#triples x reader

She looks up from her phone. Waiting.

Your brain chooses this moment to be absolutely stupid. Maybe it's because you've been watching too much porn lately. Maybe it's because she's hot and you're flustered. Maybe you're just an idiot.

Probably that last one.

"I don't actually have my card on me right now," you say, and then your mouth keeps going without permission. "Is there maybe another way I could pay?"

It's a joke. Obviously a joke. You're going to laugh it off and go grab your wallet in like two seconds.

She doesn't laugh.

Just looks at you. Straight-faced. Expression completely neutral.

"Another way," she repeats slowly.

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Abort.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding—" You're already backing up, hands raised. "Bad joke, I'll go get my wallet right now, it's in my—"

"What did you mean?" She tilts her head slightly. Still no expression. "Another way to pay?"

Your face is hot. "It's stupid, it's this dumb trope from like, porn and stuff online, you know—" Why are you still talking? Stop talking. "The whole pizza delivery thing where the guy doesn't have money so they—and it's obviously not real, I didn't mean to—"

"So you were suggesting sex instead of cash." She says it like she's confirming your pizza order. Completely casual.

You want to die. "I wasn't—I mean, yeah, that's the trope, but I wasn't actually—"

"Okay."

Your brain short-circuits. "What?"

"Okay." She pockets her phone. Takes a step forward into your apartment. "Let's do that instead."

She's fucking with you. She has to be fucking with you.

"You're joking."

"Am I?" She takes another step. You take one back automatically. She's smirking now, just a little, and it completely transforms her face from professional to something that makes your pulse kick up. "You made the offer."

"I didn't—that wasn't an actual offer, I was joking—"

"Were you?" Another step. You're backing further into your apartment now and she's following, closing the door behind her with her heel. "Because you're still standing here. Haven't gone to get your wallet."

Fuck, she's right.

"I—"

"Here's what I think." She's close now. Close enough that you can smell her perfume, something light and sweet. "I think you made that joke because some part of you hoped I'd say yes. And now that I am saying yes, you don't know what to do with yourself."

Your back hits the wall. When did you run out of room?

"I don't—this doesn't actually happen in real life—"

"Doesn't it?" She's right in front of you now, looking up at you with dark eyes and that little smirk still playing at her lips. "Seems like it's happening right now."

Your heart is pounding so hard she can probably see it. "You're serious."

"Dead serious." Her hand comes up, fingers playing with the collar of your shirt. "Unless you actually want to go get your wallet? We can do this the boring way if you prefer."

This is insane. She's insane. This doesn't happen.

"What's your name?" you manage.

"Jiyeon." Her fingers slide down from your collar to your chest. "And you're going to want to remember that, because you'll be saying it a lot in the next hour."

Fuck it. Fuck it.

"Bedroom's down the hall," you hear yourself say.

Her smirk widens into a full grin. "Good choice."

She pulls you down the hall and you're stumbling after her like an idiot, brain still trying to catch up to what's happening. This is real. This is actually happening.

Jiyeon pushes you into your bedroom and you barely register the mess—clothes on the floor, unmade bed—before she's on you. Hands sliding under your shirt, pushing it up.

"Off," she says simply, and you obey without thinking.

Shirt hits the floor. She's looking at you now, eyes dragging down your chest, your stomach, lower. That fucking smirk is still there.

She's actually checking you out.

"Not bad," she says, like she's judging furniture. Then her hands are on your belt.

"Wait—" Your hands cover hers. "Shouldn't we—I mean—"

"What?" She looks up at you, tilting her head. "Having second thoughts?"

"No, I just—this is insane, you know that right? You don't actually have to—"

"I know I don't have to." She pulls your belt free in one smooth motion. "I want to. Now stop overthinking and let me work."

Your jeans hit the floor. You're standing there in your boxers, half-hard already, and she hasn't even taken off her shirt yet.

"That's not fair," you manage.

"What's not fair?"

"You're still dressed."

That smirk again. "So undress me."

Your hands are shaking when you reach for her. Stupid. You've done this before. But something about the way she's watching you makes you feel like a fucking virgin.

You grab the hem of her polo. She raises her arms and you pull it off.

Holy fuck.

Black bra. Simple, no lace or anything, but the way it's holding her—fuck. Her tits are perfect. Not huge but full, straining against the cups.

"Keep going," she says.

You reach for her jeans. Button, zipper, sliding them down her hips. She steps out of them and kicks them aside. Black panties matching the bra. Her legs are toned, thighs that you're already imagining wrapped around—

Focus.

"Lie down," she says, and it's not a request.

You sit on the bed. She pushes your shoulder and you fall back, head hitting the pillow. Then she's climbing on top of you, straddling your hips, and you can feel the heat of her through your boxers, through her panties.

She leans down and kisses you. Her tongue slides into your mouth and you groan, hands coming up to grab her waist. Her skin is soft and warm and she's grinding down on you, slow circles that have your cock throbbing.

"Already hard," she murmurs against your mouth. "That was fast."

"Your fault," you manage.

"Good." She sits up, still straddling you, and reaches back to unhook her bra. It falls away and her tits bounce free and you can't help but stare.

Perfect. They're fucking perfect.

She notices you staring and laughs. "You can touch them, you know."

You do. Both hands coming up to cup her tits, thumbs brushing over her nipples. They're already hard, pebbled peaks that make her breath catch when you circle them.

"Fuck," she breathes, grinding down harder. "That's good—"

You lean up and take one nipple in your mouth. She gasps, hand coming to the back of your head, holding you there. You suck and lick and she's rocking against you faster now, little sounds escaping her throat.

"Enough," she says suddenly, pushing you back down. "My turn."

She slides down your body. Hooks her fingers in your boxers. Pulls them down.

Your cock springs free and she pauses, just looking at it. You're fully hard now, tip already leaking, and the way she's staring is making you throb.

"Not bad at all," she says, wrapping one hand around your shaft.

The touch makes you gasp. She strokes once, twice, thumb swiping over the head and spreading the precum. Then she looks up at you with those dark eyes.

"I'm going to ride your face," she says casually. "And you're going to make me cum. Think you can handle that?"

Is she serious?

She's already moving, climbing up your body. Panties sliding off somewhere along the way. And then she's there, right above your face, her pussy inches from your mouth.

You can see everything. She's already wet, glistening, and the smell of her hits you—sweet and musky and making your mouth water.

"Well?" She's looking down at you, waiting.

You grab her thighs and pull her down.

Fuck yes.

The taste of her explodes on your tongue. Sweet and tangy and addictive. You lick up through her folds and she gasps, hips jerking.

"Oh fuck—" Her hands brace against the wall above your headboard. "That's it—"

You do it again. Slower this time, really tasting her. She's so wet already, coating your tongue, and you can't get enough. You find her clit and circle it, and her thighs tighten around your head.

"Fuck, right there—"

She's grinding down on your face now, using your mouth, and you're drowning in her. Your hands grip her ass, pulling her closer, tongue working her clit while she rides your face. Every breath is full of her scent, every sound she makes going straight to your aching cock.

"So fucking good with your tongue—" Her voice is breathy now, losing that confident edge. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop—"

You slide your tongue lower, dipping inside her. She's so tight, clenching around your tongue, and the moan she makes is desperate.

"Yes—oh god, fuck me with your tongue—"

You do. Fucking her with your tongue while your nose presses against her clit. She's dripping now, wetness coating your chin, your lips, and she's grinding so hard you can barely breathe but you don't care. All you care about is that taste, those sounds, the way her thighs are trembling.

"Gonna cum—" She's gasping now, rhythm getting erratic. "Fuck, gonna cum on your face—"

You focus back on her clit. Sucking it into your mouth, flicking it with your tongue, and she breaks. Her whole body goes rigid, thighs clamping around your head, and she cums with a sharp cry.

"Fuck—fuck—oh fuck—"

You can feel her pulsing against your tongue, gushing wetness, and you lap it all up. She's shaking through it, hands gripping the wall so hard her knuckles are white. You keep going, drawing it out, until she's pushing at your head.

"Too much—sensitive—"

She lifts off your face and collapses next to you on the bed, chest heaving. You're gasping for air, face covered in her, cock throbbing so hard it hurts.

Holy shit.

She recovers faster than you expect. Rolls over to look at you, takes in your soaked face and grins.

"Good boy," she says, and then she's kissing you. Tasting herself on your tongue. Her hand wraps around your cock again and you groan into her mouth.

"My turn," she murmurs, and before you can process that she's moving. Straddling your hips again, hand guiding your cock to her entrance.

Wait—

She sinks down in one smooth motion.

"Fuck!" You both say it at the same time.

She's so fucking tight. Hot and wet and squeezing your cock so tight you can't feel anything else. You grab her hips, fingers digging in, trying to process the sensation of being inside her.

"So fucking big—" She's panting, hands braced on your chest. "Stretching me so good—"

She starts moving. Slow at first, rolling her hips, and every movement has you seeing stars. Her pussy is gripping your cock so tight, so wet, and the sight of her above you—tits bouncing, head thrown back, lips parted—is almost too much.

"Jiyeon—fuck—"

"Yeah?" She looks down at you, grinning. "Feel good?"

"So fucking good—you're so tight—"

She picks up the pace. Bouncing now, really riding you, and the sound of skin slapping fills the room. Her tits are bouncing with each drop, and you can't look away. Can't think. Can only feel how fucking perfect her pussy feels wrapped around your cock.

"Touch me," she gasps. "Play with my tits—"

You do. Hands coming up to squeeze, to pinch her nipples, and she moans loud.

"Yes—fuck yes—so fucking deep inside me—"

She's taking your whole cock, every inch disappearing into her tight cunt, and you can see it—see where you're connected, see how wet she is, coating your shaft.

"Gonna make you cum," she pants, grinding down harder. "Gonna milk that cock—you want that? Want to cum inside this tight little pussy?"

Fuck. Fuck.

"Yes—god yes—"

"Then give it to me—" She's slamming down on you now, chasing her own pleasure. "Fill me up—want to feel you cum inside me—"

You're so close. Her pussy is clenching around you, so wet and hot and perfect. You thrust up to meet her, matching her rhythm, and she cries out.

"Fuck—yes—fuck me—"

It builds fast. Pressure coiling tight in your gut, balls tightening, and Jiyeon's moaning your name over and over.

"Cum for me—cum inside me—"

You do. Your orgasm hits like a fucking truck, hips slamming up as you empty yourself inside her. She grinds down, taking it all, and you can feel yourself pulsing, filling her, so much cum pumping into her tight cunt.

"Yes—yes—so fucking much—" She's still moving, milking every last drop, and her pussy is clenching rhythmically, squeezing you.

You collapse back, spent, and she slumps forward onto your chest. Both of you breathing hard. Your cock is still inside her, softening slowly, and you can feel the mess you made—your cum leaking out around your shaft.

She shifts slightly and more drips out. The sensation makes your breath hitch.

"Fuck," she murmurs against your chest. "That was good."

"Yeah."

She lifts her head to look at you, grinning. "You lasted longer than I thought you would."

"Thanks, I think?"

"It's a compliment." She kisses your jaw, then your neck. "Most guys would've blown in two minutes with me riding them like that."

Your hands are on her waist. Holding her. Her skin is so soft under your palms.

"Round two?" she asks, grinding down slightly. Your cock twitches inside her.

Something shifts in your brain.

"Yeah," you say, and your grip on her waist tightens. "But my turn now."

Her eyebrows raise. "Oh?"

You roll. She gasps as you flip her onto her back, pulling out in the process. More cum spills out of her, dripping onto your sheets, and she's looking up at you with wide eyes.

"My turn to be in charge," you say.

That smirk returns. "Took you long enough to find your spine."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

You kiss her. Hard. Claiming her mouth the way she claimed yours earlier, and she moans into it. Your hand slides between her legs, fingers pushing into her cum-filled pussy.

She gasps against your lips. "Fuck—"

"So fucking messy," you mutter, fingers working in and out. "Full of my cum and still so tight."

"Your fault—" Her hips buck up into your hand. "Came so much inside me—"

You pull your fingers out. They're coated in cum and her wetness mixed together. You bring them to her lips.

"Clean them."

She does. Takes your fingers in her mouth and sucks them clean, tongue swirling around them, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Your cock is hardening again. Already. Watching her suck your fingers, tasting both of you mixed together, it's getting you hard again so fucking fast.

"Good girl," you say when she releases your fingers with a pop.

She grins. "What now?"

You grab her hips. Flip her over onto her stomach.

"Now I'm going to fuck that pretty throat of yours."

"Big words," she says. "Think you can back them up?"

You grab her hips and pull her to the edge of the bed. Her legs dangle off the side, toes barely touching the floor. Then you walk around to face her.

Your cock is right there, inches from her face. Fully hard again, tip already leaking.

"Open," you say.

She does. Mouth falling open, tongue out, and fuck—the sight of her like this. Ready and waiting.

You push in slowly. Just the tip at first, resting on her tongue. She closes her lips around you and sucks gently.

"Wider," you tell her. "I'm going to use that throat."

Her jaw drops open more. You grab the back of her head with one hand, the other braced on the bed beside her, and slap it a few times on her tongue.

Then you push in deeper.

The heat of her mouth hits you instantly. Wet and soft and perfect. You slide in further, past her tongue, and she gags slightly when you hit the back of her throat.

"Breathe through your nose," you mutter, holding there for a second. "Relax that throat."

She does. Takes a breath and you feel her throat relax around you. You push in more and she takes it, eyes watering but not pulling away.

"Good girl. Take this fucking cock."

You start moving. Slow thrusts at first, watching your cock disappear into her mouth over and over. Her lips are stretched around you, drool already starting to leak from the corners of her mouth.

"So fucking pretty like this," you grunt. "Mouth full of cock."

She moans around you and the vibration makes you thrust harder. Deeper. You hit the back of her throat and she gags, throat clenching around your tip, but you don't pull out. Just hold there until she adjusts.

"That's it. Choke on it."

You pick up the pace. Really fucking her throat now, both hands on her head, holding her in place while you use her mouth. She's gagging with every thrust, drool pouring down her chin, tears streaming from her eyes.

The sounds she's making—wet and obscene, gurgling around your cock—it's fucking perfect.

"Such a good little slut," you pant. "Taking my cock so deep in that throat."

Your balls slap against her chin with each thrust. She's trying to breathe between strokes, gasping when you pull back, and her hands grip the sheets.

You pull out completely. She gasps for air, drool connecting your cock to her lips in thick strings. Her makeup is ruined, mascara running, lips swollen and shiny.

"Fuck," she croaks, voice already rough. "You weren't kidding."

"I'm not done yet."

You push back in and she takes it. No hesitation. Just opens wide and lets you fuck her throat harder than before. You're not gentle anymore—don't need to be. She can take it.

The wet, sloppy sounds fill the room. Her gagging, your grunting, the slap of your balls against her face. It's so fucking dirty and she's loving it, moaning around your cock even as she struggles to breathe.

"Gonna cum soon if you keep that up," you warn, but you don't stop thrusting. "Want me to cum down your throat? Fill that belly with my load?"

She tries to shake her head but can't with your cock buried in her throat. Her hand comes up and pushes at your thigh.

You pull out. "No?"

She's coughing, gasping, drool everywhere. "Want it—" Another cough. "Want it in my pussy again. Please."

Fuck yes.

You pull her up by her hair. Not rough enough to hurt but enough to make her gasp. Then you're kissing her, tasting yourself on her tongue, and she moans into your mouth.

"On your hands and knees," you tell her. "Now."

She scrambles to obey. Gets on all fours on the bed, ass in the air, and looks back at you.

Her pussy is still a mess from before. Your cum has dripped down her thighs, dried in some places but still wet where it's leaking out of her. She's so fucking wet, glistening in the light.

You kneel behind her on the bed. One hand on her ass, the other guiding your spit-soaked cock to her entrance.

"Beg for it," you say.

"Please." No hesitation. "Please fuck me. Want that cock so deep inside me."

"More."

"Please—" Her voice breaks. "Need you to fuck me hard, wreck this tight little pussy, fill me up again with your cum—"

You slam in.

She cries out, back arching, and you're buried balls deep in one thrust. So fucking tight still, even with your cum already inside her. Hot and wet and squeezing your cock like she's trying to keep you there.

"Fuck!" She's gripping the sheets. "So deep—oh my god—"

You don't give her time to adjust. Just start pounding into her, hips slapping against her ass with each thrust. The sound of it echoes through the room—skin on skin, wet and loud.

"This what you wanted?" you grunt, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave marks. "To get fucked like a slut?"

"Yes—fuck yes—"

Her ass bounces with each impact. You watch your cock disappearing into her pussy over and over, coated in white from your first load mixed with her wetness. It's so fucking messy, dripping down both your thighs.

You lean forward, pressing her face down into the mattress. The angle changes and you go even deeper. She's practically screaming now, muffled by the bed, and her pussy clenches around you.

"So fucking tight," you pant. "Squeezing my cock so good."

"Harder—" Her voice is muffled but desperate. "Fuck me harder—"

You do. Pounding into her with everything you have. The bed is shaking, headboard hitting the wall, and she's taking every inch like she was made for it.

One hand slides up her back, feeling her arch under your touch. Her skin is slick with sweat. You grab a handful of her hair and pull, lifting her head up.

"Who's fucking you this good?" you demand.

"You—fuck—you are—"

"Say my name."

She does. Moans it over and over while you rail her from behind. Your name mixed with curses and desperate pleas for more.

Your other hand comes down hard on her ass. The slap echoes and she clenches around you, crying out.

"Again," she gasps. "Spank me again—"

You do. Over and over, watching her ass turn pink under your hand. Each slap makes her pussy clench, makes her moan louder, and fuck—she's loving this.

"Such a dirty girl," you growl. "Love getting spanked while taking cock?"

"Yes—love it—love your cock stretching me—"

You're getting close. That familiar pressure building in your gut, balls tightening. But you want to see her face when you cum.

You pull out. She whines at the loss but you're already flipping her over, pulling her to the edge of the bed. Her legs wrap around your waist automatically and you slam back in.

"Oh fuck—" Her head falls back. "Yes—"

This angle is perfect. You can see everything—her tits bouncing with each thrust, her face flushed and sweaty, her pussy stretched around your cock. And she can see you too, watch you fuck her.

"Look at me," you command. "Want to see those pretty eyes when I fill you up."

She does. Locks eyes with you and doesn't look away even as you pound into her. Her mouth falls open, desperate little sounds escaping with each thrust.

"Gonna cum," you warn. "Gonna fill this tight pussy with another load."

"Please—" Her nails dig into your back. "Want it so bad—need to feel you cum inside me again—"

You're so close. Her pussy is clenching rhythmically now, so wet and tight and perfect around your cock.

"Touch yourself," you grunt. "Cum on my cock."

Her hand flies between you, fingers working her clit frantically. Within seconds she's right there, you can feel it in how she's tightening around you.

"Fuck—I'm gonna—"

"Do it. Cum for me."

She does. Her whole body seizes up, pussy clamping down on your cock so hard you can barely move. She's crying out your name, shaking through it, and that's what pushes you over.

"Fuck—Jiyeon—fuck—"

You slam in deep and cum. Hard. Emptying yourself inside her for the second time, adding to the mess already there. So much cum pumping into her tight cunt, and she's still pulsing around you, milking every drop.

"Yes—yes—fill me up—so much cum—"

You keep thrusting through it, working every last bit out of your balls until you're completely spent. When you finally stop, both of you are gasping for air, sweaty and exhausted.

You pull out slowly. Cum immediately starts leaking out—your second load mixing with the first, dripping onto the sheets. There's so fucking much of it, coating her thighs, making a mess.

"Fuck," she breathes, looking down at herself. "You really filled me up."

"Twice," you point out, collapsing beside her.

She laughs, breathless. "Yeah. Definitely twice."

You both lie there for a moment, catching your breath. Her hand finds yours and squeezes.

"So," she says eventually. "Worth the twenty-four dollars?"

You laugh. Can't help it. "Definitely worth it."

"Good." She rolls onto her side to face you, grinning. "Because I'm keeping the pizza too."

She grabs your hand, thumb tracing lazy circles on your palm.

"Your sheets are ruined," she says after a moment.

You glance down. She's not wrong. There's cum everywhere—on the sheets, on her thighs, probably on you too. The whole bed is a disaster.

"Worth it," you say.

She laughs. Sits up slowly, wincing slightly. "Fuck, I'm gonna feel that tomorrow."

"Good."

"Cocky now, aren't you?" She stretches, arms over her head, and you can't help but watch. Even exhausted and covered in mess, she's gorgeous.

She notices you staring and smirks. "Already?"

"Just looking."

"Sure." She swings her legs off the bed, stands up. More cum drips down her thighs and she makes a face. "Okay, I need a shower. Where's your bathroom?"

You point. "Down the hall, first door on the left."

She walks toward it, completely naked and unbothered, and you just lie there watching her go. The confident sway of her hips, the curve of her ass, the mess you made dripping down her legs.

The shower turns on. You hear the water running, her moving around.

You should probably get up. Change the sheets at minimum. But moving feels impossible right now.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You grab it.

Three texts from your roommate:

dude are you alive

heard some WILD shit through the wall

staying at shion's tonight you're welcome

You laugh and toss the phone back down.

The shower shuts off. A few minutes later Jiyeon emerges, hair damp, using your towel. She's still naked.

"You have a washing machine?" she asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"My uniform's sweaty as hell. Mind if I throw it in?"

"Go ahead."

She disappears again. You hear the washer start up.

When she comes back, she climbs onto the bed—the dry corner that's not completely destroyed—and lies down next to you.

"So," she says. "This is weird, right?"

"Extremely."

"Good weird or bad weird?"

You think about it.

"Good weird," you decide.

She grins. "Yeah. Good weird."

You're both quiet for a bit.

"My shift ends in like an hour," she says eventually. "Technically I'm still on the clock."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. Longest delivery ever." She's trying not to laugh. "My boss is probably having an aneurysm."

"Are you gonna get fired?"

"Maybe." She doesn't sound concerned. "Worth it though."

"Keep saying that."

"Because it's true." She rolls onto her side to face you. "Besides, I know where you live now. Can always come back."

"For my amazing personality?"

"For the dick." She says it so casually. "Your personality's just a bonus."

You laugh. Can't help it.

"Same time next week?" you offer.

"Make it two days." She leans in and kisses you. Soft this time, almost sweet. "I'm impatient."

——

A minute later and you’re at the water cooler. You lean down, grab a plastic cup and pour yourself some water. You drink another. And another. You feel hot and dizzy, Sohyun’s teasing still on your mind.

How did she know about your crush? There’s no way she did all that and not know about it. You grip the edge of the cooler. She always knows.

You stand straight, loosening your tie before gulping down another cup. You stay at the cooler for a few more minutes, hoping by the time you’re back at your desk, Xinyu’s gone. Hope that Sohyun shuts up and does some work for once.

Your prayers weren’t answered.

You hear her before she comes into view—laughing, voice pitched low. An intern stammers something. Files hit the floor. You turn and look. She’s crouched beside the intern, handing them the files one by one. Then she ruffles their hair.

She stands back up and approaches the water cooler.

“Enjoying the show?”

You don’t answer, choosing to read the endless number of flyers on the board instead.

She stands in front of you, grabs her own cup before drinking.

You shouldn’t look. You do anyway. How she tilts her head further back than normal, the way her throat bobs after every swallow. You look lower, the top buttons of her shirt undone, her loosened tie hangs crooked.

You hear a little laugh—low, barely audible. She’s watching you stare out the corner of her eye, a smirk plastered on her face.

You walk off before she can say anything.

——

You look down at the clock on your computer screen.

7pm.

Most of the workers have left for the day. Just you and Park Sohyun.

You stretch your arms above your head, a small sound escaping your mouth. You remove the headphones before rubbing your eyes. With deadlines approaching, you’ve been spending more late nights at the office, crunching numbers, creating diagrams.

You stand, wobbling a bit. Your legs must’ve fallen asleep from the hours in front of your screen. You grab your coat and your bag, ready to leave.

“Hey, can you help me with this?”

You close your eyes. The elevators were right there.

But something pulls you back. Obligation. Stupidity.

You sigh loudly. Let your head drop and trudge over.

“Something doesn’t look right on the spreadsheet.”

You lean, hovering over her shoulders, checking her work. You scroll up and down. Looking for the mistakes she made. Ignoring the scent of her perfume surrounding you.

“There,” you say, circling the problem with the mouse, “the equation is wrong. It’s supposed to be this.” You lean down fixing the equation and watch how the spreadsheet corrects itself.

“My saviour,” she props her chin on her hand, watching you like you’re a puzzle to solve.

You keep your eyes on the screen.

“Is that it?”

She nods her head slightly.

You’re halfway to the elevators when she calls for you.

“Wait for me.”

You ignore her. Press the button to call the elevator. When it arrives, you enter quickly, press for the ground floor and push the close button. Again and again.

Her hand catches the door.

“Wow. You’re fucking rude.”

You ignore her comment and step to the side.

The journey to the ground floor feels like hours.

From the corner of your eye, you see her reach up. The clip comes out. She shakes her hair loose, then turns toward you.

You don’t make eye contact. But the doors are polished steel. You see her anyway—tucking her hair behind her ear, leaning back against the railing.

“You like Xinyu? She’s too good for you,” she says, tilting her head to get a better look at your face, at your reaction. “She’s got a nice body, I’ll give her that. Long legs. Pretty smile.” She pauses, eyes flicking to yours in the reflection. “That round—“

You turn, facing her. “What are you doing?”

She bites her bottom lip. Pushes off the railing and steps closer. Too close.

“It’s fun teasing you.”

You stare at her. What the hell is she talking about?

“You act all high and mighty. Act like whatever I do is beneath you, that it doesn’t affect you,” she plays with your tie, twirling it around her finger. “But I think there’s more. I think you enjoy it and I’m starting to wonder how long before you break.”

The door opens suddenly. She walks out without another word. Heels tapping against the tile—sharp and even. You’re still standing there, breathing too hard.

——

You walk along the streets of Seoul in the early morning, weaving through people as you get to work. It’s cold. Your coat doing little against the winter wind, hands trembling.

You enter the building, pausing to warm your hands. You wait for the elevator. Bow to a coworker. And another. You’re not really seeing them.

You smell her before you see her. She’s beside you. Of course she is.

The elevator door opens. You get in quickly, aiming for the back before she follows. More people start filing in, pushing you into a corner.

She’s in front of you. Facing you.

The elevator begins its ascent. She shifts, pressing against you—just slightly. She’s watching your face. You breathe in. Stare at the ceiling panel, the lights, anything.

Her hand finds your forearm. Squeezes. Firmly. You look down. You don’t want to. But you do anyway.

Your vision blurs at the edges. It’s her face—sharp and clear.

Hair pulled up in a high ponytail, exposing her face, making it harder to look away from. Glasses sliding down her nose. She’s looking at you over her frames.

Your breath catches. She licks her lips—slow, deliberate.

This isn’t teasing anymore.

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken her threat so lightly.

People leave. There’s more room now but she doesn’t move but presses closer.

The door opens on your floor. You exhale loudly. She steps back slowly. Her fingers trail down your forearm—light and deliberate. Then she turns. Walks to her desk like nothing happened.

——

You feel your eyes slowly close.

You’ve been sat in this meeting room for two hours, manager droning on about numbers, projections, expectations. You don’t retain much. Just twirling your pen between your fingers.

You scan the room. Everyone’s half asleep—stifling yawns, glazed eyes. Until you reach her.

She’s not looking at the presentation. But at you. Chin propped up on her hand. Fingers lightly tapping against her cheek—slow, rhythmic. Like she’s waiting for something.

Your eyes drift lower. Lips parted. Glossed. Catching the light. Top buttons undone, a small necklace rests on her collarbone.

You turn back towards the presentation.

A gentle thud echoes in the room. You ignore it. Until you can’t.

Your head snaps toward her.

Her heel. On the floor. And she’s not picking it up. Then you feel it. Her foot. Sliding up your calf. Slowly. Higher and higher.

She gives you a wink.

Your breath catches. Your heart—

“Are you paying attention?”

You turn your head back to your manager, face burning.

You swallow. “Y—yeah.”

He narrows his eyes. Holds your gaze for a beat before continuing.

You hear it. Quiet but there.

She’s laughing.

Her foot slides down. Slowly. She slips her heel back on.

You don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just staring at the presentation like your life depends on it.

——

The meeting ends. You stand and make your way to her quick. You grab her wrist—tight—and pull. She stumbles after you. People are staring. You don’t care. The emergency stairwell. You don’t slow down.

You slam the door open, shoving her inside. Her back hits the wall. You take three steps back and begin pacing, breathing heavily.

“What the hell is your problem?” Your voice echoes in the stairwell.

She doesn’t say anything. Just watches you, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

You stop pacing. Moved closer until you tower over her. “We’re at work and you’re doing this shit!” You say, voice low and harsh.

She tilts her head. Looks up at you through her lashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She’s breathing heavily. You’re just too angry to notice.

You press in closer. Your leg between hers. Your hand finds her wrist and pins it to the wall beside her head. You’re close enough to feel her breath. To see her pupils dilate.

“Is this what you want?”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away.

You lower your head. Until your lips are a breath from hers. This would shut her up.

You close your eyes as you inch closer. Hers stay open.

Your lips graze hers. You pull back. Fast. You stumble slightly.

She pushes off the wall, smooths down her shirt, readjusts her glasses. “Nice try. You’ve made a scene now. Good luck talking yourself out of this.”

She opens the door. Walks out. You see your coworkers. Staring.

Everyone saw.

——

You didn’t think life here could get worse.

Everyone around you whispers. About you. About the stairwell. You’re painted as the villain. Jealous. Unstable.

If only they knew what she was doing to you.

You turn up the volume in your headphones. Try to drown them out. It doesn’t stop the stares. Or that condescending smile of hers.

You feel a firm grip on your shoulder. You look up. Your manager. Your hand slides an ear cup off.

“Follow me.”

Fuck.

You’re going to get fired aren’t you?

——

No. You’re not getting fired.

Actually it’s worse.

Your manager has assigned you to a project. Something about logistics, delivery, supply chains. You’re not really listening.

That’s not the problem. The problem is who’s leading it.

Park Sohyun.

And you’re her second in command.

——

“Alright, you all know your assignments. Fighting!”

People begin filing out, the first meeting for the new project successful. You slowly pack your things. Stand. You take a step out the door—

“Not you. I need to speak to you.”

You freeze mid-step. You turn to face her, still by the podium. She points to a chair. You sit. She moves closer, settles on the edge of the conference table, looking down at you.

You swallow visibly.

She studies you. “I hope you can stay professional. We don’t want another stairwell incident, now do we?”

You see the smirk on her face, eyes gleaming in amusement. She’s loving this.

“N—no.”

“Good. You can go.” She waves you away. You bang your knees on the table. You ignore the pain, moving towards the exit.

You’re halfway out when she speaks again.

“I told you I’d break you.”

——

The numbers, the pie charts. They all begin merging into a blur.

The past few days have been hectic. Always is when a new project gets underway. The need to have something tangible to impress the higher ups.

You’ve barely had time to sleep, staying late in the office every day. Your eyes strained from staring at the monitor for so long.

“Here.”

You look up. It’s Sohyun, offering you a cup of coffee. You take it, looking down at it sceptically.

“Did you spit in this or something?”

She slaps the back of your head.

Sohyun hasn’t tormented you in the last few days. Too busy with the project but you’re still hyper-aware. Every time she’s close or talking, you half expect her touch or a jibe.

This is the first time she’s approached you in days. And strangely enough, you miss it.

Not because you miss her. Just… the distraction. The days are boring without it.

“You look tired. Thought you could use some coffee.”

“Thanks.” You stare at the cup before taking a small sip, wincing as you burn your tongue.

“How’s the data analysis going?”

You shrug. “Should be ready by tomorrow.”

“Hmm. Good work.”

Your heart jumps a little at the praise.

She doesn’t move. Just stands there, watching you work, sipping her coffee every now and then.

Your heart beats rapidly. Waiting for her to touch you or make an inappropriate comment. You feel her hand on the back of your chair.

“You made a mistake here. And there.”

You glance up at her in surprise before following where she pointing. She’s right. You quickly make the changes.

She hums in approval before walking back to her desk. You finally exhale, shoulders dropping.

“What? Disappointed I didn’t try something?” She says as she sits back down, smirking.

You shouldn’t ask. You do anyway.

“Why aren’t you?” You add quickly, “Not because I miss it.”

Her mouth opens. Then closes. She rests her chin on her fingers. “You’re boring now.”

“What? And I wasn’t before?”

“That reaction at the stairwell? I don’t think you could top that.”

Your face heats.

She’s challenging you. Baiting you.

You take it anyway.

“How do I not be boring?” Your voice comes out quieter than you meant.

She smiles wide. Stands and leans over your desk. You see a hint of her bra underneath her shirt. Your throat suddenly goes dry. You try to look away. Too late.

“Be more assertive. More reckless. That’s when people are fun,” she says like it’s obvious. She moves suddenly, towards your manager’s desk. Grabs a key and opens the bottom drawer. Pulls out a bottle of expensive whiskey before placing it on the table with a heavy thunk.

“You want some?”

You stand abruptly, your chair rolls back, hits the desk behind. You cross to her. Grab the bottle from her hands, open it and take a swig.

You hold it in your mouth—to look like you’ve done this before. You swallow. Your throat burns. You start spluttering.

She laughs. Her hand finds your back—rubbing, soothing. “Easy there,” she murmurs.

Once your coughing dies down, you look at her. Her expression shifts. Surprised. Impressed. You shove the bottle into her hands. Nod at it.

She holds your gaze. Brings the bottle to her lips.

Your eyes go lower. Her throat bobs after every swallow. You swallow along with her.

She places the bottle back on the desk when she finishes. There’s a drop of whiskey on her lips. You track it as it glides down her chin. Falls onto her shirt, staining the fabric.

Her shirt—when did she undo more buttons?

You look back up. Her gaze still on you, pupils dilated. Lips parted. Your breaths mingle. Everywhere smells like whiskey.

You push forward. Grab her waist. Crush your mouth against hers. It’s messy and loud. She moans. Opens her mouth. You don’t hesitate, forcing your tongue in.

She steps back until she’s pressed against your manager’s desk. She reaches back, sweeps the paper and pens onto the floor. The whiskey also falls. Shatters. You don’t care.

You lift her onto the desk, kiss her neck. She moans—right into your ear. Her legs lock around you, hands going to your belt—

The sound of the vacuum breaks both of you out of the spell.

You separate, breathing heavily. You crane your neck towards the sound. They don’t know you’re here yet. You look back at her, already buttoning her shirt.

“Want to get out of here?” She asks.

You can only nod.

——

Your manager frantically searches his drawers, muttering. “What? Where’s my bottle?”

You ignore him, focused on getting your tasks done.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him move closer to Sohyun. Your fingers hit the keyboard harder than normal.

He leans on her desk. Lowers his voice. “Have you seen my… special drink?”

“You mean the one in the locked drawer?”

“That’s the one!”

“Nope. I’ve been too busy.” She doesn’t give him her full attention, eyes glued to the computer screen.

He stares at her, waiting for more. When nothing comes, he frowns, walking back to his desk.

Sohyun stares at you over her computer screen, smirking. You try to fight the smile coming. You fail.

She slams her laptop shut. Grabs it and stands. “Come on. Let’s head to the meeting room.”

——

Sohyun stands at the front of the room. Clicking through slides. Assigning tasks. Fielding questions.

You’re not listening.

Last night keeps playing in your mind. The hickey left on her collarbone. How her thighs locked around your waist in the backseat of her car. How her nails raked down your back. The pain is still there. But it was worth it.

You can’t stop staring. Her lips are still swollen. You notice a slight limp when she walks. Favouring her left leg as she paces. You can see the hickey, barely peeking out of her shirt.

You smile at the memory.

“Anything to add?”

You shake your head, still smiling. Then you notice: everyone’s staring at you. Confused.

She glances at you, amusement on her features. “Alright then. This is the final push. Don’t let the team down.”

Nods all round the table. Chairs scraping. One by one they file out. Until it’s just you two.

She doesn’t move. Stares at the door until it clicks shut. “You were undressing me, weren’t you?”

You look down at your laptop, pretending to make notes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She walks toward you. Slowly. The limp still there. She grabs the armrests, spins your chair to face her. She grips your chin, forces you to look up.

“Tonight—shall we finish what we started?”

“Didn’t we?” You don’t break eye contact. “In your car?”

She leans down, her mouth next to your ear. “I’m talking about the manager’s desk.” your eyes widen. “How hot would that be?”

No. It would be stupid. Crazy.

But you’ve had a taste of doing reckless shit. A taste of her.

And it’s addictive.

You pull her onto your lap, kissing her roughly. She laughs into it.

That answers her question.

——

“F—fuck…”

You grab her tie from round her neck, stuff it into her mouth as you continue to pound into her.

She’s under you. Eyes rolled back. Pants gone, panties around one ankle by your head. Her shirt, ripped open. You’re pretty sure you tore a few buttons. You need to reimburse her for that. Her glasses are still on, now askew.

God, she’s the most beautiful thing here—one hand fondling her breast. The other gripping your hand by her waist tightly.

You’re not gentle. She doesn’t want you to be. You can still hear her moans through her tie. You’re close. Too close.

She lets go of her breast, reaches for something by her head. Her phone. You don’t question it. Open the camera. Frame her: Shirt torn open. Tie between her teeth. Sweat on her collarbone. One leg hooked over your shoulder. You take the photo. Show her. She looks at herself. At what you’ve done to her. Her eyes grow dark. She nods.

More.

She cums. Hard. Her walls tightening around you. You finish inside her. No hesitation.

You lean over. Kiss her hard, desperate.

You take a few steps back, collapse onto the manager’s chair and watch as your joined fluids spill onto the desk.

You laugh. So does she.

You’re both still breathing hard. She sits up, places her feet on the armrest. Drags you closer. You look into her eyes as you start buttoning up your shirt. Disheveled. Smiling. “What, no round 2?”

You caress her leg, placing soft kisses on her calf. Up to her knee. She shivers. “My place?”

She considers. Then nods.

——

“W—why is my desk sticky?”

He’s looking around for someone to blame. Everyone’s staring at their screen, ignoring him.

You hear your phone buzz. Look down. Message from Sohyun.

It’s one of the photos from last night. Her. On the desk. Tie in her mouth. Below it: Shall we tell him?

You look up, eyes wide. She’s already looking at you. You watch as she bites her lip. Laughs into her fist. She’s already lifting her phone. Aims it at you. Your phone buzzes a second later.

Your face? Priceless

——

You open your laptop. Spreadsheet already displayed. You crack your knuckles, stretch your neck, and begin to work.

The project’s deadline is tomorrow. It’s almost done—just a few changes left to be made. The slack channel constantly pings with new messages from other team members. Updates on their tasks, offering assistance.

The shower head suddenly turns off. Five minutes later, Sohyun comes out: hair damp, wearing your t-shirt. It’s big on her—neck line too big, exposing one shoulder, hem falling to mid-thigh. If the deadline wasn’t tomorrow, you’d have thrown her on the bed for round 2.

She pads to your bed, wet footprints marking your carpet. She climbs under the sheets. Grabs her phone from the nightstand. You look over. She’s scrolling through the slack channel before tossing her phone away. She stretches. T-shirt riding up her thighs. You feel your heart rate pick up. You turn back to your screen. Try to focus.

She turns to you. Scoots until she’s pressing against you. Grabs your chin and begins kissing you messily. She tries to close your laptop. You stop her.

You pull away. “I still have work to do.”

“Do it after.”

“You just took a shower.”

“I can take another.”

You chuckle. Turn back toward the screen.

She watches you, annoyance marring her features. “Fine.”

You last only five minutes when you hear moans beside you. She’s touching herself. You try to ignore it. Her breath quickening. Your name spilling out of her mouth—needy. The way her legs spread wider. Your throat goes dry.

You look over. She’s watching you, a teasing smile on her face. She brings a finger to her mouth. Bites it. That look—you can’t get used to it.

You’re hard. Aching.

You shut the computer, toss it onto the floor, and pounce on top of her. She’s giggling like she’s won.

You crash your lips on hers, pushing your tongue in. Replace her hand with yours. Swallow her moans.

You don’t know when she became more important than work.

——

After the deadline, she decided to stay for the weekend.

You don’t argue.

You feel her eyes on your back. “What?” You ask, still facing the cooker as you make breakfast.

She’s sat at the table, chin resting on one hand, the other drawing patterns on the tabletop. She’s only got a bra and your boxers on. You love the sight.

“You’re weirdly hot you know?”

“Thank you?”

“I mean it,” you turn around, place a plate in front of her before sitting across from her. “If you keep your hair messy like that and wear those glasses…”

You stare at her as she bites her lip. Rubs her thighs together. You’re surprised she’s acting like this—at just a thought. “Maybe I will.”

——

Monday comes round. You’re looking at your reflection in the window of her car.

You followed her advice: messy hair, glasses instead of contacts. You adjust your glasses, touch your hair. It feels weird. You feel her hand on your thigh.

“You look fine. If I wasn’t driving, I’d be on you right now.” Her hand climbs higher, nails slightly brushing your groin.

A small groan escapes. You grab her hand. “I’m not going into the office hard.”

“Why not?”

You don’t give her an answer. Instead, you watch outside. People waiting for buses. Cleaners on the street, removing evidence of whatever happened last night.

“Let’s play a game.”

You hum in response. Curious now.

“First person to get dragged into the supply closet wins.”

“Sohyun… no.”

“Why? We already fucked on the manager’s desk.”

“You’re talking about doing it during work hours.”

“Exciting right?”

Crazy. She’s crazy.

But you’re already imagining it. Her pressed against the shelves—

What has she done to you?

——

You get off a block away from the entrance. Whatever this is between you two, you both keep it secret. No rumours. No questions.

You enter the building, scan your ID and wait for the elevator. People are staring. Your hair. Glasses. Gossiping. You look towards them. They look away, giggling.

Sohyun arrives a minute later, stands beside you. Smirking. “Told you it looked good.”

The elevator arrives. You move to the back. Sohyun stands in front of you, back to you. As the elevator ascends, she moves back. Her ass pressing against you.

You try not to look down at her. You fail. She’s typing something on her phone. Holds her phone over her shoulder.

Game starts now

She presses harder. You bite the inside of your cheek, face burning. You look around. No one’s paying attention. Don’t react. Not here. Not yet.

When the elevator reaches your floor, it empties. Just the two of you left. You lean in, groan softly into her ear. Watch the goosebumps rise on her skin. You sidestep around her before heading to your desk. You don’t look back.

Two can play this game.

——

It’s barely lunch and you’re already losing your composure.

She’s good. Really good.

A glimpse of her bra when she leans over to hand you something. She drops her pen deliberately. Lets it roll under your desk. She ducks under the desk. Her hand finds your thigh—not the pen. Every time she leaves for the bathroom, your phone buzzes. Photos of her. Hair tussled. Shirt open, exposing the smooth plane of her stomach. You do your best to hide them from your colleagues. Angle your phone away from your desk neighbour. But they just keep coming.

“Are you okay?”

You lock your phone immediately. Look up. Zhou Xinyu. She’s frowning. Concerned look on her face. “I—I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You’re looking really red.”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

She walks off. Then stops. Turns to you. “By the way…” You look over your shoulder at her. “Like the new look.” She winks at you.

You swallow visibly. Your phone buzzes again.

What the fuck is happening?

——

You look over at Sohyun, eyes pleading. Her foot’s on your groin again, pressing firmly. You bite your knuckles, trying not to moan. She’s smiling innocently.

She doesn’t stop, not even when some intern comes to flirt with her. She’s in her element. Laughing. Flirting.

You hate it.

You know she’s watching you, even when she’s not paying attention. How your jaw tightens when she laughs at a terrible joke, her hand playfully slapping his arm. She presses harder with your every reaction.

“What is with the tired looks, everybody? It’s Monday! A brand new week!”

A momentary respite when your eyes turn to your manager. You look around. Everyone’s eyes look heavy, their movements sluggish.

“This won’t do. You!” He points at you, beckons you closer with his finger. You slap her foot away before standing carefully. You walk slowly to him. “Go down to the cafe. Coffee is on me!”

Cheers of delight come from the team. Internally, you’re celebrating the reprieve.

You quickly make your way to the elevator, ignoring Sohyun.

“Can I join you?”

You turn. Xinyu stands beside you. “Sure. Going on your lunch break?”

She stares at you for a moment before turning to the elevator doors. “Something like that.”

Behind you, Sohyun watches the elevator doors close. Her eyes narrow.

——

“Let me pay.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s the manager’s card.” You flash the card as if it was treasure.

She laughs. Covering her mouth with her hand. “If you insist.” She gestures you forward.

You move to pay then proceed to order for the rest of your team. 5 iced americanos. 1 caramel frappe with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top.

You don’t know why you remember that.

You walk over to where Xinyu’s waiting, busy on her phone. She sets it down as soon as you’re beside her.

“What’s with the new look?” She asks.

“This? Sohyun suggested it. Said it looked good on me.” You don’t look her in the eyes when you answer, remembering what happened after she said that.

The eggs were cold.

“You’ve been hanging around her a lot lately.” You look up, wait for her to continue. “You’re a lot different from before you worked that project together.”

You narrow your eyes. “Good different? Bad?”

You’re interrupted when her order comes out first—placed in front of her. She bends over her drink, holds the straw close to her mouth.

“Not sure yet. Just different.”

You watch as she drinks. You shouldn’t be. The way her cheeks hollow. Her eyes trained on you.

You shift uncomfortably.

When did everything become so sexual?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. “Excuse me.”

You move away towards the window. Stare down at your phone. Another message from Sohyun. This time a voice note. You press play. Press it against your ear.

You almost drop your phone.

She’s moaning your name. From the echo, she’s in the bathroom again. You hear her breathing heavily, voice raspy.

You can imagine it: her on the toilet seat, fingers between her legs, coated in her wetness. Her eyes fluttering close, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

You press your head against the window, a thud echoing in the cafe. Xinyu’s looking over at you in concern. You ignore her, focus on getting your breathing in check. Focus on not losing this game.

Then you hear it: a sucking sound through the speakers.

It ends there. Like a teaser for what’s to come. You check the time on your phone. 5 more hours until the day’s over.

“What happened? Is everything okay?”

You quickly turn. Xinyu’s close. Her face centimetres from yours. You don’t know how long she’s been standing there. Don’t know if she heard any of it. You hope she didn’t.

“Y—yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She shakes her head. You feel your cheeks burn under her gaze. Did she hear it? What would she think? You see her raise her hand, point to your forehead.

“Your forehead. You hit it pretty hard on the window. It’s going red.”

You bring your hand to your forehead, feel a slight swell.

Fuck.

“It’s fine. I—“ you look over her shoulder and see the barista placing your order onto the counter. “The order’s ready.” You quickly move, thankful for the interruption.

You grab the coffees. Thank the barista. You turn to Xinyu. “Shall we head back?” You don’t give her time to answer, already walking to the exit.

——

“I told you. It’s fine.”

“If you don’t do something about it, it’s going to get worse. The swelling will get bigger. Redder. You could end up with a headache. Or have to go to the hospital.”

“Okay. You’re exaggerating now. I don’t actually—“

The elevator doors open. You see Sohyun stopping at the sight of you and Xinyu. Close. Her hand brushing the swell on your forehead. Gently blowing on it as if that would fix it.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen her angry.

“Is that the coffee order?” Her tone is cold. Emotionless.

“Y—yeah.”

“Great. Xinyu, could you—“ she takes the coffee from your hands, shoves it into hers. She grips your wrist. Tight. “—hand them to the team. Thanks.”

She’s dragging you out of the elevator before you can make a sound.

——

This feels familiar. Her dragging you. Of the time you dragged her out that meeting. Karma has a weird way of getting back at you.

She drags you up the next floor. Accounting. It’s a quiet floor. People here tend to mind their own business. They won’t notice how she opens the supply closet, shoves you inside, and locks it behind her.

You don’t know if you should be aroused or terrified.

She pushes you into a worn office chair. Grabs your tie. Forces you to look up before crashing her lips against yours.

You don’t respond. Can’t. Already feel her tongue invading your mouth.

She straddles you. Unbuttons your shirt one by one. You move your hand to do the same to hers. Only for her to slap them away.

Her lips leave yours, inches away. “You don’t get to touch me.”

You swallow hard. Try to chase her lips only for her to lean further back. She grinds against you. A moan escapes you. You don’t care anymore. Don’t care that someone might find you. Might hear you. Don’t care if your manager wonders where the fuck you both are.

You just want her.

You hear her heels fall to the floor as she undoes the last button. Feel her nails scratch you from your collarbone to your hips. Her eyes darken as she looks over you.

She presses her lips on you—your collarbone, your chest. She trails down until she can’t bend anymore.

She sits back up. Straight. Removes her own shirt before tossing it behind her. Forgotten. Grabs your chin roughly before kissing you. Desperate. Messy. Like staking a claim. Her other hand trails down, undoes your belt, the button before fishing you out, stroking you slow.

“Fuck…”

She smiles into the kiss, loving the way you easily fold.

She’s off your lap now, shimmies out of her own trousers. Smirks when your pupils dilate at the sight. No panties.

You try to reach her. You’re only met with her hand holding both your wrists, pinning them to the shelves behind you.

She straddles you again, grabs you and aims you into her. She lowers herself onto you until you’re fully inside.

You groan at the warmth. She groans at the fullness.

She rides you. Hard. Panting into your ear. Biting your ear. You’re too far gone to think clearly.

The shelves behind you start rattling, random items falling around you.

For a brief moment, you remember where you are. That someone walking by could see what’s happening.

You let out a loud moan at that thought.

She clasps her hand over your mouth. To make you quiet. But no one’s making her quiet. She grows louder. And louder. Until she has no choice but to stuff her own tie into her mouth.

You feel yourself getting harder at the sight.

She’s close. You can feel it. The lack of rhythm in her bouncing. The stutter in her breathing. The way she shuts her eyes tight, trying to hold herself together.

You finish first. Inside her. She follows soon after. Head collapsing on your shoulder, hand letting go of your wrists. They fall around her waist. You hold her tight. Wait until your breathing is under control. She places her hand over your chest, over your heart. Smiles at its rapid beating.

When you both calm, she lifts her head before lowering her lips onto yours. Softer. Gentler.

You part, eyes locked. “I win.”

She tilts her head in confusion. “What?”

“You said whoever gets dragged into the supply closet wins right? I won.”

You watch the realisation dawn on her face.

“Fuck you.”

——

“Damn it. The door’s jammed again. Is maintenance gone already… fuck.”

The supply closet door continues to rattle as one, two people try to get it open.

“Fuck it. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

You grab your phone. Read the time: 5:50pm. You’ve been here the entire afternoon, half expecting messages from your boss: where the fuck are you, where’s my fucking credit card. You didn’t get any of that, just a single text from Xinyu.

Told them you got hurt pretty bad on the way back from the cafe. Told them Sohyun went with you because she’s got a car.

You need to thank her for that. And explain all this too. Or come up with a convincing lie.

“How long left?”

“10 minutes. How do you know Accounting will be gone by then?”

“They don’t do overtime. Or refuse to. Just how they are.” She gives a noncommittal shrug. Browses the items on the shelves. She’s walking around the supply closet. Naked.

“I should’ve used this on you.” She turns to you, shows you some tape before continuing her browsing.

You can’t take your eyes off her. Hair a mess. From the makeshift ponytail in round 3. The bruises on her hips. From when you gripped her a bit too tightly in round 5. The glistening on her inner thighs.

You’re aching at the memory.

She looks down. Smirks. You’re hard again. “Ready for round 8?” She saunters to you, hips swaying more than normal before sitting down next to you.

She grips you, stroking slowly, twisting at the tip. You move your hand to her mouth, watch as she sucks on your fingers before letting them go. You trail them down to where she’s already wet, rubbing in circles.

You rest your head on the wall behind, eyes closed, enjoying her hand and her soft moans. She’s on her phone, tapping away.

“Look at this.”

You slowly open your eyes. Look at her screen. Xinyu’s latest photo on Instagram. A mirror selfie. The mirror’s steamed, she’s wearing a bathrobe, shoulder exposed.

“Sohyun… what the fuck…”

“Imagine it’s her hand.” She whispers into your ear.

She’s stroking faster. Your hand lying motionless on her. You shut your eyes. Can’t help the image of Xinyu on you instead.

You exhale loudly.

“Jealous of her?”

“I am.” She blows into your ear. You let out a moan. “But I understand. She’s hot.” She stops. Hand moving down, grabs your balls. Tight. “Just remember that I’m the one making you feel this way.”

You kiss her. Hard. Moaning into her mouth as she strokes again. Faster. Relentless. You come. All over her hand.

You can’t do anything but watch as she brings her hand to her mouth, licks her hand clean, smiles at the taste.

After that display, she stands, finds her shirt, dresses.

“What about you?” You say weakly, unable to move.

“You can make it up to me,” she’s putting her hair up in a ponytail. “After dinner.”

She tosses you your clothes. Leans on the door, waiting for you.

——

You both make it to your floor. Quietly. In case anyone is still lingering.

When the coast is clear, you move to grab your stuff: jacket, bag, ID. Both of you run to the elevators, giggling like children.

You put your hand in your jacket pocket. Something’s in there. Soft. Unfamiliar. You pull it out.

Her panties.

“Thought you’d like a souvenir.” She’s smiling.

You walk in as soon as the elevator arrives and the doors open.

“Was this supposed to help with the game?”

“Yeah. Didn’t think it would end up being useless.”

You laugh boisterously.

As the door closes, you pin her to the wall, kissing her.

——

Dinner’s at your place. An order of fried chicken.

She’s cleaned up, now sporting only your hoodie. You’re in jogging pants, no shirt.

Some variety show plays on the TV. You’re not paying attention, content to watch her. How she holds the chicken delicately with just her fingertips. Her legs tucked underneath her. She laughs at something on the TV. It’s loud. Addicting. You can’t help but laugh along with her.

She reaches for another piece. Arches her back as she takes one from the plate. You see a hint of a smile. You huff. You’ve been caught. You lean back on the couch, focusing on the show. She moves beside you, resting her head on your shoulder. Offers the chicken. You take a bite. She laughs again before settling against you.

You throw your arm over her, thumb softly grazing her hipbone. You lean down, a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

She looks up at you, eyes curving into crescents as she smiles wide.

Your heart skips a beat.

She leans up, pecks you on the lips before you can react and turns back to the TV.

——

At this point, she’s practically moved in. Which, by the way, is crazy. You’re pretty sure her place is bigger than yours.

You walk into the bathroom, see her toothbrush sitting next to yours. Counter space is nonexistent. Her essentials have taken over—lotion, cleanser, hair products.

You sigh. Grab your toothbrush. Start brushing your teeth as you walk around the bedroom.

Your desk is now her makeup station. Your wardrobe has her work attire.

(Only her work attire. She’s either naked or stealing your clothes whenever she comes by.)

You walk back into the bathroom, watching yourself in the mirror.

She comes in, wraps her arms round your waist. You stare at her through the reflection. At the way her hands start drifting lower, into your jogging pants.

You stop that immediately, turning, grabbing her and lifting her on the small space left on the counter.

You accidentally poke her eye with your toothbrush.

“Ow!”

You spit your toothbrush into the sink.

“Shit! Are you okay?”

She laughs, one eye closed.

You move close, kissing all over her face: the closed eye, her brow, her nose before ending at her mouth. One peck. Two. You dive back in, pushing your tongue into her mouth.

She reciprocates eagerly, one arm around the back of your neck. The other finishing her exploration of your pants. You feel her hand cup you.

You groan before lifting her, carrying her to the bedroom. She’s giggling the whole time.

——

“Re—really? They’re happy… with it?” She stutters, not paying attention to what’s being said on the phone.

A member of the project called. Updates her on what happened since she was away. The higher ups are happy with the project. They praised her leadership. Wants to reward the team with a big dinner.

She’s happy of course. But her mind’s elsewhere.

“Ha—have you talked with the other members? Asked what they w—wanted?”

She moves the phone away from her mouth. Covers the microphone as she moans loudly. Her head bangs against your headboard. “Keep going.”

She puts the phone back against her ear. Catches the last part of whatever was said. Her other hand reaches down, grabs hold of your hair, pushing you further into her. She starts grinding into your mouth.

You smile. Continue lapping at her relentlessly. The need to breathe no longer a priority. You start pushing a finger inside. Then another as your tongue moves up, circling her clit.

She bucks. You use one hand to hold her down.

“J—just let me know what the others decide. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye.” She ends the call quickly, throws her phone away. It clatters somewhere near the bedroom door.

“Oh my fucking—how are you so good?”

“I watched tutorials.”

“Can you send me the link? I want to show them to all my—“

You don’t let her finish, sucking on her clit. Hard.

You stop. Look up at her. Mouth wet. “Is there anyone else?”

She shakes her head quickly.

“Are you sure? Use your words.” You’re torturing her. Still, it’s nice to have power over her sometimes. Nice to see her chest rise and fall. See her cheeks flushed pink.

“No. No.”

You dive back in. Her head thrashes side to side. She extends her arm suddenly, knocking over the bedside lamp before she starts hitting the bed.

“Fuck fuck fuck”

She’s panting now, her thighs tightening over your head. You have to pry them open just to breathe.

“Keep going. Please— I’m close.”

Her thighs begin to quiver, tightening around you again. She grabs your pillow and screams into it as her orgasm tears through her. Her hips lift off the bed, dragging you with her. You don’t stop, working her through it.

Eventually, she loosens her thighs. Lets you climb over her, trailing kisses—hipbone, sternum, up to her mouth. She grabs the back of your neck, kissing you. Moans at her taste. You smile into the kiss.

“Did I make up for the supply closet?”

She can only nod furiously before kissing you again.

——

Friday’s here.

You kick the ground outside the office, your breath visible as you wait for your manager. Somehow, he’s managed to weasel his way into this celebratory dinner with your team. A project he wasn’t a part of. You don’t know why Sohyun agreed to this.

“Where are we going again?”

Oh and your manager invited Xinyu as well.

“Some new, fusion restaurant downtown,” you say noncommittally. You do your best to avoid her gaze, lest you face Sohyun’s ire. You wouldn’t mind, except all you and Sohyun have been doing lately is having sex. You’re kind of sore at this point.

“I shouldn’t even be here. I wasn’t part of the project.”

“You missed your opportunity to say no,” you say bluntly. Then you smile. Wry. “It’s alright. The manager wasn’t invited either yet somehow he’s coming along. Trust me, we’d rather have you there than him.”

She can’t help but smile. “Thanks. Feel a little better now.”

“Don’t say that. I heard there were plans to ditch you with him.”

She pushes you halfheartedly, laughing. You smile along with her.

“Alright! I’m here! Let’s go!”

——

“I call shotgun!”

You, Sohyun, and Xinyu stand frozen at the audacity of your manager. Watching him as he opens the passenger door to Sohyun’s car.

“Looks like he took shotgun,” Xinyu says as she walks to the back.

You look over at Sohyun. Her jaw is tight. She’s annoyed. At your manager or Xinyu, you’re not too sure.

“Can you drive?”

You huff. “Sure.”

She hands you the keys before making her way to the backseat, behind the driver.

As soon as you open the driver side door, your manager begins protesting. “What are you doing? This is Sohyun’s car.”

Sometimes, you want to punch him.

“She’s not feeling too well. Asked me to drive.”

“I can drive. Sohyun, come sit here.”

“No, no. I’ll feel worse there. Might throw up on you.” She makes a gagging sound. Your manager can’t help but gag along with her.

You look into the rear view mirror, see Xinyu smiling in amusement. You do too.

“Let’s go.”

——

“I swear I want to kill him.”

“You invited him.”

“He invited himself.”

“Should’ve said no then.”

“Whose side are you on?”

The both of you hang back a bit. Watch as the rest enter the restaurant. Xinyu lags behind the group, looking over her shoulder at you.

“Can we tell him what we did? That we stole his whiskey? Fucked on his desk?”

She’s leaning on her car. You’re standing in front of her, towering over her.

“That’s a sure way to get me fired.”

“You? Not we?”

“He likes you. He’d defend you. He’d paint me as some devil who seduced you into stealing his whiskey and having sex on his desk.”

She chuckles softly. She’s staring up at you, eyes wide. “If only he knew I was the seducer.”

You smile. “If only he knew.”

You lean down, kiss her softly on the lips before gently pushing her off the car and toward the restaurant.

“You think we could leave early? Or at least go to the bathroom?” She’s talking to you over her shoulder.

“Sohyun… I’m still sore from last night.”

“Maybe we could invite Xinyu to join us.”

You stay silent. She’s joking. Still, it’s not a bad idea. “Should we?”

“Fuck you.” She flips you off.

——

This is bad. Like a powder keg waiting to explode.

Your manager’s drunk. Is starting to get more handsy—firm grip on shoulders, pulling them close by the waist. Everyone’s uncomfortable. Especially the women.

You look to Sohyun, forced to sit by his side, shifting uncomfortably, drinking every shot he gives her. To Xinyu, staring at her flute of champagne, silent.

Your jaw tightens, knuckles turning white as you grip the edge of the table. Yet you don’t say anything. No one does. Too afraid to speak out, to lose their jobs. Even Sohyun, who preaches recklessness, can’t seem to put her job on the line.

“Why is everyone quiet? Drink. Drink!”

Even the other customers are uncomfortable.

“Why aren’t you drinking?”

You turn to face him, a butter knife pointed toward you. Everyone’s looking, the guy next to you—his name you can’t remember—nudges you, points at the shot in front.

Before you would’ve stayed silent, down the shot, keep him happy.

But you’ve changed. For the better.

“I’m not drinking tonight. I’m driving.”

“Who? You don’t even own a car.”

“Sohyun. Xinyu,” you say, voice cold. “Anyone else who wants a lift.”

He cackles. “Everyone here can take a cab! They don’t need you driving them home! Isn’t that right Sohyun?”

You watch as his hand grabs hold of her thigh. At the way she flinches but can’t move away. Your vision goes red. You stand, punching him in the nose. You hear a crack, watch as he falls off his seat. You don’t stop there, walking round the table and pummelling him.

Crack. Another bone.

They pull you off him before you do something you regret. You’re breathing heavily. Ears are ringing. You can’t hear anything until you feel Xinyu push you, telling you to go outside.

You walk out. Lean against the wall before sliding down it.

——

You stay like that for who knows how long. Until you see her white sneakers.

You look up. Sohyun crouches down to eye level. Looks over your features. She brushes a strand of hair from your eyes.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to get fired.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.”

Her hands cup your cheeks before leaning in. Kisses your forehead.

You smile despite yourself.

“Where is everybody?”

“The hospital.”

You hum in acknowledgement.

She moves to sit beside you. Your hand stops her, gesturing to your lap instead. You don’t want her to dirty her clothes. She gently sits down, back against your chest. She holds your hand in hers.

“They’re not going to say it in public… but they’re thankful. For what you did.”

“I don’t care about them. They saw what he was doing. Didn’t do anything.”

“Hey. You’re angry. I get it. But don’t blame them. The only person to blame is that bastard.”

You’re quiet. She’s right. You place your lips over her shoulder, kissing it gently.

“Are you okay? Drunk?”

She squeezes your hand. “Maybe a little.”

“Come on then. Let’s sober you up.”

——

Sohyun watches as you slowly pack your things into a box. Security guards watching your every move.

Rumours were quick to spread. Of the inappropriate way the manager was acting during the dinner. You thought you’d be arrested for assault. Except, everyone at the dinner defended you and someone let slip to the restaurant the company you all worked at. Online posts begin circulating: how this company could allow such behaviour. How the workplace must be such a toxic environment.

It was shut down quickly by the higher ups, ordering an internal investigation. Obviously, they couldn’t tolerate violence against a manager, so even if everyone defended you, you still had to be let go.

It’s fine though. You hated this place anyway.

You finish packing. Head to the elevator escorted by the guards. When you reach the ground floor, you hand them your ID, bow to them before walking out the door.

Xinyu’s outside. Waiting for you.

——

You find yourself in a small cafe. No one here save for you, Xinyu, and a barista who finds her phone more interesting than anything else.

“It’s not fair. Firing you.”

You look up from your mug, a small, defeated smile on your face. “You say that as if they had choice,” you watch as she’s about to protest, only for you to continue. “I broke his nose. They can’t keep me on after that.”

You watch for her reaction. When she lets out a frustrated sigh, you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

After a couple of minutes of just sitting there, drinking your coffee, she speaks. “So… you and Sohyun huh?”

You were about to say something before she stops you with her hand. “No one punches their manager unless they’re doing something to someone you like. Would you do it again? If it was me?”

You don’t hesitate. “I would.”

She stares into your eyes. Relief flooding her face at your answer. Her eyes though. They looked resigned. Like, despite hearing the answer she wanted, it was not what she actually wanted.

It felt like a confession. Of the crush you harboured for her for the last three years. You wonder what would’ve happened if it was her and not Sohyun you got close with.

You rid yourself of that thought. You don’t regret any of this.

“I told you that you were different since you spent more time with Sohyun. You asked if that was good or bad…”

“I remember.”

“It was a good thing. Even if she can be a bit… territorial.”

“Like when she had you in her lap? Hand on your thigh?”

She winces at the memory. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It was hot.”

Her eyes widen in shock, disbelief at what you said. You’re also pretty sure that the barista’s no longer paying attention to her phone, more interested in your conversation.

“I don’t really have a filter anymore.” You wave your hand in the air as if your explanation made it all better.

“Did she ever… talk about me?” She asks shyly. You lean in, ready to tell her about the supply closet before she sits up straight. Covers her ears with her hands. “On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

You laugh. First time since the incident.

She smiles back at you.

“I should probably get going. Keep in touch.” She walks over to your side of the table, presses her lips to your cheek before walking out.

“There’s someone better than her?”

You turn at the sudden question from the barista. You can only give her a sharp nod.

——

You wipe the steam from the mirror. Stare at your reflection. Watch as water droplets slide down your face, into the scruff of your beard.

You need to shave.

You open the cupboard below the sink. Take out a razor and the shaving cream. You stand, turn the faucet on to wet your face a bit more.

You hear a whistle. Turning, Sohyun stands by the door. Hair in a high ponytail. Suit jacket discarded, she’s left in a black shirt, black pencil skirt, black stockings.

You exhale loudly. Those damn stockings.

“Wow,” she says, eyeing you like candy. “Hot.”

You scoff. You face the mirror, applying the shaving cream. “Just got back?”

“Uh-huh.” She’s closer now, leaning beside the mirror, watching you. “Have to say… would you consider wearing a Santa Claus outfit? It’s one of my fantasies.”

The blade freezes by your cheek. You would’ve said no without hesitation. Now, you’re actually contemplating hiring one.

She moves until she’s between you and the mirror, pries the blade from your hand. One hand pulls on the skin, the other slowly glides the blade against your skin. “The office. It’s boring now.”

You don’t say anything. Watch the concentration on her face. Only when she washes the blade do you speak.

“What? No one to flirt with? No intern kissing the floor you stand on?”

That annoyed her. She hooks a finger into your mouth, pulls your cheek taut before going over it with the blade. She scowls at you. You’ve long since stopped being afraid of it. Now it’s adorable.

The two of you have been fucking so much, you actually forgot how beautiful she was. Her eyes are focused, calculating. Pale skin contrasting against her dark clothes. Her mouth set in quiet concentration, plump. Perfect for kissing.

“You’re staring.” She finishes. Wipes the blade clean before tossing it into the trash.

You push her into the sink. You move until she’s flush against your skin. She cranes her neck up to see you. You’re more focused on the elegant line of her neck. The way her throat moves as she swallows thickly.

Before you can capture her lips, she presses a finger against your lips.

“Aftershave.”

You lean back, watch her grab the bottle. She pours a generous amount on her hand, spreads it before touching your face.

It burns.

You don’t break eye contact, keeping her hands on your cheek as you kiss her.

When you separate, your towel drops with a soft thud, pooling around you. She looks down, breath hitching at the sight of you, hard and leaking. She grabs you, takes you back into the shower. No care about what happens to her clothes.

——

Despite not working there anymore, you’re still kept in the loop on what’s happening in the office. Text messages from Xinyu to conversations during dinner with Sohyun.

You hear the passcode being entered into your door before opening. Sohyun’s home.

She kicks off her heels, leaves them lying on the floor. Drops her laptop bag by the shoe cabinet before walking toward you. Slow. Exaggerated hip sway. Her eyes never leaving yours.

You watch, mesmerised. Laptop forgotten on your lap. Your throat goes dry as she removes her hair clip. Shakes her hair loose. Soft and wavy. Framing her face in a way that makes you anticipate what she’ll do next. She drags her thumb across her lips, removes the lipstick before darting her tongue out, slowly licking them.

What is she doing to you?

Her hands find the zipper on her skirt, drags it down slow before letting it pool by her feet. You finally see her eyes, a predatory gleam to them. Dark. You can’t look away. Even as she slowly unbuttons her shirt, letting it glide down to the floor. Until she’s left in only her bra and panties. And stockings.

She stops in front of you. Closes your laptop. Tosses it on the far end of the couch. She straddles you, her weight settling on your lap.

“Rough day?”

Her fingers thread through your hair. Your eyes slowly close at the sensation. You feel her fingers move, from your hair to your glasses. She removes them, tossing them away.

She presses her lips to yours before speaking. “Had another interview about the manager. More like an interrogation.”

Another kiss.

“Talked about the incident. About you.”

Another.

“I think they wanted me to pin it all on you.”

You open your eyes then, half lidded. Hers the same, filled with lust.

“Did you?” You ask, voice hoarse.

She shakes her head, more strands fall over her eyes as she leans in again.

“They wish. Xinyu says there’s enough evidence for a full inquiry on him.”

Another kiss. Longer. Slower.

You separate. She whispers into your mouth. “I thought about you all day.”

She grabs your hands. Place one on her waist, the other on her breast. She moves her lips beside yours before biting your earlobe. You groan.

“Thought about your hands. Your mouth. Your—“

You couldn’t help but buck into her. You feel the sharp intake of breath. She’s smiling before biting your earlobe again.

“Sohyun—“

“Shh…” she pulls back, looks at you, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

She kisses you. Hungry. Deep.

You kiss back. Hands moving to her back. Fingertips lightly grazing her spine. She shivers. You feel the bra clasp. Undo it, letting it slide down her arms. She throws it somewhere behind her.

You start travelling lower, pressing your lips against her neck, collarbone before ending at her breasts. You alternate between both, giving extra attention to the nipples.

She moans loudly. Holds your head, keeping it close to her chest. One hand moves down, palms you through your pants.

Eventually, she pushes you off, dives back into your mouth.

You separate, both breathing hard.

“Bedroom?” You ask.

She shakes her head.

“Here. Now.”

She tugs on your shirt incessantly. You pull it off with ease, throwing it somewhere behind her.

She presses her lips on you: neck, shoulder, chest. They’re featherlight. Goosebumps appear on your skin.

She suddenly stands and turns, hooks her fingers into her stockings and pulls them down. Slowly. Ass pointed to you. Her head turns to face you, eyes gesturing to your sweatpants.

You get rid of them quickly, to not miss the show in front of you.

She kicks the stockings off her feet. Stands in front of you in only her underwear.

You move forward. Kiss her hipbone, her stomach, her thighs as you slowly peel them off her. You hear her panting, her hands twisting in your hair.

“No… I need you now.”

She pushes you back, straddling you quickly before lowering herself onto you.

You both groan simultaneously at the feeling.

Neither of you move, content with kissing. Only when the need to breathe becomes important did you separate. Foreheads touching, eyes staring deeply into yours as she starts rocking.

You hold her waist. Let her control the pace.

Her fingers move, gently grazes your jaw as she moans. As loud as she wants.

You’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

The way she sits up, one hand messing with hair. The way she looks down at you, eyes darkening as bites her bottom lip.

She’s losing it. Her rhythm, her voice.

You don’t want it to end.

She’s surprised when you lift, legs locking onto your waist. Her hands cup your face, kisses you desperately.

You turn, placing her onto the couch. She’s on her knees, facing the window, twinkling with lights outside.

You crouch behind her. Enter her slow. She bites her knuckles, eyes squeezed tight.

Only when you’re fully in do you move, matching the same pace as before. Long. Slow. You’re pressed into her back, one hand on her waist, the other just below her neck.

“F—fuck…”

You feel her tears fall onto your arm, hear the way she scratches the back of the couch with both hands. You pull one arm up, intertwine your fingers together as you get closer to release.

She’s louder now. You are too, breathing into her ear. You bite down on her shoulder to stop a loud moan. She pushes back against you, arching her back further.

She turns to face you, face covered in sweat, hair sticking. She captures your lips in a messy kiss as the hand on her waist finds her clit.

“Fuck. F—fuck…”

Her orgasm hits hard, moans muffled by your mouth. Holds onto your intertwined fingers tightly.

You keep going, prolonging her pleasure until you release into her.

You stay like that for what felt like hours. Heart racing. You wait until her breathing’s under control before you move, both of you moaning at the loss.

You sit beside her. She collapses into you before her head falls onto your lap. She looks up. Satisfied. Smiling.

“Feel better?”

“Hmm. Much.”

You smile, threading your fingers through her hair. You watch as she hums, closes her eyes and relax.

——

“Oh shit.”

She’s sitting on the counter in only your dress shirt, swinging her feet as you chop vegetables beside her. She grabs a piece. You open your mouth, still chopping as she places it in. You tease her by gently biting her finger. She slaps you on the shoulder.

“What is it?”

She turns her phone screen toward you. Placing the knife on the chopping board, you walk until you’re between her legs, reading the news article. You ignore the way her breathing stutters as you place your hands on her bare thighs.

“Shit.”

The company has taken a hit. A really bad one. Stocks free falling. The manager that you beat to a pulp at the centre of it all. Selling secrets to competitors. Private chats about the women in the office.

Your hand clenches.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” You let go of her thigh, rubbing where you grabbed it too hard. You don’t notice that you’re caressing her higher than before, still engrossed in the article.

She locks her phone screen, places it on the counter beside her.

“Hey. I was reading that.”

She gently tilts your chin up. “Look at me.”

You meet her eyes. She’s searching your face.

“You okay?”

You exhale. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath.

“I’m—” You stop. Are you okay?

“You were right,” she says softly. “What you did. You were right.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” She cups your face. “Because you look like you want to hit him again.”

You laugh. It’s sharp, humourless. “I do.”

She nods. Doesn’t tell you that’s wrong. Doesn’t tell you to let it go.

“All the women he did that to. If I could go back,” you say slowly, “I’d do it again. Harder.”

“I know.”

You rest your forehead against her shoulder. Close your eyes.

“I’m glad you’re not there anymore. That place was poison,” she whispers.

“That place was poison.”

You pull back. Look at her.

“Are you okay? Being there without me?”

She smiles. Small, but real.

“I’m looking for other jobs.”

Your heart skips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She kisses you. Quick, soft. “I’m done with that place too.”

——

You play with the collar of your dress shirt. It’s too tight round your neck, you’re suffocating.

“Stop that. She’d kill you if you mess with it.”

You stare at her through her vanity mirror. She puts on the final touches of makeup, checks herself before giving you a wink and kiss in the reflection.

She moves towards you, takes the tie from your hand before helping you with it.

“I still can’t believe she’s getting married.”

“Why? You still have a crush on her?” She pulls your tie too hard, making you splutter.

You had to tap her hand to get her to release.

You cough. “I’m just saying. She left the company same time as you. When was that? Two years ago? And she’s getting married already? Isn’t that too soon?”

She pats your shoulder. “Just be happy for her.” She leaves you standing there, moving to the living room.

You can’t help but stare, wishing she’d wear dresses more often. Thin straps, the hem just barely reaching her knees. The pastel pink colour. Not to mention the headband.

You love her.

“Come on. We’re going to be late.”

You follow her to the front door. You kneel down, help her with her heels as she holds you for stability. You let your fingers linger on her calf, rising to her thighs before she pushes you off.

“We don’t have time.”

You laugh, putting your shoes on. As soon as you were about to open the door, she stops you.

“Wait.”

She reaches down, pulls her panties down before handing them to you. She smiles and winks at you, gives you a quick kiss before heading out first.

You look at them, eyes wide. You stuff them into your pocket, running after her.

“Are you sure we can’t be late?”

She laughs.

You choke on air. "Gong Yubin, what the fu—"

She's already scooting towards you, grinning widely like she just suggested going out for a Jollibee dinner on a random Wednesday. "I have been on tour for soooo long! I work hard, I dance hard, I sing even harder! I deserve to have some fun too!"

"Well…yes you work hard, and I’m proud of you, bu—"

"I'm bored. You're horny like half the time we're together.”

“No I do no—”

“And I have been training my gag reflex on my toys whenever the girls aren't around." She pats her own cheek twice, as if she didn't just announce a weird revelation that is definitely TMI. "C'mon. Free use, no judgement. We're literally close enough that we share a toothbrush anyway."

"That's because you aren't bothered buying o—"

"Pllleeeaassseeee?" She flops backward again, scooting until her head hangs off the edge of the mattress. She looks at you with a pair of pleading eyes that seems to work all the time. "How could you refuse a request of a cute and pretty girl like me to fuck my throat as hard as you want?"

Your cock twitches inside your pants. Damn you and your horny brain. Pretty sure the head of your cock is doing all the thinking now, with how quickly you set your phones down and position right in front of her face.   

"See? Not so hard, isn't it?" She giggles. "Well, your cock is, but you know what I mean."

"This is one of the weirdest shit you have ever asked me to do."

"Uh huh, and you're stalling, buddy." Yubin reaches up blindly and hooks two fingers in your wasitband and yanks. "Let me see that damn hard dick of yours. I have vocal lessons after we get back from our trip and I want to make sure I can blame you for destroying my throat."

She makes a pleased little hum when you finally shoved your pants down. Your raging hard cock bobs free (and embarrassingly eager, too) and she opens her mouth wide, tongue flat, and then twirl that damn fucking sexy tongue in a circle in an inviting manner. You step closer, letting the tip of your cock brush her bottom tip. That alone brings a muffled moan out of you, and then another one when she flicks her tongue against a slit once.

"Are you sure this is oka—"

She rolls her eyes. "If you don't fuck my face in the next five seconds, I'm gonna walk out right now and start begging for a stud to fuck me ins—"

You hate that she knows how to trigger your sanity, because instinctively, you grab her throat with your hand and forcibly ram your cock inside her throat. “Don’t even bring a random dude into this, Gong Yubin.”

The first thrust is brutal, going straight past her soft palate with no warm-up whatsoever. Her throat convulses immediately around you like it's clinging the fuck out of your dick, but instead of pulling away she just arches her back harder. Her head dangles further off the edge so you can use her even rougher.

And yep, a thick and wet glurk rips out of her instantly.

Saliva explodes from the corners of her stretched, puffy lips. It gushes out in heavy ropes, coating your shaft in her sloppy layers before dripping in fat strings down to her forehead, then her hair, and then onto the carpet with wet plaps. And the more you pump, the messier it gets. Each brutal thrust drags out more spit, and every slam back forces a fresh wave of it to bubble and overflow.

Fuck, you know she's a hot girl, but Yubin's so fucking sexy when she’s drooling like a broken faucet. Thick, bubbly strands connect her cock to her chin every time you pull back, and splatters when you ram back in again. Your balls are so slick as it slaps against her noise with each thrust, making her inhaling all the musky smells.

And she is really, really, really into that. Why? Because while her throat is getting absolutely destroyed, she shoves one hand down into her boy shorts.

It is loud and clear — the frantic, slippery pumps of her fingers into her cunt are messy as hell. Her hips buck every time you bottom out, fucking herself in time with your thrusts. Her muffled moans are the icing on the cake of spits, with the deep and needy "mmph!" sounds that get more and more broken the harder you go.

You tighten your grips around her throat, fully intending to use her throat like an onahole as she so fucking wants. Her throat belts out these obscene and gurgling squelches that you are so sure the next door will hear how much of a mess you're making out of Yubin. The saliva is everywhere — coating your shaft in a glossy, dripping sheen, stringing between your balls and her nose, and smearing across her cheeks without a care.

You can feel her throat constricts even more around you, milking you even more as she chokes. Each thrusts of yours become deeper, shoving your balls more insistently towards her nose, and you swear you can hear the wet squelch of her cunt is getting louder and louder as she fingers herself deeper.

"Shit, Yubi—"

You pull out, mainly out of concern for your best friend, but partly because you want to see the damage in progress. Well, Yubin whines at the loss of your cock in her throat.

It is the most pathetic yet the hottest you hear out of her (high-pitched and needy). A long, broken "whyyyy" manages to get out through the spit still clinging to her vocal cords. Her lips are swollen and glistening like she just throated a cylinder. Thick ropes of saliva and precum stretch from the fat purple head of your cock all the way to her chin, and then they snap and splatter across her upside down face.

She gasps once, then twice, then immediately cranes her neck even farther like a baby bird begging for more worms (Except this baby bird is filthy as fuck.)

"Don't— don't fucking stop!" She coughs. "You fucking pussy, really think this gonna break me that easily?" Her fingers still go in and out of her bruised cunt. "Cmon, fuck my throat. Ruin it. Fuck my face like you hate me. Make me choke so hard I see death's door. Let me gag on your fat fucking cock until my throat's wide enough that it can only satisfied by yours alone. Just fucking use me like your dumb little cocksleeve you always want, you bitch!"

Holy shit. You swear no viagra was consumed, yet your cock is raging hard so bad that it hurts.

Well…she asked for it.

You smack her face with your free palm, making her open her mouth before you ram into the tight throat once again. Fresh spit gushes around your shaft, pouring down her face in rivers, coating your balls, dripping in fat globs and contributes to the huge puddle of spits below. Every time you bottom out she lets out a broken mantra of gurgled moans around your cock. It mangles into wet nonsense but still somehow the dirtiest thing you have ever heard.

You can feel her throat spasming harder now, fluttering like it’s trying to suck the soul out of you. Her free hand claws at your ass and pulls you as deep as she can until her nose is mashed flat against your pelvis and she can’t breathe at all. She looks completely fucking destroyed (her pretty, bubbly face turned into a sloppy, drooling mess), and she has never looked hotter.

That gets you close to releasing your load.

You yank out again, the hard cock springing free with a wet pop and a thick rope of spit that slaps across her cheek like a slap. And of course, this needy bitch whines.

“Noooo—put it back, you bitch—don’t you dare leave me hanging—” Her voice is shredded, barely there, cracking on every word. “I was so close—my puffy cunt is throbbing so fucking bad—c’mon, choke me again, baby, make me cum with your huge dick down my throat, pleasepleaseplease—”

She sticks her tongue out as far as it can go, trying to lick at the cockhead even as more drool cascades down to the floor.

“Paint my fucking face if you have to, just don’t stop using my throat. I wanna feel this fucking dick twitch when you cum. Wanna swallow every thick drop while I ruin my own needy cunt. Wanna be your nasty little cum-dump slut tonight.” True to her word, her fingers speed up inside her shorts, and the wet sounds turn into outright gushing now. Her whole body jerks like she's about to faint from ecstasy.

So you just mindlessly ram into her for the last time. One. Two. Three deep brutal thrusts. And then you pick up the pace into something more violent and frequent. She screams around your cock, and her whole body locks up. Her cunt clenches so fucking hard you aren't sure if the squelching comes from her slutty mouth or from her needy pussy. She holds the fingers stationary and then buck her hips up, desperately and violently, before her thighs clamp around her own hand and make the biggest fucking mess with her girl juice — soaking through her boy shorts and leave a dark patch onto the sheets.

Yeah, that snaps the last thread of sanity in you.

Burying balls deep in her, you unload thick loads straight down her convulsing throat. You can visibly see her throat working overtime, swallowing greedily as she still trembles through her own orgasm. Some spills out - a creamy, white and viscous liquid mixing with the plethora of spits on her face, before it bubbles at the corners of her mouth and drips down in filthy streaks.

When you finally pull out, she gives a wet and wrecked cough before dissolving into hoarse giggles.

"Fuuckk yes!" She licks her own messy lips. "You taste so fucking good, bestie."

She rolls onto her side, still giggling like a lunatic, ignoring how her face is a masterpiece of ruin.

You collapse beside her and breathe heavily with your whole chest. She reaches over and pat your thigh with a sticky hand and gives a sprinkle of adoring kisses to your spent cock.

"Ten out of ten. Would let you ruin my needy throat again." She laughs harder. "But I should bring my toys next time, just to see how many of them will spread my pussy while you expand my throat even more."

“What the fu—” You throw a pillow at her face, and of course, she catches it (just because) and presses it to her cum and spit covered cheeks before letting out a contented sigh.

"Tomorrow, I'll let you fuck my ass. And I’ll make sure you feeeellll so good."

Yeah, say bye to your sanity. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: Hi!! Thank you so much for the explosive support for the Soda fic! It's a very plot heavy fic, so I'm glad it came out well. This one is the opposite of that, as you can tell, so hope it turns out nice.

There, in the middle of your room, was Nien — your roommate, your self-proclaimed coach, and the last person you want to see before 9 a.m. She was in a cropped hoodie and shorts, hair tied into a messy ponytail, cheeks slightly flushed as she warmed up… using two water jugs like makeshift dumbbells.

Even worse, she was smiling too. Bright. Cheerful. As if this was the most natural thing to be doing at the crack of dawn.

You lazily checked your phone. 7:03 a.m.

“I hate you,” you mumbled into your pillow and covered your head with the blanket. "I stayed up late last night, damn it…piss off, Nien…"

“Good morning to you too!” she chirped without missing a beat, clearly ignoring your groaning . Her voice was way too chipper for someone who had no business being awake this early.

You peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at her. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” She looked over her shoulder, cheeks flushed from exertion, that innocent smile of hers glowing like morning sunlight. “Disciplined?”

“Insane,” you corrected. "It's the weekend. Let me sleep, you jolly bean…"

She laughed, setting the jugs down with a soft clunk. “Come onnnn, you promised we’d go to the gym together today.”

You groaned louder, flipping onto your back. “No, you said, ‘Let’s go to the gym,’ and I said, ‘We’ll see.’ That’s not a promise, that’s just me thinking.”

Nien padded over, each step light and springy, the floor creaking softly under her socks. She crouched beside your bed, her expression hovering between amusement and mischief. “You’ve been saying ‘we’ll see’ since last month.”

“That’s called consistency,” you said, eyes still closed.

“Then consistently get up,” she countered.

You reached for the blanket again. “Not happening. Not today.”

A moment of silence. Then, her voice. Softer. Playful. “Come on. You said I could drag you out of bed if you bailed again.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you mumbled. “You’re too nice for that.”

Well. A soft whoosh, and then, betrayal. Your blanket was yanked off in one swift, merciless motion. The rush of cold morning air hit your skin like punishment. “Nien!” you shouted, curling up instantly.

She was laughing now, that innocent, bell-like laugh that made you want to simultaneously smile and file a noise complaint. “Get up, grumpy. We’ll miss the good treadmills.”

“You think I care about good treadmills?” you said, glaring at her. “The only treadmill I care about is the one that treads me back to sleep.”

“Wow.” She nodded seriously. “That’s a terrible line. You’re definitely awake now.”

You sighed dramatically and sat up, hair a mess, face still half-buried in your hand. “Tell me why the hell did I choose to live with you?”

“Because I do your laundry when you forget,” she said immediately, standing up straight and crossing her arms like she’d been waiting for that line.

“Once,” you muttered. “You did it once and haven’t stopped mentioning it.”

“It’s a good deed, I deserve credit.”

You squinted at her. “You mixed my white shirts with your pink hoodie.”

“Now they’re matching!” she said proudly. Completely unbothered.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. “You’re so annoying.”

“Annoyingly cute?”

You stared at her blankly. “…annoying, period.”

She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Wow. You’ve changed.”

“Yeah,” you said, dragging yourself out of bed, “I’ve changed into someone who wants to move out.”

“You say that every week,” she teased, already grabbing her gym bag. “And yet, here you are — my favourite roomie.”

“Only because the landlord won’t let me kick you.”

She grinned, leaning against the wall. “You like living with me.”

You looked up at her, the morning light from the window catching on her pink hair, her eyes dancing with mischief, her entire being radiating that unfair combination of wild and warmth, and sighed. “Sure, you can think of it that way.”

She chuckled, tossing you a water bottle. “Come on, tragic boy. Five minutes to get ready.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll carry you out in your pajamas. Bridal style.”

You blinked, half-daring her. “Don't you dare, muscle freak.” But to be fair, it does sound good in your head.

Her lips twitched. “Try me.”

You stared at her for a moment. The slight smirk tugging at her mouth, the way her stance screamed “I absolutely would”. Didn’t think this girl would make you rub your temples this early in the morning. “You’re not human.”

“Thank you,” she said brightly, as if you just complimented her. And by the time you stumbled into the bathroom to change, she was humming to herself and tying her sneakers by the door.

Somewhere between brushing your teeth and pulling your hoodie over your head, you realized that, for someone who claimed to hate mornings (disheveled, half-awake, annoyed), you couldn’t stop the smile on your face.

And that was the most annoying part of all.

-

7:30am, and the gym is already a live wire. Metal clanks, treadmills thrum, bass-heavy pop rattles the mirrors, and a chorus of strained grunts underlines everything. The air tastes faintly of chalk and protein shakes. And you want, with an aching passion, to be anywhere but here.

You fall a few steps behind Nien, who moves through the large space like she owns the layout and the playlist. Her pink ponytail bounces with each stride; her hoodie sleeves are pushed up just enough to flash the curve of a biceps that looks illegal on a person who smiles like a dandelion. At home she’s a cinnamon roll. Here she looks like she will effortlessly put you on a chokehold.

“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” you ask, dragging your feet toward the bag racks so your shoes hit the rubber floor slower than they should.

“Because deep down, you love taking care of your health, with me.” she replied, voice dripping with mischief.

“I don’t even love taking care of my own skin.” you muttered.

Nien laughed and handed you a towel. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Pretty sure I won’t, dummy.” you said, but you still followed her to the free weights like a responsible hostage.

You started your warmup — light curls, slow breathing, trying not to look like you wanted to go home. For a moment, you thought you were doing decent, doing your usual set. Until you looked over.

Nien, this girl. 

Seriously, she was in her zone. Fully locked in — no breaks, no wasted motion, just clean, economical lifts that look effortless. One set, two, three; her crop top clings to a frame that is all lean planes and subtle strength. Her face is flushed the kind of pink that says exertion, not stress, and she still manages that mischievous, almost innocent smile you’ve gotten used to.

She finished her reps, turned to you with a bright grin, and asked, “You good?”

You quickly looked away. “Yeah. Totally fine. Just… pacing myself.”

“Pacing yourself?” she repeated, smiling knowingly. “You’ve been lifting that same dumbbell for five minutes.”

“I’m focusing on form,” you said defensively. "and technique."

“Right. Sure.” She giggled  and went back to her next set, leaving you muttering under your breath about how she was a macho girl with an angelic face.

And then while you were on your third set, already feeling your arms tremble, you noticed her reflection in the mirror moving closer. Nien had finished her reps long ago, but instead of resting like a normal person, she was making her way toward you with that look. You know, the one that meant she was about to “help.”

“Your form’s off again,” she said, voice cutting through the music and clanking weights.

You exhaled through your teeth, trying to sound nonchalant. “I got it.”

“You don’t,” she replied simply, standing right behind you now. "You should take a— "

Before you could protest, you felt her presence — warm, solid, unmistakable. Her hand slid lightly between your shoulder blades, palm pressed flat against your back. “You’re rounding,” she murmured, adjusting your posture with gentle but deliberate pressure. “Keep this straight. Yeah, like that.”

You could feel every point of contact — the brush of her fingers through the thin fabric of your shirt, the heat radiating from her body as she leaned in to guide your movement, and the sweet perfume you saw her put on this morning. Her voice was low, steady, the faint sound of her breathing brushing past your ear. Great, a terrific way to stay in focus.

“Now, engage your core,” she said softly. Her hand moved down, resting lightly against your stomach, and your entire brain short-circuited. “Don’t let it relax while you lift.”

You swallowed hard. “Pretty sure it’s impossible to relax right now.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, resuming the lift. It definitely didn’t help that you decided to look at the mirror. You saw her. Nien. Too focused on getting you to the right form. You were too focused on the beads of sweat rolling down her abs instead. And you swallowed hard. Hard. The air between you suddenly felt thicker and heavier. Every breath sounded too loud, every heartbeat became annoyingly noticeable. Damn it, get your mind out of the gutter. It’s just Nien.

It’s just Nien…right?

“Better?” she asked softly, still close enough that her ponytail brushed your arm.

“Yeah,” you muttered, trying to sound normal. “Better.”

She stepped back finally, and you exhaled like you’d been holding your breath for hours. The air felt cooler without her there (annoyingly so).

Nien smiled, completely oblivious, wiping her hands on her towel. “See? I told you I’d make a good trainer.”

“Sure, totally.” you said, trying not to think about how close she’d been a second ago. "If they ignore your puppy eyes."

She laughed. Light, careless, the kind of laugh that made you think she really had no idea what she was doing to you.

You grabbed your bottle to quench your very much overdue thirst, then you saw them — two guys near the bench press. You caught the side glances, the subtle nods, the whispers that weren't as quiet as they thought. But then again, the gym was full of people looking at people. It wasn’t new, so you didn't want to assume.

Then they started moving closer.

Nien had gone back to her own set, focused, completely unaware that the two were making their slow approach, pretending to check weights near her area. You could already hear one of them mutter, “She’s cute as hell.” You tried to ignore it, you really tried. Not your business. Nien could handle herself. She's a grown up, after all.

And then they started approaching the aloof airhead. Great.

By the time the first guy spoke up  “Hey, you need a spot?”, she’d looked up, polite and caught off guard. Blinking with her puppy eyes, polite as ever. “Oh, no, I’m okay, thank you.”

“Come on,” his friend added, stepping closer. “You shouldn’t be lifting that alone. Dangerous for someone your size.”

You rubbed your temple and exhaled through your nose. Hard. Gosh, they really didn’t even try to hide. Sweaty, subtly contracting their muscles, straightening their back to flex their chests.

Nien just smiled awkwardly, trying to be nice. “Really, it’s fine. I do this a lot.”

They didn’t move. You could feel your patience slipping, tempting to just fling a 20kg weight idling next to you already. And by the time the second guy started flexing (actually flexing) and saying something about “training tips,” your leg moved before your brain did. One step, sharp, automatic. Then another. By the time your mind caught up, you were already standing between them. It got awkward immediately.

The guy blinked, clearly surprised. You blinked too, because you hadn’t exactly planned this.

“Uh…” you started, realizing you had no script for this scenario. “She—uh—she said she’s fine.”

The taller guy looked at you, a bit thrown off. “We were just—”

“Yeah, I heard,” you said quickly, trying to sound composed but feeling your heart thump a little too fast. “Just… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked, brow furrowing, a smirk creeping back. “We were only—”

“She said she’s fine,” you repeated, this time firmer.

Silence stretched for a beat. The guy’s friend shifted awkwardly. Finally, they both backed off with some muttered “chill, bro” and a shrug that was supposed to look confident but just looked uncomfortable. You exhaled through your nose and turned back to Nien, who was just staring up at you — a dumbbell still in hand, face slightly flushed but not from the workout.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I know,” you interrupted, rubbing the back of your neck. “My leg kinda… moved on its own.”

Her lips twitched, struggling not to laugh. “Your leg?”

“Yes. My leg. It moves by itself,” you said flatly. “My brain was still debating if I was bothered, but my leg just—” you gestured vaguely between you and the space she’d been standing in, “—did this uh…fucking thing.”

She giggled, covering her mouth. “That’s… very you.”

“Rude. What’s that supposed to mean?” You really tried to sound annoyed.

“Impulsive but pretending not to be,” she teased. “It’s cute.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat at your neck makes your retort sound thinner than you planned. “Whatever. Just. Don’t smile like that at random dudes, okay? You give them hope.”

“I was just being polite,” she said innocently.

“Polite doesn’t mean naïve,” you say, handing her a water bottle. “Not everyone is harmless.”

Her lips twitched. “You sound like my dad.”

“I sound like someone trying to prevent you from an awkward date. Or two. Or three.”

She laughs, light and unbothered, the kind that makes the gym noise recede for a second. “Ok dad, you worry too much.”

“And you don’t worry enough, Nien.”

“Then we balance each other out.” She hooks an elbow through yours teasingly, like a claim staked with a smile.

You glared half-heartedly. “You think this is funny?”

She nodded. “A little.”

You sighed and shook your head, muttering, “This girl, seriously…” before grabbing her wrist. “Come on. We’re done here.”

“What? But I still have two sets left!”

“You can do them tomorrow. Before you accidentally start having a line of guys I have to kick.”

She laughed again as you tugged her toward the exit. “You’re seriously dragging me out?”

“Yeah,” you said, pushing the gym door open. “You dragged me here. It’s only fair.”

-

Outside, the morning air was different. Crisp and cool it was, the kind that carried the faint scent of wet pavement and coffee from the café across the street. After the thick, sweaty heat of the gym, it felt like stepping into a reset button. You exhaled, muscles still faintly trembling, and your mind somewhere between annoyance and relief.

Your hand was still wrapped tightly around her wrist. You didn’t notice until you saw the pale contrast of her skin against your fingers. She didn’t say a word about it. Didn’t tease. Didn’t pull away. Just walked beside you, her sneakers scuffing lightly against the pavement, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Just the rhythm of your footsteps, the dull hum of early traffic, and the sound of her breathing beside you. Calm, steady, almost smugly peaceful.

Then she said it, voice soft but laced with that familiar teasing edge. “You really didn’t have to step in, you know.”

You glanced sideways at her. “Yeah, well, someone has to make sure you don’t get kidnapped by other muscle heads.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “So you were jealous.”

You stopped walking. “I wasn’t jealous.”

She stopped too, turning just enough to catch your face. Eyes glinting, lips curving into that grin you’ve learned to fear. “You totally were.”

You stared at her flatly. “Don’t even try.”

She only laughed, the sound light and disarming, before doing something that short-circuited your brain. This girl. This sly girl. She slipped her fingers between yours. Smooth, natural, like it wasn’t even a decision. 

“I knew you’d step in anyway,” she murmured, voice dropping to a sing-song whisper.

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Her eyes darted to yours, all mischief and sunlight. “Nothing~”

You sighed, half in defeat, half to hide the fact that your pulse just kicked up a notch. “You’re so damn fucking annoying.”

“I prefer cute,” she said cheerfully, squeezing your hand…and then tugging you forward.

“Ya—” you started, stumbling a little as she began to walk faster, practically dragging you down the street by your hand.

“Come on,” she said over her shoulder, grinning as bright as the sun that was finally cutting through the clouds. “You’re buying breakfast.”

“What—why me?!” you groaned, letting yourself be pulled along anyway.

“Because,” she said, turning around just long enough to flash that teasing smile that always spelled trouble, “you always do. Bleh.”

So then she just half-dragged, half-led you while humming some pop tune under her breath — light, breezy, entirely unbothered. And for a split second, you caught yourself smiling despite the ache in your arms and the little mischief she always brought into your life.

And that's when it hit you.

She definitely planned this. Every single second of it. From waking up to now, holding your hand like her favourite thing in the world.

“I’m… taking care of it.” You scoff, then smirk while locking your eyes on her glistening folds. “You said you wanted me to keep it inside you.” Your fingers gather the remaining cum around her cunt and push it inside her. “So I’m making sure none of it is wasted.”

“But Oppa. That was thirty minutes ago when I was insane.”

“Were you?”

“Yes.” She covers her face with both hands. “I was completely insane. I’m a normal person now.”

“Mhmm...”

She peeks at you through her fingers. The candles you prepared for your date night flicker. The plaid shirt and her white dress she had on earlier are scattered messily on the floor somewhere with your own set of clothes.

“Oppa.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Are you not tired yet? Don’t you need to drink water?”

“Don’t worry about me, baby.”

“Did you eat anything before coming here? You worked so hard.”

“Baby. For tonight, I’m taking care of you, ok? Stop and just enjoy. You’ve been really busy and tired recently. Taking care of your members and doing your best at work.”

“Thank you, Oppa. I’m sorry I can’t stop. It’s so automatic for me now.”

You press your fingers in deeper, slow, and her hips lift off the pillow. The sound she makes is small and surprised. The pillow has a wet spot under her now. Her hands find your wrist and grip it.

“Oppa~”

“Shh.”

She breathes out. Her thighs go slack. Her grip on your wrist softens.

“Okay, Oppa.” She can barely contain her moans. “Don’t take it out yet.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

She’s quiet for a few seconds. You feel her flex around your fingers. Everything is still where you put it.

“Oppa.”

“Yes, Lynn?”

“Are your fingers not tired yet? Are your knees okay? You’ve been kneeling for a while.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. You lean down and kiss the inside of her thigh, and your fingers stay where they are.

“My knees and fingers are fine, baby. Stop trying to take care of me. Let me take care of you, okay?”

“Mhm. Mhmmm..” Her eyes close. Her hands find your hair. “Okay. Just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight.”

She’s quiet again. Your fingers move slowly. Her breathing evens out. You think she’s drifting. Then—

“Oppa.”

“Yes, baby?”

“… you can start fucking me again if you want.”

“You sure, baby?”

“Yes. I love you.” She says in Japanese.

08:21 PM

Man, I’m starving.

You hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. There wasn't anything in the fridge yet except for a pack of water bottles and some banana milk. You would fill the fridge with proper food and ingredients tomorrow. Tonight was the night to go out for something hot and easy. You figured you deserved it all after all this. The stress, the move, the weeks of saving up and torturing your life into this place. You grabbed your wallet and your phone, slipped into your slides then walked outside. That was when you saw a woman sitting in front of the door across from yours, knees pulled to her chest and her head down. She was crying, so naturally you thought she was just locked out; it also sounded like she was trying hard not to make any noise but the helpless sound just slipped out anyway. But then you noticed how her hand trembled every time she reached for the doorlock. Denied. Denied. She was barely holding it together now.

Should I help her?

You were quite an introvert, therefore comforting strangers wasn’t really your thing. But leaving a woman alone like this didn’t feel right either. So you crouched down, voice low not to scare her when you spoke.

“Excuse me… A- are you okay?”

She flinched and paused for a few seconds before wiping at her face messily with the sleeve of her hoodie. Now that you got a clearer look of her face, the woman was gorgeous even in this state. And the mole directly under her eye instantly took your attention away. Once you notice it, you couldn’t look at anything else.

Wow…

Her lips trembled as she tried to press them together, and her hands kept shaking. You then cleared your throat softly, eyes back to the door lock.

“You’re using the fingerprint one, right?”.

Her head barely moved as she nodded, so you leaned in to check the side of the lock.

“Looks like it activated the anti break in thingy. Might happen if you try too many times. Can I… uh?”

She sniffed a few times before silently shifting to the side. You played around and found the tiny reset switch that most people didn’t know was there. 

Beep

Beep

“Okay. Should be fine now.”

Her hand hovered in the air for a second before she pressed her finger to the sensor, shoulder finally loosening as a familiar tune played when the door finally unlocked.

“Thank you…” 

You straightened up, stepping back a little on your knees to give her some space.

“Ah, no problem… Are you okay now?”

Well, that did it. Asking people if they were okay always seemed to do the opposite. Her breath  suddenly caught as her eyes flooded again, much more vulnerable this time. She even reached out to grab your t-shirt before you could even process what was going on and pulled you down toward her like she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She pressed her face into your chest, body shaking. Having never ever been in this type of scenario before, you didn’t know what to do, hands awkwardly in the air before slowly coming down to rest on her back, patting her there gently. You chose to stay there for her and let her cry. A lump formed in your throat but you swallowed it back. 

“It’s okay, okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

The hallway was quiet until someone had to walk past. Perfect timing. One of the guys from the floor above glanced your way, slowing down and raising his eyebrows at the scene.

“Hi… uh– nothing to see here.”

You gave a small wave at him before patting the girl on the back again. The guy nodded before shuffling past like he saw nothing. Kneeling in the hallway, holding a girl you didn’t even know; what a way to spend your first day at your new place. Her shoulders kept trembling with sharp breaths going in and out. You weren’t sure what else to do next so you just slowly lifted a hand and patted her on the head. The girl then nuzzled even closer into your shoulder, hands still clutching your t-shirt. A few minutes then passed just like that, quiet except for her crying and breathing. Eventually, she pulled back and wiped at her face.

“Are you okay now?”

She nodded and stayed silent for a few seconds. Her eyes were a little clearer when she looked back at you.

“What is your–” She sniffled, asking again softly. “What is your name?” 

Cute.

Letting out a quiet breath, you loosened your hold on her slowly like you were afraid she would break down again when you let go completely. You told her your name before asking her the same question.

“And yours?”

She wiped under her eyes, a smile barely on her lips.

“I’m Park Sohyun.”

“Okay… Park Sohyun-ssi.”

You scratched your neck, still awkward in your spot.

“Are you feeling a bit better now?”

“Ah, yes, yes... Thank you.” 

Sohyun let out a relieved sound before standing up and bowed a little. When you finally stood up, Sohyun turned and tapped her door to walk inside. You stood in the hallway for another second, staring at her door. Your shirt smelled just like her perfume. Nice, feminine, sophisticated. You rubbed your face and slowly dragged your feet downstairs, not forgetting why you stepped out in the first place.

A few minutes later, you sat at a small noodle spot near your place, metal chopsticks in one hand, your phone in the other. The steam rose from the kalguksu bowl into your face and fogged your glasses a bit, but you didn’t care. Your thumb scrolled through the gallery and paused on a familiar photo of your ex.

Seo Dahyun

Her angelic voice, her smile immediately flashed through your mind. Back then, you didn’t want to hear anything bad about her, even when your friends told you she was just using you and she kept you around because you were… easy. You didn’t believe them, or your dumbass just chose not to believe them. You were young, naive and thought loyalty would be everything. Then uni cam and Dahyun disappeared a month in. No warning, no breakup, no text, no fight. Gone completely. It hurt, it still did even if you tried to act tough like it didn’t. You knew you should’ve deleted her photos by now. But you didn’t.

You idiot.

Mind heavy with the crazy day, you put your phone down on the table and pushed the noodles around your chopsticks before finally taking the first bite. When you got home, you didn’t think of Dahyun again. Your mind instead went straight to the girl you’d just met. 

“Park Sohyun… Sohyun.”

“Pretty name.”

“And she’s pretty.”

Her shaking hands, how she’d clutched onto your t-shirt, the mole under her eyes, her soft round cheeks, her lips… You stared at your ceiling for a few minutes before finally tossing your phone somewhere on the mattress. For the first time in a long while, the memory of Dahyun hurt less, with a beautiful stranger filling the space tonight.

Dang, I have to clean up. Work and classes tomorrow…

────── ⋆⋅⋆ ──────

You were smart enough to get into a good school, enough to do what your parents wanted, medicine. When you said you were interested in fashion design, they didn’t exactly like it. They still loved you and saw you as their son, but you were on your own. No tuition help, no monthly financial help or money wired to your bank accounts like some of your classmates got. You worked your ass off to survive. Sometimes you thought about how things could’ve been if you chose to pursue the other route, about something your parents could brag to their friends. But it didn’t make sense. You wanted this life, so that meant you had to walk into design theory class at 9AM the next morning, then some fabric analysis class.

In the afternoon, you headed straight to your part time job. A small printing and production shop not far from home; it wasn’t glamorous but at least it paid the bills. You clocked out at around 5:30, body sore. On the way home, you stopped by the grocery store to get everything you needed to survive for the next week. When you eventually reached your floor, you stopped in your tracks. She was there.

Park Sohyun

Her hair was neatly tied back, leaving enough loose to fall around her round cheeks. Gray off-shoulder long sleeved top showing off one side of her frame, blue jeans, phone clutched in her hands like she wasn’t sure what to do next. She looked at you the moment she heard your footsteps. Her lips pressed together, eyes a little brighter. You didn’t expect Sohyun to look this stunning in only casual clothing. Well, to be fair, you only found her crying in front of her door last night.

“Hi.”

She waved awkwardly, voice shy.

“Ah– Hi, Sohyun-ssi. Do you need anything? Is anything wrong?”

“No, no– not at all.” she eyed the grocery bag in your hands. “Are you cooking tonight?”

“This? I think so… Umm, what’s wrong?’

“I was wondering…” her fingers gripped her phone tightly. “If I can cook something… for you? My place?”

“For me?”

Sohyun nodded, pink slowly rising to her cheeks. 

“To say thank you. For… you know, yesterday. I want to– umm, that.”

“Ah, oh… Su- sure. If you want to.”

“Great. Give me 20 minutes.” her lips curved into a soft smile. Then she turned, clumsily fumbled with her door and disappeared inside without looking back at you.

What the fuck just happened?

You quickly got inside your place and set the grocery bag on the small kitchen counter. Your shirt still smelled too much like the printing shop. Ink, sweat and fabric. Still sixteen minutes left when you looked at the clock, plenty of time. You then grabbed some clean clothes and jumped right into the shower. Getting out and finally changing, you wiped at the mirror with your palm and stared at yourself.

Why am I nervous? It’s not a date or anything. She’s just thanking me for yesterday. 

You sprayed on just a teeny tiny bit of cologne, hoping you wouldn’t smell too much like a try hard. Two minutes left. Close enough. All nervous and anxious, you walked to her door and lifted your hand to knock. The door opened a few seconds later with Sohyun holding a spatula in one hand, a pink checkered apron tied loosely around her waist, hair now tied into a loose ponytail. Her cheeks were pink, maybe from the heat while cooking.

“Wah.” you glanced at the spatula. “You’re really cooking.”

Sohyun giggled softly and stepped aside to let you in.

“Of course I am. Come in, please.” 

You finally stepped inside, the smell of food already filling the space. Sohyun’s place was a little similar to yours, but visibly bigger with more rooms and it actually had space to display things. Vinyl records lined on one wall, framed abstract paintings, a bunch of books stacked neatly on floating shelves, etc. She must work or do something in the creative field for a living. Your guess? A musician, and definitely way better off than you were. You were still standing dumbfounded when Sohyun tiptoed into your view, spatula wiggling in the air.

“Uhm, so… what do you think? Of the place and all?”

You glanced around for a few seconds more, eyes drifting to the records again.

“It’s nice. Way nicer than mine.”

“Eh… it’s not that nice.”

“I mean, it’s not a shoebox like mine so… way better.”

That actually made her laugh. She then pointed the spatula at the dining table near the kitchen.

“Umm, sit down, please. I’m almost done cooking.”

“...Okay, thank you.” 

You pulled out a chair and dropped into it, elbows on the table, palms slightly warm as she got back to cooking.

“So are you in uni or… working right now? You look young.”

“Umm, I’m in Hongik. Fashion design.”

Based on the way she gasped, you knew Sohyun wasn’t expecting that one at all. 

“Oh wah, really?”

“Yes, I got in through Suneung, somehow.”

Sohyun hummed, stirring whatever she was cooking.

“So what about you, Sohyun-ssi?”

“I make music. Produce stuff and… a bit of dancing every once in a while.” she glanced over her shoulder.

“That explains it. You look like a very artistic person.”

Sohyun laughed softly under her breath, tapping the spatula against the pot.

“Is that a compliment?”

“It is, I’m not joking.”

Sohyun pursed her lips before turning her attention back to the pot. Maybe she wasn’t used to hearing it directly.

“May I ask how old you are?” you asked.

“I was born in 2002. So I’m 24 now.”

“Ah, so… noona. I’m two years younger.”

…

”Noona is… good.”

A few minutes then passed, not exactly awkward but neither of you said much. When Sohyun finished cooking and grabbed two plates, you stood up to offer help.

“I got it, noona.”

Sohyun shook her head quickly, hugging them close to her body.

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re the guest, just sit.”

No matter how hard you insisted, Sohyun wouldn’t let you help her so you eventually settled back into your seat. She then brought the plates over and set the food carefully on the table. Stomach growling the second you saw them, you mumbled.

“Thanks for the meal, noona. These look delicious.”

“You’re welcome.” she smiled.

You then picked up your chopsticks, grabbing a piece of food and blowing on it a bit before putting it in your mouth. It tasted just as good as it looked.

“Wow.” your mouth were still chewing. “This is actually really good, noona.”.

“You’re just bluffing.”

“I’m not. I’ve be–” you swallowed. “I’ve been eating convenience store sandwiches for the past week, I know what bad tastes like.”

That made Sohyun laugh a bit loudly, a genuine and dorky sound that made her regret it instantly. She stopped, eyes widening with her hand flying up to cover her mouth. 

“Sorry.” she mumbled behind her fingers, cheeks flushed.

“It’s okay, noona. It’s… cute.”

Sohyun looked back down to her bowl for an instant before finally eating. After a few more quiet bites, you gathered up the courage to ask.

“Noona, can I ask you something?”

Sohyun looked up from her bowl, food full in one cheek.

Cute.

“Hmm?”

“You said you produce music and stuff, right?”

She nodded.

“How’d you get into that?”

She stayed quiet a little more, chewing slowly to buy time. 

“I was an idol trainee.”

“Really?”

Sohyun smiled. “Yeah, for a few years.”

“What happened?”

“It didn’t work out, I guess. They said I wasn’t the right fit. Good dancing, good singing but lacking in something. I changed companies several times too.” her voice stayed calm, but you could tell there was something about the memories. “They all said I was lacking something… Guess I didn’t look pretty enough.”

“But you look so pretty…”

Her cheeks flushed again. 

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not, noona.”

Sohyun kept her head down, but you didn’t miss how her mouth was twitching to hide another smile from coming out.

“So you just switched to producing?” 

“Yes, I also do a bit of dancing every now and then but…” her fingers played with her bowl. “I already spent a lot of time training and music still is something I’m very passionate about.”

“Wow… so you’re making your own stuff now?”

“Mm. Songs and demos. Some for small companies. I got lucky and produced for a few big companies a few weeks back. Sometimes I just make music for myself. It’s more like a freelance job. Not stable or fancy but… I got myself this place.”

You leaned back in your chair, eyes scanning her living space again.

“That’s really amazing, noona.”

“Thanks. What about you?”

“Me?”

Sohyun nodded, chin in her hand now that the awkward vibe earlier had probably died down a little.

“You said you’re studying fashion design?”

“Ah, that’s right.”

“That’s cool. I haven’t met many guys who chose to pursue this type of career.”

“My parents weren’t really happy with my decision. They want me to be a doctor like my dad.” Sohyun stayed quiet, listening and humming. “So… I’m on my own for now. Tuition, rent and all of it. Part-time job pays the bills somehow.”

Sohyun pursed her lips, those bright round eyes looking at you with a hint of pity that looked too adorable.

“That must be tough.”

“It’s not that bad, noona. At least I get to have dinner cooked by you.”

The two of you kept talking as you ate; conversations flowed between small stories, random jokes and bits of your life you didn’t usually share with someone who you’d just met yesterday. But it felt nice somehow. By the time you finished the meal, the room felt much lighter than before. Sohyun stood up first to gather the plates. You tried to help but she waved you off again, moving towards the sink. You followed her anyway, standing close behind as she rinsed the dishes with her back to you, pink checkered apron still around her waist. The off-shoulder top slipped just a little as she moved, revealing more of her bare shoulder. You then stepped closer, lifting your hands gently to grip her shoulders lightly. Sohyun tensed up the second one hand landed on her bare shoulder, her skin soft under your palm as you ease her back. 

“I got this, noona. You already cooked.”

Despite letting out an annoyed sound, Sohyun didn’t resist. She slowly stepped aside and took off her apron to let you take over. Sohyun leaned against the kitchen counter and watched you work. When you finished and dried your hands, she shifted on her feet.

“You… You wanna go into my bedroom?”

“Huh!?” 

Caught off guard, your ears burned at the sudden offer. Sohyun looked just as flustered, waving her hands quickly. 

“N– No! No! Not like that! I just meant like…” she rubbed her arm awkwardly. “I wanna show you my music stuff. My work.”

“Ah, okay, noona.”

She bit her lips, looking away for a second.

“Sorry. I’m awkward sometimes.”

You laughed quietly, playing with your pockets.

“That makes two of us then.”

Sohyun led the way into her room. The second you walked in, you noticed the scent first, warm and nice, something expensive. Sohyun’s bedroom looked exactly like her. Creative, a little sophisticated but beautifully decorated. Vinyl records were on the walls again. Next to them was a small shelf with perfume bottles of different colors and shapes. There were also books stacked on floating shelves, some leaning over others. Across the bed, there was a TV mounted on the wall. Near the door was her workspace. A desk set up with her PC, a musical keyboard, an electric guitar and some other musical stuff that you had no idea what they were. Her chair creaked softly as she sat down. Sohyun then reached over and pulled out another chair, sliding it out to you as her eyes looked up at you.

“Sit, sit.”

Your cheeks heated up a little at the soft offer, but you played it cool. You took the seat next to her, close enough that your knees almost touched. Sohyun started clicking through a few folders on her computer.

“Do you know tripleS?” she asked, glancing at you.

“Umm, I’ve heard a few of their songs.”

Her lips twitched, holding back a grin.

“I actually produced quite a few for them.”

“Seriously? That’s crazy, noona.” you gasped.

“Not the title tracks. Just some b-sides. Some backing vocals and mixing jobs too.”

Sohyun opened a file and dragged the timeline to some specific parts. Then she grabbed a headphone on the armrest and gently slipped it gently over your ears. Her hands brushed the sides of your face for a second, it wasn’t a grand gesture but enough to make your heart jump. The music played, clean and crisp in your ears. While you listened, you felt her eyes watching you attentively with a proud smile. Her body leaned just slightly toward you, eager to see your reaction. When the song ended, you pulled the headphones down, genuinely impressed

“That was great, noona. You’re so cool.”

Sohyun tried to hide the way her cheeks flushed but to no avail, fiddling with her mouse again.

“Do you know Heejin?” 

Your eyes widened at the mention of the name.

“Heejin? Jeon Heejin?”

Sohyun nodded like it was no big deal. 

“Yup! Her. We’re actually friends. I worked on a song for her recently but it’s not out yet.”

“No way.” you almost fell out of your chair. “I’m a huge fan of her, noona.”

Sohyun laughed, that same shy and dorky laugh you were starting to get addicted to. She covered her mouth with her hand again, her eyes squinting from laughing too hard. “I’ll definitely tell her that.”

“What else do you have to hide from me, noona? You’re secretly famous?”

“Uh… I told you I dance.”

“Mm hmm?”

“I was in Twice’s Cheer Up MV. Just a background actor though.”

“No way!”

“I was a backup dancer on stage for Momoland once. I was called in last minute.”

You let out a loud gasp. 

“Can you show me that one?”

Sohyun hesitated, biting her bottom lip. 

“Ah… do I really have to?”

“Yes!” you insisted, leaning closer. “Please, noona. I wanna see.”

Sohyun groaned softly but clicked on Youtube anyway, pulling up a saved video. The moment the performance started, your eyes were glued to the screen to find her. Not too long into the video, Sohyun showed up in a wide shot–

“There you are, noona! Look at you!”

You pointed at the screen excitedly, mouth wide like you’d just spotted something worth a fortune. Sohyun let out a whiny laugh and tried to cover your eyes with both hands.

“Yah! Don’t look.”

You laughed, grabbing her wrists and holding them back. 

“No! Let me see– Come on!”

“No! Don’t watch it–”

“I want toooo!”

Sohyun kept trying to block your view, both of you laughing like idiots. In the middle of all that, you lost your balance as the chair titled back just slightly and you fell to the ground.

“Oh fuc–”

You landed hard with your back against the floor. Sohyun fell right on top of you, her body pressing tightly against yours. Her face hovered dangerously close, scent filling something in you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, noona…”

Her lips looked so good, breath a little shaky. Both your cheeks were flushed but neither made a move to sit up first. Thus, you cupped Sohyun’s round cheeks, thumbs brushing the soft skin right under her eyes. Still, she didn’t break away from your touch and kept eye contact, her pupil dilating. You didn’t think much and just kissed her. It was soft at first as you tested the line. But Sohyun kissed you back, breath catching in her throat. Your heart raced, fearing you stepped over the line too much now. You pulled back only to see Sohyun both shocked and breathless. You thought a slap or a punch would come next, eyes almost closing to prepare for a hit when Sohyun leaned in again.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to kiss you like th–”

Sohyun cut you off with a kiss, this time harder with her hands gripping your shirt tight. Her mouth parted slightly, breath hot against yours. You saw your chance and slid your hands down her back before holding her waist. When Sohyun broke the kiss, she sat up and shifted her hips to sit on your stomach now. The room felt weird, the good kind of weird, as she looked down at you with a pleased and shy smile.

“I– uh…”

“That happened fast.”

“It did…” your heart pounded like crazy. “I swear I didn’t mean to kiss you like that, noona.”

Sohyun put her hands on your chest, feeling the way your heart beat.

“Ah, no, no… I also liked it. A lot more than you think.”

Relieved and happy at the same time, you let out a long sigh that you didn’t even know you were holding. Sohyun giggled at the sight before offering.

“Wanna watch… I don’t know, watch the performance again? We missed half of it.”

“Okay. That sounds good.”

Sohyun shifted happily on your stomach, adjusting herself to get ready to stand up but as she moved, her hands slid down and accidentally pushed at your crotch. The moment Sohyun realized where her hand touched, her eyes went wide, cheeks evolving from pink to straight red.

“Aah–”

You coughed to cover up the embarrassment, face also heating up. Sohyun quickly jerked her hand back like she was electrocuted, voice coming out panicked.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that! I wasn’t tryin–”

You sat up, just as flustered.

“It’s fine, noona. Really.”

Sohyun quickly scrambled off your lap, fixing her hair. She helped you up, eyes looking everywhere but your face. Once you both stood up, Sohyun let out a shaky breath and gestured to you to sit back. The mood was now back into awkward territory. You both sat in silence, your knees touching. 

“So, uh…” she fidgeted with the mouse, trying to break the silence. “What kind of music do you usually listen to?”

“Lately? Umm, a lot of sad music. Heartbreak and those stuff, you know.” 

“Why?”

And for some reason, you let it all out about Dahyun. Maybe it was because of the way Sohyun was looking at you like she actually wanted to listen. She put on a moody playlist as the night went on. She asked. You answered. Back and forth. By the time you finished, Sohyun was pouting, her lips downward as she spoke like she was afraid she might break you.

“That’s so sad…“

She scooted her chair closer, the music still playing in the background and matching the mood. 

“I’m sorry you went through it all like that, really.”

Her hands reached out, fingertips on your sleeves like she wasn’t sure if she should hold your hands yet. You sat there for a moment, shy and scared at the same time.

“Noona…”

Sohyun hummed. Still too nervous, you gathered your remaining courage and took your shot.

“This thing tonight, you’re feeling the same as I do, right?”

She looked at you for a long second, her eyes soft and reflecting the glow from the monitor. Then, with a small nod, she spoke.

“Yes, don’t worry. I feel the same thing too.”

Like on command, first the relief hit you, then came the warmth from her words, reaching every corner and untangled something that you’d thought to be unresolvable. You smiled, the attempt weak but it grew the moment she smiled back. None of this made sense. You’d just met yesterday and hadn’t even figured out what her favorite movie was or what she liked to eat. And yet, it felt like you’d found the exact place to put your feelings again, all on a girl who looked at you like you weren’t just a stranger less than twenty four hours ago.

“Can I, uh–”

“Hmm?” Sohyun tilted her head, smiling to encourage you. “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

“Can I hug you now, noona?”

She chuckled at your silly question, eyes curving, lips still plump from the kisses earlier.

“Of course, you can. You’re so cute.”

You leaned in and circled your arms around Sohyun, pulling her into you slowly and not too rough, not too fast, just enough to feel her warmth again. She hugged you back, chin fidgeting gently on your shoulder. Then, still in the hug, her low and giggly voice arrived in your ear.

“Can you give me your phone?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s exchange numbers and SNS.” Sohyun pulled her head back with a smile. “We just met yesterday, you know. Gotta make sure you don’t move out and disappear on noona tomorrow, right?”

Silly you.

“Ah. Right, right.”

You fumbled to fish out your phone from your pocket and handed it to her, still holding her with one arm. Sohyun took it, but the second the screen lit up, she paused and squinted at the lockscreen.

“Aeng?”

She broke the hug. Her lower lip puffed out, eyebrows scrunching together as she tried to pull the best ‘offended’ acting that she could, waving the phone with Heejin as your lockscreen.

“Yah, seriously?! Jeon Heejin?”

“Ah, that… It’s not like– Wait, noona.”

Your finger struggled to unlock the phone, already messing up the passcode twice. Sohyun’s lips were already twitching upward, the fake angry smirk she kept trying to hold only made her impossibly cute. You just couldn’t take her seriously anymore.

“So you like her in that way?”

“She’s just an idol, noona. And I already, I mean… I told you I’m a fan earlier.”

“Mm hmm. Fanboy.” Sohyun pretended to study the photo before closing in on you like a suspect. “Who else? Better tell me everything tonight or we are done, pretty boy.”

That ‘pretty boy’ did great damage to you, though you hid it well. Scratching your cheek, you tried not to smile so hard.

“Uh… I like IVE, Twice too. Maybe a little of– But I swear, if you give me a chance, noona… I’ll forget them all, instantly.”

Sohyun let out a small laugh before pinching your cheek.

“So you really like pretty women, hmm?”

“I mean…” you stared back into her twinkling eyes. “Seems like I do.”

She put more effort into the pinch before finally letting go and rubbing over the same spot.

“Hmph. Such a smooth talker.”

“Only when I mean it.”

“But it’s okay. I’m just glad that you think I’m pretty too. Just make sure to keep room for noona in your heart too, okay?”

---

Later that night, everything was dark except for your bright phone screen. You were on the bed, almost half an hour deep in Sohyun’s instagram.

@sohyunz14 / 24k followers

You didn’t mean to stalk that hard, but here you were liking a post from two months ago, thumb hovering over the screen like you had no self control. Her feed was full of mirror selfies, studio clips, old dance practice videos, etc. And Sohyun was beautiful in all of them. Your heart did a flip every time you saw a new picture. How could a human being be this beau–

Sohyun texted.

[박쌤 ^^] what are u doing? stalking me?

You shouldn’t have liked her old photos, you idiot.

[러버보이] … I can’t help it, noona ur so beautiful [박쌤 ^^] ㅋㅋㅋ ur smooth so when u wanna be i don’t mind it tho but i like you flustered much better [러버보이] u know what u do to me, noona u clearly know i’m weak when u talk like that [박쌤 ^^] hmmm… yeah? i like knowing i can do that to u but don’t worry, i’m shy too

You smiled uncontrollably like a teenager at her answers. But your mind drifted back to earlier. Yes, that was something but you still knew your relationship wasn’t clearly defined yet. It was too risky to start something new in just under two days. And you couldn’t help it when the memory of Dahyun crept up again. What if Sohyun was just like Dahyun? What if she left you when things just got happy?

[러버보이] noona, we just met. i clearly like u a lot but… what are we right now?  friends or the some stage?

You then immediately lock your phone and stared at the ceiling, clearly expecting an honest answer. 

[박쌤 ^^] i’m a bit scared too but i want to honest with u, i like u a lot even though we just met maybe we are at the some stage... and i would like to get to know u more is that ok?

Your heart wanted to dive straight in, but your mind still hesitated; more than friends and less than lovers? For some reason, things felt different with Sohyun, real enough to encourage you to try. You took a breath and let your fingers do their thing.

[러버보이] that’s good for me too, noona [박쌤 ^^] it’s good for me tooo~ i’m really glad we found each other u made me feel very safe and happy, last night and tonight [러버보이] i couldn’t just leave u like that, noona also… can i have a few of ur pictures… pls so that i can change my lockscreen photo?

You made an attempt, might as well, right? 

[박쌤 ^^] not now, pretty boy gotta keep u waiting sometimes

Just as you were about to sigh, another message came in.

[박쌤 ^^] but here… u were so cute tonight these are not from tonight. i’m wearing a clay mask so cant show you that yet ㅋㅋㅋ these are old photos

Sohyun was gorgeous in all of them. But your heart tripped the moment your focus went to her moles. The most special one was the one under her right eye, a tear mole. She looked so damn hot. It felt like texting your crush in middle school all over again. Only now you were grown, and this time it was real.

[박쌤 ^^] do u have classes tomorrow? wanna go out for coffee or smth? [러버보이] i got classes… and part time job too. [박쌤 ^^] that’s a shame… [러버보이] I knowwww how about tomorrow night, noona? [박쌤 ^^] then go to sleep ㅋㅋㅋ we’ll talk about this later, we still have a lot of time u will get tired if we keep texting like this  [러버보이] but i wanna talk with u more, noona… [박쌤 ^^] we will have time don’t make noona scold u sleep now, pretty boy [러버보이] pls…

You were absolutely down bad at this point.

[박쌤 ^^] ㅋㅋㅋㅋ ur so needy but i like it a lot sleep. noona will text u in the morning. sleep well~~

You texted her good night and locked your phone. You tried to close your eyes, you actually did but a stupid smile was stuck on your face, keeping you from a good night sleep. For the first time in a long while, you weren’t thinking about a certain someone named Seo Dahyun at all.

────── ⋆⋅⋆ ──────

Over the next few weeks, you and Sohyun started to spend more time together. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident. She came over whenever she was bored, curling up on your tiny couch with her laptop while you sketched out ideas for design. Sometimes you worked in silence, sometimes she played random demos that she was working on while asking ‘How does this sound?’. You went over to her place whenever she had some problem she didn’t want to deal with alone. Broken switches, fixing the lights in her bedroom, replacing the shower-head, etc. She would stand behind you, tiptoe over your shoulder while you worked, always close enough for you to smell her perfume. Sometimes she cooked for you. Sometimes you just ordered food and ate side by side on the floor, already happy with each other’s presence. When you came home exhausted from work or school, Sohyun was always there. Whether it was a simple text like ‘come over, pretty boy’ or just her addictive voice, humming to call you in the hallway. The both of you also got to a point where you just added each other’s fingerprints on your door locks.

At first, you thought Sohyun was the cool, mysterious type. She looked like that on the outside. Low toned voice, chic and cool girl wardrobe; Sohyun was full of girl crush vibe, always in public with a ‘don’t care about anything’ attitude. But the more time you spent with her, the more you realized.

Park Sohyun was an absolute dork, an adorable one at that.

She laughed at weird memes you showed her, the same ones your friends thought were stupid. She randomly made weird cute sounds all day. And she had a lot of aegyo, not the forced kind either, but the natural ones that just slipped out naturally. Whenever you caught her doing it, she’d whine and get all pouty.

---

“Noona, did you just say ‘kyuuu~’ while pouring ramyeon?” “Shut up… Don’t look at me.” - “Why were you dancing like that, noona?” “I didn’t!” - “Stop pouting or I’m gonna cut your lips off, noona.” “No, you wouldn’t! And I wasn’t pouting.” - "You're older than me, noona. You should know how to do this." "But I don't know how to install it and I might mess up the whole PC! Please help me~" "Is this the same Park Sohyun who scolded me over forgetting to turn off the stove yesterday?" "Just... I don't know~ Help me~"

---

And there was one more thing you learned about Park Sohyun. She liked to act all tough and older. The noona who teased you first. The one who called you loverboy, pretty boy and always said ‘don’t make noona scold you.’ But said noona would fold so easily the second you tried to retaliate and take back control. And she’d never admit it. If you tugged her wrist and made her sit down? Folded. If you cornered her a little, stared into her eyes for a few seconds too long? Folded. If you tsked and stared at her like you were actually annoyed (even though you weren’t ever like that)? Folded.

---

You were both sitting on the floor at her low table one night, bowls of spicy jjajang tteokbokki between you. Some comedy movie was playing on the TV. You were about to take another bite when she leaned in with a napkin to wipe at the corner of your lips.

“Messy again~” Sohyun cooed, so proud of herself. “Aigoo, do you need noona to feed you all the time?”

That cute smug look on her face, the way it always was when she tried to act in control.

“Such a baby sometimes.” she wiped at the same spot again even though they were already gone. “What would you do without me, hmm?”

You let it happen at first, let her play the role. But Sohyun kept pushing. Calling you baby and looking at you like she had you wrapped around her finger. So this time you decided to flip the script just for fun. You caught her wrist so fast she was actually startled before pulling her right into your lap. Her body went stiff the second she rested sideways on your lap.

“Yah...”

You cupped both of her squishy cheeks with one hand easily, fingers rubbing that soft feature of hers that always distracted you.

“Look at you now, noona. All that talk but you lose so easily.”

“No, I don’t…”

You squished her cheeks again. Her eyes went wide, though she made no effort to escape. Then you picked up a piece of tteokbokki from the bowl on the table.

“Say ahh.”

Her cheeks flushed red but she didn’t pull away. Slowly and shyly, Sohyun opened her mouth for you to feed her. Satisfied, you dropped the chopsticks into the bowl before holding her waist close, keeping her secure in your lap. When she finally swallowed, she peeked at you through her lashes.

“I only lose this time.”

"I let you lose and win, noona."

"You wish, pretty boy."

"Keep telling yourself that, Doraemon."

-

It was a slow Saturday evening, no work, no classes. You’d come over to help Sohyun cook, or at least that was what she said.

“You can’t cook.” Sohyun handed you a bowl of vegetables and teased. “You barely survived boiling ramyeon last time, idiot.”

You rolled your eyes at her ridiculous and outdated statement.

“That was one time, Doraemon. I’ve leveled up since then.”

“Yah~ Don’t call me Doraemon.”

The kitchen smelled amazing already ten minutes in. Sohyun was at the counter, focused on cutting carrots while you stood by the sink washing the greens. The vibe was cozy, soft with Sohyun humming some tunes that she’d been working on. Just all you needed after a week full of classes and work.

“Noona.”

“Mmm?”

“You don’t trust me with that sharp thing?”

“Of course not, pretty boy. That’s why you’re on washing duty, not cutting.”

You snorted, shaking water droplets at her.

“Okay. Just so you know, I’m actually hurt. But whatever, you do what you want, noona.”

Sohyun smirked as she looked at you.

“You’re cute when you sulk, you know that?”

“I don’t sulk.”

“You do. ‘I’m sulking and pouting’ is literally written on your face right now.”

You denied, still rinsing the greens.

“Sure you’re not, you big baby.”

The two of you worked in silence for a while. Then suddenly, her hip nudged yours as she tried to reach the plate next to you.

“Move, lover boy.”

Playing the petty card, you stepped to the side only an inch and stayed put.

“Say please, noona.”

“Excuse me?”

“Manners, you know.”

Sohyun gave a small laugh through her nose, glaring at you like she was actually annoyed.

“Yah, you’re getting bold lately.”

“Maybe I’ve been learning from you.”

Sohyun bumped her hip into yours again with a grunt. Still, you didn’t move.

“Still not moving?”

“Nope.”

That was when she started to push harder while laughing under her breath.

“Yah! Move.”

“Careful.” 

You warned with your eyes focused on the knife, wobbly in her hand. But Sohyun only giggled harder and tried again, this time putting more weight into it.

“Don’t tell me what to do–”

“Wait, noon–”

The knife slipped from her hold and glazed across her finger. The sound Sohyun let out broke whatever remaining playful energy left in the air as she immediately dropped the knife onto the counter and hissed, holding her hand close to her chest.

“Yah… Didn’t I tell you to be careful?” your heart pounded as you held her wrist. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s okay. Just a small cut.” Sohyun winced.

“Tiny or not, you’re still bleeding, idiot. You should’ve paid more attention.”

You quickly opened the top cupboard and pulled out a bandaid, carefully wrapping it around her finger. “There… That should help it.”

Sohyun didn’t answer. You looked at her face, seeing her huffing quietly with her lips pressed, eyes turned away. The playful sparkle earlier was gone, the quiet pout that had just taken over told you she wasn’t that angry, just hurt from how you raised your voice. So you leaned down closer to catch her eyes.

“Noona. Park Sohyun.”

She moved her eyes to the side, now suddenly interested in the spoons and chopsticks rack.

“Come on, noona… Don’t ignore me.”

Still nothing. You sighed and stepped closer, hands quickly finding her hips.

“Yah! What are you d–”

Despite Sohyun resisting for a moment with her palms pushing at your shoulders, she eventually gave up with a quiet groan as you gently lifted her up and set her down on the counter. You stayed there in front of her, so close that her legs almost wrapped around your waist.

“Noona, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to yell. You bled and I didn’t know how bad it was.”

Sohyun kept her arms crossed, still stubbornly staring at the far wall.

“I know I shouldn’t have snapped. You know I didn’t want you to get hurt, noona.”

…

“You’re really not gonna talk to me, really?”

The only response was the rise and fall of her shoulder, nothing audible and no look your way. So you did the only thing you could think of, catching her cheeks with both hands and stretching them out.

“Answer me, Doraemon. Answer meee.”

“Yah!” finally, she squeaked.

“Come on. At least glare at me properly.”

Sohyun tried to, eyes burning with the fakest hint of anger, cheeks pulled out like mochi. An absolutely adorable sight.

“There it is. That almost looks like a smile.”

Sohyun could only keep the frown alive for a few seconds longer before a tiny, stifled laugh found its way out and turned into a giggle.

“Stop! It hurts.” she slapped your hands away. "You're so childish sometimes."

"But you're not mad anymore, right?"

Sohyun paused and pretended to think, the faint marks of your attack were quite still visible on her adorable cheeks.

"Hmm... Maybe just a little?"

---

You never said it out loud but you liked that version of her, the Sohyun that dropped her tough facade, cheeks pink, voice soft all of sudden when she lost the upper hand. And maybe she liked it too. Because sometimes, when you caught her sneaky glances, you just got the feeling she was feeling the same thing you were.

Love?

Your relationship with Sohyun was steady and full of happy moments. It wasn’t exactly boyfriend-girlfriend yet. But the late night texts, the hanging out, the teasing, the way she let you hold her whenever things got too tough… Yeah, it was definitely more than just friends. Still, having no label didn’t bother you just yet.

────── ⋆⋅⋆ ──────

One night, you were lying on your bed, scrolling on your phone when you got the notification that @sohyunz14 was currently live on Instagram. You tapped it without much thinking. The screen soon showed Sohyun swaying to a demo she’d worked on the other day, glancing at the chat every now and then, hands dancing on the touchpad of her laptop. She barely had any makeup on, a thin cardigan on top of a black shirt. But damn did she look good. Her skin looked so soft, even only under the brightness of that one light she only turned on whenever she went live. About 400 people were watching, most of them were Sohyun’s usual crowd. People who liked her music, tripleS stans, some close friends, etc. 

“Of course, of course, I will be only playing this part today guys… Stop rushing me please.” Sohyun’s usual low voice sounded so soft, humming to the beat as she read the comments.

You recognized a few usernames popping up, spamming hearts and emojis; so you couldn’t resist.

noona look so good today

Sohyun’s reaction was instant. The second she spotted your comment, both of her hands flew up to fix her hair, as if she didn’t look good already. She then leaned in to move the phone, the other resting around her cheek, shyly mumbling.

“Noona looks so good today? Stop it, pretty boy.”

The chat immediately blew up.

pretty boy? what did she said lmao? explain girlie. ㅋㅋㅋㅋ who was that park sohyun

The other viewers who didn’t speak Korean had no idea what was happening. 

chuu from loona stop spamming stupid shit damnit

Sohyun let out a quiet laugh, her voice playful.

“Ah, you guys don’t need to know everything. Something are just private, okay?”

You’d spent enough time with her at this point to tell that Sohyun liked it. And you typed again.

pls give me a close up of your face noona im your biggest fan

Sohyun muttered your comment, almost like she was teasing herself.

“Biggest fan… this boy.”

Sohyun then flicked her hair and picked the phone up. She tilted the phone horizontally, moving them back and forth close to her face, trying to find a good angle with her cheek now on the back of her other hand. A damn good sight.

“Okay, okay. close up service just for you.”

Sohyun then giggled, but the way she looked at the screen made it feel personal. The chat then blew up even more.

that guy got special fan service omfgg this is not fairrrr unnie witchhunt tomorrow, we bring him down

She stayed like that for a few seconds before holding the phone with both hands. Her lips now pressed out in a pout, cheeks puffed a little. Then she started swaying her head side to side, just to mess with you. You could clearly see her lips twitching before she finally broke into a smile, all soft and shy.

“Ah… I swear I will get you tomorrow, pretty boy.”

The chat exploded again.

who tf is that lucky guy what about me noona???? pls notice me stream ‘girls never die’ by triples pls guyzz I love le serrafim

You stayed until the end of the live, lying there with your phone heating up in your hand. The chat was still going crazy when Sohyun tried to end the live.

“Okay, everyone. I’m ending the live now.” she waved goodbye. “Thank you for hanging out with me tonight. I’ll see you next time, okay? Be good.”

Then it ended. A few moments later, you got a few messages from her.

[박쌤 ^^] yah… why were u always messing with noona like that? u trying to embarrass me in front of 400 people? [러버보이] trying to remind noona that i’m her biggest fan that’s all ㅋㅋㅋㅋ [박쌤 ^^] next time i’m muting u ur such a meanie

You knew Sohyun was smiling when she typed that.

[박쌤 ^^] but thank you… for reminding me that i’m pretty

You stared at it for a bit, smiling like a dumbass.

[러버보이] noona, can u come over tomorrow? i gotta design some womenswear for class… i got some ideas already and i think it’d look good on you [박쌤 ^^] ㅋㅋㅋㅋ are u asking me to model for u? [러버보이] well, who else? you’re my muse now, noona [박쌤 ^^] fine but only if you buy me something to eat. [러버보이] deal

────── ⋆⋅⋆ ──────

The sun was high enough to shine through your window when she came over the next morning, playing its role in making a normal and lived in kind of peace. Sohyun was lying with her head on your lap, one hand turning the pages of her book, the other shifting her black glasses. Everything was good, just short of perfect because the one thing that had been bothering you the past weeks. Sohyun wasn’t your girlfriend yet.

You sat almost fully slouched near the end of the couch with your sketchpad balanced on the armrest, moving the pencil in lazy strokes. It was moments like this that made everything else fade out. The part time job, the classes, the deadlines. And out of habit, you glanced down at the older girl. Sohyun’s face was calm, eyes tracing the letters behind the lenses as she read. Every now and then, she would bite her lip when she found something interesting, or exhaled softly like she was lost somewhere deep inside her own thoughts, or just to sing her favorite songs.

“침 묻혀줄래? 꼬집어줄래?

날 넘겨줄래? 읽어봐 줄래? 갈피를 꽂아줄래?...”

You smiled to yourself, thinking that Sohyun really had it all. Looks, brains, taste. She moved through life like she’d figured it all out. Maybe she had, making everything around seem a little more beautiful just by being there. But you? You were just a university kid trying to balance sketches and shifts, chasing some hazy dreams that sometimes felt too far away. Yet here Park Sohyun was. In your apartment, head on your lap while she read. You remembered telling yourself having no label was fine, but now… it was starting to get to you.

Would this last? Would this ever become something more?

You let your pencil fall still, lost in the thought.

“Why’d you stop drawing?”

Her voice made you blink and look down. Sohyun was now peering up at you from your lap, smiling with her eyes full of curiosity.

“Hmm? Just thinking about… you know, the design and stuff.”

“Design?”

“The proportions were… off, I think.”

“Liar.”

The way she called you out was so casual yet certain. Sohyun sat up a little and folded her legs next to you, book now forgotten on the nearby table. Smiling gently, she spoke.

“You only look like that when you’re overthinking, sooo… what’s going on in that stubborn head of yours?”

“Nothing serious, noona. Just tired.” you forced a stiff smile.

Sohyun bought none of your excuse, her lips quickly formed a small pout as she tugged on your arm.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Hide it when thing’s bothering you.”

You dipped your head the moment she confronted you even though it wasn’t stern, more patient and understanding. 

“You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is. Noona’s here.”

Like a hand reaching out in the dark, Sohyun made it hard to keep pretending. So you finally chose to admit after struggling to get the right words out of your mouth.

“I was just… thinking about us.”

Sohyun didn’t appear shocked nor smug. She just looked quietly attentive.

“Us?”

You nodded slowly, heart now beating so fast that you almost laughed from how nervous you suddenly were.

“Like what we are and… I don’t know. Maybe just that.”

The confession felt much heavier than you’d thought, so much that when it ended, you didn’t dare to meet her eyes. You fidgeted with the fabric of your pants, pinching and stretching just to give the nerves somewhere to go. The sketchpad you’d been holding then slipped off the armrest and fell to the floor, but you didn’t even bat an eye. Maybe this was it. The part where things got awkward, where comfort and closeness finally broke just because you wanted something more than you were supposed to. You could already feel your throat closing around an apology you hadn’t said yet. Until you heard a small, stifled laugh. You looked to the side just in time for Sohyun to launch herself over onto you and loop her arms around your shoulder, pulling you into her chest.

“Ah~ this kid.” she cooed between soft laughter, hand ruffling your hair. “You’re so cute, you know that?”

Your face burned, not expecting this kind of reaction from her.

“Noona…”

“Worrying about things like that? Seriously, you’re adorable.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know, I know.” Sohyun only chuckled harder, still holding you close. “That’s what makes it even cuter.”

“Stop saying I’m cute.”

She leaned back enough to look at you, smiling as she flicked your forehead playfully.

“You get all shy and thoughtful and do that kicked puppy thing on your face. I swear, you’re impossible to stay mad at.”

Despite groaning and sinking deeper into the couch, you couldn’t stop a smile from blooming on your face. In normal things, you were the one who helped her. You’d try to be composed and make her laugh. You fixed her door, carried groceries, reminded her to rest when she worked too late. Sure, Sohyun might’ve been a little clumsy sometimes, a little unsure of herself in daily stuff; but moments like this reminded you that she was, without question, the noona she claimed to be. She had her own way of making you feel safe, of reading your silence with no difficulties at all.

“You’re afraid we might end, hmm?”

She already knew. You hesitated before slowly nodding, eyes dropping back to your lap. She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she gently cupped your face so you’d look her in the eyes again, her smile wishful.

“You think too far ahead sometimes. But that’s okay, I get it.”

“I just… don’t want to lose this with you, noona.”

“I know.” Sohyun rubbed your cheeks, silence took over for a second before she finally asked. “Do you remember that night?”

“Which night?”

“The night you found me crying in front of my door.”

The memory hit you instantly with her knees pulled to her chest, shaking, the helpless sound of her trying not to break down even more.

“Do you know why I was crying?”

“I never asked. I didn’t want to make you talk about it since it might be painful.”

“I had things… because of work. Some issues with the label and song production. Deadlines, contracts, people changing things behind my back. But now looking back, I think it was just me pushing myself to perfect my work.”

You stayed quiet and let her talk. Her eyes turned glassy before smiling smaller this time. 

“And then you, the new kid who didn’t even know my name showed up and crouched down, asking if I was okay.”

You were about to say something but Sohyun shook her head.

“After that, everything felt a little different. The next day, when we had dinner together, I remember thinking that… maybe not everything is falling apart and I can still breathe a little.” her hand still cupped your face, the touch warm and soft. “Spending time with you, doing stupid things, laughing together made me realize not everything has to be serious all the time. I was always chasing the next deadline, the next song or trying to prove something. But you just… you reminded me that being happy isn’t supposed to be rushed and complicated.”

“I…”

Fingers now moving down to play on your chest, Sohyun then asked with the shyness visible in those adorable eyes of her.

“Do you wanna hear the three words?”

Your heart skipped at the sudden question, unsure if you’d heard it right. 

“Three words?”

“Mmm. The ones you’ve probably been dying to hear.”

You couldn’t think straight. Should you say something? Should you wait? What if things go wrong? A thousand questions flashed through your mind. As if she could read through every thought racing behind your eyes, Sohyun giggled and leaned forward to give you a brief kiss on the lips. The kiss wasn’t long, but it was all you needed to scatter every anxious thought that had been holding onto you, leaving behind only her warmth and the prospect of something new, just only on the verge of blooming.

“Is that enough for you, pretty boy?”

Still dazed from the kiss, you smiled like an idiot.

“For now, maybe.”

“Aeng?” Sohyun glared at you. “Maybe?”

“Alright, alright!”

You laughed and stood up, scooping her into your arms. Sohyun yelped and gripped your shoulders as you spun her around in the tiny space; she both laughed and shouted.

“Yah! Put me down!”

“Enough playing.” you grinned and set her down. “Time to do what you came here for, your measurements. I’m making you the most gorgeous outfit now, Doraemon.”

“Doraemon?!” her cheeks flushed from laughing. “I hate that nickname.”

“You got all the gadgets, noona.” you pointed to her glasses and blue shirt. “All you need is some blue and white paint, then I got Doraemon all to myself.”

“Fine.” Sohyun rolled her eyes, smiling widely while catching her breath. “It better be look good on me, idiot.”

“Uhhh, no promise.”

And as you went to grab your measuring tape from your desk, you realized something so simple yet certain. For now, this was really enough.

────── ⋆⋅⋆ ──────

A few weeks later, everything between you and Sohyun kept going on steadily, not loud or dramatic. So when she suggested going out for coffee (a real date, as Sohyun called it), you couldn’t stop smiling. The spot she’d picked was perfectly her, somewhere in Hapjeong, filled with vinyl records on the walls and books stacked in uneven towers; a pleasant mix that felt too much like Park Sohyun herself. 

Sohyun had excused herself to the restroom a few minutes ago, saying something about fixing her makeup before you took photos together. Things had been joyful and easy. You’d started to finish each other’s sentences and fall into small habits that people in love did. And yet, neither of you had said those words. Today, sitting here with the beautiful sunlight shining through the window, you’d decided today would be the day. You sat comfortably, rehearsing ‘I love you’ in your head and thinking about how her dorky laugh would sound after you said it. Everything was perfect.

“...Wait! Is that you?”

You weren’t sure if you heard it right at first; your heart already sunk before you even turned and saw her face. The sound already sent layers of memories you’d packed away a long time ago back into your brain. Slowly, you stood and turned.

Seo Dahyun

Her hair was longer now, the dark waves falling over her shoulders.  She still had that same gentle face, the same rabbit front teeth. Everything was the same as you used to memorize down to every tiny detail. Still, the timid way she smiled at you showed you that she was just unsure as you were.

“It’s really you.”

Damn.

“Hi… It’s been a while.”

“You look better now. Different but… good.”

“Thanks. You too.”

You managed a polite smile back. Neither of you knew what to do with your hands or eyes. Nostalgia and awkwardness really did their things. Dahyun then laughed shyly.

“I– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you at all. I just… wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I wasn’t expecting it either.”

“You’re still at Hongik?”

“Mm hmm, still studying. Fashion design.”

Her smile turned a little brighter.

“That’s great. You always talked about doing something creative, you know? I’m glad you actually did.”

“What about you?”

“I… left uni.” her fingers fidgeted with her purse. “Remember how I used to talk about music?”

“Of course, you love singing.”

“I wanted to pursue it properly. Singing, performing…” she let out a self conscious laugh. “Didn’t really work out the exact way I hoped but it led me somewhere better. I’ve got a stable job at a theater now, still doing some songwriting on the side. It’s… okay.”

“That’s great, really.”

You meant it even though your voice sounded distant like you were trying to hide behind something. You’d already moved on but didn’t know how to say it out loud. Dahyun seemed to sense it too, quickly nodding.

“Thanks.”

Hands buried in your back pocket, you nodded back.

“I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

Dahyun was still beautiful, still the same Dahyun who once filled your world. But now the feelings you’d carried for her had now faded away to nothingness, to something that no longer hurt.

…

“I was… wrong.” she finally admitted. “For leaving you like that and not saying anything. You didn’t deserve it at all… I told myself I was doing it for me, to focus on my career and not drag you into all my uncertainty. But I know I was selfish.”

“Dahyun-ah…”

“I just thought… maybe we could talk? Just a cup of coffee. I owe you that much, you know. To explain things properly, if I still have the chanc–”

Suddenly, your surrounding felt miles away. You really were struggling to find words. You didn’t want to hurt her, but there was nothing to give either. It wasn’t anger, just a quiet discomfort now.

“I–”

“Sorry, baby~”

Soft arms slipped around your waist from behind, a very familiar warmth pressed into you back as Sohyun spoke.

“You wouldn’t start without me, would you?”

Then she peeked out, smiling when she saw Dahyun standing in front of you. Still holding on to you, Sohyun gave a polite bow with her head.

“Oh? Hi.”

Dahyun was startled at first but quickly gathered herself, the awkwardness audible in her voice.

“Hi… Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just ran into him by chance.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Small world, you know.”

Dahyun eyed the way Sohyun had her arms around your waist to your face. As quickly as her offer to reconnect came, she waved and excused herself.

“Anyway, I should get going now. I just wanted to say hello.”

You nodded, waving awkwardly.

“Bye… Take care, Dahyun-ah.”

Dahyun smiled back genuinely.

“You too. Both of you.”

And she weaved through the table, disappearing into the other side of the cafe. A sudden bite at your arm then made you look down to the side.

“Jealous?”

Sohyun hmphed and plopped back down into her chair, crossing her arms with her lips jutted out.

“So that was Dahyun? Pretty, I see.”

“She is.” You sat down in the seat across from her, enjoying the way her expression turned sulky. “But she’s not you, noona.”

“Smooth talker~ I don’t buy any of it.”

“You don’t have to. You’ll see.”

No matter how hard she tried, Sohyun just couldn’t hold her pout and let a smile break through.

Time to say it?

────── ⋆⋅⋆ ──────

Sohyun really triggers the noona thing for me. Also, sorry to Dahyun fans...

Your steps echoed down the halls, still eerily empty and quiet in the morning before the day-long storm. Your eyes drifted from one end to the other, studying the school on your first day.

Everything feels smaller than you imagined. The lockers barely reached your shoulders when they towered over you before. Classroom doors are decorated with names written in marker, letters uneven, proud. Someone has taped up a crooked poster reminding students to use kind words. You wonder, briefly, when it became easier to teach children how to be kind than adults how to listen.

You adjust the strap of your bag and keep walking.

There’s a tightness in your chest you don’t quite want to name. Not regret, not yet. Just the awareness that this is not the version of your life you rehearsed in your head years ago, when your hands were steadier and your ambitions louder.

At the end of the hall, you spot the office.

Glass window.

Low counter. 

Lights already on.

You check your watch. Of course you’re early. You’ve always arrived at places as if being on time might make people believe you belong there.

Standing in the middle of the hall, you took in a breath to prepare yourself with memorizing new faces while the back of your mind wandered around the thought of your first class.

“Mr. Jo, good morning!” 

You turned to the voice that called you down the hall and found an older man approaching.

You bowed your head to greet them, “Principal Jung, good morning to you too.”

Principal Jung smiles the way people do when they’ve been up since dawn and learned to carry it lightly. His tie is already loosened, jacket folded over one arm. He looks like he belongs to this building in a way you don’t yet.

“First day nerves?” he asks, stopping a comfortable distance away.

You let out a small breath that might have been a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who remembers their own,” he says. “You’re early.”

You nod. “I didn’t want to get lost.”

He chuckles, glancing down the hall. “You will anyway. Everyone does. This place rearranges itself when you’re not looking.”

Principal Jung gestures toward the office door behind him. “Have you picked up your attendance sheets yet?”

“Not yet,” you admit. “I was just about to.”

“Hmm. Have you met the other teachers since we’ve last seen each other?” he asked.

You shook your head, “I haven’t but I could wait for them inside and introduce myself before classes start.”

Principal Jung shook his hand at you, “No need. Believe it or not, some of them get here earlier than you. Let me introduce you to them.” 

Principal Jung turns on his heel before you can protest, already waving you along like the decision has been made weeks ago.

“Come on,” he says. “They’re probably hiding in the staff room pretending they’re not nervous.”

You follow him down the hall, steps falling into an easy rhythm beside his. The school is waking up now. Lights flick on in classrooms. A door opens somewhere, followed by the scrape of a chair. The quiet is thinning, stretched by the promise of noise to come.

The staff room door is ajar.

Inside, a few teachers are gathered around a table cluttered with paper cups and an open box of pastries. Conversation hums, low and overlapping. Someone laughs. Someone else groans dramatically about photocopiers.

Principal Jung clears his throat.

“Everyone,” he says, not loudly, but with the kind of authority that doesn’t need volume. “I’d like you to meet our new homeroom teacher for Class 3-2. This is Mr. Jo.”

All eyes turn to you.

You straighten instinctively, hands coming to rest at your sides. You bow, just enough. “Good morning. I’m Jo (YN). It’s nice to meet you. Hopefully we can get to each other better throughout the year.”

A chorus of greetings follows mixed in with friendly smiles, affirming nods and someone waving a pastry at you like an offering.

“Welcome to the chaos,” a woman near the window says. “You picked a good class.”

“You’ll survive,” another adds. “Eventually.”

The tension in your chest loosens, just a little. These are normal people. Tired, kind, familiar in their own way.

Slowly, you picked up on their names. Ms. Kim who taught mathematics, Mr. Lee whose expertise was on biology and Ms. Yamada who taught a foreign language class to name a few.

Then beside you, Principal Jung cleared his throat.

“Ah, that reminds me. Remember when I told you that only one person keeps this place together?” He tapped on your sleeve.

You nodded in remembrance. It was one of the few things he’d said that you took lightly, half expecting it to be a message about unity and working together for a better future. You didn’t expect it in the literal sense.

The sea of words and greetings in front of you silenced before the other teachers looked at each other before one of them turned to the back end of the room.

Ms. Kim separated from the group and walked to a cubicle just quick enough before you could see who sat behind it. Later she walked back, steps no longer of her own but mixed in with someone else behind her.

Ms. Kim stops just short of the table, then steps aside.

The person behind her is quieter than you expect.

They don’t announce themselves. They don’t rush. They move with a contained, deliberate calm, as if the room has learned to make space for them without being told. Office cardigan, ID lanyard tucked neatly into a pocket, a small notebook held against their chest like a habit rather than a shield.

They look at you first, not the principal.

Their eyes meet yours, steady and observant, and for a split second you have the strange sense that you’re the one being introduced.

“This,” Principal Jung says, voice fond in a way that gives the word weight, “is Ji Suhyeon. Our office assistant. She insists on being called Jiyeon so I’d advise you to do the same. She’ll correct you even before you get the chance to call her by her real name.” he humored.

Jiyeon inclines her head in a polite bow. It’s precise, practiced. When she straightens, she offers a small smile. Not wide, not performative.

She lifts a hand, palm facing inward, and taps lightly twice against her chest. Then she gestures toward you, eyebrows lifting in a quiet question.

“She’s. . .deaf?” you asked innocently but your tone left you with questionable stares from your new co-workers.

For a moment, the room stills.

Not sharply, not unkindly. Just enough for you to feel the weight of your own words settle in your chest.

“I mean—I haven’t met anyone that’s. . .I’m sorry,” you apologized.

Jiyeon doesn’t flinch.

She watches you with the same steady attention as before, head tilted slightly, eyes thoughtful rather than offended. If she noticed the way a few teachers stiffened, she doesn’t show it.

Ms. Yamada clears her throat softly. “She is,” she says, careful. “But she prefers to speak for herself.”

Jiyeon nods once in agreement. She reaches into her cardigan pocket, retrieves her pen and notebook, and writes with quick, practiced strokes. When she turns the page toward you, her expression is calm. Almost reassuring.

Yes. I’m deaf.

She takes it back and adds another line beneath it.

But, I can read lips.

You don’t have to apologize for asking. Just don’t whisper next time.

A faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, dry and self-aware. The tension in the room loosens, the way a held breath finally lets go.

Heat creeps up your neck. You bow again, deeper this time. “Thank you,” you say, making sure your face is fully turned toward her. “And. . . thank you for correcting me.”

Jiyeon studies you for a second longer, then nods. Approval, maybe. Or simply acknowledgment.

Principal Jung chuckles lightly, clapping his hands once. “See? This is why she runs the place. Keeps all of us in line.”

Jiyeon smiles and tucks her head in to chuckle.

“Well, assembly is up soon.” Principal Jung said to the rest of the teachers, “shall we walk to the gym together?”

Everybody else agreed, and you nodded in suit.

-

The walk to the gym unfolds in loose clusters.

Teachers fall into step beside one another, conversations picking back up where they left off. Someone complains about the microphone cutting out every year without fail. Someone else swears the floor dips near the bleachers. The building hums now, alive with footsteps and distant voices, the kind of noise that signals a day fully beginning.

You walk slightly behind the others at first, unsure where to place yourself.

Jiyeon doesn’t rush ahead.

She keeps pace beside you, not close enough to feel intrusive, not far enough to feel distant. When you glance her way, she’s already looking at you, attentive, waiting.

You clear your throat. “I’m… still new,” you say, enunciating carefully, making sure she can see your face. “If I do something wrong, please tell me.”

She considers this for a beat, then nods.

She lifts her notebook again, writes as she walks, and turns it toward you without breaking stride.

Everyone does something wrong their first week. I’ll tell you. Kindly.

Her words land softly. 

You smile, a little embarrassed, a little relieved. “Thank you. Jiyeon.”

Her lips curve, just slightly more this time.

Inside the gym, students are already seated in neat rows, uniforms buzzing with quiet chatter. Teachers fan out along the sides, guiding classes into place. Jiyeon moves with practiced efficiency, tapping shoulders, pointing, catching a child’s attention with a gentle wave instead of a raised voice. The students respond instantly, fond familiarity written all over their faces.

You watch her for a moment longer than necessary.

She notices.

She lifts an eyebrow, amused, and signs something small and quick with one hand.

Working.

You laugh under your breath and look away, heat blooming faintly in your cheeks.

The assembly begins. Principal Jung steps onto the stage, microphone squealing briefly before settling. The students groan in unison, and Jiyeon winces playfully, mimicking the soundless vibration with an exaggerated shudder that makes a few nearby kids giggle.

As the principal speaks, you stand there among your colleagues, hands folded in front of you, posture attentive. You catch pieces of his speech, about new beginnings, about kindness, about growing together. Familiar words. Important ones.

But your attention keeps drifting back to the woman beside you.

To the way she watches the room instead of the stage. To how she anticipates needs before they arise. To how she exists so fully within this space that it bends around her without resistance.

When the assembly ends and the students are dismissed in a flurry of noise, Jiyeon turns to you again.

She points down the hall. Classroom. Then makes a small circling motion with her finger.

I’ll check in later.

You nod. “I’ll see you.”

She nodded back.

Then she’s gone, swept back into the rhythm of the school, leaving you at the doorway of your classroom with thirty expectant faces peering up at you.

You take a breath.

Maybe this isn’t the life you rehearsed.

But as you step inside, heart steadier than it was this morning, you realize something else too.

Somewhere along the way, without you noticing, the place rearranged itself.

And this time, it feels like it did so to make room for you.

-

Your first class went fine, as you expected with the ice breakers you’ve prepared beforehand.

You stood in front of the classroom, looking at the younger kids that you now had to look after. You’d ask them questions and they surprisingly answered back and not leave you in the middle of silence. They’d listen when you spoke about what to expect in your subject and what they would accept when they listened or if they didn’t.

By the time the first bell rang and the last shy hand went down, a small sense of rhythm had settled over the classroom. You found yourself smiling without thinking, noticing details that didn’t make it into any lesson plan, the way one student chewed the end of their pencil when thinking, the way another’s eyes lit up when they understood a point, and the quiet way they all seemed to watch for your cues, trusting you to guide them.

When you reached the office, the peace and quiet of the AC greeted you along with empty cubicles.

“They must still be in class.” You muttered, looking around the room and spotting the table that was assigned to you.

You pulled back the chair and set your bag on the table. Your eyes widened when you looked back in front and saw Jiyeon right across the room, at her own table and checking things off an attendance sheet.

When she finally noticed your presence, you saw her shoulders tense before dropping down slowly. She raised her hand up slightly in a small wave, one which you returned.

Jiyeon didn’t rush over. She stayed at her table, methodical, organized, a quiet center in the small office. You took a deep breath and pulled your chair a little closer to your own table, letting the initial flutter of nerves settle.

After a moment, she scribbled something on her notepad and held it up for you to read:

Good job on your first class.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. It wasn’t loud or exuberant, but it was real. You lifted your hand slightly, tapping twice against your chest, a small echo of the gesture she’d made for you earlier.

Jiyeon’s eyes softened a fraction, and she tapped her pen gently against her notebook in response, an unspoken acknowledgment. The rhythm between the two of you, unforced and patient, already felt steadier than you expected.

You glanced back at your own attendance sheets, the neat columns and names suddenly feeling less like a task and more like a map of the small world you were beginning to inhabit—and a world that now, quietly, had Jiyeon in it too.

-

You soon came to learn her rhythm around the office.

You would catch Jiyeon inside in between your classes or during your breaks. She would always be occupied with something or simply anything, whether it be checking and then arranging papers or just simply reading a book for leisure.

You couldn’t quite explain it, not yet. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, just a quiet pull at the edges of your attention. The way she moved through the office, efficient, deliberate, yet somehow unassuming, made it impossible to ignore.

Even when she was buried in paperwork, there was a calm precision to her presence that seemed to hold the small chaos of the school.

Sometimes, she’d look up from her desk and meet your gaze just long enough for a flicker of acknowledgment before returning to her task.

That tiny, effortless connection left you noticing things you hadn’t before, the soft curve of her smile when a student passed by, the gentle tilt of her head as she listened to a question, the little ways she made space for others without a word.

During your breaks, when you found her with a cup of coffee or a quiet snack, you’d sit nearby, letting the air between you fill with the easy rhythm of proximity. 

Conversation came in fits and starts, her words written down in quick notes, your voice careful and deliberate, sometimes mixed with awkward gestures or clumsy attempts at sign.

Over time, the small exchanges built a kind of understanding. You learned that she had been there longer than some of your colleagues, that her dedication wasn’t just professional but deeply personal. And you could see why the students adored her—she wasn’t just present for them,

She saw them.

And somehow, your curiosity, your attention, lingered. Not just on her work, not just on her kindness, but on her. 

Always on her.

-

One afternoon, you were left inside the office to check on quiz pamphlets you had your different classes answer despite the other teachers saying to leave it for another day and that they don't really do overtime but you insisted.

The office was quieter than usual. The hum of the air conditioner and the faint scratch of pen on paper were the only sounds breaking the stillness. Sunlight slanted through the blinds, catching dust motes like tiny drifting stars. You had stacked the quiz pamphlets neatly on the table, sorting them by class, and were working through each one with meticulous care, double-checking answers and marking notes in the margins.

Jiyeon had left with the others, leaving you inside until maybe when the janitor called you out.

Or so you thought.

The ink stopped over paper when a small pack of bread and bottle of water was pushed into your view.

You looked up, startled and found her wide, expecting eyes looking back down at you.

She placed it by the side of your table before she pulled out her notebook. 

You shouldn't tire yourself.

You sighed softly and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the weight of the hours you’d spent here already. “I know they said it’s fine to leave this for tomorrow,” you muttered, almost to yourself, “but I like to get things done properly.”

Jiyeon tilted her head slightly, pen poised over her notebook. She wrote quickly, the strokes sure and deliberate, then held the page toward you.

But even you have limits. Don’t make yourself small trying to finish everything at once.

You blinked, a little caught off guard. Her words weren’t scolding, they were careful, measured, and quietly concerned. You looked down at the small pack of bread again, the unspoken offer hovering between you, and felt a warmth you hadn’t expected.

“I appreciate it,” you said softly, your voice carrying more than just gratitude. “I… sometimes forget.”

Jiyeon gave a small nod, tapping her pen twice against the edge of her notebook, a silent encouragement. She didn’t hover, didn’t insist. She just stayed there, present, and that was enough.

You took the bread, unwrapping it slowly, and sipped from the water bottle. The office felt a little less empty now, the quiet punctuated by the subtle rhythm of her attention. For the first time in hours, you didn’t feel like you were facing the stack of papers alone.

When you looked up, Jiyeon caught your gaze and raised her eyebrows slightly, a question unspoken but clear:

Better?

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Much better.” 

Your eyes focused on her once more before asking, “What are you still doing here?”

She scribbled on her page again.

I was helping out at the library.

You blinked, surprised. “The library?” you asked, glancing toward the window as if the quiet stacks might reveal her secret.

Jiyeon gave a small shrug, the kind that didn’t need words but carried a quiet certainty. She flipped the page again and held it up.

Books don’t move themselves.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound low and almost shy in the still office. “Right… of course,” you said. “You really do everything here, don’t you?”

Her eyes met yours, calm and unwavering, and she tapped her pen twice, her habitual rhythm that somehow felt like reassurance rather than insistence. Someone has to, her gaze seemed to say, and you found yourself nodding in silent agreement.

You leaned back slightly, letting the warmth of the moment settle. The stack of quiz pamphlets, the quiet office, the slanting sunlight—it all felt a little less tedious now, and a little more like a shared space. 

You picked up your pen again, this time with less of the weight you’d felt before, and before you could continue, she wrote again.

Can I help?

She pointed to the stack that stood unchecked. Your gaze glanced between them before your head nodded lightly.

Her smile grew.

Jiyeon sat down at the other side of the table, picking one pamphlet from the stack before reading it line by line.

You took one last glance at her as you slid over the answer key.

“You can use it,”

She takes the answer key from you with care, as if it’s something fragile rather than a sheet of paper.

Her eyes move quickly, efficiently, scanning the questions, matching answers with practiced ease. You hadn’t realized how much mental noise you’d been carrying until it quiets, just a little, watching someone else share the load.

The two of you fall into a wordless system.

You pass her a pamphlet.

She checks it, marks it, slides it back.

You stack the finished ones neatly to the side.

Every so often, she pauses and nudges a paper toward you, tapping a specific answer with the tip of her pen. You lean closer, shoulder brushing hers by accident once, then again. Neither of you comment on it. You just adjust, slightly, until the space feels natural.

You had just placed another pamphlet over the stack before she nudged her notebook closer with a question scribbled upon its page.

Have you always wanted to teach history?

You pause, pen hovering midair, the question settling somewhere deeper than you expect.

“Always?” you echo quietly, more to yourself than to her. You glance down at the pamphlets, at the familiar dates and names you’ve circled a thousand times before. Then you look back at her, at the way she waits without pressure, notebook angled but unmoving.

“I think…” You exhale, slow. “I think I wanted to understand things first.”

She tilts her head, attentive. The faintest crease forms between her brows, not confusion but interest.

You continue, words coming softer now. “When I was younger, history felt like answers. Reasons why things turned out the way they did. Why people became who they were.” A small, almost self-conscious smile tugs at your lips. “Teaching came later. When I realized understanding doesn’t mean much if you keep it to yourself.”

She turns the notebook back before pushing it across the table with new words scribbled upon it.

That’s fascinating.

“You think so?” You smiled, real this time and it grew when she nodded along.

You held your pen tighter as your other hand held the notebook, keeping it in place to write something for her.

Jiyeon pulled it closer and looked at your writing.

Have you always wanted to work at a school?

The question sits there between you, written in your own hand now, the ink slightly darker where you pressed too hard.

She reads it carefully. You can tell by the way her eyes move, by the brief pause at the end, as if she’s deciding how much of herself to place on the page.

Then she turns the notebook around.

Not always.

Just those two words at first.

She adds another line beneath them, slower this time.

I wanted somewhere quiet. Somewhere I could be useful without being loud.

Your chest tightens, just a little.

You hadn’t thought of it that way, but now that she’s said it, it fits her perfectly. The way she moves through the school like a steady current, never demanding attention yet somehow holding everything together. The library. The office. The small acts that keep days from unraveling.

“You are useful,” you say without thinking, then soften your tone. “More than you realize.”

She looks at you then, as if checking whether your words are careful or careless. Finding sincerity, her shoulders relax a fraction.

She writes again.

I like helping students. And teachers.

Your breath catches, almost imperceptibly. “I’m glad you’re here,” you admit. “I’d understand if this place would feel… emptier without you.”

Her pen pauses midair.

For a heartbeat, she doesn’t write. She just watches you, expression unreadable but gentle, like she’s memorizing the way your face looks when you’re honest.

When she finally turns the notebook around, the writing is smaller.

I feel the same.

The room seems to grow warmer, the quiet no longer hollow but full. You glance at the remaining pamphlets. There are only a few left now.

“We’re almost done,” you say, though neither of you seems eager for it to end.

She nods and picks up the next paper, but this time her elbow rests a little closer to yours. The shared space feels intentional now.

When the last pamphlet is marked and stacked away, the finality settles in gently. You sit there for a moment, hands resting on the table, listening to the air conditioner hum and the distant sounds of the building winding down for the evening.

Outside, the sky has begun to turn amber.

You clear your throat softly. “It’s getting late. I should probably lock up soon.”

She writes one last thing and slides it toward you.

Did you eat enough?

You laugh under your breath. “Yes,” you say. “Thanks to you.”

She smiles, small but bright, and tucks her notebook away.

As you both stand, your movements mirror each other. You reach for the light switch. She waits by the door, holding it open.

Before you step out, you hesitate and tap her shoulder. “Jiyeon?”

She turns back.

“…Thank you. For staying.”

She meets your gaze, eyes warm, and nods once.

Always.

-

The calendar began to fill itself in without asking.

Flyers appeared on bulletin boards. Whistles started hanging around teachers’ necks. The students grew louder in the weeks leading up to it, energy fizzing under their skin in ways no worksheet could contain.

The sports festival.

It arrived like a collective exhale. A sanctioned pause from memorization and tests, from neat handwriting and quiet classrooms. The kind of day where rules bent just enough to let joy spill through.

The morning of it, the school looked different.

Banners fluttered along the fences, hand-painted and slightly crooked. Cones lined the field in bright colors. The air smelled faintly of grass, sunscreen, and anticipation. Students ran in clusters, jerseys loose on their shoulders, laughter loud and unfiltered.

You stood near the edge of the field with the other teachers, clipboard in hand, scanning your class as they bounced on their feet.

They waved when they saw you.

One of them nearly tripped trying to get your attention.

You laughed before you could stop yourself.

You had once shared the same energetic glee from years past, the same excitement that made them almost bounce in line just to play in the tug of war.

A few steps away, Jiyeon moved through the crowd with the same quiet certainty she always carried, though today she wore a cap low over her hair and a whistle looped around her wrist instead of her neck. Students gravitated toward her instinctively, tugging at her sleeve, signing excitedly, pointing at events already in motion.

She responded to each of them with patient focus, crouching to their level, hands moving with clarity and ease. You watched her for a moment, the way the chaos seemed to organize itself around her presence.

She glanced up.

Caught you looking.

Her eyebrows lifted in mild amusement.

You cleared your throat, pretending to check your clipboard, then looked back just in time to see her smile to herself.

When the first event was announced, the field erupted into noise. Students lined up, teachers took their positions, and the day surged forward with momentum that felt almost contagious.

Your station was near the relay track.

The instructions were simple. Count laps. Keep order. Step in if someone cried or tripped or decided halfway through that running was no longer their life’s calling.

In practice, it was chaos.

Shoelaces came undone. A baton was dropped and kicked halfway across the field. One student burst into tears because their team lost before the race even finished. Another celebrated prematurely, arms thrown into the air while still running in the wrong direction.

You crouched, soothed, redirected. You clapped until your palms stung and shouted encouragement until your voice thinned into something hoarse but earnest.

And in between it all, your eyes kept drifting.

Jiyeon appeared wherever she was needed most. At the tug-of-war ropes, steadying small hands. Near the water station, tapping a shoulder before a student overheated. Along the sidelines, translating rules with quick, expressive movements when confusion flickered across a child’s face.

At one point, a boy from your class ran up to her mid-event, breathless and frantic. You watched from afar as she knelt, tried to piece things together, nodded, then pointed toward you.

He followed her finger.

Straight to you.

He finished his race.

Later, during a brief lull, you found yourself beside her near the equipment shed, both of you stealing a moment of shade.

You held out a spare bottle of water. “You’re everywhere today.”

She accepted it with a nod, took a sip, then wrote on her small notepad, the paper already speckled with grass stains.

Someone has to be.

You smiled. “The kids listen to you more than the whistle.” 

She glanced at the whistle looped around her wrist, then back at you, lips curving.

I use it for decoration.

A cheer rose suddenly from the field, loud enough to rattle your chest. Both of you turned at the same time.

Your class had won their heat.

They were jumping, screaming, collapsing into one another in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

You felt something swell in your chest. Pride. Nostalgia. Something gentler layered beneath it.

When you looked back at Jiyeon, she was already watching you.

Not the field.

You.

She caught your gaze and lifted her bottle slightly, a quiet toast.

You mirrored the gesture, heart thudding a little harder than the heat alone could explain.

The festival pressed on, bright and breathless.

And somewhere between the noise and the still moments stolen in passing, you realized this too was becoming part of your life’s memory.

Not just the students.

Not just the school.

Her.

-

The echoes of the festival refused to fade quietly.

Even days later, it lived on in the way students compared scraped knees like medals, in the exaggerated retellings of victories and near disasters, in the way laughter spilled out between lessons before being herded back into rows and rules. The school had returned to its usual rhythm, but something lighter threaded through it now.

Today’s lesson was gentler by design.

The library doors opened with a familiar hush, the scent of old paper and polished wood folding over your class like a blanket. You guided them inside in loose pairs, reminding them to use indoor voices, though their excitement already softened at the sight of shelves stretching taller than them.

“Alright,” you said, clapping once to gather their attention. “We’re looking for stories today. Not just dates.”

You handed out the guide sheets, questions printed neatly at the top. Who lived then. How did they travel. What do you think a day felt like in their shoes.

The students dispersed quickly, drawn to colorful spines and thick volumes alike. Some settled cross-legged on the floor. Others dragged chairs together, whispering as they flipped pages.

You walked between the aisles, answering questions, pointing out sections, kneeling beside a student who struggled with a word too big for their mouth.

From the circulation desk, Jiyeon watched.

She was there to help monitor, a familiar presence behind the counter, glasses perched low on her nose as she sorted returns. Every so often, a student would run up to her, book clutched tightly, hands moving in excited signs as they asked something you couldn’t quite hear or see.

She answered all of them.

With patience. With clarity. With that same calm certainty.

At one point, she caught your eye across the room and held up a book, tapping the cover twice before pointing to one of your guide questions.

You nodded, impressed. “Yes. That one’s perfect.”

She smiled and slid it toward a nearby student, who beamed like they’d been handed treasure.

Jiyeon stole a glance at you before walking to another end of the room where a kid had their hand raised.

You walked in between the aisles, the sound of the student's voices fading in the back. The backs of books met you, some fresh with ink while others were faded in time. 

You stopped when one of them was sticking out of the shelf. Pulling it out, you found what it was for.

Basic Sign Language.

You lingered there longer than you meant to.

The book sat heavier in your hands than its size suggested, its cover worn at the edges from use. Someone had written their name on the inside in careful ink, slightly smudged, as if erased and rewritten once before committing.

You flipped it open.

The pages were simple. Diagrams of hands. Arrows showing movement. Short explanations beneath each illustration. 

Hello.

Thank you.

Sorry.

Please.

You traced a finger along the margins without thinking, committing shapes to memory in the quiet way you always did when something mattered.

A laugh rose from the other side of the shelves. A student’s, sharp and bright, followed by Jiyeon’s softer response. You couldn’t hear her voice, but you didn’t need to. Her hands spoke for her. Fluid. Intentional. Gentle in a way that made even correction feel kind.

You glanced down again.

Hello.

Your fingers hovered, hesitant, then mirrored the shape in the book. Awkward. Too stiff. You tried again, slower this time, loosening your wrist.

Better.

“Teacher?”

You looked up to find one of your students peeking around the shelf, book hugged to their chest. “Is this one okay? It’s a bit old.”

You smiled. “Old is good. Old means it’s survived.” You crouched to their level and pointed to a section. “See this chapter? That one answers your second question.”

They nodded and scampered off, shoes squeaking softly against the floor.

When you straightened, Jiyeon still stood across the room.

You closed the book gently, fingers still resting on the cover as if it might slip away if you weren’t careful.

“I could use this,” you murmured, barely louder than the turning pages around you.

When you looked up again, she was no longer behind the desk. She stood at the end of the aisle now, a respectful distance away, her gaze flicking from your face to the book in your hands. 

She lifted her eyebrows in a silent question.

You lifted it a little, almost sheepish. “I didn’t know we had this.”

Her lips curved, small and genuine. She stepped closer, careful not to disturb the quiet of the space, and gestured toward the shelves around you. Then to herself. Then back to the book.

I donated some. 

“That explains why it looks so used,” you said. “In a good way.”

She nodded once.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. The space between shelves felt narrower than it should have been, filled with the hush of pages and the quiet understanding passing between you.

Then, hesitating, you lifted your hand again.

Hello.

You signed. 

Or you tried to, at least.

Jiyeon raised her hand to cover the exhale of laughter to slip out.

She repeated the sign back to you, slower this time, exaggerating the movement just enough for clarity. Her wrist was loose. Her fingers sure. It looked effortless in a way that made you acutely aware of how much thought your own hand had been holding.

Then she gestured to you again.

You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck, and raised your hand once more. You mirrored her this time, letting your wrist relax, letting your fingers follow rather than force the shape.

Hello.

Jiyeon’s smile bloomed instantly. She gave a small nod of approval, then stepped closer, careful and considerate, and gently adjusted the angle of your thumb with two fingers.

Like that, Better.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?”

She shook her head immediately, almost emphatically.

You nodded, absorbing them the way you always absorbed history, with quiet reverence.

A student darted past the aisle, whispering loudly to a friend before being shushed from across the room. The library breathed on, unaware of the small shift taking place between the shelves.

You glanced down at the book again. “Do you mind if I borrow it? Just for a while.”

Jiyeon’s answer was immediate. She tapped the book once, then pointed to you.

You hesitated. “I don’t want to take something important from you.”

She met your eyes, steady and sincere.

You tucked the book under your arm carefully, like a promise. 

She watched you for a second longer than necessary, then nodded.

Across the room, another hand went up. Your name followed, whispered urgently.

Duty called again.

“I should help them,” you said, reluctant despite yourself.

Jiyeon stepped back, already easing out of the moment with practiced grace. Before turning away, she lifted her hand once more.

Hello.

You smiled, lifting yours in return, repeating the sign with a little more confidence this time.

Hello.

She noticed.

The way her eyes softened told you everything.

-

Weeks folded into one another with the quiet patience of routine.

Lessons. Meetings. Hallway greetings that grew easier with time. Somewhere in between, you practiced.

Not diligently enough to call it discipline. Not recklessly enough to call it play. Just enough.

You practiced in the early mornings, before the corridors filled with noise. In the empty classroom while the projector warmed up. In the office after everyone else had left, fingers hovering over your desk, shaping words that felt foreign and familiar all at once.

Hello became muscle memory.

Thank you followed soon after.

Sorry came harder. Please even more so. Your fingers stiffened when emotions tangled with movement, when meaning demanded more than shape.

You practiced without her there.

Not out of fear.

Not out of pride.

But because you wanted the moment to belong to itself. 

In the teachers’ lounge, birthdays were spoken about casually, tossed into conversation between sips of coffee and complaints about paperwork.

“Jiyeon’s is coming up next week, right?”

“Yeah. She never makes a fuss.”

“Still, we should do something.”

You listened from across the room, stirring your drink long after the sugar dissolved.

A conversation.

That was all you wanted.

Not a grand gesture. Not applause. Just a few exchanged sentences, shaped with care, offered in a language she lived in every day.

The idea sat with you, equal parts anticipation and quiet terror.

You practiced more carefully after that.

Happy. . .took time.

Birthday. . .longer.

The concept of wishing well, of celebration, felt clumsy in your hands at first. You fumbled. Restarted. Let your fingers drop, frustrated, then lifted them again.

You reminded yourself that children learned like this too. Slowly, with mistakes, with earnestness.

The night before, you barely slept.

Your hands lay folded over your chest, fingers twitching occasionally as if rehearsing even in rest. You stared at the ceiling and wondered if she would laugh. If she would be surprised. If she would gently correct you like she always did, patient and kind.

Morning arrived regardless.

The school buzzed with its usual energy, unaware of the quiet milestone you carried with you. You saw her briefly in the office, focused as ever, a small paper crown taped to the edge of her desk by a student’s careful hands.

She noticed you watching and smiled, that familiar curve that always felt like an invitation.

The other teachers would surprise her later, with a cake and candles, with balloons tied to her table but for now all you had to do was make sure she didn’t grow any suspicions.

You kept your distance that morning.

Not avoidance.

Just restraint.

You greeted her like always, a small nod, a polite smile, nothing that would give you away. She returned it easily, unaware of the careful calculation behind your calm. If she noticed the way you lingered half a second longer than usual, she didn’t comment on it.

The paper crown wobbled carefully every time she moved. A student had drawn stars on it in crayon, uneven yet proud. She kept forgetting it was there until another child pointed and giggled, and she would touch it, embarrassed, then laugh along.

You watched all of this from a safe distance.

Classes passed. And the day unfolded with the unremarkable persistence of routine, but underneath it all, your pulse kept time with something else. 

The lunch bell would finally ring.

You stood in the corner of the office, in your cubicle while the others were carefully placing down the numbers on the cake in a way that wouldn’t ruin the writing.

“Mr. Jo, could you call Jiyeon? I think she was in the courtyard.” One of the teachers said,

You hesitated for a moment.

Just long enough to properly understand what they asked you to do.

Then you nodded. “I’ll get her.”

The courtyard was bright with midday sun, the kind that softened edges and made the world feel briefly forgiving. A few students lingered at the far end, finishing lunches under supervision, but Jiyeon stood closer to the building, leaning against the low wall near the garden beds.

She was watching a pair of cats munching over food.

You paused at the doorway, suddenly aware of your hands. Too still. Too ready.

She noticed your reflection in the glass before you spoke. Turned. Smiled.

A question lifted in her eyes.

You raised a hand slightly, gesturing back toward the building. “They’re looking for you,” you said, making sure she could see your mouth clearly. “In the office.”

Her eyebrows knit together in mild confusion, then she nodded, pushing off the wall. She fell into step beside you easily, matching your pace without thinking.

Halfway back, she glanced sideways at you, studying your expression. You kept your face neutral with effort, afraid anything else might spill over.

Inside, the office lights felt warmer than usual.

Too warm.

The moment Jiyeon stepped through the doorway, the room erupted.

“Happy birthday to you—”

The singing was enthusiastic but not coordinated. Someone came in early, someone a little too late. A candle nearly tipped before being rescued at the last second. Jiyeon froze just inside the door, eyes wide, hands lifting instinctively like she didn’t quite know where to put them.

The cake appeared. Chocolate, neatly frosted, her name written carefully across the top. Balloons bobbed against the ceiling, strings tangled together like an afterthought.

She laughed, startled, one hand flying to her mouth.

You stayed where you were.

Watched the surprise unfold.

Watched the way she shook her head in disbelief, then bowed, again and again, signing thank you thank you thank you in quick, overlapping motions that made a few teachers laugh fondly.

When the singing ended and the room settled into chatter, plates were passed around, candles blown out amid applause. Someone pressed a paper plate into Jiyeon’s hands, another draped a ribbon around her wrist like a bracelet.

Eventually, the noise softened.

Conversations split off.

That was when she found you again.

Her gaze cut through the room, deliberate, searching, until it landed on you in the corner near the filing cabinet. She excused herself with a small bow and crossed the space between you.

Up close, her cheeks were still flushed.

Her eyes bright.

She placed a plate over the top of the cabinet, just enough for it to enter your view.

Your eyes turned to her just as she motioned you to eat.

You should have some too.

“Oh, I’m not that into sweets.” You told her, arms crossing against your chest to form an x.

Jiyeon didn’t have that.

She shook her head and carefully picked out a piece of the cake on a fork and offered it.

You opened your mouth to protest again, but the words stalled somewhere behind your teeth.

She was patient.

Annoyingly so.

Her arm didn’t waver. The fork hovered between you, chocolate frosting catching the light. Her eyebrows lifted, not challenging, not teasing. Just expectant. Like this was the most reasonable thing in the world.

You exhaled, surrendering with a quiet laugh. “You’re persistent.”

She smiled, eyes crinkling, and made a small motion with her free hand.

You leaned forward and took the bite.

It was sweeter than you expected but it was soft and rich. You chewed, nodding despite yourself. “Okay,” you admitted. “That’s… good.”

Her smile widened, victorious but gentle. She pulled the fork back, satisfied, then set the plate aside beside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The office buzzed faintly behind you. Someone laughed too loudly. A chair scraped. The world kept going, but here, the air felt suspended.

Then she picked out another piece before offering it to you again.

You took a step back, something in your bag crinkling against the cabinet.

She exhaled, almost into a laugh as she set the plate back down. She pointed at you and back at it,

You better finish that.

You watched her go, the ribbon at her wrist catching the light, the balloon trailing after her like it had chosen her specifically.

You looked down at the plate she’d left behind.

Still half full.

Of course.

You shook your head to yourself, a quiet smile pulling at your mouth as you picked it up. The cake tasted just as good the second time. Maybe better, now that the moment had settled into you, warm and steady.

The rest of lunch passed easily. Laughter ebbed and flowed. Someone started cutting fruit. Another teacher argued lightly about who would wash the plates later. Jiyeon moved through it all with practiced grace, accepting well wishes, returning bows, signing thank you until her wrists must have ached.

Every so often, her eyes found you.

Not lingering. Not obvious.

Just checking.

And each time, you nodded, small and reassuring, like you were both in on something the rest of the room didn’t need to know.

When the bell rang and the office emptied, you almost let yourself slip past her before you could’ve done anything.

You caught up to her at the courtyard, the sunset slipping across the patches of grass and concrete that led the pathway out. She stood out with her balloon still wrapped around her wrist, now with drawings on them from kids that deemed it too plain.

Your steps hurried themselves down the concrete stairs and tapped her shoulder.

Jiyeon turned fully toward you, the balloon bobbing once as the string tugged around her wrist. The drawings were clearer now. Stars. Smiley faces. A misspelled happy brithday looping around the edge in marker. She glanced down at your hand still hovering midair, then back up at your face.

A question settled into her expression.

You inhaled, steadying yourself.

Your hands came up before your voice did.

Happy… birthday.

Slower than you’d practiced. Not perfect. But yours.

Then, after another second, you continued.

I wanted… to tell you properly.

Her eyes widened, just slightly.

You swallowed and went on, fingers careful, deliberate, every movement chosen.

I’m still learning.

I make mistakes.

But I wanted to say it… to you.

The silence stretched, filled only by the distant echo of students leaving, the low hum of the city beyond the gates. The balloon twisted lazily in the breeze.

Jiyeon didn’t interrupt.

She watched your hands like they mattered, like they were worth waiting for.

When you finished, you let them fall, tension rushing back into your shoulders all at once. “I’m sorry if that was clumsy,” you said aloud, habit sneaking in. “I just—”

She lifted her hand.

She signed back, slower than usual. Not because she needed to. Because she wanted you to follow.

Thank you.

For trying.

For me.

Then, softer still.

That means more than perfect words.

Your chest tightened in a way that felt unfamiliar and frightening and warm all at once.

“Wait for a moment.” you said, arms gesturing for her to give you a moment for you to reach into your bag. 

You turned as plastic crinkled inside then cursed when you pulled it out. You had meant to hand her a small bouquet of lavenders but throughout the day, they had crinkled within your bag and you wondered if she would have accepted them.

Turning back around slowly, you tried to fix them, make sure the stems stood straight when you heard her softly gasp.

You froze.

Not because of the flowers.

But because of the sound.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. Just a small intake of breath, soft and unguarded, the kind people make when something reaches them before they have time to prepare for it.

You looked up.

Jiyeon’s hands were halfway lifted, fingers hovering uncertainly in front of her chest as she stared at the bundle of lavender in your grip. The balloon tugged once at her wrist, forgotten. The sunset caught in her eyes, turning them glassy, bright.

You cleared your throat, suddenly too aware of how rumpled the stems looked, how the petals had pressed in on themselves. “I—” You stopped, then tried again, quieter. “I meant to give these to you earlier. I didn’t think I’d… keep them in my bag all day.”

You held them out anyway.

Not confidently.

Not smoothly.

Just honestly.

“They’re… lavender,” you added, as if she might not know. “I heard you like things that smell calm.”

Her gaze flicked from the flowers to your face. Back to the flowers.

Then she laughed.

Not the polite kind. Not the restrained one she used around crowds. This one slipped out before she could stop it, breathy and disbelieving, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as her shoulders shook once.

She shook her head, eyes shining.

You misread that instantly. “If it’s too much, it’s okay,” you rushed. “I can just—”

She reached out.

Her fingers closed gently around the stems, careful not to crush them further. She held them like they were fragile in a way that mattered, like even bent and imperfect they deserved gentleness.

Then she took a step closer and then another one.

Just enough for you to get a smell of her cologne before her arms slipped in between the spaces of yours.

Jiyeon wrapped them softly across the back of your coat, the bouquet crinkling a little bit more but she didn’t care.

You stiffened for half a second.

Not because you didn’t want it.

Because you hadn’t expected it.

Her embrace was careful at first, like she was asking permission with the space she closed. Then, when you didn’t pull away, when your breath only caught and stayed, she relaxed into it. Her forehead brushed your shoulder. The balloon bumped lightly against your arm, squeaking once before settling.

You could feel her through the layers of fabric. Warmth. A steady heartbeat. The faint trace of her cologne, something clean and soft, like flowers in the sun.

Your hands hovered uselessly at your sides.

Then, slowly, as if afraid the moment might shatter if you moved too fast, you lifted them. One rested at the small of her back. The other curled lightly against her shoulder, fingers threading into the fabric of her coat.

The hug wasn’t tight.

It wasn’t rushed.

She breathed out against you, a long, relieved exhale, and you felt it in your chest more than you heard it.

After a moment, she pulled back just enough to look at you. Not far, just enough that her hands still held onto your coat, knuckles faintly white.

She signed, close this time, so close you had to focus not to miss it.

You didn’t have to do this.

Her eyes softened.

But you did anyway.

You swallowed. “I wanted to,” you said, voice low. Honest. “Not because it was your birthday. Because it was you.”

Her lips parted slightly. The sunset spilled gold across her face, catching on her lashes.

She lifted one hand, hesitated, then brushed her thumb gently against your wrist, right where your pulse jumped.

The last thing you saw was her stepping up with the tips of her shoes before you felt something warm quickly press itself against your cheek.

The moment was quick enough that it’ll pass if you blinked but for once, you felt the world slow down a fraction

Once she had landed on her soles, her eyes had widened as if she herself had no clue about what she had just done. She blinked, breath getting heavy before she slipped out of your grasp and continued down the pathway leaving you confused.

Stumped.

Utterly breathless.

You didn’t move right away.

Not because you couldn’t.

Because your body hadn’t caught up to what just happened.

Your cheek still felt warm. Not flushed, not burning. Like the memory of her lingered in the air and your skin had decided to keep it for itself.

You stood at the edge of the courtyard, lavender crushed gently between your fingers, balloon string still faintly brushing your sleeve where it had bumped you moments earlier. The sunset had slipped lower now, colors deepening, shadows stretching long across the concrete.

She was already several steps ahead.

Walking too fast.

You noticed that before anything else. The way her steps were longer than usual, uneven, like she’d forgotten how long her legs were supposed to move. One hand clutched the flowers close to her chest. The other fumbled briefly with the balloon string, wrapping it tighter around her wrist as if anchoring herself.

Her shoulders were stiff.

Jiyeon didn’t look back.

You opened your mouth.

Nothing came out.

Your breath finally found you again in a shaky exhale, chest rising too fast, heart thudding like it had missed a step and was scrambling to catch up. You lifted a hand, then let it fall, fingers curling into your palm.

She kissed your cheek.

The realization landed fully now, slow and heavy and unreal.

It wasn’t an accident.

Not really.

Too deliberate for that.

Too careful.

She had chosen that moment.

Chosen you.

And then, just as suddenly, she had fled from her own courage.

You took a step forward.

Then another.

“Jiyeon,” you called, voice softer than you meant it to be.

Then you ran towards her.

“Jiyeon-ah, wait for me!”

-

Ever since then, she started to work closer to you.

Not like anything was set in stone or was anything official. 

The change was subtle at first, a gentle shift that didn’t demand attention but couldn’t be ignored either.

She claimed the empty desk next to yours one morning, placing her things carefully, almost ceremoniously, as if marking territory without words.

When you walked into the office later that day, she looked up briefly, gave a small nod, and returned to whatever work she had spread across the desk. You found yourself lingering just a fraction longer at the doorway, caught in the quiet rhythm of her being there. It wasn’t intrusive. It wasn’t dramatic. It was comfortable, in the same way sunlight spills through a window and warms the floor without permission.

In the library, it was the same. You noticed her sliding into a chair nearby, a stack of books forming a quiet barrier that invited proximity without imposing it. She would glance at your work, sometimes offering a wordless thumbs-up or a small smile when you caught her looking. The students seemed oblivious, but you felt the difference immediately. Her presence shaped the space around you, shaping it in a way that made the mundane feel lighter, easier.

Even in class, she would appear in the back row, at the edge of the room or by the side of the door, quietly observing, grading, or taking notes, but you knew better. Her eyes tracked your movements, catching the small gestures you made, the way your hands moved across the board, the pauses when you collected your thoughts. It was never obtrusive, never distracting. 

One time, you caught some students at the back row of the class giggling at something.

When you asked them what they were laughing at, they pointed to the woman sitting beside the door.

Your gaze followed and saw Jiyeon sitting still with her eyes closed yet her head looked like it could topple at any moment as it slowly swayed to each side.

You didn’t wake her up, didn’t tell off the boys but you simply took off your coat and walked over before carefully draping it over her.

She blinked, a little slowly at first, as if trying to reconcile the warmth across her chest. Then her lips curved, subtle, almost imperceptible at first, but it carried a softness that made the corners of your chest ache. She didn’t reach for the coat, didn’t even shift, she just stayed there, letting the gesture linger.

For a moment, the class was just background noise, a dull hum behind the delicate exchange of glances. You kept your posture steady at the front, hands folded lightly over the desk, but every few seconds your eyes flicked back, drawn like gravity to her quiet repose.

Finally, she opened her eyes fully, looking directly at you, the faintest tilt of her head acknowledging the care you’d given. Her fingers flexed against the edge of her desk, hesitant, as if weighing the right way to respond without breaking the moment.

Then she signed. Slowly, deliberately, the way she had taught you.

Thank… you.

You felt it in your chest before your eyes, warmth, weight, and recognition all at once. 

You nodded once, almost imperceptibly, a silent acknowledgment that your attention was hers whenever she needed it. She smiled then, softly, her shoulders relaxing slightly under the coat, and for the rest of the lesson, your eyes found her repeatedly, not to check, not to command, but just to exist in the same quiet orbit.

When class ended and the office emptied, she had stayed behind waiting until you walked out of the room.

She fell into step beside you without a word, her presence settling in alongside yours like another layer of the quiet afternoon. The hallways were mostly empty, the echoes of departing students fading into the soft hum of fluorescent lights and distant footsteps.

You kept your pace measured, neither quickening nor slowing, letting the space between you feel natural, unforced. Her hand brushed briefly against your arm as you passed a classroom door, a fleeting contact that made your pulse hitch, though neither of you flinched.

Then you felt her hold onto you, finally.

When you felt her hand fit into place with yours, you stopped. 

She didn’t pull back. She let her fingers curl around yours, light but deliberate. The space around you seemed to contract, the distant hum of the school fading until all you could feel was the gentle pressure of her hand and the steady warmth of her presence beside you.

You tilted your head slightly, as if asking permission without words. She answered with a subtle squeeze, patient and knowing, letting you know she was here, fully, without needing anything else.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The hallway stretched on, empty and forgiving, and the simple act of holding hands carried more weight than anything that had happened before. Your chest tightened, warmth pooling low and steady, a quiet echo of the trust and care that had built between you over weeks, over small gestures, over moments like this.

Finally, you exhaled, slow and measured, letting yourself settle into the rhythm of her presence. You took a careful step forward, and she matched it, and then another, until you were walking side by side, hand in hand, carrying the unspoken understanding between you like something fragile and precious, 

yet entirely yours.

As the years passed through elementary school, your friendship deepened into something that felt like family, yet carried an undercurrent neither of you could name. You defended her when older boys teased her for being too shy in class. She stayed up late with you during exam week, drawing silly cartoons in the margins of your notebooks to make you smile when you got frustrated with math. Summers were spent at the riverside paths along the Gapcheon, splashing in the shallow water, building small stone towers that the current eventually washed away, or exploring the green hills near the apartment complex, collecting pretty stones and fallen leaves from the trees. Winters meant huddling under the same blanket in your living room, watching cartoons while your mothers cooked kimchi jjigae that filled the apartment with warmth.

By middle school, the bond had grown, more layered. Puberty began to stir awkward changes. You noticed how Seoyeon’s cheeks would flush when other girls teased her about “having a boyfriend”, and you felt an unfamiliar tightness in your chest whenever boys started glancing her way in the hallways. She had grown into a graceful girl but still short like a hamster, soft features, and a gentle smile that made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t understand. She was your best friend, after all.

You shared everything, secrets, dreams, fears. Late at night, you would sneak onto the rooftop of your building and lie on an old blanket, staring at the city lights of Daejeon and the faint stars that managed to pierce through the haze. She confessed she wanted to become a writer one day, to capture the small, quiet moments of life that people usually overlooked. You admitted you dreamed of studying engineering, perhaps at KAIST right there in Daejeon or moving to Seoul, but the thought of leaving her behind always left a hollow feeling. Sometimes your hands would brush while reaching for the same snack, and you’d both pull away too quickly, hearts beating a little faster. You felt things, warm, fluttering things, when she leaned her head on your shoulder during those rooftop talks, her hair smelling of the coconut shampoo she used. But you never acted on them. She was Seoyeon. Your Seoyeon. Crossing that line felt impossible, like risking the only constant in your life.

The two of you advanced together through the ups and downs of adolescence. You celebrated each other’s birthdays with homemade cakes that always turned out slightly lopsided. You practiced for school festivals together, she helped you with your clumsy dance moves for the talent show, and you listened patiently while she read her short stories aloud, her voice soft and earnest. There were moments of jealousy too, quiet and buried. When she started getting closer to a guy in her art club, you felt an irrational sting. When a girl from your class confessed to you, you turned her down gently, your mind drifting to Seoyeon’s face instead. These feelings remained unspoken, simmering beneath the surface of your easy camaraderie. You hugged her often, quick, friendly hugs after good news or bad days, but you always held back from letting your arms linger, from breathing in the scent of her too deeply, from noticing how her developing body felt against yours during those innocent embraces.

Then came high school.

The three years of high school marked a slow, painful distancing that neither of you seemed able to stop. You both tested into the same competitive high school in Daejeon, but the new environment brought pressure, new social circles, and different paths. Seoyeon threw herself into literature clubs and writing competitions, staying late at school to edit the student magazine. You focused on science and math tracks, preparing rigorously for university entrance exams, joining study groups that kept you out until late evenings. The daily walks to school became less frequent as your schedules diverged. Texts grew shorter, replies slower. The rooftop meetings became rare, replaced by occasional weekend catch-ups at a café near the apartment complex that felt increasingly formal.

In your first year, you still sat together during lunch sometimes, sharing earphones to listen to music. By second year, those lunches happened maybe once a month. You watched from afar as she bloomed, more confident, more beautiful, with her hair grown longer and a quiet poise that drew quiet admiration from others. You felt that familiar twist in your chest whenever you saw her laughing with new friends in the hallways, but you told yourself it was natural. People grew apart. It was part of life. She seemed busier, more distant, focused on her future as a novelist. You buried yourself in textbooks and part-time tutoring, trying to ignore how empty the stairwell felt without her footsteps echoing behind yours.

The distancing wasn’t dramatic, no fights, no dramatic confessions. It was the quiet erosion of time and circumstance. By third year, you exchanged polite nods in the hallways, occasional “How have you been?” messages on KakaoTalk that went days without replies. The childhood closeness, the middle school warmth, the unacted-upon feelings, all of it seemed to fade into memory. You graduated separately, attending different after-parties with your respective groups. As you stood on the stage receiving your diploma, you caught a glimpse of her across the auditorium, her eyes meeting yours for a brief second before the crowd swallowed the moment.

That chapter ended with both of you stepping into adulthood, carrying the weight of what once was, and what was never said.

After graduation, the distance that had grown between you and Yoon Seoyeon in high school carried over into the start of university. Both of you were accepted into KAIST in Daejeon, your dream school for engineering, and a strong fit for Seoyeon’s literature and creative writing interests through their interdisciplinary programs. The campus, with its modern buildings nestled among green hills and the nearby Gapcheon river, felt both exciting and overwhelming. You moved into a dorm on the east side of campus with your assigned roommate, while Seoyeon settled into a different dormitory block closer to the humanities buildings. For the first semester, your paths rarely crossed. Occasional polite KakaoTalk messages “Did you settle in okay?” and the random sighting across the expansive central plaza were the extent of your interactions. The childhood warmth and middle-school closeness felt like echoes from another life.

That changed during the second semester of your first year.

A big freshman mixer party was organized by the student council at a large off-campus venue near the Yuseong-gu area, a lively night of music, cheap soju, snacks, and group games designed to help new students connect across departments. You attended with your growing circle of engineering friends: Kim Tae-sung, your loud and energetic roommate from Seoul who was studying mechanical engineering and always dragged you to social events, and Park Ji-hoon, a quiet but sharp-witted guy from your calculus study group. On Seoyeon’s side, she came with her literature-focused friends, Han Ji-eun, a bubbly short-story enthusiast who quickly became her closest friend, and Lee Min-kyung, a more reserved poetry major.

The mixer was chaotic and fun. Group icebreakers turned into team games, and as the night progressed with rounds of drinks and loud K-pop blasting, two couples unexpectedly formed. Tae-sung hit it off instantly with Ji-eun; their loud laughter and shared love for webtoons led to an impulsive kiss during a truth or dare segment. At the same time, Ji-hoon, usually so reserved, spent the entire evening in deep conversation with Min-kyung about philosophy and literature, and by the end of the night they exchanged numbers with shy smiles and plans for a study date.

This double pairing acted like glue. What started as two separate friend groups fused rapidly into one big, overlapping circle. Weekend gatherings, late-night study sessions at the 24-hour campus library, group trips to the nearby hot springs in Yuseong, and casual dorm parties became the new normal. Suddenly, Seoyeon was back in your daily orbit.

At first, the reconnection was tentative, wrapped in the safety of the larger group. You were both polite, almost formal. But the old familiarity was still there, like muscle memory. During a group dinner at a samgyeopsal restaurant near campus, when someone asked about childhood stories, Seoyeon glanced at you with a small, knowing smile and said, “Hyun-woo once tried to ‘rescue’ a pigeon that was perfectly fine and ended up chasing it around the rooftop for twenty minutes.” The table erupted in laughter, and for the first time in years, you felt that old, warm feeling in your chest as her eyes lingered on yours a second longer than necessary.

There was an easy trust between you two that the others noticed. Seoyeon would naturally sit near you during group study sessions in the library, and you’d slide her your notes on technical writing without her even asking, remembering how she struggled with structured essays. In return, she’d quietly bring you a can of coffee from the vending machine when she saw you pulling all-nighters for engineering projects, remembering your habit of drinking it black during stressful times. The group dynamic made it safe, there was always someone else around, so the rekindled closeness didn’t feel threatening. Yet you couldn’t ignore how your gaze would drift to her during group movie nights in someone’s dorm, watching the way the screen’s light played across her face: softer jawline, longer hair that she often tied back loosely, and the same gentle eyes that had once looked up at you from that puddle years ago.

Throughout the rest of the first year, this familiarity deepened without anyone addressing it directly. You trusted her implicitly. When you bombed your first major physics midterm and felt crushed, you found yourself texting her late at night instead of Tae-sung. She met you at a quiet bench by the Gapcheon river path, listening patiently as you vented, then sharing her own insecurities about whether her writing was “good enough” for the competitive KAIST environment. You walked her back to her dorm that night, the silence comfortable rather than awkward, your shoulders occasionally brushing. She trusted you too, confiding in you about how overwhelming the transition to university had been, how she sometimes missed the simplicity of your old rooftop talks at home.

By the start of your second year, the fused group was tight-knit. Tae-sung and Ji-eun were officially dating, often dragging everyone on couple-heavy outings that somehow still included the whole crew. Ji-hoon and Min-kyung moved slower but were clearly serious, studying together almost every evening. This created natural moments for you and Seoyeon to pair off within the group. During a group hiking trip to the nearby mountains in the fall of second year, you ended up walking beside her on the trail. The conversation flowed effortlessly, from complaining about professors to reminiscing about stealing tteok as kids. When she slipped on a loose rock, your hand instinctively shot out to steady her waist. The contact was brief, but you both froze for a heartbeat, her cheeks flushing the same way they had in middle school. You pulled away quickly, muttering “You need to be careful,” while your pulse raced.

In the later half of your second year, the evolution became more noticeable, at least to you. The trust had matured into something deeper and more intimate within the bounds of friendship. Late-night group study sessions often spilled into personal talks. You began to notice, and feel, things again: the way her laughter made the room feel brighter, how she unconsciously leaned toward you when tired, the subtle coconut scent of her shampoo that still hit you with nostalgia. During a rainy evening when the group was stuck in your dorm watching movies, she fell asleep against your shoulder. You didn’t move for two hours, hyper-aware of her warmth, the soft rise and fall of her breathing, and the way her hair spilled across your arm. Tae-sung looked at us and smirked but said nothing.

Seoyeon, for her part, seemed to seek your presence more. She asked you to review her short stories before submission, valuing your honest feedback because, as she said quietly one evening, “You’ve always understood the parts of me I don’t like to say out loud.” You helped her with presentation slides for her literature seminars, staying up until 3 a.m. in the common lounge, shoulders touching as you both hunched over the laptop. The unacted feelings simmered stronger now, the quiet jealousy when other male students approached her after class, the protective urge when she looked stressed, the flutter in your stomach when her hand brushed yours while passing snacks during group gatherings. But with all the friend group always around, and the fear of ruining this comfortable arrangement, neither of you crossed any lines. It remained a deep, trusting friendship layered with history and unspoken tension.

By the end of your second year at KAIST, the group had become family. You and Seoyeon existed in a space of profound familiarity and trust, able to read each other’s moods with a glance, share vulnerabilities the others didn’t see, and support one another through the intense academic pressure of KAIST. The childhood friends had become university companions again, closer than ever, yet still carefully balanced on the edge of something more.

By the start of your third year at KAIST, the friend group had become the anchor of your university life. The easy familiarity and deep trust between you and Seoyeon continued to grow in quiet, steady ways, but the unspoken tension underneath it all had begun to feel heavier. The group noticed it too, though they never said anything directly. Tae-sung would occasionally nudge you with a knowing smirk during group dinners, while Ji-eun would whisper something to Seoyeon that made her cheeks tint pink before changing the subject. Ji-hoon and Min-kyung, being the quieter pair, simply observed with soft smiles, content to let things unfold naturally.

The build-up to the turning point stretched across the third year and into the fourth. Academic pressure at KAIST was relentless, midterms, capstone projects, research presentations, but the group made time for each other. In the fall of third year, Tae-sung and Ji-eun organized a group trip to a small pension house near the mountains outside Daejeon to celebrate their one-year anniversary. The five-day stay was meant to be a break from being on campus: hiking during the day, barbecue and drinks at night, and a fire pit. It was during this trip that the tension between you and Seoyeon became impossible to ignore.

On the third night, after a long hike and too much soju, the group sat around the fire. Tae-sung, ever the loud one, started a game of “Never Have I Ever,” which quickly turned nostalgic. When he said, “Never have I ever had a childhood friend I secretly wanted more with,” Ji-eun elbowed him, but everyone’s eyes flicked toward you and Seoyeon. She laughed it off lightly, but you caught the way her gaze lingered on you across the flames, the firelight dancing in her dark eyes. Later that night, as the group dispersed to their rooms, Seoyeon stayed behind, poking at the dying embers. You sat with her in comfortable silence for a while before she spoke softly.

“Hyun-woo… do you ever think about how we drifted apart in high school?” Her voice was gentle, almost hesitant. “And how it feels like we found each other again.”

You nodded, heart beating faster. “Every day. It feels like we never really left, though. Like you were always there.” You wanted to say more, but the words caught in your throat. She smiled, a small, sad-sweet smile, and the moment passed. But it planted the seed.

Back on campus, the group continued to create spaces where you two were thrown together. Ji-hoon and Min-kyung, now deeply serious about their relationship, often paired up for couple activities and subtly invited you and Seoyeon as the “singles” to balance things out, study dates that turned into four person dinners, or movie nights in the dorm lounge where they conveniently left two spaces together. Tae-sung was less subtle; he once loudly announced during a group lunch, “You two have known each other forever. It’s kinda cute how you still finish each other’s sentences.” Seoyeon had blushed deeply that day, avoiding your eyes while you felt warmth spread through your chest.

As fourth year began, the weight of graduation and future plans added another layer. You were deep into your engineering thesis, spending long hours in the lab. Seoyeon was polishing her creative writing portfolio, hoping to publish a short story collection. The unacted feelings had become a constant undercurrent. You noticed everything about her now: the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when focused, how her voice softened when she spoke to you compared to others, the gentle curve of her smile that still made your stomach flutter after all these years. She seemed to seek you out more too than ever, texting you first to review her drafts, asking you to walk with her along the Gapcheon river path after evening classes because “it feels safer with you.”

The climax came on a quiet evening in late spring of your fourth year, just weeks before final exams and graduation preparations. The group had gathered at a small pojangmacha tent (those red tents from K-drama) near campus for dinner, grilled pork, cold beer, and endless side dishes. The mood was bittersweet; everyone was talking about post-graduation plans. Tae-sung and Ji-eun were planning to move to Seoul together. Ji-hoon and Min-kyung had applied to the same graduate program. When the conversation turned to you and Seoyeon, she grew unusually quiet.

After the meal, as the group began to split up, Seoyeon pulled you aside. “Can we talk? Just us?” Her voice was steady, but there was a nervous determination in her eyes. Tae-sung gave you a thumbs-up behind her back before Ji-eun dragged him away, leaving the two of you alone on the dimly lit path back toward the KAIST campus.

You walked in silence for a few minutes, the spring air cool and carrying the scent of blooming cherry blossoms. Finally, Seoyeon stopped under a streetlamp near the edge of campus, turning to face you. Her long hair swayed gently in the breeze, and her cheeks were flushed, not just from the soju earlier, but from something she had been waiting to say for some time already.

“Hyun-woo,” she began, her voice soft but clear, eyes locked on yours with a vulnerability you had rarely seen. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. About how we’ve known each other since we were six… how you were always there, even when we drifted in high school. How coming back together at KAIST felt like fate giving us another chance.” She took a small step closer, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her light cardigan. “All these years, I felt things for you. Warm feelings. Safe feelings. The kind that made my heart race when you smiled at me on the rooftop as kids, or when you steadied me on that hike. I never acted on them because I was scared of losing you. But I don’t want to graduate and wonder ‘what if’ anymore.”

Her confession hung in the air, raw and honest. Before you could respond, Seoyeon closed the remaining distance. She reached up slowly, her fingers lightly touching your arm, then sliding up to rest on your chest as if drawing courage from the steady beat of your heart. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was soft, achingly soft, her mouth warm and slightly trembling against yours. Her free hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your skin as she lingered there, pouring years of unspoken affection into that single, romantic moment. You could taste the faint sweetness of the strawberry soju she’d had earlier, feel the delicate press of her body as she leaned into you, not demanding, but offering.

When she pulled back after several long seconds, her eyes were shining, a mix of nervousness and relief on her face. “I love you, Hyun-woo. Not just as my oldest friend. As more. I have for a long time.”

The world felt still around you, the distant hum of campus life fading as you stood there, foreheads nearly touching. You wrapped your arms around her waist, holding her close in a warm, secure embrace, finally letting yourself sink into the feelings you had buried for so many years. The kiss had been romantic, full of tenderness and history, a beautiful release of all the pent-up emotions that had built from childhood through university.

From that night on, your relationship shifted. The friends celebrated quietly, Ji-eun squealing with excitement when Seoyeon told her the next day, Tae-sung clapping you on the back with a “Finally!”, but they gave you space as you and Seoyeon began navigating this new chapter together in your final weeks at KAIST.

The night Seoyeon kissed you under the streetlamp marked the beginning of everything you had quietly yearned for since childhood. In the days that followed, you made sure to be more vocal than you had ever been. The morning after, you met her outside her dorm with coffee in hand, black for you, with a touch of honey for her, and pulled her into a warm hug right there on the path.

“Seoyeon-ah,” you said softly against her hair, voice thick with emotion, “I want to say something so it’s clear. I’ve loved you for so long. Not just as my best friend. I loved the girl who saved beetles with me, the one who listened to all my stupid dreams on the rooftop, the woman you’ve become here at KAIST. I was scared too… but no more. I love you.”

She melted into your arms, and from then on, the two of you were official.

The last weeks of university were a whirlwind of bittersweet intensity. Final presentations, thesis defenses, and graduation rehearsals filled the days, but every spare moment belonged to each other. You walked her to classes, fingers intertwined, no longer hiding the affection you had suppressed for years. During late-night study sessions in the library, you would pull her onto your lap when no one was looking, kissing her temple and whispering, “I can’t believe I get to do this now.” Seoyeon would blush and bury her face in your neck, humming the old trot songs from your childhood.

Post-graduation plans became a frequent topic during quiet evenings by the Gapcheon river. You had secured a research engineer position at a semiconductor company in Daejeon, allowing you to stay close. Seoyeon had been accepted into a creative writing MFA program in Seoul but hesitated, worried about distance. One night, sitting on a bench with her head on your shoulder, you spoke firmly: “If Seoul is what you need for your writing, we’ll make it work. I’ll visit every weekend. Or… I can look for opportunities there too. I’m not letting distance pull us apart again. You’re my priority now, Seoyeon. Always.”

She kissed you deeply that night, tears in her eyes, murmuring how much your words meant to her.

The friend group, of course, was thrilled but insatiably curious. A week before graduation, Tae-sung organized one final big gathering at the pojangmacha near campus, the same place where Seoyeon had first confessed. The six of you filled a table with grilled meats, soju, and endless banchan. Laughter echoed as you reminisced about the mixer that had fused your groups years earlier.

At one point, the girls, Seoyeon, Ji-eun, and Min-kyung, excused themselves to the restroom together. The guys stayed at the table. Tae-sung immediately leaned in with a grin. “So, Hyun-woo… spill it. You two have been glued at the hip since the confession. How far have you gone? Don’t tell me you’re still acting like middle-schoolers.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, cheeks heating, but the soju loosened your tongue. “Just kissing,” you admitted with a shy laugh. “Lots of kissing. Holding each other. I want our first time to be… right. Special. After everything we’ve been through, it deserves to mean something.”

Tae-sung clapped you on the back while Ji-hoon nodded approvingly. “Respect, man. But don’t wait too long—graduation is basically tomorrow.”

Meanwhile, in the restroom, the girls surrounded Seoyeon. Ji-eun, ever the bold one, asked directly: “Unnie, be honest. Have you and Hyun-woo… you know?”

Seoyeon shook her head, smiling softly. “Only kissing. Deep, beautiful kissing. He’s been so patient and romantic. It makes me love him even more. We both want the first time to feel special after all these years.”

Ji-eun squealed while Min-kyung hugged her gently. The groups reunited with knowing looks but didn’t tease further, respecting the depth of your shared history.

Graduation came and went in a blur of gowns, photos, and tearful goodbyes. Two days later, with the campus emptying and your friends beginning their moves, you and Seoyeon finally had true privacy. Your parents had helped you rent a small, cozy apartment near the KAIST area for the summer transition, simple but yours. Seoyeon had decided to defer her MFA start by a semester to stay in Daejeon with you.

The evening arrived naturally. You had cooked a simple meal together, her favorite kimchi jjigae, and shared a bottle of wine on the small balcony overlooking the city lights. Conversation flowed easily, laced with years of memories and new affection.

“Hyun-woo,” she whispered later, standing in the living room with you, arms wrapped around your waist. “I’m ready. I want you. All of you.”

You cupped her face, heart pounding. “I want you too, Seoyeon. More than anything. I love you.”

You led her to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation and tenderness. Clothes came off slowly, reverently. You peeled away her blouse, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin, her collarbones, the soft swell of her breasts, her stomach, whispering how beautiful she was, how you had dreamed of this. She trembled under your touch, her hands exploring your chest and shoulders with equal wonder, tracing the lines of muscle you had built from late-night gym sessions to clear your head during university stress.

When you were both bare, you laid her gently on the bed, covering her body with yours. The feeling of skin on skin was electric. You kissed her deeply, tongues dancing, as your hands roamed. Her breasts were full and soft, nipples hardening under your palms and then your mouth as you sucked one gently, then the other, drawing soft moans from her lips. “Hyun-woo…” she breathed, fingers threading through your hair.

You took your time exploring her. Your hand slid down her toned stomach, between her thighs, finding her already wet and warm. You circled her clit slowly, then dipped a finger inside her tight heat, then two, curling them as she gasped and arched. She was soaking, her walls clenching around your fingers while you kissed her neck and whispered, “You feel perfect. So wet for me. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Seoyeon’s hand wrapped around your hard cock, stroking you with shy but eager movements, her thumb brushing over the sensitive head where precum had beaded. “I want you inside me,” she murmured, voice husky with need and love.

You positioned yourself between her spread legs, rubbing your throbbing length along her slick folds before pressing the head against her entrance. Looking into her eyes the entire time, you pushed in slowly. She was incredibly tight, her walls stretching around your thick shaft inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming, hot, velvety, perfect. She winced slightly at the fullness, so you paused, kissing her softly until she relaxed.

“I love you,” you groaned as you bottomed out, buried to the hilt inside her. The intimacy was profound, years of friendship, trust, and longing culminating in this union. You stayed still for a moment, savoring how her pussy pulsed around you, then began to thrust gently, building a slow, deep rhythm.

Seoyeon wrapped her legs around your waist, heels digging into your back as she met your movements. Her moans grew louder, sweeter, gasps of your name mixed with cries of pleasure. You made love to her with everything you had: long, deliberate strokes that hit deep, grinding against her clit with every thrust. Your hands held hers above her head, fingers interlaced, as you watched her face contort in ecstasy, flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes glazed with love and lust.

You switched positions so she could ride you, her hands on your chest for balance as she sank down onto your cock again. The sight of her above you, breasts bouncing, hair cascading, hips rolling, nearly undid you. You reached up to thumb her clit, feeling her tighten and tremble as her first orgasm washed over her. Her pussy clenched rhythmically around your shaft, juices coating you as she cried out.

Not long after, you flipped her onto her back again, thrusting harder but still filled with emotion. “Come with me, Seoyeon,” you panted. “I’m so close.”

She nodded, nails digging into your shoulders. Your pace quickened, the wet sounds of your bodies joining filling the room alongside your shared moans. With a deep groan, you buried yourself as far as possible and came hard, pulsing thick ropes of cum deep inside her welcoming heat. The feeling triggered her second climax, her walls milking every drop from you as she shook beneath you.

You collapsed together, sweaty and spent, holding each other tightly. You stayed inside her for a long time afterward, softening slowly while exchanging soft kisses and whispered “I love you”. Tears of overwhelming emotion slipped from both your eyes.

This was more than sex. It was the culmination of a lifetime of connection finally, complete surrender to each other.