty. No--it's not even my duty. I just love you Y/N. What hurts you hurts me too."

"Well maybe you can love me less?" You try to lighten up the atmosphere but the joke falls flat. He chuckles anyway, bringing you into another chaste kiss and murmuring against your mouth, "that, I definitely can't do."

Allowing yourself to kiss him back while your hands find their way to his chest, tracing the span of his shoulders to tug him closer, your mouth slants against his as time slips through your fingers.

It is only when you pull apart for air, foreheads pressed together and eyes half-closed, that you realize that the night now fully dominates the sky, the ocean dark and deep and abstract.

"Thank you," you finally whisper. You close your eyes and press one last kiss to his mouth.

"You know that--" he kisses you in-between words, "you can't just--" kiss "get away" one more "with that."

Giggling and kissing him once more on the lips, you proceed to pepper his entire face with kisses-- his nose, his cheeks, his jawline, his forehead -- everywhere you can think of. So much so that by the time you pull back, he's grinning at you with wet eyes.

"Let's go back home," his alto is rough with emotion. It makes you smile that you have that effect on him.

Pulling himself up and you along with him, his fingers find their rightful place in-between yours while making your way back to the car, the night air now cool against your faces with Changmin's warmth to keep you warm.

He holds your hand all the way back home, even if that means driving at turtle speed.

You let him.

Because after all, slowing down to bask in a moment is a luxury.

Everything has been so hard. 

Your work. Your social life. Your eating habits. Your entire life. 

You’ve carved yourself into a hole that keeps on crumbling upon you, piles and piles of responsibility that keep getting thrust in your face the more you try struggling. Work has turned into a boring, monotonous routine of getting to the office, spending eight hours straight staring at your screen, then going back home and collapsing onto your bed with no energy left. You haven’t seen your friends since forever and your phone which usually blew up with messages is now silent and empty, void of any human interaction that you crave for. 

It’s harder these days because of the pandemic and you know that this will pass eventually. You just can’t seem to figure out how.

Which is why you find yourself drowning in a bottle of wine by the time Friday evening rolls around. Sitting outside upon your porch and letting its bittersweet aftertaste drip down your throat like medicine, you’re not quite sure what you’re aiming for really -- whether it be to throw up or pass out -- until there’s a soft knock at your door.

Groggily opening up with a confused frown, you see none other than Sangyeon’s face and immediately reel back with shock. 

“What are you doing here?!” you screech out. If you had known, you would’ve tried making an effort with your appearance! Unconsciously, your hand finds its way to your hair in an attempt to detangle its knots.

“You look terrible,” is his response. He doesn’t wait before blundering past you into the kitchen and settling down what looks like a bunch of takeaway containers, “Why have you been avoiding my calls?” 

You flinch out of impulse. He’s right; you have been avoiding your maybe-boyfriend most of all, merely due to the fact that you can’t help feeling like a failure and wondering how lowly he must think of you. 

Sangyeon is the epitome of a hard worker, starting out as a mere waiter in a quaint noodle shop and toiling hard for two years before he got promoted as a sous-chef. Then, his manager has seen so much potential in him that Sangyeon got appointed as the head chef a year later. 

You know all this because you’ve seen him go through it and grow through every single obstacle sent his way, circulating in the same friend group and sharing the same passion for food. However, it hasn’t been long since this friendship has slowly budded into something you’d like to believe is a start of a romance.

Not that either of you made it clear. It’s something, but what? You’re not quite sure yourself. 

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N!” 

“Huh?” you snap back to reality, blushing upon realizing the lack of distance between your faces, “oh--sorry. What did you say?” 

“I asked you why you’ve been avoiding my calls,” there’s a tone of exasperation in his voice. But a little more than that. You’d like to believe that it’s concern, “are you okay, Y/N? You really look like--” 

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, turning away before he can spot the slight tremble in your lip, the slow tears building at the corner of your eyes. 

A warm hand grasps your forearm, “tell me.” 

It’s an order. One that you can’t help to oblige. You swivel around slowly, embarrassed that he -- your biggest crush -- gets to see you like this, in such a horrible, vulnerable state. 

You hate it. Yet, once the tears start silently carving silvery paths down your cheeks, there’s no stopping them. 

Sangyeon pulls you into his chest with a soft sigh, allowing his arms to encircle your waist while one of his hands comb through your hair. You cry silently in his shoulder, fully aware of the growing wetness seeping through his shirt, but his grip doesn’t lessen when you try tugging back. 

Instead, he holds you a little tighter, murmuring into your ear, “come on, let it out.” 

You’ve never been a fan of loud crying. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re so used to keeping in your sobs, stuffing your blanket into your mouth in order to restrain the tears, the pain, the suffering. But Sangyeon stays even so, hand continuously smoothing along your head and down your back in a way that renders you soft and mellow against him.

When you have no tears left to cry, he does the job of pulling away slightly so that his face hovers just millimetres from your own. You hope you don’t look like shit.

“I brought you some pasta,” he murmurs, “cooked by yours truly.” 

And you swear it’s the best fucking pasta you’ve ever eaten in your life. You’re not entirely sure how you manage to finish a whole plate -- considering you’d barely had any appetite these days -- but you have to admit that you feel much, much better after finally leaning back into your cheek with a full stomach.

Sangyeon eyes you from his side of the table, chuckling at the look of satisfaction on your face. 

“What?” you’re about to scowl, but then remember that you shouldn’t put your walls up so high. It’s only Sangyeon. Only Sangyeon.

"Should’ve started by giving you the pasta,” his eyes, warm and tender and just so fucking beautiful, sparkle in the dim light of the kitchen, “maybe then you wouldn’t have cried over my shirt.” 

“Oh shut up,” you snap back half-heartedly. He knows there’s no bite to your tone. 

His leg nudges yours underneath the table and, prompted to gaze up at him, he asks, “what’s going on, Y/N?” 

You bite your lower lip. Eyes fixing onto the table top before you, you decide to spill everything. Everything.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sangyeon’s voice is rough wth concern, annoyance that permeates through. But you’re adamant on not making eye contact, so adamant that you hear his chair scrape back, then the soft pad of his feet over to your side of the table.

Warm fingers cup your chin, leaving you with no choice but to face him as your eyes quickly slip downwards.

"I didn't want to trouble you," is what spills from your lips in a soft murmur, "I'm not used to people worrying about me and I guess...I just got used to it. Dealing with that shit on my own."

You don't have to look at him to know that his gaze is soft and warm. It makes you want to curl up in his lap and burrow your face into hid chest, away from the world.

As if reading your mind, Sangyeon tugs you closer so that he can hug you properly, "I got you," his murmur brushes against your ear, "I got your back Y/N. And you can tell me anything. I don't care if you think it's none of my business. I want to know."

He holds you in silence for a while, the only sound echoing through your ears being his heartbeat. A soft thumping against his chest, vibrating with every breath taken.

It's almost like a miracle, the way your body softens underneath his touch like it has been waiting for him all along. With Sangyeon there, it feels easier to breathe, not to think so much.

"Thank you," you whisper, clearing your throat. You repeat yourself once more for good measure, to which he chuckles and presses the lightest of kisses atop your head.

"Next time, you'll tell me. Right?" He cocks his head to look at you.

You pull back slightly to gaze up at him in the dim back light of the dining room. It's crappy lighting and yet, it curves along his features so nicely.

"Fine," you mumble after realizing you hadn't answered him yet, "I'll try."

"Are you sure you have to go?" Y/N had said lightly, though the said guard heard the soft lingering sadness in her voice despite her attempts to sound as jovial as she possibly could.

"They need me," he looked up from tying up his boots, catching sight of the princess's worried glances flying between him and the group of soldiers that were waiting outside the stables. She had been allowed to the servant's quarters with the excuse that she would be the one to send off their army. But it was quite unsettling to see her -- refined and pale and looking as fragile as glass -- amidst the piles of straw stacked in the corner and the smell or horse droppings in the air.

She shuffled uneasily, clearly distraught by the fact that he'd be taken from her side for days, weeks at most. Throwing a glance to ensure that no one was eavesdropping, the soldier reached out, grasped her hand, and dragged her to him. His legs parted so that she stumbled between them, tilting his head upwards to gaze into her dark worried pools of brown.

Reaching up almost out of instinct to curl her hair behind her ear, he said, "I won't be long. You'll blink and I'll be back."

"Liar," she shot back.

"Okay so maybe I'll be a little longer than usual," he grinned while trying to imprint her features into memory. God knows how long he'd be gone. He wished he could pause to enjoy this moment -- just the two of them -- for a little longer.

It was only upon feeling the softest brush of Y/N's lips against his forehead that he was brought out of his daze, gazing at her with questioning eyes.

She bit her lip, averted her eyes, "please be careful."

"I will," he wrapped his arms around her middle, hearing her take a soft breath as he dropped a peck onto her clothed stomach, "one day, what's inside will be mine."

"Sunwoo!" Her blush was so prominent atop her cheeks, she slapped his arm, "you cocky bastard."

And so they said their goodbyes with Y/N on the brink of tears and Sunwoo's heart heavy with emotion. When her voice broke as she told him to take care of himself, he had to steal one last kiss from her mouth while murmuring how much he loved her, chuckling as she flushed deep red even when shrouded by the darkness of the stables.

One week had gone by. Then two. Then, just when Y/N had given up hope altogether that her soldiers would find their way back home, she'd spotted the tiniest glimpse of the red Atheerian flag billowing in the distance and had practically fallen out of bed to alert the guards at the gates.

It was chaos. Blood splattered across every soldier's face, clothes torn and tattered in places she couldn't even imagine. Y/N barely kept it together as her eyes flitted from bruises to scrapes to trying to identify a familiar face amidst a sea of vague strangers.

Sunwoo, Sunwoo, Sunwoo, her heart and mind chimed together. But he wasn't there, he didn't seem to be there.

Emotion tightened her throat. Before her eyes fell onto a face.

A face she'd been waiting for all this time.

It was relief that hit her first. It crashed through her body and caused her shoulders to slump away all the tension. But just as quickly as it went, it came right back as soon as she spotted his mangled body being half-dragged by two other soldiers, bloodied shirt and all, and a badly-wrapped wound that was drenched in blood. 

Y/N didn’t realize that her mouth had opened on its own accord, that she was screaming -- until hands fluttered at her sides, pulling her back.

“No!” She screeched and batted the limbs away, before charging towards a barely coherent Sunwoo with a force she seldom knew she had, “Sunwoo!” 

“Y/N,” came his soft, breathy murmur, masked by a soft groan when his movement caused pain to ring through his side. She quickly went to his other side, slung his shoulder around her arm albeit the fact that her nightgown was getting all bloody in the process. He would’ve reprimanded her in normal circumstances, but he barely had any energy to peel his eyes open.

“Bring him to the hospital wing, I want his wound to be treated as soon as possible. Call all doctors if need be,” Y/N’s voice, despite echoing through his mind as though he was hearing her through muffled headphones, was sharp with authority, the power of her bloodline thrumming through her tone, “get the rest of the soldiers to safety. The ones who aren’t injured should go down to the city, gather as many doctors as you can. If there are others just like Sunwoo, get people to start treating them.”

The said soldier willed his mouth to speak, to tell her that he was fine and that there was no need to worry, for his wound wasn’t that deep. But it seemed like he’d lost consciousness as soon as he was marched through the castle doors for the next thing he knew, his eyes were fluttering open to see Y/N before his bed, hands fisted and mouth twisted into a scowl directed towards the King and Queen of Atheera standing at the door.

Sunwoo wanted to ask what happened, only for a cough to rip through his lungs instead. Y/N was at his side in a flash, hand coming up with a cup of water that he downed without hesitation. 

“What--” he coughed some more once she pulled the empty glass away, eyes flitting from her defensive figure to her parents’ worried glances, “Y/N?” he croaked out, “what’s going on?” 

"Nothing,” Y/N’s stance was defensive, a feline that felt threatened, “I’m just trying to tell my parents to call off the betrothal because the man I love is right here, in this room.” 

At that, she tilted her chin upwards in a defying manner, causing Sunwoo’s stomach to coil tightly in a mixture of fear and apprehension. He didn’t dare spare a glance towards the king, whom he could feel was practically drilling holes into his head from where he stood.

“How?” Her mother was saying, stumbling over words with glassy eyes, “how did that--how even? How? We never--”

“Does that matter?” Y/N cut her off as her hands tightened into balled-up fists at her sides, “I always did what you ask. I never complained. I’ve done all my duties as a princess. But just this once, I want to have a choice,” desperation laced through her soprano, “please.”

At this point, embarrassment was boiling through the soldier’s lungs like wildfire. Reaching out to tug at her arm, he rasped out in a whisper, “Y/N, not now--”

“We--” the king cleared his throat. Their faces swivelled, rapt with attention as the older man raised a hand in mock surrender, “we'll talk about this later.” 

And that was when he stepped out of the room, soon followed by his wife after throwing one final glance in the soldier’s direction. It was definitely not a friendly one.

Y/N wasted no time to turn to him as soon as the door closed with a sound that left a bitter aftertaste in Sunwoo’s mouth. Her eyes, red-rimmed and tired, searched his face as she tried not to burst into tears.

“You--” she bit her lip, barely managing to hold on to the multitude of emotions that would’ve rendered her weak at the knees if she hadn’t been sitting, "you idiot.” 

"You’re the idiot,” Sunwoo blinked away the tiredness, hand finding hers to interlock their fingers, “do you want to give your parents a heart attack?”

She shook her head, “never mind that,” glancing down at the bed sheet covering his wound, her eyes scanned his face for any hint of injury, “how are you feeling?”

“Y/N?” Panic rose through his chest, “what am I doing here? Did you tell them--”

“You were dying,” she interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. When his eyes shot up to hers in surprise and noticed her gaze brimming with tears, his heart couldn’t help but give a painful twist. She exhaled shakily, “you were dying and I couldn’t--I didn’t have a choice.” 

Something that felt like horror churned uneasily in the pit of his stomach. That was it. He’d probably be fired as soon as he could walk and albeit the fact that Y/N would fight for his sake, it was clear where the said soldier stood in the eyes of the Royal family; in the stables where he belonged.

As though taken by a sudden impulse to make things right, Sunwoo made to throw his leg out of bed. Y/N quickly shot out, pushing his shoulders back as she said, “Oh no. What do you think you’re doing?” she tucked the sheets back around his neck in a decisive manner, “you’re not moving. Not when you’ve practically lost half of your blood’s worth.” 

“I’m fine, I need--” her hands were insistent and he was too weak to fight her off. He relented with a soft grumble, a guilty expression taking over his face as he noted the dark circles imprinted underneath her eyes, the worried lines along her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” his murmur was soft and barely audible if she hadn’t been paying attention, “I’m sorry, for everything--”

“You scared me,” her tone was fierce, eyes glassy as she squeezed his hand, “I thought you--I thought you were dead.”

“I thought I was, too.” 

“There was so much blood,” her voice broke halfway through her sentence, “there was so much blood Sunwoo, I--I lost it. I just wanted you to get all the help you could get. I didn’t think and I--” 

“Hey hey,” he tried reaching for her, wincing as a dull ache spread throughout his limb. She noticed and leaned closer, close enough that he managed to lift a shaky hand to wipe away the stray tears threatening to cascade down her cheeks, “I’m okay now,” his thumb traced circles over her cheek, “don’t cry.” 

That was when she broke down into ugly sobs, pulling away from his hold and  leaning against the bed while her hands came up to hide her face from view. Sunwoo watched, own tears stinging the corner of his eyes. He wanted to hold her, to pull her close. His heart hurt at her broken countenance and he wondered how many nights had she stayed up watching over him, how many nights she’d cried herself to sleep. 

"Come here,” he rasped out a murmur and found her without protest when he managed to tug her. She wrapped her arms gingerly around his neck, pulled him close in a gentle hug and buried her face into the space between his shoulder and jaw.

“It’s okay,” he kept on repeating like a lullaby, alto so soft in her ear in made her shiver, “it’s okay, Y/N.”

It was only when her sobs had subsided into soft sniffles that she managed to lift her head to gaze at him with swollen eyes, and though she had never looked in a worst state, Sunwoo thought that she’d never looked so kissable right here, in this particular moment. 

And so he tugged her forward. Gently. 

She followed without hesitation, the softest kiss exchanged. It was one that sucked out all air from his body, one that caused all his nerves to light up in a fire of sensual temptation as he gazed at her through half-lidded eyes. 

She was close enough that he could tilt his head up and kiss her forehead. Her nose. Both cheeks. And her lips. Once, twice. 

Before he cupped the back of her neck to kiss her more deeply, mouth staining hers and moving her through a dance that was more rhythmic, more sensual. His tongue delved into hers and she let out a dying gasp as she relented to his attack, allowing his wet muscle to explore and twine around her own. A satisfied grumble echoed through his chest as he pressed her closer while the girl’s hands moved up to cup his face, caressed his jaw as she kissed back with just as much restrained passion.

He felt her desperate need to feel him close, her attempts to mold her entire body to his if that was possible, and smiled into the kiss before drawing away. The softest, muffled whine fell from her throat the moment he did, causing the soldier to chuckle as he watched her flush deep red with embarrassment.

"So what's going to happen?" He murmured, "now that your parents know?"

She shrugged, "does it matter? I'm not getting married to anyone but you. I made that clear enough."

"Y/N, you know it doesn't work that way."

"Oh don't worry," a wicked grin broke across her face, "the prince I'm supposedly betrothed to has already announced his engagement."

"What?" Sunwoo blinked, ears perked up and alert.

"We already had an agreement, him and I," she continued while playing with his fingers, "that both of us would be allied without marriage."

"Do your parents know about that?"

"Obviously," she paused, "not yet."

"Oh god," he let out a groan, "they're gonna hate me."

"Not if I do this first."

He didn't even have time to blink before he spotted her sliding something along his finger. A ring.

A ring.

His head snapped up in shock, jaw falling slack at her action. Y/N gazed back, flushed yet determined, gauging for his reaction.

He swallowed. Opened his mouth. Closed it. His ears flushed deep red.

Finally, he managed to cough out, "I--I was the one who was supposed to do that."

"Nobody ever said I couldn't do it first," she grinned back.

Sunwoo grumbled out an incoherent response and her grin widened even more upon noticing his embarrassment as he turned his hear away.

Giggling, she peered over at him, "are you blushing?" It was amusing to see Sunwoo, so brave and courageous, rendered to that of a small child who couldn't even meet her eyes, "you are blushing!"

"No I'm not!" He replied hotly.

"You so are!" She teased, "oh my god, Sunwoo. I didn't know you could be so cute."

He had nothing to say in his defense, only managed to bury his face back into her shoulder as she kept on laughing softly, hand going up to trickle through his dark strands.

"So will you?" She asked, "marry me?"

A whine escaped his mouth. But she pressed on, "I need a verbal approval."

He made another noise that sounded halfway between a mewl and a whimper. Y/N rolled her eyes and was about to flaunt that maybe she was asking the wrong person, when his hand grasped her shoulder to pull her back so that he could kiss her with much more intensity, a demanding kind of passion that left her breathless and causing a wave of desire to erupt through her stomach.

Your boyfriend’s body is tense next to yours on the couch, jaw clenched in dismay and eyes glazed over with repressed anger as he considers the words you had blurted out just a few minutes prior: that being your encounter with your ex-boyfriend, who had been waiting for you outside the building where you worked at. 

“Y/N,” he’d called out when he spotted your figure sliding through the double doors. Your mind had blanked out at first, just gazing at him with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before reality had come crashing down on you like ice cold water thrown in your face. 

“Joong,” you’d muttered, body instantly tensing up at the prospect of him being in such close physical proximity, “what do you want from me?” 

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he leaned against his motorbike -- probably from the amount of extra cash he made with those drug exchanges -- while his eyes raked over your form with barely restrained hunger, “wanted to see whether you worked at the same place.” 

“Well for your information, I do,” you shifted uneasily from one foot to another, a protective hand clasping your bag against you just in case you had to swing it in his face, “now what do you want?” 

“He wanted to just catch up?” Hyunjae lets out an empty laugh, one that makes your heart twist inside your chest at how hurtful it sounds, “really? That’s the best he can do?” 

“Look, I don’t care. I just--seeing him just reminded him of everything he did to me and I--” you can feel the tears slowly clogging up your throat and almost instantly you feel Hyunjae’s arms around you, a comforting cocoon of an embrace that allows you to melt into his chest.  “I’m not going to let him touch you,” Hyunjae’s murmur holds a threatening undertone as it echoes against your temple. He presses a kiss there then, holding you a little tighter, “never.” 

“What if he keeps coming back though?” you look up at Hyunjae’s doe brown eyes while biting the inside of your cheek, “what if--what if he wants something from me?”

"He won’t be able to,” Hyunjae pushes a strand of hair away from your face, “he’ll have to get through me first.” 

You bite your lip, “I--I’m scared.” 

Hyunjae’s eyes soften at your murmur, like a scared child whose worst nightmare is turning into reality. Sighing and pressing another chaste kiss on the side of your head, his hand starts rubbing comforting circles along your spine.

“Don’t worry,” his alto is soothing, almost enough to make you forget your initial worries, “watch, I’m going to kick his ass so hard he’ll barely be able to drive that bloody motorbike of his.” 

One might think that Hyunjae is just being an overprotective boyfriend. But having known your history with Joong had how the latter had fallen into the pits of drug dealing, and how he’d dragged you into the dark world of illegal trading, all while using up your funds and wasting them all onto cheap alcohol, there is no way in hell that Hyunjae even wants you within ten metres from the said guy. 

Not to mention the fact that Joong had left you scarred, scared to trust any man who genuinely wanted the best for you. He’d left you incomplete and fearful of the opposite sex, and you would’ve stayed that way if Hyunjae hadn’t come along.

In contrary to your first excuse of a boyfriend, Hyunjae had been patient, and kind, and more than understanding every single step of the relationship. He’d respected your boundaries until you had declared you wanted to move things further, was always around to remind you how lovable you were, doing small things like get you a coffee and doing your laundry when you were taking a nap, too tired out from the day’s events. Hyunjae was the type of boyfriend that would watch you sleep while trying to come up with pranks, all the while being supportive and understanding of the difficult life choices you’d faced. 

So it was no wonder that you had fallen head over heels for this man.

And now, Joong is here to ruin it all.

True to his word, Hyunjae’s promise that he’ll be there after work to pick you up is one that he keeps. Relief floods through your veins the moment you step out and spot his figure, arms crossed over his chest and leaning back into the building’s outer wall. He doesn’t realize how effortlessly handsome he looks, or the various giggles that ricochet from the group of girls passing by every once in a while, and that fact that makes him even more attractive. Your heart swells up with pride. 

Before your eyes land on another familiar face on the street. Joong grins up at you with that smirk you had once found earth-shatteringly attractive. Now though, it only makes your stomach twist into knots. 

“Hey Y/N,” Joong starts making his way over to you, a panther in search of his prey, and you stumble back upon instinct while your heart ricochets up your throat. That is before you feel the warmth of Hyunjae’s hand cover yours, causing you to look up and see the serious set of your boyfriend’s face. 

Joong, slightly confused, stops a few strides away while blinking, “who’re you?” 

“Her boyfriend,” Hyunjae shoots right back. 

Joong lets out a dry laugh, “you’re kidding.” 

Your heart picks up a nervous pace. Hyunjae responds with a scowl, which makes Joong realize he’s not kidding at all. 

The latter straightens up in defence, his eyebrows arching in amused curiosity, “so you’re actually her boyfriend. What? Did she tattle tale on me?” His eyes find yours and you almost wince at the coldness you find there, “Didn’t take you for such a wuss, Y/N.” 

Your lower lip trembles, "Joong, I really don’t think you should come here again.” 

“I’ll do whatever I want--” 

“She’s scared of you,” Hyunjae cuts in, taking a step forward so that he acts as a physical barrier between you and your ex. Warmth trickles through your chest at his concern, “and she’s right. Why wouldn’t she be? After everything you did--” 

“You told on me?” Joong’s alto rose, nostrils flaring as he threw you a glare.

“You stole from me!” you say, “you took everything I had and gave it to--to those--those thugs of yours! And then you’d come home and try to have your way with me even though I didn’t want to!"

“You slut,” Joong hisses as he moves forward. Hyunjae responds by his shoving you behind him, though it’s clear that in terms of size, Joong is definitely the one that has the advantage, “how dare you say this out loud? You’re the one who wanted it so bad, you told me you wanted me to fuck you--” 

“But she’s not yours anymore,” Hyunjae’s eyes are narrowed, fists clenched against his sides.

“Oh move out of the way pretty boy. You probably can’t even get her to moan like I do--” 

Hyunjae’s punch is rapid, too rapid for Joong to register. It bashes him straight in the jaw and the force knocks him back with such vigour that he can’t help but stumble, toppling right onto the side of the street. Hyunjae lunges like he’s ready to pound into him a little more, but you make a grab for his arm at the last minute. The small disruption has definitely caught passeby’s attention, and when you hear another voice shout, you swivel your head to see a security guard jogging up to you.

“What’s going on here?” the guard glances back and forth and, probably from the terrified grip you have on Hyunjae’s coat sleeve, he deduces the situation for himself. Turning towards Joong, he says, “Sir, this is private property. You’re not allowed to park your motorbike here--”

Joong scrambles up, “I’ll park however the fuck I want, asshole!”

“Sir, I’ll have to tell you to leave the premises. Otherwise, I have no problem in bringing you down to the police station.” 

After that, Joong doesn’t hesitate to scramble back to his vehicle and you quickly recount the story to the security guard, while Hyunjae butts in to tell him that he should really keep an eye out if ever Joong comes around again. After thanking him and turning back towards the subway station, you don’t hesitate to grab onto Hyunjae’s wrist, clucking your tongue when you notice the redness of his knuckles.

"You shouldn’t have done that,” you tell him, fingers gently caressing the back of his hand before you look up at him, into those soft doe eyes that are currently gazing down at you like you’re worth it. The warmth in his pupils causes your throat to tighten with emotion.

“He was asking for it.” 

“I think I might have some medicine back home.”

You wait for his agreement, only to be met with silence. Trying to search his gaze for any indication, you let out a soft yelp when his arms suddenly lace around your middle to pull you into a hug. 

“Jae?” you murmur into his ear, only for him to tighten his hold in response, “what is it?” 

It takes a moment for Hyunjae to answer. When he does, his voice is choked with anger. 

“He hurt you,” he grovels out, warm breath against your neck, “he hurt you and he doesn’t even fucking care, Y/N. He stole from you, and he touched you when you didn’t want to--” 

“Hey, hey,” you pull away to gaze at the pain brimming in his irises. Your hand brushes away a strand of his hair, “he can’t hurt me anymore, okay?”

Hyunjae just searches your face for a moment, as if wanting to console himself that you’re alright, and that tender action is enough to make a small smile dance across your lips. 

Softly, you reach up to press a kiss against his cheek, “thank you.” 

That’s when his mouth tugs up at the corners, expression mirroring your own as his orbs soften with care, naked affection reflecting in his own pools of brown.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he whispers, “it’s my job.” 

You answer him by pecking his lips, pulling back to see his eyebrows quirked up in amusement. 

“That’s your reward,” you grin.

“That’s all I get?” 

"Should’ve broken his nose then,” your hands quickly pull him back when Hyunjae makes a move to turn away to finish what he’s started, bubbles of laughter erupting from your lips as you slap him jokingly on the shoulder, “I wasn’t being serious, you idiot.” 

"Do I get a bigger reward?” 

Cheeks flushing, you answer, “maybe.” 

That’s all it takes for Hyunjae’s face to break into that charmingly handsome grin that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He grabs your hand then, before tugging you towards the subway, “let’s go home then!” 

"Perv.”