hiiii! May i ask for a enhypen reacts to when you say their name in your sleep?
I'LL MEET YOU IN MY SLEEP ✶ saying their name in your sleep
𝐢𝒏𝐝𝐞𝒙 ✸ ot7 x fem! reader 5.3k ( approx 760 words ) fluff established relationship! au ୨୧ mentions of sleeptalking, nightmares, being drunk nicknames (baby, babe, angel, love)
이 HEESEUNG 🎧️ while you were sleeping brothersu, se o
heeseung had been at his desk for hours — the same posture, the same focused look, the same mechanical clicking of his mouse that filled the otherwise quiet room. the only difference was that tonight, yn was there too, tucked into his apartment like she belonged, because she did. she had arrived around seven, hair damp from her shower and face glowing with that lazy evening softness. he’d greeted her at the door with a gentle kiss on her lips, then another on her cheek — one of those thoughtless little gestures that always made her melt — before muttering, “just one more game, i promise.”
that had been two hours ago.
now, the soft hum of his pc fans blended with his low voice as he spoke into his mic, laughing occasionally, muttering quick instructions to his teammates. yn had spent the first half-hour curled up on his bed, scrolling through her phone, occasionally glancing over at him. she didn’t mind at first — he looked good like this, his brows furrowed, his lips curved in focus, the glow of the screen catching the edge of his jaw. but after the second, and then third, “last game,” she sighed.
she tried subtle first — little hums from the bed, the shuffle of her blanket, her soft, “hee.”
he responded with a distracted hum, still clicking away.
then a slightly louder, “heeseung.”
“what’s wrong, baby?” he asked, sweet as ever but not looking away from his monitor.
“nothing,” she muttered, even though she was obviously pouting.
a few minutes later, she tried again, her voice dipping into that tone she knew got to him. “hee~”
this time, he smiled — she heard it in the small chuckle under his breath — but he only murmured, “almost done angel, promise.”
she huffed and threw her phone aside, crossing her arms dramatically before walking over to him. he didn’t notice at first until he felt her presence behind him — the warmth of her hovering close. then, without a word, she climbed into his lap, shifting until she was comfortable, her hands curled to her chest and her head resting against his collarbone.
he glanced down, startled, a grin tugging at his lips. “hey-”
“shh,” she whispered sleepily, eyes fluttering closed. “you’ve been saying that for the last hour.”
he laughed softly but didn’t protest, resting one hand on her thigh as he continued playing with his other. it was cute at first — the way she tucked her face into his neck, her breathing steady and warm against his skin. but soon, the rhythm of her breath deepened. she’d fallen asleep like that, tangled around him, while he kept playing, torn between amusement and fondness.
then it happened.
her voice, soft and airy, slipped out between breaths. “hee…”
heeseung froze mid-move.
he turned his head slightly, lips brushing her hairline as he listened. she shifted in his lap, her hand slipping up to rest flat against his chest. then again, a little louder, a little breathier — “seungie..”
the corners of his mouth lifted. he took one side of his headset off, his voice dropping into something low and tender. “yeah, baby?” he murmured, just to see if she’d respond.
her fingers twitched, curling against his shirt, and she mumbled something else, half incoherent. he leaned in, still smiling.
“what was that?” he whispered, amused.
and then she said it — muffled but clear enough to make his heart stop for a beat. “miss you.”
heeseung blinked, confusion flickering across his face before it softened into something else entirely — warmth, guilt, affection all tangled together.
“you miss me?” he whispered back, even though she was clearly asleep. “but i’m right here.”
she didn’t answer, of course. just sighed and nuzzled closer, her breath fanning over his neck.
he sat there for a few seconds, looking at the half-finished match on his screen, then at her peaceful face. the game didn’t seem all that important anymore. with a quiet exhale, he reached forward, closed out of it, and shut the pc off. the glow of the monitors dimmed, leaving only the golden light of his bedside lamp illuminating the room.
he wrapped an arm under her legs and another behind her back, lifting her effortlessly. she stirred, murmuring something unintelligible against his chest, but didn’t wake.
“yeah, yeah,” he whispered, smiling. “you miss me, huh?”
he carried her to his bed, pulling the blanket back with one hand before lowering her onto the mattress. she immediately reached for him in her sleep — the instinctive little tug at his shirt that made his chest ache. so he didn’t bother leaving.
he slid in beside her, pulling her close until her head found its place over his heart. her fingers curled into the fabric of his tee, and her breathing steadied again.
he brushed his thumb over her temple, whispering softly, “next time, i’ll stop at one game.”
박 JAY 🎧️ lay your head on me crush
the late afternoon sun spilled lazily through the car windows, turning everything gold — the road ahead, the passing trees, even the sleepy curve of yn’s smile as she talked for what felt like hours straight. the car was alive with her voice; animated, expressive, and filled with laughter that made everyone else grin even when they pretended to be tired of it.
ness was driving, one hand on the wheel and the other drumming along to the faint beat of the music. jake was in the passenger seat, turned halfway around so he could join in the conversation — or rather, the commentary on yn’s endless storytelling. jay, sunghoon, and yn occupied the backseat, squeezed close but comfortable, the kind of closeness that only came after years of friendship and road trips that never went quite as planned.
but as the miles stretched on, her energy finally began to fade. her words slowed, her voice softened, and eventually, the chatter lulled into quiet murmurs. jay was scrolling idly through his phone when he noticed she’d gone silent.
when he turned to look, her head had lolled slightly to the side, cheek resting against the headrest. a few strands of hair had fallen into her face, and her lips parted slightly as she breathed evenly. she looked peaceful — the kind of peace jay rarely saw when she was awake and buzzing with life.
a few minutes later, as the road hummed beneath them, her head tilted again — this time landing squarely on sunghoon’s shoulder.
sunghoon blinked, then looked down at her with mild surprise before smirking. “oh?” he teased, glancing toward jay.
jay, who had been half-lost in his thoughts, didn’t immediately notice until sunghoon gave a not-so-subtle nudge. “dude,” he whispered, grinning. “you seeing this?”
jay looked up — and there she was, nestled comfortably against sunghoon like it was the most natural thing in the world. his jaw tensed for a second, though he knew better than to actually get jealous. they were all close, and yn was someone who, even in her sleep, just found warmth.
sunghoon, of course, didn’t let the moment pass quietly. “she’s really comfy,” he said, leaning back a little, clearly trying to get a rise out of jay.
jay rolled his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. “don’t start,” he muttered, voice even but his hand was already reaching for hers.
he found it easily, her fingers relaxed in her lap and threaded his through them. his thumb brushed over her knuckles gently, almost instinctively.
sunghoon caught it, his grin widening. “possessive much?” he teased quietly.
jay didn’t bother answering. he just squeezed her hand lightly, a small smile playing on his lips as he murmured under his breath, “she’s mine even when she’s asleep.”
for a few more minutes, sunghoon amused himself by gently twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers, smirking when jay shot him a warning glare. “relax, lover boy. she’s asleep,” sunghoon said with a chuckle.
ness and jake were oblivious up front, lost in their own conversation about where to stop for dinner. the car was warm, the sun dipping lower, and the steady rhythm of the road made everything feel unhurried.
then it happened.
yn shifted slightly, her brows furrowing as if she were dreaming. her grip on jay’s hand tightened faintly before she breathed out his name.
“seong..”
it was soft, barely audible, but it cut through the quiet like a secret meant only for him.
jay froze. his head turned instinctively toward her, eyes wide for a second before softening. her lips parted again, her voice low and slurred with sleep.
“love you…” she mumbled faintly, her head still resting against sunghoon’s shoulder.
sunghoon blinked, eyebrows shooting up as he turned to look at jay, who was already trying — and failing — to hide the smug little smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“oh wow,” sunghoon whispered, pretending to look impressed. “didn’t know she talked in her sleep and confessed to you every time.”
“shut up,” jay said, though the amusement in his tone betrayed him.
without saying more, he gently shifted, slipping his arm around yn and easing her toward him instead. she moved naturally, her body following his warmth like she was meant to be there. her head found his shoulder, her cheek pressing into his hoodie as if she was finally comfortable.
jay pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there for a moment. the scent of her shampoo — faint lavender and something sweet — filled his senses, grounding him completely.
“she’s definitely dreaming about you,” sunghoon said, still smirking but quieter now.
“yeah,” jay murmured, eyes still on her. “i know.”
심 JAKE 🎧️ by my side - dream edit honne
by the time jake got home, it was well past midnight. the apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came when the world outside had gone still. his keys jingled softly as he unlocked the door, stepping into the dimly lit space that already felt warmer just knowing she was inside.
he dropped his jacket onto the couch and padded down the hallway, the faint glow from the bedroom spilling out through the half-open door. he didn’t have to peek in to know she’d fallen asleep waiting for him — she always did.
when he pushed the door open, the sight made him pause for a second. yn was curled up on her side, hair spread messily across the pillow, her hand clutching the corner of his hoodie that she must’ve grabbed before bed. the blanket had slipped halfway down her shoulder, and her breathing came slow and even, the rise and fall of her chest in that steady, familiar rhythm he loved.
jake’s expression softened instantly. every trace of exhaustion from the night out seemed to melt away just looking at her. he leaned down, brushing his fingers lightly over her hair before pressing a quiet kiss to her forehead — his nightly ritual, whether she was awake or not.
“hey, sleepyhead,” he murmured, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.
he lingered for a moment longer, just watching her. then, moving as quietly as possible, he headed to the bathroom. the sound of running water filled the air, the soft thud of his clothes being tossed aside, the faint scent of his body wash curling into the air — fresh, clean, distinctly him.
when he came out again, his hair was damp, dark strands clinging to his forehead. he wore nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, the rest of him still glistening faintly from the shower. he ran a towel through his hair lazily as he crossed the room, careful not to make noise as he slid under the covers beside her.
the mattress dipped with his weight, and almost immediately, she stirred.
her brows knit slightly, a soft sound escaping her throat as she shifted under the blanket. then, like muscle memory, she reached for him in her sleep — one hand brushing blindly across the sheets until she found warmth.
jake froze for a second, the towel falling forgotten from his hand as she moved closer, tucking herself against him with a soft sigh.
“jakey…” she breathed, the sound muffled and dreamy, but the way she said his name — quiet, needy, affectionate — hit him straight in the chest.
he smiled, the kind of small, private smile that no one else ever saw.
“hi, baby,” he whispered, his voice tender and low, careful not to wake her. he turned slightly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his bare chest. the warmth of her body fit against his perfectly, her cheek pressed to his skin where his heartbeat was steady beneath her ear.
she let out another little whine, his name tumbling from her lips again, softer this time — almost like a sigh of relief. her hand curled against his ribs as though anchoring herself there, and he could feel her breath fan warmly across his skin.
he chuckled quietly, brushing his thumb over the curve of her jaw before pressing a kiss to her cheek, then another to the corner of her mouth. “you’re even clingy in your sleep,” he whispered with a grin, his breath warm against her temple.
but instead of pulling away, she moved again — instinctively, unconsciously — tucking herself closer until her face was buried in the crook of his neck. the faint sound of her content hum vibrated against his skin, and then he felt it — the softest brush of her lips as she pressed a sleepy kiss there, still half-lost to her dreams.
jake’s breath hitched. it wasn’t deliberate — she wasn’t even awake — but it was enough to make his chest tighten in that stupid, helpless way she always managed to. he smiled again, eyes fluttering shut as he let his chin rest lightly atop her head.
the scent of his soap clung to both of them now — clean linen and something faintly woody — and she seemed to relax fully at that, her body melting into his. her breathing steadied, and she went still again, safe and warm in his hold.
jake tightened his arm around her waist just a little, enough to keep her close without disturbing her sleep. his other hand moved slowly through her hair, brushing it back from her face before he whispered, more to himself than to her, “you always find me, don’t you?”
박 SUNGHOON 🎧️ i'm in love with you the 1975
it was late — far too late — the kind of hour where the world outside felt like it was holding its breath. the faint hum of sunghoon’s laptop filled the bedroom, the only light coming from the screen casting a dim, bluish glow over his face. his eyes were focused, jaw set as he clicked and typed quietly, one hand occasionally running through his hair in concentration.
he’d promised her he’d sleep soon.
actually, he’d sworn he would — an hour ago, right before she’d fallen asleep. she’d been curled up on her side, hair falling across her face, her voice soft and a little pouty as she mumbled, “just sleep soon hoon, please. you said that yesterday too.”
he’d laughed, leaning down to kiss her lips. “i mean it this time angel,” he’d whispered against her mouth, giving her that charming half-smile that usually made her give in. she had rolled her eyes and turned away with a small huff, tugging the blanket up to her chin.
that had been at twelve and now, it was well past two.
he stole a glance at her. she was fast asleep, just as he expected — one arm draped across his side of the bed, her fingers slightly curled as if she were still reaching for him in her dreams. he smiled faintly. there was something grounding about the sight of her asleep; it made the long nights of work less unbearable.
her breathing was soft, steady — and then she spoke. “...apples… bananas… carrots…”
sunghoon looked up from his screen, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “really?” he murmured under his breath, glancing over his shoulder.
she was turned slightly toward him now, face half-buried in the pillow, brow furrowed in faint concentration. “eggs…” she muttered next. “...couch… lamp…”
he chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “you do grocery lists in your sleep too huh, angel?” he whispered, his voice low and affectionate.
it wasn’t new — she talked in her sleep all the time. sometimes random things, sometimes entire conversations with herself. he’d even learned to respond just to see where it would go.
“yeah?” he said softly, playing along, not looking up from his laptop. “what else do we need?”
she shifted slightly. “...cherries…”
he smiled to himself. “got it. i’ll write it down,” he teased.
her mumbling continued for a few minutes — disjointed words, soft sounds, the occasional sigh, until he heard it — the sudden change in her tone.
“sunghoon…”
it was faint, the way she said it. barely a breath, but enough to make him pause mid-keystroke.
he turned his head slightly, watching her from the corner of his eye. she didn’t move much, just a small twitch of her fingers against the blanket.
“yeah, i’m here,” he murmured absently, assuming she was just murmuring like before.
but then she said it again — this time with a tremble in her voice.
“hoon..”
he frowned. her tone wasn’t sleepy or playful anymore. it was soft, fragile, and tinged with something that sounded like fear.
her body shifted restlessly under the blanket, her brows pinching together, her breathing picking up ever so slightly. “hoon, don’t—” she mumbled, voice catching as though she were stuck between dreams and panic.
that was all it took for him to shut his laptop without hesitation. the sudden quiet that filled the room made her soft whimpers sound even louder, and his chest tightened instantly.
“hey, hey,” he whispered, leaning closer, his hand brushing the hair away from her face. “it’s okay, baby. i’m here.”
she twitched slightly, her lashes fluttering but not opening. a small, broken sound escaped her throat — something between a sob and a sigh — and she mumbled his name again, this time shakier.
he cupped her cheek gently, his thumb stroking slow circles against her skin. “shh, i’m right here, yn. you’re okay,” he murmured, voice soft and steady.
when she didn’t calm down immediately, he shifted onto his side, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer until her head rested against his chest. she resisted at first, her body tense from whatever nightmare had its hold on her, but once he held her tightly — once she caught his scent and warmth — she began to ease.
her breathing slowed little by little. her hand found his shirt, fingers curling weakly into the fabric. he kissed the top of her head, lingering there as he whispered again, “you’re safe. it’s just a dream, love. nothing’s gonna happen.”
she made a small noise, then sighed, relaxing fully against him at last. her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck like it was the only place she belonged, her lips brushing faintly against his collarbone as she settled back into a peaceful sleep.
he tilted his head, brushing his lips softly against her temple. “you really had to scare me at two in the morning, huh?” he whispered against her skin, smiling faintly despite the worry that lingered.
김 SUNOO 🎧️ honeymoon avenue ariana grande
sunoo had his hands full that night.
it had started at the dinner party, when yn—tipsy after just two glasses of wine—decided she was a professional bartender and began making questionable cocktails for everyone, giggling the whole time. by the end of it, her cheeks were flushed pink, her words slurred but full of affection, and every other sentence started with “sunny, you know what?” followed by something completely unrelated.
now, as they stood outside their apartment door, she had one arm looped lazily around his neck, the other dangling at her side. she was smiling up at him with that drowsy, innocent look she got when she was drunk—the one that made his heart melt and his patience tested all at once.
“babbbyyyy,” she dragged out, poking his cheek as he tried to fish their keys from his pocket, “you look so pretty right now.”
sunoo couldn’t help but laugh softly. “thank you, love,” he said, steadying her by the waist before she could wobble again. “let’s get you inside before you fall asleep in the hallway.”
“i’m not sleepy,” she protested weakly, leaning her entire body weight onto him.
“you said that before you fell asleep on the couch last time,” he teased.
that earned a tiny, offended gasp from her. “that’s because you’re comfy!”
he finally got the door open and led her in, trying his best not to laugh when she stopped in the middle of the living room to dramatically sigh. “sunny, kiss me,” she mumbled, her eyes half-lidded, a tipsy smile on her lips.
sunoo chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against her warm cheek. “you’re drunk, baby. i’ll kiss you tomorrow, hmm?”
she pouted. “you always say that.”
“and i always do,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose instead. she giggled, satisfied for a second—until she tripped over her own feet trying to walk to the bedroom.
sunoo sighed, amused but exasperated. “alright, that’s enough adventure for tonight,” he said, scooping her up. her arms looped around his neck as she nuzzled her face into the crook of it, still mumbling his name.
by the time he laid her down, she was already halfway to dreamland, her hair fanned out across the pillow, her expression relaxed. he tucked the blanket around her shoulders and brushed a few stray strands from her forehead.
“i’ll be right back, okay?” he whispered, but she only hummed incoherently in response.
he went to grab one of his oversized shirts for her to change into and came back less than a minute later—only to find her already out cold, her breathing slow and steady. still, he changed her gently, careful not to wake her. she stirred once, mumbling something he couldn’t quite catch, and when he leaned closer, her lips moved again.
“sunny..” she breathed out softly, voice barely audible.
he froze, heart softening instantly.
“yeah, baby?” he whispered, crouching beside her.
she mumbled again, this time her words blending together, but he could make out the familiar plea—“kiss me”—slurred between her sighs. her lips puckered slightly, forming the tiniest pout, and even in her sleep, she looked heartbreakingly sweet.
sunoo chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head. “even in your dreams, huh?” he said under his breath, brushing his thumb along her jawline. he leaned in and pressed a long, tender kiss to her forehead, whispering, “goodnight, my love.”
she let out a soft hum at the touch, her lips relaxing, the corners of her mouth turning up faintly. he slipped under the covers beside her, pulling her close until her head rested over his heart. she immediately melted into him, arms winding around his waist as though she’d been waiting for him to do that all along.
sunoo smiled into her hair, his fingers drawing slow circles on her back. “sleep well, my troublemaker,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
양 JUNGWON 🎧️ warm ariana grande
jungwon was lying on the big hotel bed, his phone propped up against a pillow, the soft glow of the screen lighting up his face in the otherwise dark room. the faint sound of waves outside the balcony door filled the background as he talked to the girl he missed most in the world.
it had been nearly two weeks since he left for vacation with his family, and though he loved spending time with them, he couldn’t deny that the best part of his day was when night came—when he could finally hear her voice. his love.
“won,” yn mumbled through a yawn, her voice sleepy but stubbornly sweet. “you sound tired too… maybe you should sleep.”
he chuckled softly, his dimples flashing even though she couldn’t see them well through the camera’s dim light. “i’m fine, love. you’re the one fighting to keep your eyes open right now.”
“i’m not,” she protested weakly, even as her eyelids fluttered shut for a moment.
“mm-hm,” he teased, amused. “then tell me what i just said.”
“…something about… the waves?” she guessed, voice trailing off as she burrowed deeper into her pillow.
jungwon laughed quietly. “nope. i was saying that my girlfriend’s too cute for her own good.”
that earned him a small giggle, muffled by her blanket. “you’re lucky i’m too tired to argue, won.”
“baby,” he said gently, his voice softening, “you’ve had such a long day. you should sleep. i’ll stay on call, okay?”
she let out a hum of agreement but mumbled, “but i don’t wanna sleep yet. i miss you.”
the words hit him right in the chest. he sighed softly, eyes softening as he stared at her through the screen. her hair was messy from the long day, her cheek pressed into the pillow, the faintest pout on her lips. she looked so heartbreakingly sweet.
“i miss you too,” he whispered, even though she probably couldn’t hear him anymore. “more than you know.”
the conversation faded into the kind of quiet that only felt warm, not awkward. she’d gone quiet completely, her breathing slow and steady, the occasional rustle of her blanket the only sound.
he smiled. “you asleep, love?” he asked softly, even though he already knew the answer.
no response—just soft snores.
he stayed anyway. he always did. watching her sleep through the screen had become something of a comfort for him—he’d talk quietly about his day, tell her about the beach, or what maeumi had done that morning. it wasn’t really for her to hear; it was more like his way of keeping her close, even from miles away.
he was mid-sentence when he suddenly heard it— “wonnie…”
he froze for a second, blinking in surprise.
her voice was soft and slurred, like she was dreaming—but she definitely said his name.
he leaned a little closer to his phone, smiling before he even realised it. “yeah, baby?” he whispered, even though she couldn’t respond.
“miss you,” she mumbled again, her lips curling into a faint smile even in sleep. “miss.. won…”
his heart squeezed.
there was something so tender about hearing it like that—unguarded, sleepy, real. he couldn’t help but grin, cheeks warming as he rubbed the back of his neck. “you’re gonna kill me, love,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “how am i supposed to sleep after that?”
on her side, she shifted slightly, her blanket falling to the side, and he could see the faint movement of her lips forming his name again—this time quieter, like a sigh.
“won…”
“god, i love you,” he whispered before he could stop himself. he turned his phone so she could still see him, even though she wasn’t awake to look, and rested his chin on the pillow.
“i miss you too, baby,” he said softly, eyes tired but full of warmth. “one more week, yeah? then i’m back home. then i’ll hold you for real instead of just on call.”
she stirred again, her hand curling into herself as she smiled in her sleep. his chest ached seeing it.
“go on, love,” he whispered, pouting softly. “i’ll see you in your dreams.”
西村 RIKI 🎧️ dirty water the debut: dream academy
riki had been waiting for this night for weeks.
he’d even circled the date in his calendar with a little doodle—movie night with yn. it had become their little tradition to go to the theatre together every couple of weeks, sharing popcorn, teasing each other about movie preferences, and whispering sarcastic commentary under their breaths. this one, though, had been special. they’d both been hyping it up for days, sending each other trailers and memes, promising that this time they’d actually stay for the post-credit scene instead of bolting for ice cream halfway through.
but when he saw her that evening, riki knew instantly that she was running on fumes.
she still looked beautiful, of course—she always did—but her eyes had that tired glaze, her shoulders a little slouched under the weight of a long day. she’d just come straight from work, still in her neat clothes, hair slightly tousled from rushing. she smiled at him the moment she saw him in the theatre lobby, though, her exhaustion melting into that familiar fond expression that always made his chest tighten.
“hey, sleepyhead,” he said with a grin, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “we can skip tonight if you’re tired, you know. we can just get dinner and go home.”
“no way,” she said immediately, shaking her head, though the yawn she tried to hide right after didn’t help her case. “we’ve been waiting for this movie for weeks, riki. i’m not bailing just because i had a long day.”
he chuckled softly. “you sure? i don’t want you passing out halfway and drooling on my hoodie again.”
she gasped, lightly smacking his chest. “that happened once! and i was sick!”
he laughed, catching her hand before she could pull it away and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “alright, alright. i’ll stop teasing. come on, let’s get inside.”
once they found their seats, the lights dimmed and the trailers started rolling. yn nestled comfortably against him, her head resting on his shoulder as his arm naturally slipped around her. riki smiled to himself, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her arm.
at first, she seemed fine—making small comments about the movie, giggling at certain scenes—but he noticed the way her blinks started getting slower, her replies getting shorter, her head gradually getting heavier against him.
“you okay, babe?” he whispered, leaning down to her ear.
“mhm,” she hummed softly, barely opening her eyes. “just comfy.”
he grinned. “you sure? you’re falling asleep on me.”
“i’m not,” she mumbled automatically, her voice slow and drowsy. “i’m watching…”
“yeah?” he teased, glancing down at her. “what’s happening right now, then?”
“uh…” she paused, eyes closed. “something… loud?”
he bit back a laugh. “you’re impossible.”
she smiled lazily, lifting a weak hand to tug on his collar, her usual way of pulling him closer. when he leaned down, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, whispering, “i’ll stay awake, promise.”
“sure you will,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her jaw affectionately.
not even ten minutes later, she was out cold.
her head rested perfectly against his shoulder, her lips parted slightly, her breathing soft and steady. riki looked down at her and couldn’t help the fond smile tugging at his lips. she looked so peaceful like that, so small and delicate next to him, her earlier exhaustion finally catching up.
the movie continued, but riki barely paid attention. he was too busy memorizing the way her eyelashes fluttered when she shifted, the faint sound of her breathing mixing with the theatre’s surround sound, the warmth of her body pressed into his side.
then, somewhere between scenes, he heard it.
“riki…”
it was faint, but he heard it clear as day to him.
he blinked, surprised, turning his head slightly toward her. “yeah, baby?” he whispered automatically, even though she was fast asleep.
she didn’t answer, of course—just murmured again, his name escaping her lips in the softest tone. “riki…”
and this time, she smiled. a tiny, sleepy, genuine smile that made his heart stutter.
riki felt warmth flood through his chest, that giddy, helpless kind that only she could make him feel. he leaned down, pressing a slow, careful kiss to her hairline.
“you’re dreaming about me, huh?” he murmured against her skin, his voice full of amusement and affection. “i knew you couldn’t go a whole night without me.”
she shifted a little, cuddling closer into him, her hand unconsciously gripping the fabric of his hoodie. he tightened his arm around her, resting his chin gently on top of her head.
“sleep, love,” he whispered, eyes soft. “i’ll watch the movie for the both of us.”
nessie 🗯️ hiiii i promise i didn'y disappear, this just took too long to write lols but i do have one more reaction request and i am working on it!!! i am still open to take requests, any requests :3
tag𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 drop a comment down or send me an ASK to be a part of my taglist <3
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summary: in which romance is the phone ringing in dnd mode and u + jungkook = <3 forever.
idol!jk x afab!reader / friends to lovers (?) -> established relationship / fluffy fluff fluff with a dash of angst / word count: 5.8k
warnings/content: the progression of oc and jungkook talking on the phone from when they just met to them being an official couple <3 + oc #1 levi stan #1 butterfly by bts stan + got inspired while listening to u + me = <3 by miss livieee
< in which masterlist!
note: i think these timeline style drabbles are my favorite to write hehe :,) ig i could’ve used one of those apps for the texts but i find this way more charming somehow 😭 comment to be added to the taglist! <3 if u asked to be added last time but wasn’t tagged pls do so again and check ur visibility settings bc maybe i couldn’t tag u ^^
—
i. permission to call?
humans take care of each other the most in the winter, when the weather conditions are harsh. sometimes too harsh, then you tend to question if we truly belong here, but you always remember why we do. animals adapt by growing thicker skin, and we have survived until now because we care.
20:27
from: jeon jungkook
the temperature drastically dropped today! please stay warm ㅜㅜ
you like existing in november. it gives you the time to sit between the seasons and reflect on the life you’ve lived. who were you in january and who are you today? what brought you happiness and sorrow? what should you leave behind and where do you want to go? these are the type of thoughts you had while standing and giving out flyers at the streets of myeongdong for eight hours straight. it’s funny that you must freeze so you can keep the heater in your place running and sleep comfortably at night.
you had the longest day. after attending your classes, you went straight to work, and you still had to cook dinner and accomplish chores when you got home. you pull your sore feet under the covers, curling up and relaxing into the mattress. you’ve been looking forward to this since you climbed out of bed at six in the morning.
11:52pm
omg sorry i just got home
it was crazy cold. winter really is here
your heart jumps when the text bubble quickly appears on the other side of the screen. sometimes, you have to remind yourself that you’ve just met this boy when you catch yourself smiling at your phone. you’re not sure if it’s healthy to entertain after getting your heart broken only recently. perhaps this is delusion, but you have a feeling that you were destined to meet him the way you did.
23:52
from: jeon jungkook
at this time?
did it get that busy?
23:53
i know… i was ready to go home when i ran out of flyers then they gave me more…
i’m sorry, your day sounded exhausting :(
i won’t bother you anymore for today hehe
you should sleep!
23:54
hey what are you? my mom? 🤣
oh sorry hahahahaha
i have a question….
yes?
do you like texting or calling more?
23:55
i’m fine with either
you mean video call?
that works too…
23:56
why? you want to call?
i mean if you’re fine with it…
i haven’t seen you since we first met 🙃
that’s a long way of saying you miss my face 🤣
you have too much fun teasing me!!
23:58
hahaha
i’ll call you when i finish washing the dishes
you spring up on the bed, blinking down at your phone screen. “fuck… what did i just do?”
—
jungkook wastes no time jumping out of bed and putting on a shirt. he grabs the body spray, but his finger on the nozzle relaxes when he remembers that you won’t smell him because you won’t actually be there. he slaps his own forehead and laughs. “ah- stupid! i wasted it!”
—
obviously, you lied about doing the dishes. instead of the sink, you’re back infront of the mirror and putting on some makeup. your first instinct decides to apply the most natural looking shade of lip tint on you. you certainly don’t want to do too much, but you’re staring at your reflection and something still doesn’t feel quite right. you sigh and roll your eyes.
“fine!” you mumble, pressing a small dot of the same lip tint on both of your cheeks. you don’t bother picking up a brush and settle with using your fingers to spread the color on your skin. “why am i doing this anyway? i should be sleeping like he said. why did i have to argue?”
your vision falls to your chest. the striped sweater isn’t so bad, but… “i need to put on a bra.”
—
“what’s a good angle?”
jungkook realizes that he should’ve thought about this through before he asked. he tries lying on his back and holding his phone just below his chest, but that isn’t flattering, and holding it up above his face is tiring and unsafe.
“aish, this isn’t working out!” he flips on his side and it solves his problems from earlier, but unfortunately, it also shows off his messy room. “should i just put my face closer…? nevermind!”
this leaves jungkook no choice but to perform the tasks he’s been procrastinating for the past few days. he runs back and forth across the room, organizing his possessions and throwing out things like old receipts and empty water bottles.
but then the phone rings.
he dives back into the bed and finds himself still indecisive. he does end up with his back resting against the top of the bed, which isn’t as comfortable as he wanted it to be. “whatever, this will have to do!”
his finger hovers over the accept button.
why is he sweating?
—
“hi!” you greet jungkook with a soft smile. you're lying on your side and cuddling with a pillow, facing towards the lamp on your nightstand which is the only source of light left turned on in your house. in contrast, jungkook’s room is still bright.
“h-hello,” he shyly smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “you look pretty.”
“thanks, kookie,” you lighten the mood with the affectionate nickname you learned his fans call him. it makes his cheeks rise and be warm with a shade of rose. “i almost forgot what you look like.”
“didn’t you stalk me on the internet already?” he jokes. “i have a lot of good pictures there. my condition isn’t the best right now.”
“yeah,” you giggle. “but i like it better this way. just you and your unfiltered phone camera.”
“you’re being too nice!”
you wouldn’t mind doing this more often, hopping into a call only to make him blush on purpose.
“hey, jungkook?”
“yes?”
“tell me if i’m wrong but,” you sink your teeth on your bottom lip to stifle your laughter. “you wore that shirt in a rush, didn’t you?”
his eyes comically widen. “how did you know?”
“because you’re wearing it inside out.”
he bows his head and sees the tag, which should be hidden on his nape, be in the middle of his collarbone instead. he even double checks it on his phone to see what he looks like from your point-of-view. his unreadable expression is what does it for you. you burst into a fit of laughter, clutching your sides when his camera is abrupty turned off.
“yah, stop laughing! i did this on purpose!”
—
from: jeon jungkook
22:16
are you busy?
22:23
not really
why?
22:24
can we call?
:D
22:26
i don’t know…
you kept me awake until 3am last night…
i’m sorryyyyyyy..
i’ll be more mindful of the time
:D
jungkook pops up on your screen with the widest smile, mimicking the emoticon he’s been overusing for the past three days. you take a screenshot to laugh at him later, but you secretly also like having pictures of him that are for your eyes only. this is fun, and quiet, and intimate. it’s been a week since jungkook first asked to call, and this is the fourth time you’re spending your late night memorizing his face. you’ve discussed your favorite everythings, music, films, and childhood memories. jungkook is funny, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. you didn’t expect talking to him to feel so easy. it’s like you’ve been best of friends for years.
“you look stupid,” -ly adorable.
“but i made you laugh!” he triumphs. “how was your day? your presentation went well?”
“yes, i didn’t stutter and the professor didn’t have follow-up questions. but today was cold, too cold,” you lament, adjusting the blanket to go above your shoulder and pulling your knees to your chest. “how about yours?”
“mhmm, it was a slow day. we practiced from morning to afternoon, then i worked out before coming home.”
“you worked out after dancing for hours? are you superhuman or something?”
“that’s the goal!” he chuckles. “then maybe i could do five-hour concerts?”
“that’s fucking insane,” you marvel at his stamina, especially that your eyelids are beginning to feel heavy. maybe that is the difference passion makes. “i’m so tired from just standing.”
he calls out your name in a fake deep voice, like a professor scolding a student. it brings out his satoori accent that you haven’t heard this distinctly before. “are you seriously falling asleep? it’s too early for that!”
“i’m sleepy now that i’m in bed.”
“ah- that tired? i should let you sleep then.”
“that’s right,” you hum. “sing me a lullaby.”
“you want me to sing for you?”
“why have an idol friend if they won’t even sing for me?” you exclaim in jest. “you won’t do this much for me?”
“alright, alright! i’ll do it out of the goodness of my heart,” he surrenders, thanks to your persuasion. “what shall your idol friend sing for you then?”
“i like your group’s song… butterfly.”
“have you been listening to our songs?”
“of course, you’re my friend!” you reply, confused. “you know, your voice really stands out in songs like that.”
“wow, thank you… uhm, i appreciate that. that’s very nice.”
“are you blushing?” you chuckle, slightly surprised. “you must hear that compliment everyday.”
“yah! i am not blushing,” he denies, avoiding your eyes. “i hear that all the time. it’s no big deal.”
“mhm-hmm,” you agree to disagree, allowing your heavy eyes to finally flutter shut. “now, sing for me please.”
—
as jungkook sulks infront of you and is being ignored to his horror, he is also sitting with the realization that he does like attention.
“like a butterfly, b-b-butterfly~”
“jungkook, your voice is lovely, but please mute yourself.”
he exhales, obnoxiously loud. “we finally call after three days and i can’t even make a sound?”
“that’s the rule,” you roll your eyes. “i need to finish this tonight and you distract me when you talk.”
“but i was singing!”
“you can’t sing either. i need to stay awake,” you huff, pausing to rotate your strained wrist. you've been preparing your sixth grade student’s reviewers and mock exams for next week’s finals. everything, and you mean everything, is handwritten. for some ungodly reason, she performs better when reviewing your handwritten material compared to printed ones. it helps her retain the information better. there’s just something about your handwriting that she likes, apparently. it’s exhausting and time-consuming, but the job pays well and you do receive extra cash for doing this, so you can’t complain. atleast, not infront of arin and her parents.
having jungkook has become part of your daily routine. so when he begged you to call, swore to be quiet while you work, and claimed that he was content with just seeing your face… you gave in. you might be sarcastic, a little irritable, but you’re glad that he’s here and keeping you from going insane.
“you want me to just come over and help you write?”
“trust me, i’ve tried asking for help. she notices,” you sniffle. “i know there must be a science behind it, but sometimes i’m scared that she’s just torturing me.”
“you told me arin is good, though.”
“she is, but kids scare me nowadays. now, shush and go do your own thing.”
jungkook spends half an hour practicing the vocal drills he focused on during vocal lessons earlier in the day. while on mute, of course. he thought about studying english too, but he deemed himself too lazy. the truth is he should sleep already, but he doesn’t want to leave you awake by yourself.
have you forgotten that he’s here?
he thinks he’s propped up on the window sill infront of your desk. well, your phone, anyway. your eyes switch between your laptop screen and the lined a4 paper you’re writing on, the bright warm light of your lamp standing infront of it. you’re breathtaking, with your furrowed eyebrows and tousled hair. he likes that he gets the privilege of being around you in a time like this. he likes you. he likes you so much that he feels content doing nothing but watching you.
“are you going to sleep?”
he shakes his head.
“why? find something else to do then. why are you just staring at me? it’s making me self-conscious.”
“because you’re beautiful.”
he doesn’t need to unmute himself. by the way your features soften and a faint smile appears, he knows that you read his lips.
“shut up, jungkook.”
is it normal to have his heart beat faster in response to that?
jungkook climbs out of bed and sits on his gaming chair, setting you down on his phone stand that he bought specifically for video calls with you. he hits the microphone button. “i’ll play on my pc then go to sleep.”
“okay, be good.”
“yes, boss.”
twenty minutes later, you finish another page and take that as a sign to rest. you take off the bandages wrapped around your fingers, breathing out a sigh of relief. on top of your tired hand and eyes, your back is hurting from being hunched over your desk for long periods of time. you wish you liked your jobs, but it seems to you that they’re only competing to be the one you hate the least. you hate this one the most right now, but once you get a taste of arin’s mom’s cooking tomorrow, you know they’ll come back to your good graces.
you finally take a good look at jungkook. you’ve only ever seen him serious when he’s focused on playing. in other occasions, he’s beaming at you. “what are you playing?”
he speaks, then suddenly cuts himself off to unmute. “hi, i’m just aim training.”
“i see…” you tidy up your desk and prepare everything you need in your bag to make life easier for yourself in the morning. “i’m going to bed.”
“okay, me too!”
“you can keep playing!” you crawl into your bed, settling in for the night. “goodnight, jungkook.”
“noooo, don’t go!” you hear a series of rapid clicks from his mouse and the light shining on his face disappears. “okay, let’s sleep!”
“for real-” you’re interrupted by your own yawn. “my eyes are closed.”
“mine are closed too.”
you crack one eye open for a second. he wasn’t lying. “you didn’t have to wait for me, you know?”
“ah, i know! but…”
“but…?”
“nothing…” he mumbles, and you leave it alone.
the call becomes quiet, and you slowly drift to sleep.
“i missed you.”
your steady breathing comes to a hitch. it is such a vulnerable moment that your brain is short circuiting and you can’t come up with a humorous or flirty remark to purposely make him nervous like you usually enjoy to do. this is the same boy thousands of fan accounts on the internet are dedicated to. a celebrity you’ve seen on billboards, tarpaulins, and posters on the streets. an artist whose performances gain millions of views. it’s all so peculiar to think about when right here, right now, you feel like there’s only the two of you in the world.
“i’m sorry,” you manage to say. “for being mean.”
“i can handle it,” you open your eyes because you like it when he laughs. “seriously, it’s not a big deal to me.”
“okay, but that doesn’t mean you can be mean to me.”
“i wouldn’t even dare,” he smiles toothily, scrunching his nose. “you can make it up to me by playing with me, though.”
“my laptop can’t handle your big games, jungkook.”
“we can play on my console.”
“where?”
“my room!”
you squint at him accusingly. “are you trying to kidnap me?”
“maybe,” he smirks in confidence. “you’re not allowed to go home until you defeat me.”
“i think i’d be able to go home right away then,” you sing and stick your tongue out playfully.
long story short, you had to stay the night.
—
ii. you don’t even have to ask.
truth be told, there is a part of you that is embarrassed you didn’t realize jungkook was a member of a group you’ve been seeing and hearing about for the last couple of years. your life revolves around school and work. when you come home, you either go straight to studying or to sleep. on the rare days that you’re blessed with free time, you usually curl up in bed with a book, one of the few luxuries you grant yourself like clothes, or you head to the movie theater. you’re not entirely ignorant, but you’re also not the most active on social media and you only watch television at late nights. a huge chunk of your knowledge about pop culture is from your friends, who were very surprised when you began asking about an idol boy group. you figured the easiest way to keep your secret is to be loud about it. to freely go off on a tangent about jungkook under the guise of him being your bias.
“who’s got you smiling at your phone like that, huh?” jungkook’s big beady eyes pops out from the upper right corner of your laptop screen.
“what took you so long? did you shit?”
“i got some snacks from hobi-hyung,” he lies down on the bed hugging two bags of chips, enabling you to see him again down to his torso. “what were you doing?”
“just scrolling on twitter,” you shrug. it’s not really a confession. you and jungkook already follow each other everywhere by now, even on steam after he forced you to create an account. you haven’t opened that website in three months. “it’s just fun that i can say you’re my boyfriend over there and nobody knows i’m serious.”
“i posted a clip of you performing fake love and said ‘my boyfriend is so cool’ then someone replied that i’m sleep tweeting again!”
the interaction became funnier to you because the account is using one of the four selcas jungkook uploaded recently. it has become a habit for jungkook to consult you about which photos to post, and you greedily chose those specific photos because you couldn’t decide which one you wanted to use as a lockscreen.
“well, what did you tell them?”
“just the rolling eyes emoji,” the both of you get into a fit of laughter at your response. “i don’t even fight anyone who calls you their husband!”
jungkook is always, always visibly overjoyed when you call him your boyfriend and post about him and the achievements of bts. he feels so supported and appreciated; he has gained a better understanding of what it means to be a partner because of you.
“and you don’t have to, baby!” he kisses the camera, and that split moment gives you butterflies. “i’m all yours. no argument about that.”
is that true, though? you share him with the world and you have no problem with that, but this is so new and so wild, and you’re both still clueless about the world. wherever you currently stand in jungkook’s life, you’re at the intersection of thrill and fear.
you only smile and say, “good.”
“okay! let’s continue watching attack on titan.”
you chuck your phone on the other side of the bed and adjust yourself to a comfortable position. “i already forgot what happened. can we restart the episode?”
“okay, but we need to hurry up. the new season is starting soon!“
“i swear, jeon jungkook, if levi dies i will never forgive you for making me watch this fucking anime.”
your boyfriend sends you a look of disapproval, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “are you threatening me? over another man? you’ve only known him for three episodes!“
“the heart knows,” you sigh dreamily, totally unfazed. “i think i might be in love with him.”
“hajime isayama,” he looks up to the sky. “please do me a favor.”
—
“do you think genies are real?”
“no,” you say after a few seconds of contemplation. it’s too early for you to be awake on your day off, but you’ve accepted making this sacrifice when you allowed jungkook’s calls to bypass dnd mode. “no, i don’t.”
“oh, really?” he makes a noise of disappointment. “in any case, my first wish would be to be magically washed and prepared for bed after a concert.”
“how was it?”
“what?”
“the concert, babe-”
“oh!” he springs up so fast that you flinch in surprise. “babe, today’s show was so fucking fun! anpanman was my favorite today!”
“were they loud?”
he nods aggressively. “they must really like that song.”
“how was euphoria?”
“it’s good. i’m getting better at it every night, i believe so… it’s a bit pressuring to go after hobi-hyung,” he chuckles, slapping his forehead. “he’s on another level- another level! my goal is to make him proud.”
“i know, i see them,” he says, referring to the links and screenshots you send to him almost everyday. “i don’t deserve you, you know that?”
“everybody knows you work hard, jungkook. so you don’t beat yourself up so much,” you remind him, aware of how he constantly beats himself up over errors.
“just a healthy amount to motivate myself to be better,” he puffs his chest, reciting the conclusion of your long conversation some days ago.
“why are you looking up? a magic lamp won’t be there.”
“i’m looking at the time on the clock!” he laughs at your embarrassed smile. “anyway, i’ll go wash up so we can talk without interruption.”
you close your eyes and float somewhere in between being asleep and awake. you assume that he would drop the call and call you back after, not set down his phone on the small metal shelf for the shampoo and conditioner. the sound of the water hitting the tiles hits your ears and jolts you awake. jungkook is naked and under the shower. yes, you can only see down to his chest, but your first thought is he must genuinely trust you.
“so you weren’t joking about bringing me to the shower,” you remember him saying before he left for tour. “do you miss me that much?”
“shit, i forgot to mute. sorry, baby!” he looks a shih tzu with his wet hair covering his face. “sorry- yes, yes, i just miss you. i want to take you with me everywhere i go.”
“i love you, baby.”
“i love you more.”
“i can’t even fight you on that right now,” you chuckle tiredly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “isn’t your phone getting wet?”
“oh, it is,” he grins humorously. “it totally is.”
—
you drag yourself out of bed after your beautiful boyfriend’s shower that took longer than necessary due to his dirty jokes and muscle flexing. not that you were complaining. definitely not. not missing him most excruciatingly.
“are you eating ramen for breakfast?”
you understand the confusion. he knows you usually begin your day with a healthy meal and reserve the rather unhealthy food for at the end of the day, when you need to cope with the stress of existing in a world like ours.
“i don’t feel good today,“ you confess, dropping in the noodles in the boiling water. “i’m craving something warm.”
“i’m sorry i can’t be there to look after you, my love.”
you smile down at your frowning jungkook who is leaning against your glass of water. “i’m okay. don’t worry about me.”
“it’s my job to worry about you,” he glares at you cutely. a knock on his door cuts the conversation short. not a minute later, jungkook comes back with steak and a can of beer. “is your ramen almost done?”
“two more minutes!”
“okay, i’ll wait for you.”
jungkook cracks open a beer and entertains himself with his work phone while you prepare your food. you remove the pot from the stove and set it down on a mat on the table. you like eating from there when you’re alone to reduce dirty dishes to wash. the food somehow always tastes better too. and then you fish out the boiled egg from your ramen with a spoon, drowning it in a bowl of ice cold water.
“tada, it’s perfect!” you proudly present your peeled boiled egg, shiny and smooth.
“good job, baby,” he praises you with a big grin. “i taught you well.”
“yeah,” you smile back at him, sighing. “so much more to learn at 19.”
—
from: my jungkook
14:29
i arrived safely baby. i’m in the car now
but i don’t know when i can see you yet... 😥
we’re heading straight to the company for now
14:37
wait what???? :( :( :( is that allowed??? still going to work after a long flight??
i know 🙃
i’m so tired!!!!
14:39
aww my baby :(
take care. i love you
welcome homeee
14:40
don’t wait up okay?? i’ll tell you when i’m sure i can go!
i’m guessing the next few days..
i love you ❤️❤️❤️
14:41
more than most
it has been six hours since jungkook’s last text message. on a normal day, you would probably send some hearts or engage in the ‘who loves who more’ competition, but you wanted to mope and cry earlier, and as a result could’ve possibly said something mean or selfish, like asking him to use his last drop of energy to come to you. you’ve been looking forward to this day for the past weeks, and it just happened to end in an anti-climactic manner. unfortunately, you process disappointment by crying, and this context only makes the ugly emotion worse because you feel guilty for being disappointed in the first place.
“that’s not bad at all,” you mutter to yourself, writing down 42/50 on arin’s mathematics exercise sheet in red ink and stamping two stars under it.
and with that, you’ve run out of productive tasks to keep you away from the bed you imagined you’d be sharing with your boyfriend tonight.
to: my jungkook
21:22
heyyy you still at work?
sorry, was also busy with mine :(
i miss youuuuu
you bury your face in the pillow to scream without a sound. you only want one thing: to hug jungkook. no, at this point, it’s a need. and it’s quite funny to witness yourself act this way. to be so consumed by love and believe that a couple of minutes will be worth all the trouble, because not getting them will feel like the end of your world. your silly teenage love has melted your toughness and stubborn logic.
stupid company working your boyfriend to the bone. would letting him rest for a day make them go bankrupt? are they going to wait until he gets sick again?
from: my jungkook
21:55
i miss you my love
i’m home!!!!
and that is typically your cue to hit the call button. the butterflies in your stomach cannot be tamed as you wait for him to pick up the phone, which is ridiculous because the last time you called was a day ago, not a month or a year.
user is unavailable.
and then jungkook calls you back immediately.
“why only audio call?” you sadly question.
“i’ll call you again later, okay? there’s just- a lot is going on right now over here.”
“still…?”
“yes, uh- still. i’m sorry,” his voice sounds panicked. your heart clenches. “huh? hyung, did you call me…? oh, okay okay! i’m coming!”
“you have to go somewhere?”
“i’ll try to come back. wait for me, okay? mwah-” he makes the kissing sound and ends the call.
you purse your lips together, a valiant attempt at holding yourself together, but you break down and crash as you blankly stare at your dead phone screen. you can’t believe you’re crying over this. you’re supposed to be mature and reasonable. the perfect and understanding partner. consistent communication wasn’t easy during your time apart, but it wasn’t as difficult as you thought it would be. you’ll eventually have to get used to this disappointment. if you can’t handle this now, what will become of you when he goes away for 18 months?
the thought makes your tears fall like water from faucets turned all the way. your phone is vibrating with text messages from friends ranting about how their day went but your vision is too blurry. maybe you’re just tired, and your heart is broken that jungkook is tired.
to: my jungkook
22:05
hi hi hi don’t worry about me, just go to sleep
i know you had the longest day ever 😭
i love you baby 💞
you take jungkook’s lack of answer as a sign that he has fallen asleep and you don’t bother to check if he has read your messages. you move around your house as to not flood your bedroom with the heavy energy of longing and existential crisis. in the bathroom, you wash away their evidence on your face. in the kitchen, you finally unseal the box of tea packets left untouched in your shelf for the past months and pair it with your remaining honey in a jar. you stay in the living room thereafter, delicately sipping from your teacup while searching for beach houses for sale in korea. despite being in a committed relationship, there’s a piece of you that believes you’re destined to be alone, and perhaps the real tragedy is you don’t think it tragic. you dream of living someplace quiet, someplace the nature is loud. a nice house with a view of the stars so you can pretend to talk to your mom and your siblings. the privilege of living in the present and not in the past and in anticipation of the future.
it’s an expensive dream to have, but it motivates you to work hard and live beyond survival.
you drag your cursor across the zeroes.
“someday,” you whisper, face illuminated by the bright laptop screen. “someday, surely… definitely.”
a notification pops up in a corner. an email from jungkook that reads: WHY ARR MY CALLS NOT COMING THROUGJ ARE YOU OKAY YOU ARE STILL ALIVE RIGHT ANSWER ME EE PLEASE I’M WORRIED
with the subject being: RED ALERT PLEASE READ 🚨🚨🚨
you pick up your phone that was facing down and discover the empty battery symbol in the middle of the pitch black screen.
“oh no!”
you run to your bedroom and come back with the charger. you scramble to plug in your phone and end up kneeling on the floor as you frantically type up a response. to make matters worse for your worrisome lover, you get interrupted by a knock on the door.
you take a deep breath, beginning to feel a little overstimulated.
it has to be one of your neighbors. maybe it’s the guy next door with a new batch of honey, or the elderly woman you helped with moving two weeks ago and has knocked almost everyday since then with either a question or a gift of gratitude for patiently answering her during her prior visit. it could even be a prank, which you can’t get annoyed at because you’ve done it too.
you swing the door open with the most polite smile you can muster.
“how may i he-”
“boyfriend delivery!”
your heart drops like a morning bird and wakes up the hibernating butterflies in your stomach.
jungkook stands on your doorstep in his all black outfit. he is carrying a bouquet of flowers and is surrounded by shopping bags that are too many for you to count. but most noticeably, he has that stupidly charming and mischievous grin plastered on his face.
you produce a high-pitched squeal you have never heard from yourself before, body reacting faster than you can think. the next thing you know, your legs are wrapped around his waist and you’re kissing him all over and hugging him tighter than you’ve ever hugged anyone.
“oh my god! i missed you! oh my god!”
he laughs at your reaction, kissing your hair. he has one strong arm supporting your body, the other is still holding up the bouquet.
“i’m sorry i’m late, baby. i drove around for hours looking for your favorite flowers.”
“what? you didn’t go to work?”
“yes… and no? we just had to do stop by for an hour to check on something then i looked for your flowers, and then i unpacked my luggages.”
he walks into your apartment and places the bouquet on the table without letting you go. you stay glued to him as he goes back and forth the front door and the living room to bring in the gifts he brought from his months-long world exploration.
“you’re so mean!” you pout and complain throughout. “i was so excited then you cancelled on me last minute! that’s not nice!”
“sorry, i just really wanted to surprise you,” he squeezes you apologetically. “but it’s impossible with our flight information being public so i had to come up with something.”
at last, jungkook plops down on the couch, with you straddling him as a result. it’s comfortable and familiar. it’s coming home— bridging the distance between your lips and getting a fill of that addictive feeling of sparks flying. “i really fucking missed you,” he mumbles in the middle of the kiss like waiting a minute more to say it would make him explode.
you break away for some oxygen, but he chases you and rudely interrupts your sentence. “you didn’t… have- to buy- me…” you give in and kiss him back again. “seriously i… i don’t need all of these. they’re too much!“
“nonsense!” he will never tell you that he might’ve went overboard and had trouble going past the luggage weighing at the airport. “i was making all that money performing. what else am i supposed to do with it?”
“i don’t know…“ your breathing becomes labored as he gently pulls down the sleeve of your sweater to expose your shoulder and collarbone, replacing the warmth with the touch of his lips. “spend it on yourself?”
“in a way, i am, yes…”
you roll your eyes. “one of these days, i’ll finally get called a gold digger.”
“technically, aren’t i the one who digs the gold?” he chuckles. “but seriously, i think you work harder than me, so i won’t let that type of thing slide. no one better dare.”
“thanks for the gifts and the flowers,” you smile at him softly, cupping his cheeks in your hands. “why are you laughing?”
he presses his lips into a thin line, his dimples popping out.
“you totally got me some gold stuff, didn’t you?”
“yes…” he repeatedly nods in dramatic fashion. “yes, i did.”
“i’ll start unboxing!”
“hold on, i’ll get the camera!” he nearly knocks you over to the floor while he rushes to set up his phone on the table. “oh, why are you looking at houses?”
pairing ⋆₊˚⊹⋆˙⟡ sim jaeyun x f!reader ── .✦ angst, f2l to exes to ???, smut (mdni!), exes with benefits ft. friend group!enha wc ꩜⊹✎ᝰ.ᐟ 35k ˙𐃷˙
synopsis ₊˚⊹⋆˙⟡ sim jaeyun broke up with the love of his life eight months ago. sim jaeyun is doing just fine. or at least, he's gotten very good at saying he is. unfortunately, the truth is a little more complicated when the person you're trying to get over still exists in your everyday life, still shares the same friends, still shows up to game night, still laughs at your jokes, and still reminds you of what you lost. so when one reckless night becomes another, then another, then another, jake finds himself caught between the future he thought he wanted and the person he can't seem to stop choosing. because while some people leave your life, some become the place you're always trying to get back to.
warnings ✦ ݁˖ 18+ // angst, the entire thing is angst bro // spoiler: yes happy ending do not fret :D // ok yes there's some crack in it though because im unserious // it's literally lovers to exes to friends to exes with benefits, it's messy shit (there’s rebound dating & third party tension & jealousy, yes) // emotional dependency, attachment issues, insecurities, self-doubt // reader & jake are objectively not good decision makers // very introspective and very emotionally constipated but also healing, i promise :D ˗ˏˋ nsfw tags ᝰ.ᐟ it's literally exes with benefits..so lots of sex implied lmfao, hate sex kinda, car sex, one heavy smut scene but the rest implied, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, jake is needy and hot lol
°˖➴ .ᐟ wow ok this is my BABY. what started out as me being an emotional angsty girl in her time of month, tmi sorry, turned into the longest thing i've written and i genuinely loved writing it but also nervvyyy lol bc i feel this one is heavier than my usual kind of style? & i got so much excitement for this one so i really hope it meets everyone's expectations :3 but ty for being patient and excited and sticking around with me when i disappeared a lil bit and haven't really done a long fic in a while <3 i appreciate each & every one of you guys and everything gets noticed so thank u very very very much mwah (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) hope you guys enjoy <3
jake had spent the last eight months telling himself he was fine. which, if we're being honest, is already not a particularly encouraging sentence.
people who are fine don't usually spend eight consecutive months reminding themselves that they're fine. people who are actually fine just go about their day. people who are not fine, however, tend to wake up on a random tuesday, stare at the ceiling fan for forty-five minutes, and have to convince themselves they're fine.
jake knew this. and unfortunately for him, knowing something and doing something about it was two completely different skills that he had no idea how to differentiate.
the thing is, there were days when he was genuinely fine. really. there were entire afternoons where he didn't think about you once. moments where he would be halfway through a conversation with heeseung or laughing at something stupid jay said and realize, with a small burst of relief, that an entire hour passed without your name crossing his mind. which, yes, he's aware it sounds pathetic, but heartbreak has a funny way of lowering the bar like that. eight months later, jake was still collecting small victories wherever he could find them.
still, there was another reason why he kept insisting he was fine, and this one is probably the realest one of them all—because that's just what everybody says after a breakup.
especially when the breakup involves what jake would describe, with absolutely no exaggeration whatsoever, as the best thing that has ever happened to him in his twenty three years of being alive. and that might sound dramatic, but to jake, it was just true. it wasn't anything like a rom-com, nothing cinematic or perfectly timed. nobody ran through an airport, nobody stood outside anybody's window holding a boombox.
it was worse than that, actually. it was ordinary. it was the quiet, ordinary kind of best thing that sneaks up on you and becomes the shape of your days before you even know it. the kind where you wake up next to someone and the first thing you do is reach for them without thinking, because their body becomes as familiar as your own. the kind where inside jokes turn into entire languages only the two of you speak. the kind where you start keeping their favorite snacks in your cabinet and they leave an extra toothbrush at your sink, because of course.
you and jake had been together for three and a half years, and somewhere in the middle of that stretch of time he had stopped thinking of himself as a singular person and starting thinking in plurals. we should try that new ramen place. we need to remember to water the plant before we leave for the weekend. we'll figure it out. he had liked the way it sounded. the way it felt. like the two of you were building something forever-shaped.
it started slow, the way only real things tend to. a shared friend group that slowly narrowed until it was just the two of you staying up too late on the couch, talking about nothing and everything until the sun came up. then it was late night texts that turned into late night calls that turned into late night car rides where the rest of the group was conveniently not invited. then it was the first time he kissed you—properly, too, not in the heat of the moment but rather after waiting for a long time—and the way you had smiled against his mouth like you'd been waiting for it too. by the time anyone in the group noticed, you were already something solid. something that made sense. the guys teased you both about it constantly, but jake didn't mind. he liked the way it felt to be known like that. to have someone who saw every version of him, the charming one he showed the world, the quiet one who got overwhelmed around too many people, the one who still sometimes doubted he deserved good things—and stayed anyways.
you built a life in the small spaces of jake's life that he hadn't realized was missing you. weekends at his place or yours, trading hoodies and playlists and the kind of easy domesticity that felt revolutionary at twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. you knew how he took his coffee (two sugars, splash of oat milk) and he knew the exact pressure to use when rubbing your ankles after a long day. you had matching scars from the time you both tried to cook something ambitious and set off the smoke alarm three separate times. you had a list of 'stupid things we've done together' that lived in the notes app on your phone. he introduced you to his family over video calls and during the holidays, you fit there too—laughing in the kitchen with his mom, letting his little cousins climb all over you like you'd always been part of the chaos.
but yeah, jake was fine. jake was fine because he had gotten very good at only remembering the good moments. which was pretty easy, if he was being honest, because that was pretty much most of all three and a half years of it, which only made the end hurt only worse. there was that one rainy sunday in your apartment, the one with the leaky faucet in the kitchen he kept meaning to fix and never did. you had woken up before him, which was rare, and instead of getting up you stayed curled against his side, tracing lazy patterns on his bare stomach with your fingertips while the rain tapped against the window. jake had pretended to still be asleep just to feel it a little longer. he remembered the exact weight of your leg thrown over his, the way you kept humming some half remembered song under your breath. eventually you got up to make coffee—badly, because you always forgot how many grounds to use—and brought it back to bed anyways. you climbed on top of him, straddling his lap, and handed him the mug with that little smirk that said you knew it was terrible but were proud of it anyway.
"drink it and tell me it's good," you said, your voice still heavy, hair still messy, eyes still sleepy.
jake had taken a sip, made a face, and said, "it's the best coffee i've ever had in my entire life."
"liar."
"would i lie to you?"
you then leaned down and kissed him, slow and unhurried, tasting like bad coffee and late mornings and the kind of quiet happiness that just tends to show up on its own. your hands had slid into his hair and he pulled you closer until there was no space left between you, and for a while the leaky faucet and the rain and everything else outside that bed stopped existing.
and yeah, it wasn't all perfect, no relationship that real ever is. there were the harder nights, the ones that proved you were both still human, that you could hurt each other even when you didn't mean to. there was the one night in the middle of fall, maybe three months before the end. you were stretched thin by exam season and jake with his own mounting pressure of what came after graduation and the quiet fear that he wasn't moving fast enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't enough period. it started off small, something about him canceling your plans last minute. you had been tired and a little too sharp, he had been defensive and a little too quiet. it escalated in his kitchen, voices rising, the kind of argument where old insecurities got dragged into the light because you knew each other too well to keep anything hidden.
"you always do this," you had said, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in frustration. "you pull away when things get hard and then act like i'm the one being difficult for noticing."
"i'm not pulling away," jake had shot back, even though part of him knew he was. "i'm trying to figure my shit out so i don't drag you down with me."
"that's not how this works, jaeyun!" you had paused then to take a breath, as if to steady yourself. then, smaller, softer, "you don't get to decide what i can handle, i'm not some fragile thing you have to protect from your bad days."
jake had faltered midstep at the sound of his name, the sound having landed somewhere deep, cutting straight through the defensive haze he wrapped himself in. he hated fighting with you, hated the way your voice got tight because he knows you cry whenever you get overwhelmed, hated the way his own chest felt like it was caving in because he loved you so much it made every sharp word feel like it was cutting him too.
it ended the way most of them did, with one of you cracking first. this time it had been him. he crossed the kitchen in two steps, pulled you into his arms even though you were still stiff and angry, and buried his face in your neck.
"i'm sorry," he had mumbled against your skin. "i'm an idiot. i know i'm an idiot."
you stayed rigid for a few seconds longer, then your arms had come up around him and your voice had gone soft in that way it only did for him. "yeah, you are."
later that night you ended up on the couch, your head in his lap while some mindless show played in the background. his fingers were in your hair, gentle and light, and you had looked up at him with that small tired smile and asked, "we're gonna be okay, right?"
jake had nodded like he believed it. like he could will it into existence just by wanting it hard enough. those nights had always felt survivable back then. like proof that you could get through anything as long as you kept choosing each other at the end of it.
and then there was the last and final night.
it happened on a normal tuesday night that had felt completely unsuspecting when you both woke up that morning. except jake had already been in his own head silently, falling back into that old, familiar pattern of doubting himself, the future, and every uncertain thing that stood in between the two of you.
it happened in his room this time, the plant you both had jokingly named after jay still half-dead and the string lights you forced him to hang blinking above you. you had been sitting on the floor with your back against his bed, knees pulled to your chest, wearing one of his old hoodies because you always did. jake sat across from you, legs stretched out, trying to find the right words and failing.
"i just think…" he had started, then stopped. then started again. "we've been doing this for a long time now. and i love you. i really fucking love you." his voice almost cracked, so he looked down at his hands. "but sometimes it feels like we're holding each other back from figuring out who we are without the other person in the middle of everything."
you had looked at him for a long time without saying anything. your eyes were shiny in that way that meant you were holding back tears, and jake felt something in his chest twist so violently.
"and that's not your fault. it's not. it's just—" he exhaled shakily. "you're in everything. every plan i make, every place i go, every version of my future i imagine. and i know that sounds like a good thing."
"it's not?" you asked quietly, like you were scared for the answer.
"i don't know," he whispered. "i don't know if it is when i can't tell if i'm choosing things because i want them or because they keep me close to you."
he remembers the way your eyes filled when you looked at him then. "are you…unhappy with me?"
jake looked up fast. "no."
he had reached for your hand then, selfishly, stupidly threading his fingers through yours like he could still be the person who comforted you while simultaneously becoming the person to ever hurt you the most.
"no," he repeats immediately, shaking his head. "i just—i don't want to lose you. that's the last thing i want. but i also don't want to wake up in five years and realize i never figured out who i was because loving you was the easiest thing to do instead."
you had then nodded slowly. a tear slipped down your cheek and you wiped it away. then another and another, until wiping them away became useless.
"okay," you finally whispered, nodding again because you had loved him enough to let him go if that's what he thought he needed.
it wasn't what jake needed, he would realize many months down the road. not at all. but at the time, terrified and twenty-something and stupid enough to mistake pain and insecurities for maturity, it was what he had convinced himself was best for both of you. the right choice, the one that would hurt less in the long run.
it was selfish, is what he would also realize. because he didn't save either of you from pain at all, it would turn out. he only made sure he was the one holding the knife, so that maybe breaking your heart first felt safer than waiting around for you to break his.
you had stayed on the floor for a long time after that, neither of you quite ready to stand up and make it real. eventually jake shifted to sit next to you, your head instinctively falling to rest against his shoulder, eyes closed, breathing the same shared air one last time.
"i love you," you had said, so, so quietly in between your tears that he almost missed it.
he closed his eyes too. "i know. i love you too."
when you finally left, the door had clicked shut with a sound that felt a little too gentle for how much everything had just changed. jake sat on the floor for maybe another hour, staring at the half-dead plant and the single burnt out bulb on the string lights and the empty space where you had been, and told himself over and over again that this was the right thing. that love sometimes meant letting go. that he would be fine.
he was still telling himself that.
jake was still telling himself that he was fine because he had to be fine. the group made it pretty much impossible to disappear cleanly from your life. that was the thing about sharing the same three people who had been in the same orbit for years. every late night takeout run, every casual 'you coming?' text in the group chat kept pulling you both back into the same room. he convinced himself that two people who had once been everything to each other could still be friends, real friends too, not just the polite kind of acquaintances who avoided eye contact. that it was possible to love someone and let them go and still sit across from them in the living room during game night without the world ending.
jake had gotten good at it, mostly. at first it was awkward because, well, of course it would be. it was the kind of stiff, overly polite dance where you both speak a little too carefully and laughed a little too loudly and made sure to never sit a little too closely. the first group hangout after the break up felt like walking through a minefield, honestly. every shared glance, every accidental brush of hands when passing snacks, every time someone said something that used to be an inside joke between just the two of you. he remembered how you smiled at him that night like it hurt to do it, and how he had smiled back the same way.
but time did its thing, the way it always does. slowly, painfully, things started to settle into something that almost felt normal. he could sit across from you at jay's place now and steal fries off heeseung's plate and not stare too long when you tuck your hair behind your ear the way you always do when you were overthinking. he could text updates in the groupchat without his thumb hovering over your name first, without typing and deleting three different versions of a message that used to be just for you.
there were even the small moments where it started to feel almost normal again. like the one particular night sunghoon had made a dry comment about 'exes who still share the same three friends and see each other every day are the strongest soldiers.' the whole table burst into laughter, even jake. you had laughed too, bright and genuine, and for a second your eyes had met across the table and something soft and knowing had passed between you. and jake didn't really know if it was pain or longing or both. maybe it was recognition, like both of you understood exactly how ridiculous and impossible this arrangement was, and yet here you both were.
because this version, this careful friendship, the polite distance, the shared laughs that didn't really quite reach as deep as they used to—was better than nothing. better than losing you completely. better than waking up one day and realizing the friendship that was the foundation of everything you two had ever built had been completely destroyed all because jake woke up one morning and made a rash, terrified decision he still wasn't sure he believed in.
so he showed up. he smiled at the right times. he stole fries and sent his updates and laughed at sunghoon's jokes and pretended the ache in his chest was just old habit. and most days it was fine.
but fine was a fragile thing. a fragile, sheer layer that cracked in the quiet moments. in the way he caught the faint trace of your perfume on a hoodie he swore he'd wash after the breakup, or when his phone lit up with a notification with your name and his heart did that hopeful little stutter thing before he realized it was you texting the groupchat, not just him. fine was what he wore like armor, but underneath it the truth sat heavy and patient, the kind that lived in the small details of the past. like how he still knew exactly how you liked your eggs cooked, the way his hands remember the shape of your waist even when they had no right to anymore, the way he still hears the way 'jaeyun' would slip from your mouth, the only person in the world allowed to use that version of his name like it was something precious.
jake told himself he was fine. he still believes it. well, most nights he believes it.
tonight was not most nights.
the party is loud in the way parties stop being fun after twenty two and start being endurance tests—bass vibrating too hard through the floorboards, red cups everywhere, that specific smell of cheap vodka and someone's cologne that was trying too hard. jake doesn't even fully remember how you all ended up here, it was something along the lines of all five of you lazily sprawled across jay's living room with a movie no one was watching playing in the background until jay mentioned something about knowing a guy who knows a guy who was throwing a house warming party even though he moved in over six months ago and now here we are.
jake had been doing alright the first hour, he'd taken two shots with sunghoon and heeseung just to feel something, let jay rope him into some dumb drinking game that mostly involved shouting and losing, and nodded easily when you told the group you were going to go say hi to some people you recognized. he didn't think about it too much, which was a good habit he found himself trying to get better at more recently—not overthinking every little thing you did, not letting his eyes follow you across rooms like they still had the right to.
but then everything and anything he learned about good habits was thrown right out the window the second he looks over and searches for you, solely only because he's being a good friend, he tells himself. just making sure you were okay, just checking, nothing more. the lie sits easy on his tongue even as his eyes scan across the crowded room, past the clusters of people and the haze of spilled drinks and cigarette smoke drifting in from the balcony. he finds you near the kitchen island, leaning against the counter in that comfortable, familiar way, talking to yang jungwon.
now, yang jungwon was the kind of guy who just kind of existed to jake, a friend, but the kind that never really orbited in his life. he was younger, a little removed from the group, the kind of person whose life didn't collide with jake's enough for a solid, everyday friendship to form. to jake, he was always kind of like background noise, someone he used to nod at across campus, someone he sees at parties and gives a quick 'hey' to before moving on and that's it. never someone significant enough to warrant a second thought in jake's head.
until jake looks over and finds you looking at jungwon. and then what occurs in jake's head isn't only a second thought, but a third, a fourth and maybe the beginning of a fifth. all of which are circling the same stupid, irrational thing: jake hates yang jungwon.
because now here he is, watching the way jungwon leans in a little closer when he speaks, the way your hand brushes against his arm when you make a point. the way you look relaxed in a way jake hasn't seen in a while, shoulders soft, smile easy, the kind of open that used to be reserved for early nights and late mornings when it was just the two of you and the rest of the world felt far away.
and the worst part is that jake couldn't even be mad at jungwon. jungwon, who was all bright smiles and sweet and a little shy and looked at you like he was trying not to look too hard. jungwon, the kind of person who probably remembered birthdays without being reminded and asked follow up questions about people's days. jungwon, the kind of person who probably returned rogue shopping carts in the grocery store's parking lot. jungwon, who didn't know that the last time you laughed like that was because jake said something stupid on purpose just to watch your eyes crinkle at the corners in that way that always made his chest feel too full.
that's the funny thing about perspective. because here's the thing. jake had been looking at the breakup entirely from one side of it, his side. the side where he lost you. which, objectively speaking, was terrible enough on its own. but still, loss is a strangely selfish thing. because when someone loses something, they almost center themselves around the surrounding artifacts of what is no longer theirs. for jake, it was the calls he didn't get anymore, or the newly cold and empty space beside him in bed. or like how he still pauses in grocery aisles in front of snacks he didn't even like because buying them for you became so automatic that not buying them felt stranger. he spent so long mourning the absence of you that he never really stopped to consider what came after.
because yes, you're now his ex-girlfriend. yes, the relationship was over. yes, he had been the one to end it. all of those were true. but there was another truth too, the one that he unfortunately believes in more than the former—that the two of you had loved each other for three and a half years. and that doesn't just disappear. there were entire pieces of one another that would always belong to that relationship, memories nobody else would understand, inside jokes nobody else would find funny. versions of yourselves that only existed because the other person had been there to witness them. it was something sacred, in a way. sacred and special and it belonged to you and him and him and you and some small, selfish part of jake maybe took comfort in that. because even after everything, it still felt like yours and his. like nobody else could ever touch it, understand it, or even come near to it.
but then jake looks across the room and sees you laughing and suddenly, a realization hits him hard enough to make his stomach drop. that you weren't just something he lost. you were someone who would keep going, someone who would keep living. someone who would keep collecting new memories and new experiences and new people. and someone who would eventually fall in love again and be loved.
the thought sat heavy in his chest like a bruise that he couldn't stop pressing. jake was all at once suddenly and painfully aware that not only did he take you out of his future, but he had given you back to the rest of the world. that the version of you he still carried in his head wouldn't just be his anymore. that one day it would belong to someone else, someone who would look at you for five minutes and immediately understand why jake had loved you for three and a half years. someone like jungwon, who was sweet and safe and looking at you like he already knew exactly how lucky that would make him.
jake takes a long sip from his drink. then another. then another. as if enough of whatever concoction this is in his cup might somehow make him stop thinking. and obviously, because we all know how this goes, it doesn't. if anything, it makes the spiral worse, because now he's really watching. and once jake starts watching you, he's kind of screwed.
he watches the way you're smiling, real and unguarded, the way you lightly shove jungwon's shoulder after something he says, the way he grins, the way you grin back. and suddenly jake is very aware that he hates this. which is ridiculous because, really, nothing is happening. because jungwon is jungwon. because you're allowed to talk to whoever you want. because jake is twenty-three years old, not twelve. because he broke up with you. because he broke up with you. because he—
the thought doesn't get to finish itself. jake is already moving. already halfway across the room before his brain catches up. because apparently all that maturity he spent the last eight months building could be taken out behind a shed and shot the second he saw you smiling at somebody else.
and before he knows it, before he could let himself think about what he's doing for even a second, he's right there against you, his arm sliding around your waist before either of you could react, fingers spreading possessive and familiar over the curve of your hip like they had every right to be there. the warmth of your body against his side hits him like a memory he didn't realize he wasn't ready for. and for the first time in eight months, for one stupid, selfish second, jake felt like he was home again.
"there you are," he says, low enough that only you could hear the small crack in his voice. he then presses a quick, deliberate kiss to your temple, the kind of small, possessive thing that used to make you roll your eyes and smile at the same time. the kind of thing that he's done a thousand times before that used to mean absolutely nothing but now means entirely too much.
everything in your body immediately goes still and jake feels it. he feels the way you freeze beneath his arm, the sharp inhale you try to hide. he feels jungwon's eyes snap to him. then yours. but jake's committed now. or perhaps more accurately, he's already ruined his own life.
"been looking everywhere for you."
there's a horrifying two seconds of silence where nobody says anything.
jungwon then blinks, his eyes flicking between the two of you with that polite confusion that says he's realizing in real time that he's stepping into something he didn't really have the full context for.
"oh—shit, sorry, i didn't know you guys got back—"
"yeah, yeah we did," jake cut in smoothly, smiling like he had everything totally under control and didn't just lie right through his teeth with ease. your head whips towards him. jake pointedly does not look at you. instead, his thumb strokes once, slow and instinctive against your hip under the hem of your top before he could stop it. "right, baby?"
you don't answer right away. the music pulses around you, the lights catch your eyes, and for a second jake recognizes that look and that's when he realizes he's absolutely done for, that he pretty much dug his own grave and is actively getting in it.
jungwon then backs up slightly, mumbling something polite about catching up later before he finally turns and disappears into the crowd. the second he's out of sight, you spin in jake's hold, shoving his chest with both hands, and the look on your face is the one he had been waiting for and dreading in equal measure.
"what the fuck, jake?"
jake blinks at you slowly, like his brain was still catching up to what his body had done. like he's only just realizing that he crossed an invisible line that he laid down himself and then proceeded to sprint fifty feet past it.
"i thought we were good," you say, your voice tight as you look up at him, eyes wide and filled with the familiar mix of frustration and hurt that he knows all too well.
jake's jaw flexes, like he was trying hard to hold back every single, selfish, ugly emotion he'd been suffering with ever since you walked out of those apartment doors eight months ago and took half of him with you. his hold tightens too, his fingers pressing into your side before he answers, exhaling through his nose.
"we are good." the words come out too fast, too defensive. he heard it and hated it.
you let out a short, disbelieving laugh, "right. yeah. because that was totally normal."
he hesitates for a moment, the small distance forcing his eyes to flick down to your mouth for half a second before he forced them back up.
"c'mon, i mean…you—" the words stopped. for a second he just stands there, just looking at you, accepting that this is the closest he's been to you ever since eight months ago and this could very well be the last time he ever will be. just looking at you and the way your lips press together like you were holding back something much bigger than anger. and then at the very, very obvious fact that even now, even when upset at him, you still haven't stepped back. neither of you have. eight months of carefully curated distance and here you were again, letting him hold you like this in the middle of a crowded room.
"jungwon," he says finally, quieter. "really?"
"and what's wrong with jungwon," you ask, voice deceptively calm, your mouth quirked in that way where jake can't tell if you're annoyed or amused, or both.
his thumb moves without permission, a quick stroke against your hip, restless and desperate. "he's a kid."
"he's like a year younger than me," you shoot back, tilting your head, the movement bringing your faces a fraction even closer.
jake's jaw tightens. "he's still in school."
you stare at him for a long second, something dangerous and challenging sparkling behind your eyes. then the corner of your mouth twitches, not quite a smile, but close enough to make his stomach flip.
"i'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that," you say, voice laced with that teasing edge that always used to get under his skin in the best way. "since when did you become such a possessive old man, jaeyun?"
jake closes his eyes at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, trying his hardest to pretend it didn't hit him the way it always did whenever you called him that. he sighs, the sound quiet and exhausted, in that defeated kind of way that tells you this isn't coming from completely out of no where.
"c'mon, y/n," his voice is softer now, almost pleading. "i know you."
"right," you scoff, but your stance falters slightly. "so you know what's best for me, right? for the both of us?"
and that lands somewhere. somewhere deep and hard and admittedly more vulnerably raw than he wishes it had. his fingers tighten slightly around you, his breath hitching for a moment before he catches himself.
"c'mon..don't be like that," he murmurs, eyes searching yours like he was looking for an exit he already knew didn't exist. his hand slides a little higher against you, his palm now flat against the warm skin of your lower back. "you know i'm not trying to—"
"i'm not being anything," you cut in, voice quieter now but still edged with that defensive frustration, "you're the one who decided to make it weird. you're the one who came over here and—" your voice breaks off with a shaky laugh. you shake your head then, eyes now shining. "you know what, this is stupid. whatever."
a beat of silence stretches again between you, jake still unmoving, holding you right there against him. your bodies were nearly flush now in the cramped room, your knee slotted between his thighs, every point of contact painfully impossible to ignore.
then, soft and almost reluctant, you whisper, "let go of me, yun."
he swallows hard, voice low and defeated when he finally answers, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
"i kinda really don't want to."
the confession hangs there in the small space between your bodies, the truth heavy and honest in a way that solved absolutely nothing and made everything worse. you let out another small scoff, but despite yourself you still don't pull away. you don't push him. you just stay right there, letting him hold you, neither of you making any real effort to create distance. then, your eyes meet his in the dim party light, dark and shining and full of the same messy, desperate thing he was feeling. you break the silence first.
"how drunk are you?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
"not at all."
you pause, studying him. your gaze traces his face like you were memorizing it, like you were actively aware you were making a mistake but couldn't bring yourself to stop. then, slowly, hesitantly, one of your hands slid up from his shirt, fingers trailing along his collarbone before curving around the back of his neck, finding the ends of his hair automatically, mindlessly playing with the strands in that familiar way that always used to make his breath catch.
your eyes then meet his again and something flashed between you, something tired and hurt and full of everything you weren't supposed to feel anymore.
"sober enough to drive me home?" you ask after a moment.
"yes ma'am."
and for another agonizingly long second you just watch him again, eyes searching like you were waiting for one of you to be smart enough to stop this. to choose self-preservation over whatever this still was between you.
"liar."
jake's breath hitches. a small, low chuckle escapes him.
"would i lie to you?"
and what happens next is, what jake would later say, probably not his brightest idea.
the backseat of jake's car is cramped and all too familiar.
the second the door shut behind you both, it was as if the last thread of restraint never even existed. jake barely has any time to lock the doors before you're on him, or maybe it was him on you. it's messy from the start, your hands fisting in his shirt, yanking him closer as his mouth crashes into yours like he'd been starving for it, which, yes. eight months is a long time, so he won't deny that part. the kiss is all teeth and heat and months of pent up frustration. he tastes like a mix of beer and something that was just him, something that makes you make a small, broken sound against his mouth that goes straight to his head.
jake's hands go everywhere at once, one sliding up the back of your shirt to press flat against the warm skin of your back, the other gripping your thigh as he pulls you into his lap. the movement is clumsy in the tight space, your knee knocks against the seat, his elbow hits the window, the car rocks slightly with the shift of weight, but neither of you care. you pull back just enough to breathe, lips swollen, eyes wide.
"we're not getting back together," you mutter, voice already rough and gasping.
jake's mouth stays on your jaw, going lower and lower, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. "i didn't say we were," he mumbles against your skin, teeth grazing slightly before soothing it with his tongue. his hands slip higher under your shirt, palms dragging up and down your sides like he needed to relearn every inch.
you tilt your head back, giving him better access even as your fingers tighten in his hair. "you're such an asshole," you breathe, the scoff cracking in your throat as a moan slips out anyways. "getting all jealous over jungwon like you have any right to—"
that's when jake makes a low, rough sound in the back of his throat and tugs you harder against him, rolling his hips up so you can feel exactly how much he didn't care about being called an asshole right now. "don't say his name while i'm trying to kiss you," he mutters, voice muffled against your collarbone.
you let out a short, breathless laugh and tug his head back by the hair so you can look at him, your eyes dark, lips parted. "you're the one who started it," the words low, your mouth barely touching his. "coming over there like some possessive ex."
"i am a possessive ex," he cuts in, voice wrecked before leaning in and kissing you again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours like he was trying to shut you up and pull you closer at the same time. one of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers toying with the button of your jeans without actually undoing it quite yet. "and you're still letting me touch you like this, so what does that make you?"
you bite his bottom lip in retaliation, hard enough to make him groan, head falling back against the seat as you drag your mouth down his neck. "someone who's definitely not getting back together with you," you whisper back against his mouth, even as your hips roll down against the hard line of him through his pants. his breath hitches sharply at the sensation, his hand sliding fully into your back pocket now, gripping you harder against him, guiding you into a rhythm that was hungry and messy and perfect.
"good," he pants between kisses, voice lower and desperate. "because i'm not asking you to."
but even as the words left his mouth, you could feel the lie in them just from the way he kisses you after that. like he's trying to pour everything he can't bring himself to say into the press of his mouth. like he was contradicting every careful denial he just made. his hands held you like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go for even a second, his hips rolling up to meet yours in that slow, needy rhythm that said everything he refused to.
you both knew it.
you pull back again, breathing heavier, lips shiny, "this is so stupid."
jake doesn't respond yet, instead he tilts his head and mouths at your neck, slow and deliberate, lips dragging along your skin until he finds that spot he remembers just below your ear. he starts gently at first, then sucks even harder, pulling a soft sound from your throat as he leaves a mark you're definitely going to hate him for tomorrow—amongst many, many other things. when he finally pulls back, he tilts his head back up to look at you, his eyes half-lidded, dazed and dark, pupils grown wide with something that looked a lot like surrender. no more careful distance, no more bite. just the pure, raw, unguarded want.
"yeah," he agrees, voice hoarse. "so stop me."
and well, you don't. because again, loss is a funny, selfish little thing. it makes you greedy, it makes you reach for what you know will hurt you later, just because the ache of not having it right now felt worse.
so you lean back in and kiss him again, slower this time, deeper like you were both finally admitting that the last eight months had been one long, exhausting lie you were both too tired to keep telling. you just pull him in even closer, and jake responds instantly, arms wrapping around you tighter, like he could somehow press the two of you back together if he held on hard enough, until there's no more fight between you. no more denial, no more pretending you could keep ignoring what still lived in the space between your bodies. just two people giving in.
you don't stop him when his hand drifts from your neck down to the front of your jeans, fingers toying with the button again until it finally pops open. you don't stop him when he tugs the fabric down your hips, lifting your leg to help him slide it off completely. and he definitely doesn't stop you when your own hands start working on his belt, the metal clinking harshly with the rush.
it's all too messy, too clumsy. it's eight months of missing each other crashing into the present all at once. and when it finally tips over, when you fully give in and give him all of you, it's fast and intense and full of everything that was left unshared between you two. his hands go everywhere, gripping, guiding, almost too rough in the way as if he was terrified this would be the last time. yours were in his hair, tugging, anchoring, like you needed the reminder that he was real. eventually, the car grows hotter, the windows fogging over completely, the only sounds your shaky breaths, the creak of leather, the soft involuntary noises that jake doesn't even try to hold back anymore.
and when it's over, when the tension finally breaks and leaves you both trembling and shaking hard, jake doesn't find it in him to pull away. he just stays there, holding your body on his, arms wrapped around you like he can't bear the thought of putting space between you yet. his thumb strokes slow, soothing circles against your skin, like his body is still trying to comfort you even now.
he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath against your neck, his hands now tremble slightly where they rest on you. and jake knows he should let go, knows that this is the part where he's supposed to pull away, fix his clothes, and pretend this didn't just happen. but his body is much slower than his brain, and for a few seconds he let himself stay there—let himself feel the weight of you against him, the way your forehead presses against his shoulder like it used to on sunday mornings when neither of you had anywhere to be. the way you'd wake up tangled in his sheets, steal his hoodie before he could even open his eyes, kiss his face stupid until he finally woke up. the way you used to fix his hair with your fingers after sex, the same way you did just now without thinking. some habits never learn how to die.
eventually, you shift with a quiet wince, and jake's hands move on instinct, steadying you at the waist as you lift yourself off him, the loss of contact hitting him harder than expected. once you move to the seat next to his, he reaches over the front seat with one arm, fumbling blindly until the glove compartment clicks open, pulling out the small pack of wipes he'd kept in there for so long now and that you two were all too familiar with. he doesn't even remember when he'd last replaced them. maybe he never took them out in the first place.
he tears one open without looking at you and hands it over. you take it without a word. he then grabs another for himself, wiping himself in quick, efficient movements before tossing it into the small trash bag he keeps hooked on the back of the passenger seat.
then, without thinking too hard about it, he reaches for the hem of your shirt that had ridden up and tugs it back down gently, smoothing it over your hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. you don't say anything about it. instead, your hands move on autopilot too—fixing the collar of his shirt where you pulled at it just a few minutes ago, brushing a piece of his hair back into place like muscle memory. it was too comfortable, familiar. the kind of quiet and ordinary tenderness that only existed between two people who had known each other too long and too deeply to pretend things were simple.
"you still keep the wipes in your car," you finally say quietly, breaking the silence.
jake lets out a small, breathy laugh through his nose, the kind that sounds more tired than amused. "yeah. guess i never got around to taking them out."
you didn't say anything to that, but your eyes soften for a moment, just long enough for him to catch it before you look away. he wonders if you're remembering the same things he is. like how he used to keep your favorite snacks in the same glove compartment. or how you used to leave hair ties and lip balm in here like this car was yours. the way he still hasn't cleaned it out completely even after the breakup, like some pathetic part deep within him had been waiting for nights like this.
you then reach over and gently fix another piece of his hair sticking up in the back, your touch soft, thoughtless. it makes something in the chest pull tight.
"still a mess," you murmur.
jake's mouth twitches. "you caused it."
you don't deny it. instead, you give him a small look before letting out a quiet sigh as you lean back against the seat, pulling your jeans back up in the cramped space. jake starts to help without saying anything, tugging the waistband up over your hips when your hands fumble, his fingers brushing against your stomach in the process. he tries not to think about how many times he's done this before. how many nights that ended with him helping you get dressed in this very same backseat, both of you laughing quietly in bliss like the rest of the world didn't exist.
this time, there was no laughing, just the quiet sound of zippers and fabric rustling and the heavier thing sitting between you that neither of you seemed ready to address. you were the first to speak again, voice even softer this time.
"this was a really bad idea."
jake leans his head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling. his hand finds yours in the space between you without thinking, thumb brushing over your knuckles once before he catches himself.
"yeah," he lets out quietly. "i know."
and for a moment longer, neither of you move. jake lets himself sit in it, the weight of everything you both used to be and everything you weren't anymore. he thinks about the night he broke up with you, sitting on the floor with the plant on the window and the lights above. he thinks about how he'd been the one to say you both needed the space, and how you looked at him like you already knew this was going to hurt worse than either of you could admit.
he thinks about all the nights since then that he spent telling himself he was fine. he thinks about how he spent the last eight months convincing himself that breaking up with you was the mature choice. now jake is starting to think that was the worst part. because at the time, it did sound mature. it sounded selfless. it sounded like the kind of thing a person says when they are trying very hard to be very good.
i don't want to hold you back. i don't want us to lose ourselves in each other. i don't want to wake up one day and realize we stayed because leaving was too hard.
all very reasonable, mature sentences. all very responsible. but all absolutely devastating when translated into what jake really meant, which was:
i'm scared. i don't know who i am without you, and somehow i convinced myself that means loving you is the problem. and frankly, that sim jaeyun, intelligent in several areas but yet deeply stupid in one very specific department, had mistaken fear for wisdom.
and now here you are again, in his car, letting him fix your clothes like nothing changed, when, in fact, everything has.
"you're still gonna drive me home?" your voice cuts through the silence, the heaviness of what you both refuse to acknowledge sitting between you.
jake turns his head to look at you. your eyes meet in the dim light, and for a second he let himself really look at you—the tiredness in your face, the slight redness around your eyes, the way your lips were still a little swollen. he wonders if you could see the same things in him.
"yeah," he says, simple and honest. "of course i am."
you nod once, like that was enough for now.
jake then reaches over across your body and unlocks your side of the door, pushing it open for you, and he follows on his side, patting his palms against his pants like he's trying to steady himself before getting back in. the two of you move in silence, you sliding into the passenger seat and instinctively adjusting it to the exact position you always used to, him sitting up straighter as he turns the key in the ignition. he swipes his hand across the inside of the windshield, clearing just enough of the fog so he can see the road.
he doesn't ask if you want to go back inside first. he doesn't ask if you want to talk about what just happened. he just puts the car in drive and pulls away from the curb, one hand loosely holding the steering wheel, the other resting on the center console between you two.
it's quiet for most of the ride. no sound other then the soft blast of air conditioning and jake's indicator blinking every now and then. but somewhere along the ride, somewhere between the third red light and the turn onto your street, your hand found its way back to his on the center console, neither of you saying anything about it. jake just turned his palm up and let your fingers slide between his, squeezing once, like his muscle memory refused to erase itself no matter how hard he tried.
he let out a small breath when he felt your touch, keeping his eyes on the road but his mind staying stuck on the same loop it always did when it came to you.
he didn't know if letting you go had been the right thing.
he didn't know if he'd ever stop missing this.
you stay silent sitting beside him with your head leaning against the seat, eyes half-lidded, thumb brushing slowly against his hand, watching the road like you were somewhere else entirely.
jake looks over at you briefly, and he remembers all the times he's driven you home like this. how many nights ended up with you in his passenger seat, your hand resting on his thigh while you hummed along to whatever song was playing. how you used to fall asleep sometimes on longer drives, and he would turn the music down and drive slower just so he wouldn't have to wake you up. how he used to hate dropping you off at your place because it meant the night was over. but at least back then, there was always a tomorrow, always a next time. always a version of his life where tomorrow always existed with you in it. until one day, it just simply didn't.
jake swallows hard, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.
when he finally pulls up in front of your building, he puts the car in park but doesn't turn the engine off right away. the low hum fills the space in the air, neither of you moving quite yet. you stare out the window for a second, then finally turn your head to look at him. your eyes were soft in a way that made jake's chest ache, that made him want to take back every word he ever said eight months ago and pretend that night never happened at all.
you look at him for a moment longer before your voice comes out low, almost careful.
"…do you want some water or something?"
and it's such a simple question. so casual, so normal, like you were asking him to come inside after a usual night out, not after he'd just hooked up with you in the backseat of his car while you both ignored the fact you've been broken up for nearly a year now.
jake knew what you were really asking. he also knew that he should say no. that he should say goodnight, drive away, and go home. he should be the one to put the distance between you, because the both of you were clearly too weak to do it when you were this close, and because he had been the one to draw the line eight months ago in the first place.
but he doesn't. he turns the car off.
by the time you unlock the front door to your apartment, jake moves on instinct, his body remembering the motions like instinct. you mumble something about using the bathroom, disappearing down the hall while jake kicks off his shoes and wanders into the kitchen before he even consciously decides to. he reaches into the cabinet to the left of the sink and pulls out two glasses all without thinking. he almost doesn't even notice how your kitchen sink faucet is still leaking—the exact same leak you used to complain about every week. the exact same leak he kept promising to fix, and the exact same leak he never actually fixed.
he turns the handle and waits exactly seven seconds to let the water run cold first, because he remembers your sink is slow like that and because he, unfortunately, also remembers you hate drinking room temperature water. the sound of the leaking faucet and the running water and the distant shuffle of you moving somewhere in the apartment feels too familiar and selfishly comforting in a way that makes his stomach twist. like maybe if he looked down at his phone, the date would say it was last year. that you were still together and he still belonged here.
by the time you return, jake's noticed too much around him. the same chipped mug you always used to make your objectively terrible morning coffee sitting by the sink. the same magnet on the fridge from that trip you took together last year. the same candle scent sitting on the counter. everything looked the same and yet somehow nothing was the same at all.
jake watches the way you lean against the counter next to him, the way you keep your eyes on the glass in your hands like it was safer than looking at him. he thinks about how many times he's stood in this exact spot while you made tea in the morning, or while you ranted about your day after work, or while you kissed him against the same counter because you couldn't wait until you made it to the bedroom.
you don't look at him when you finally break the silence. instead, your eyes stay fixed on the half-empty glass in your hands.
"it's late," you say quietly. a beat passes. "you probably shouldn't drive home right now."
and there it is, his out, his second chance. his opportunity to be the responsible one for once. because despite everything that's happened tonight, despite the alcohol and the tension and the backseat, there was still a chance to stop this before it became something neither of you could pretend wasn't happening. but of course, since we all know by now that jake doesn't know the difference between knowing something and then doing something about it, we all know what happens next.
"yeah," he says, his eyes trained on the leaking faucet for a second, watching the slow, steady familiar drip before they finally land back on you. "i probably shouldn't."
and then the rest of night kind of falls into place in the exact way that it really, really shouldn't, given your circumstances. jake just kind of finds his body moving on its own, the same way it always used to when the two of you headed to bed after a long night. he knew the path by heart by now—the way that one specific floorboard near your bedroom door creaks, the way the hallway feels narrower in the dark.
in your room, the small lamp on the nightstand is already on. jake remembers all too well the nights he would accidentally turn on the overhead light and how you'd immediately scold him because you had a thing against using the 'big light'. now, the warm glow just reminds him of the version of his life out there where he still belonged here, where walking into this room doesn't hurt as much as it does now. jake stands in the doorway for second, watching as you move toward your dresser and open the bottom drawer to pull out one of your sleep shirts. his eyes drift to the drawer beside it without meaning to, the one that used to be his.
he walks over quietly and opens it. a few of his old hoodies and shirt were still folded inside, exactly where he left them months ago and never bothered to ask for them back. one of them, the black one that you used to steal constantly, sits right on top, smelling more like your detergent than his own. he pulls it out without thinking too hard about what that meant.
you don't say anything when he changes into it, just turning your back slightly while you slip into your own shirt, like you were giving him space even though there was nothing left to hide between you.
when he turns around, you're already climbing into your side of the bed, not that it used to really matter anyways. by morning, you'd usually end up sprawled halfway across his side already. jakes stands there for second, heart pounding.
he knows this is stupid. he knows you both know it. but he walks around to his side of the bed anyways and slides under the covers like he's done a hundred times before. he settles onto his back for a moment, staring up at the ceiling before finally turning on his side to face you.
you're already facing him. and it just takes that one small look from you for him to move automatically. he reaches for you without thinking, and you meet him halfway—your leg sliding between his, your body pressing close like it needed this as much as he did. his arm wraps around your shoulder and his hand finds its way into your hair, the other one going around your waist and slipping just under the hem of your shirt. your face finds its way into the crook of his neck, and his chin rests on top of your head. everything about it feels so painfully normal that it hurt.
jake could feel your heartbeat against his chest, the way your breath is warm against the skin of his neck and the way it eventually evens out. but most of all, he could feel how perfectly you still fit against him, like the two of you had been put into this world as missing halves meant to find one another.
jake never really believed in soulmates before he met you. the entire concept always felt too neat, too convenient, like something people told themselves to make sense of why certain connections felt different. but one night, a night so similar to this one, where you were tucked into him and his hand was mindlessly going up and down your spine because it helped you sleep, a night that felt so far from now, he remembers something you had mumbled to him in the haze of being half asleep and in bliss.
"you know i'd choose you in every lifetime, right?"
and jake had gone still for a second, his fingers pausing between your shoulder blades. then he chuckled quietly, the sound low and fond and full of warmth.
"yeah?"
you then nodded lazily against his neck, a small, content sound slipping out of you. "mmhm."
and jake remembers exactly what he said next. every single time. he could still hear the way the words had left his mouth, so steady and so sure, like they were the easiest truth he'd ever spoken.
"good," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "because i'm never letting you go."
the memory sits too heavy in his chest, even now. but the worst part wasn't that he had lied. it wasn't even that he had let you go. the worst part was that it took losing you for jake to finally understand that maybe he did believe in soulmates after all.
not because the idea of soulmates was romantic or comforting, but because losing you felt like losing something fundamental. something that felt like losing a piece of himself he didn't know how to function without until after the fact. it took letting you go to realize that so much of who he had become wasn't separate from you at all. a large part of the person he grown into had been quietly shaped by loving you—by the way you softened him, challenged him, and made space for parts of himself he didn't know how to hold on his own. he didn't just lose you. he lost a part of him that only existed because of you in the first place.
jake barely slept. which, to be fair, would be asking a lot from him when your literal body stayed curled against his all night in a way he hasn't let himself remember in eight long months.
he wakes up before you, still tangled in your sheets, your leg thrown over his like it had been eight months ago, and ten months ago, and a year ago, and every ordinary morning before everything became something different. your face still stays buried in his chest like you barely moved an inch in your sleep, and for a few minutes jake just lies there, staring at your ceiling, and let himself have it. let himself press his nose into your hair and breathe you in. let himself trace the slow, barely there patterns on your back with his fingers. let himself remember how some time ago in the past he got used to this, to waking up with your hair in his mouth and leg thrown over his hip and the way you somehow took up too much of the bed despite being smaller than him and feel like the luckiest guy alive.
then jake reluctantly yet carefully untangles himself from you, kisses the top of your head while you're still half-asleep, and slips out before either of you have to say anything real.
walking out of your apartment and driving to his own felt like he was doing something wrong, so when he steps through his front door, and three pairs of eyes immediately land on him, he feels even worse.
heeseung is sprawled across the couch with a bowl of cereal balanced on his stomach. sunghoon sits at the kitchen island scrolling through his phone, and jay, who very much does not live here yet acts like he does, stands at the stove flipping something in a pan.
the apartment goes quiet for half a second. then, heeseung grins, slow and knowing.
"ah," the word drags out. "there he is."
jake freezes in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob. he's still wearing the same clothes he slept in, his hair's a mess, and he knew he probably smelled like your laundry detergent and something else he really didn't want to think about right now.
sunghoon doesn't even look up from his phone. "you were supposed to drive us home last night, asshole."
jay turns around with the spatula in hand, eyebrows raised. "yeah, what the hell, man? we had to uber. heeseung almost threw up in some guy's backseat."
jake rubs the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. "sorry," he mutters, kicking his shoes off by the door. "change of plans."
he then tries to walk past them to his room, but then heeseung suddenly sits up straighter, eyes narrowing at jake's figure.
"wait," he tilts his head, studying him. "you didn't come home last night."
jake keeps walking, eyes focused on his door and very much not on the other three pairs of eyes following him. "i stayed at the party longer."
"no you didn't," sunghoon says pointedly. "one, you hate parties, and two, we would've seen you."
jay's eyes dart slowly from jake to the guys then to the guys back to jake, still holding the spatula but not flipping anything anymore. then, as if everyone in the room put the pieces together with absolutely no other context needed, heeseung's face split into a wide, open gasp.
"oh my god," he says. "you slept with y/n, didn't you?"
jake freezes mid-step.
the apartment goes dead silent for two solid business seconds. then all three of them explode at once.
"i knew it!" heeseung shouts, pointing at him with his cereal spoon. "i fucking knew it the second you disappeared at the party last night."
sunghoon lets out a short, disbelieving laugh, "no way. you actually went home with her?"
and jay, still holding the spatula, just shakes his head slowly, but there's a small, knowing smile tugging at his mouth that somehow felt worse than heeseung's yelling. "dude."
jake turns around suddenly, face hot and burning and not at all helping his case. "okay, first of all, it could've literally been anyone else—"
"—okay well that's bullshit because you're, like, deeply so downbadly in love with y/n—" heeseung interrupts before jake shoots a pointed look at him.
"—and second of all," jake adds quickly, holding his hands up in defense, "it's not a big deal, okay? i literally just slept over. that's it."
the three of them stare back at him. the clear, very obvious kind of stare that says they don't believe a single word coming out of his mouth. then, with one eyebrow raised and his voice dry, sunghoon asks, "so you didn't hook up with her?"
jake opens his mouth. then closes it. and the three seconds of silence that follows pretty much tells them all they need to know.
heeseung's grin grows. "oh my god—"
"okay, fine," jake snaps, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "yes. we hooked up in the car. happy now?"
the apartment erupts again all at once. jay actually drops the spatula this time, heeseung lets outs a loud, delighted whoop and falls back against the couch, completely disregarding his cereal nearly spilling, and sunghoon just stares at jake with that specific look on his face that says he's watching a disaster happen in real time.
jake groans and drags a hand down his face. "you guys aren't supposed to know. and you definitely can't make it weird. please."
"make it weird?" heeseung repeats, sitting back up. "bro, you slept with your ex, who is, mind you, our friend, in your car after you broke up with her and then went home with her. it's already weird."
jay picks the spatula back up, but still watches jake carefully, "so…are you guys getting back together or what?"
jake's stomach twists. it twists violently and harshly and most of all, confusingly because he didn't know. he didn't have an answer. he didn't even know what he wanted the answer to be. the best way he could describe it is like standing in the middle of a road with no idea which direction he was supposed to go, or even worse, which direction he even wanted in the first place.
"i don't know," he admits quietly, dropping his hands helplessly. "neither of us tried to talk about it, i don't…i just don't know."
there's a brief moment of silence shared for another moment. heeseung exchanges a look with sunghoon. jay turns the stove off completely and leans back against the counter, arms crossed.
"you know this is gonna blow up in your face, right?" sunghoon says, not unkindly. just in that honest way friends do when they're genuinely concerned and know both of the parties involved too well to ignore the inevitable outcome. "you can't just do that and expect it to not hurt both of you."
and jake knew that. he knew it last night when he came over to you talking to jungwon. he knew it when he followed you out of the party and into the backseat of his car. he knew it when he woke up in your bed this morning and he knew it now.
but unfortunately for him, the truth is a little harder to face when all jake can remember is how you looked last night when you were asleep in his arms and your hand stayed holding the front of his hoodie like you didn't want him to leave, or how you had given him that quiet, knowing look in the kitchen when you asked if he wanted to stay over, like you already knew he would say yes.
he kept replaying those moments. the softness in your voice, the way you didn't pull away when he reached for you. the way it felt so easy to fall back into something that you both knew was supposed to be over.
and the cruel thing about the universe, jake was actively learning, was that it rarely cared about what he needed. and he wasn't asking for much, really. just some time or space to sit with what happened last night and figure out why he was still carrying pieces of you with him when he had been the one to walk away. he just needed a moment to sort through the mess in his chest—the guilt, the want, the quiet confusion of still reaching for someone he's supposed to have let go of, especially before having to see you again.
so yeah. he would've liked maybe at least a full business day, if anything. just one.
the universe did not give him a day.
and jake learns that the hard way later that night. because, instead, the universe gives him game night.
now, game night is one of those things that has always existed in the friend group, one of those little traditions that started so casually no one actually remembers who started it. it predates you and jake. predates the relationship. predates the breakup.
back then, game night looked a little different.
sometimes it was mario kart in heeseung's, sunghoon's, and jake's shared apartment with three controllers that worked and one that drifted aggressively to the left. sometimes it was monopoly, which eventually got permanently banned after jay accused sunghoon of cheating and refused to speak to him for forty seven minutes. sometimes it was card games, board games, drinking games, stupid phone games, or even just watching a movie because everyone was too tired to commit to anything that involved actual thinking.
but the point was never really the game. the point was the showing up, the collapsing onto the couch, the passing around the take-out boxes, the arguing over rules no body fully understood. the same five people ending up in the same room again and again because somewhere along the way, routine had started to feel like family. and for a while, game night had been one of jake's favorite things for reasons he never admitted, mostly because admitting them would mean admitting how much of it had always been about you.
game night was one of the first nights jake saw you differently. it was one of those nights that came and went and really meant absolutely nothing in the moment until suddenly jake was sitting there thinking about the way you laughed and then he realized that nothing was actually the beginning of everything.
it was before your first kiss, before the late-night calls, before the car rides. before your toothbrush lived by his sink and his hoodies found their way into that one specific drawer in your room on their own.
back then, you were just you. someone in the friend group, someone jay met in lecture one day and started bringing around to the lunch table. someone who started showing up to game night with snacks nobody asked for but everyone ate anyway. someone who got weirdly competitive over games you swore you didn't care about, which was funny because you absolutely did care and jake absolutely knew it.
and one night, somehow and somewhere in that stretch of time, it ended up being just you and jake on the couch. you were sitting on the opposite end with your knees pulled up under a blanket, picking through a bag of jolly ranchers and making a face every time you found a blue raspberry one, which apparently you had very strong feelings against.
"blue raspberry is too blue," you had said, looking at jake with a completely serious expression on your face.
jake remembered laughing because, at the time, he thought that was just a ridiculous thing to say. then he remembered watching you hand him every blue raspberry jolly rancher after that without even thinking about it.
and jake thinks he's pretty good at noticing people. he notices when jay gets quiet before admitting he was stressed. notices when heeseung pretended not to care about something he very obviously cared about. notices when sunghoon was hungry because he got meaner in a very specific, low effort way.
but you noticed things too. the smaller and hidden things, the things most people missed because they were too busy waiting for their turn to talk. you noticed that he always picked the blue controller if nobody else took it first. noticed that he drank the last sip of soda even when it went flat because he hated wasting things. noticed he laughed louder when he was tired, like he had to try a little harder to make up for his social battery giving up.
and then, you noticed that jake almost always only ate the blue raspberry jolly ranchers.
that night, sometime around two in the morning, when jay had already left and heeseung and sunghoon went into their rooms, you had looked over at him and said, "you're quieter than people think."
and jake had just blinked, because that was not the kind of sentence people usually say to him. people usually told him he was funny, charming, easy to talk to. occasionally annoying, depending on whether if jay just lost a game of mario kart to him.
"am i?" he asked, trying to sound casual about it.
you then shrugged, picking another blue raspberry jolly rancher out of the bag and sliding it across the couch to him. "yeah. not in a bad way. i feel like you just observe more than you talk sometimes."
"that's creepy."
"it's only creepy if you're bad at it."
"am i bad at it?"
you looked at him then, going quiet for a moment, with this small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.
"no," you said. "i think you're actually kind of good."
and jake, who had done a pretty decent job of being a pretty normal human being around you up until that point, suddenly forgot how. because at some point in the middle of that night, between the abandoned games, the jolly ranchers, and a conversation that somehow became about everything and nothing all at once, jake had the same, one persistent thought sitting in the back of his mind: he wanted to know you better.
and not just the version of you everyone knew. he wanted the small things you noticed that he didn't. the things you didn't think were interesting enough to tell people. your worst habit. your favorite childhood movie. the song you played whenever you were sad but didn't want to admit that you were sad. what you looked like first thing in the morning, which, at the time, was a wildly inappropriate and unearned thought considering he had strictly just been your friend for about a year by then.
tonight, however, game night looks like heeseung and sunghoon yelling at a basketball video game, jay sitting on the couch with half a takeout container balancing on his knee while offering extremely aggressive coaching no one asked for, and jake holding a controller he stopped meaningfully using about fifteen minutes ago.
"pass, pass, pass—are you actually blind?" jay snaps, leaning forward on the couch.
"i know how to play," heeseung says, immediately running his player directly into sunghoon's.
sunghoon doesn't even blink, "do you?"
and jake, meanwhile, is kind of just…there. physically present, yes, but mentally and most definitely emotionally, somewhere stuck between the events that took place in between his backseat and then waking up in your bed this morning. his thumbs move over the controller on autopilot, his character doing something clearly unhelpful and sunghoon swears under his breath.
"jake," sunghoon deadpans without looking away from the screen, "are you even playing or having some religious experience right now?"
jake gives him a look. "i'm playing."
"you're standing out of bounds."
jake looks at the screen. and he is, indeed, standing out of bounds.
"whatever," he mutters.
jay then gives him a sideways look, the kind of look that says i know exactly what your problem is and i am choosing not to say it out loud yet, which is somehow worse than if he had just said it. and then heeseung, because he's heeseung and therefore constitutionally incapable of letting anything breathe, glances over with a knowing look.
"you're doing it again," he drags the words out before looking back at the screen. "you're thinking about it."
jake's grip tightens around the controller. "i'm not."
"mm."
"don't do that."
"do what?"
"that."
heeseung's brow lifts. "i literally just said mm."
"you said it weird," jake says pointedly.
"well maybe you're hearing it weird because you're feeling guilty."
jake opens his mouth, already prepared to say something defensive, when the front door swings open.
"i swear to god," you announce, stepping inside with a plastic container of cookies tucked under your arm, "if someone ate the leftovers i left here last time, i'm fighting someone—"
you stop mid-sentence. because once you kick the door shut behind you, the whole room does that horrible, subtle thing rooms do when everyone knows something they're not supposed to and try very hard to act like they don't.
you stare back at the four pairs of eyes on you all at once, and not one of them is doing a particularly convincing job of looking normal. your gaze flicks across the room before finally landing on jake. you stare at him for another long second and then all at once, jake sees your expression shift in real time—from confusion, to understanding, to something much, much sharper.
"are you serious right now?" you let out a disbelieving laugh but terrifying enough, with no humor in it. heeseung and sunghoon suddenly become very interested in the paused game on the tv and jay, meanwhile, looks down at his phone like the conversation about to take place is absolutely none of his business.
"you told them?" you ask, eyes still fixed on jake, brows furrowed. "i thought we weren't going to make this a thing."
jake winces. "i know, i know. i'm sorry. they were just—they asked and it just…slipped out."
"slipped out," you repeated flatly, clearly unimpressed.
heeseung is the first to crack, letting out a small snort before immediately, and unsuccessfully, failing to cover it with a cough, "in his defense, he did try to lie at first. it was actually kind of impressive how bad he was at it."
"shut up," jake mutters, face burning now.
you drag a hand down your face, then fully step into the living room, looking between all of them. "okay, fine," you say finally, letting out a long sigh. "yes. jake and i hooked up last night."
the room goes painfully, awkwardly silent.
"that's it. end of story." you point towards the tv, then cross the room and drop into the empty spot beside jake like it was nothing. "and we're not going to be weird about it so unpause the game before i regret coming over."
and just like that, game night continues.
well, continues is a generous way to put it. it moreso limps forward with the very, very fragile determination of a group of people pretending to ignore what just happened. heeseung misses two open shots because he keeps glancing at you and jake sitting next to each other like he's afraid something might happen if he looks away for too long. sunghoon tells jake to lock in, even though he himself has clearly given up on focusing on the game. and jay keeps pretending he isn't very obviously tracking the situation out of the corner of his eye, because jay has always had the subtlety of a man pretending not to eavesdrop while standing directly outside a closed glass door.
meanwhile, jake…jake is doing his best. which historically has not always meant good things. but it's not particularly easy when the one person you're actively trying to move on from is still right next to you and the gap between your thigh and theirs is getting increasingly smaller and smaller with each sudden and small movement.
at some point much later in the night, sometime between jay suggesting they switch games and sunghoon nearly falling asleep on the floor against the couch, you stand, heading for the kitchen, "gonna get some water."
jake lasts maybe twelve seconds. because then he sets his controller down and stands too.
"i'm gonna—" he starts before realizing there is not a single convincing end to that sentence.
all three of them look up at him.
jake points vaguely to the kitchen. "…water."
"right," jay says, already shaking his head as he goes back to flip through the game options.
"very important," heeseung adds with amusement in his tone and jake takes that as a sign to leave before anyone can make it worse.
you're standing near the fridge when he enters, holding your glass under the dispenser. you don't look at him right away.
"very subtle," you say.
jake stops a few feet behind you. "what?"
"that," you nod towards the living room. "that was literally, like, twelve seconds after i got up."
jake opens his mouth then closes it. then tries again. "i wanted water."
you finally turn around then, leaning back against the counter, glass in hand.
"you have never once voluntarily wanted water in your life, jake. you're chronically dehydrated."
and that is fair. annoying, but fair, given he can't exactly argue against the only person in the world, other than his mom, who has ever taken it upon themselves to remind him that he needed to drink more water on a daily basis.
"i'm not—," jake starts, then stops. he takes a small breath before he continues.
"i just…" he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and hesitates, glancing back toward the living room to make sure no one was paying attention. "i'm sorry. for leaving this morning without saying anything."
and you just go still. for a second, you just look at him, like you're actively trying to figure out what he wanted from this conversation. the fridge hums quietly beside you and from the living room, heeseung yells something at the tv, but it all sounds far away now. then you set your glass down and cross your arms over your chest.
"there's nothing to be sorry about, jake," you say, quietly but steady. "you don't owe me anything. it was a one time thing and we both knew that."
and there it is. clean, controlled, and merciful, maybe, given jake thinks he has plenty to be sorry about.
"right," jake says, and it comes out wrong, the kind of right where actually nothing feels right at all and too much is on his mind.
you sense it immediately. "jake."
"no, yeah. i know." he nods, looking down at the floor because looking at you right now felt too much like that night eight months ago. "one time thing."
you push off the counter and take a small step towards him, and jake tries his best to breathe normally with how much the distance closed in just that one step.
you stop in front of him. "i mean it," your voice is softer now. "i'm not mad."
"you looked mad."
"because you told them."
"technically, they guessed."
"yun."
"right. sorry."
the corner of your mouth twitches like you don't want to smile and hate that he almost made you. then your hand lifts, and it's slow enough that jake has the time to move away if he wants to, but of course because he's jake, he doesn't.
your fingers then wrap gently around his wrist, thumb brushing once over the inside of it in a small, absent motion that feels so painfully familiar he almost has to close his eyes.
"we're okay," you say, and your voice is now so gentle that it's almost too soft for the way you're trying to make this casual. "okay?"
jake looks down at your hand around his wrist. the way it's too casual, too warm, and how his pulse is probably hammering beneath your thumb, and he knows you can feel it because your gaze drops too. for another long second, neither of you say anything else. then, your thumb moves again, in that small, comforting stroke that breaks him just a little more. because you say things like we're okay and one time thing and then touch him like you never forgot how to comfort him when he needed it the most.
jake swallows. "yeah," he nods, even though he knows it's a lie. "okay."
you hold his gaze for another moment, then give his wrist one last gentle squeeze before letting go.
"good," you murmur, then jake watches you walk back into the living room and join the game like nothing had just happened.
by the time the night finally starts to wind down, jay is the first to leave, muttering something about having an early morning and heeseung disappears into his room shortly after, clearly already half asleep. sunghoon lingers just long enough to give jake one long, dry, and pointed look before saying goodnight to you and disappearing down the hall too.
"okay," you say mostly to yourself. "i'm gonna head out."
jake looks up too fast, which is embarrassing and he knows it so he tries to play it off by standing, but even that feels suspiciously urgent, so now he's just a guy standing in the middle of his living room for no reason.
"it's late," he suddenly blurts out with no logic or plan behind it. you pause with your keys already in your hand. then slowly, you look up at him and jake can tell immediately from your face you know exactly where this is going.
you lift a brow. "if you're about to tell me to stay over, i'm going to laugh in your face," you say with a small smile tugging at your lips. "we both know how that ended last time."
he doesn't argue right away. because, yes, last time was literally only twenty four hours ago and it ended up with him falling asleep holding you in your own bed, his entire dignity in shambles, and then waking up with the horrible realization that sometimes, some mistakes do not feel like mistakes while they're happening.
this is one of those times.
he just shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and walks over slowly, stopping just a few feet away from you.
"i know," he says quietly. and your expression shifts just a little at the sound of it. "but just stay," he adds, and the please is already there in his expression before he says it. "please."
you give him a certain look after, and jake hates that he knows that look. hates that he can read it before you can even say anything. because it's the same look you always get when you know he's asking for something he shouldn't, and you know you probably shouldn't give it to him, and somehow both of you already know how this is going to end.
he exhales, dragging a hand through his hair like that might somehow make this sound less like begging. "you can take the couch," he says quickly. "nothing weird. i promise."
your mouth twitches. "you promising nothing weird is not as reassuring as you think it is."
"yeah, that's fair."
"you are, honestly, historically awful at nothing weird."
jake just blinks.
"like impressively bad."
"okay, are we done?"
"i don't know, i'm kind of enjoying myself," and now you're actually smiling and jake huffs out a small laugh, the sound slipping out tired and fond.
"i just don't want you driving this late," he says, voice dropping down lower as he looks at you. "that's all."
and technically, he isn't lying. he doesn't want you driving this late. he also doesn't want you walking out the door yet. both things can be true.
you look down at your keys, thumb brushing over the small metal keychain hanging from the ring. it's the one he bought you forever ago from some random gas station during a road trip because you said it was ugly in a way that made you want it. he hates that he remembers that and he hates that it's still there and he hates that he's wondering what that meant.
then you let out a quiet sigh, and drop your keys back into your bag and set your bag down on the table next to the door.
"fine."
the relief hits him embarrassingly fast. "yeah?"
"yeah," you say, walking back into the living room and giving the couch a small pat as you sit back down. "couch it is."
jake presses his lips together, trying and failing to force his face into something neutral as he stops near the hall, "i'll grab you something to change into."
and jake didn't really fully have a solid plan when he says it, he just says it because that's what you do when your ex is about to sleep on your couch and you don't want her falling asleep uncomfortably in jeans. because technically, yes, there's probably other clothes in the apartment. heeseung's and sunghoon's maybe, if jake suddenly developed a sense of humor strong enough for that. he has not. the thought alone of giving you someone else's shirt makes something ugly and childish twist in his stomach, which is exactly the kind of thing he will be taking to the grave.
so he settles on grabbing one of his own hoodies from the back of his closet, an oversized one that already hangs too big on him, which, by your logic, makes it perfect for you. he remembers you telling him that once, standing in front of his mirror with the sleeves covering half your hands like your word was his new law.
if it's too big on you, it's mine. if it fits you, it's also mine.
and jake didn't argue against that because it was you, so naturally, he automatically doesn't need any other excuse.
when he returns to the living room, hoodie in hand, you take it without a word, but your eyes linger on it half a second longer than necessary, and jakes knows you're thinking the same thing he is. because most of the time, in normal situations, clothes are just clothes. this one isn't.
you disappear down the hall and jake stands there for a second after the bathroom door clicks shut, staring at the empty space you just left behind like a person who has learned absolutely nothing from the last twenty-four hours. then he exhales, and turns toward his room.
jake does not sleep well. actually, he doesn't sleep at all, for that matter. he spends the first twenty minutes lying on his back, scrolling through his phone, then putting his phone down, staring at the ceiling, then going back on this phone. he's trying very, very hard to be normal about this. he turns onto his side. then his other side. then his back again. at some point, he flips his pillow over like the cooler side of it might do the trick. it does not.
he can hear the faint hum of the air conditioner, the occasional honk of a car outside, the neighbor's footsteps from upstairs. and he can especially hear the sounds coming from the living room. there's the soft rustle of the blanket, the tiny creak of the couch when you shift, the barely there noises of you trying to get comfortable somewhere you clearly do not belong.
and jake knows. he knows the couch is fine. objectively, it's a perfectly acceptable couch. people have slept on it before. sunghoon once took a four hour nap on it after claiming he was only resting his eyes, which was a lie because no one rests their eyes with a blanket pulled over their head and ends up snoring twenty minutes in.
so jake knows the couch is not the problem, but you. the problem is that jake knows exactly how you sleep. he knows you hate being cold but will kick the blanket off an hour into sleeping anyways. knows you always sleep better on your side. knows that if you're not comfortable, you'll pretend you are anyways because you hate making things inconvenient.
and suddenly, the thought of you lying out there on his couch, in his hoodie, trying to sleep like anything from this arrangement makes sense, feels so stupid he physically can't stand it.
the hallway is dark when he steps out of his room, the living room only lit by the small light glowing from your phone, held loosely in your hand as you're curled on your side, one arm tucked under your head.
your eyes lift when you see him.
"can't sleep?" you ask quietly.
jake leans one shoulder against the wall, hands already in the pockets of his sweat pants. "no."
you exhale through your nose, "me neither."
jake looks at you for a second, at the way his hoodie slips off one shoulder, at the bare skin of your legs folded beneath you, and something in his chest pulls a little tighter.
"this is dumb," he eventually says. "you're not sleeping out here."
"jake—"
"come here," he exhales, cutting you off. it wasn't demanding, it wasn't loud, just something sure and a little tired, like he's already given in to whatever this is. he rubs a hand over his face before looking back at you. "just…come sleep in my room. the bed's bigger anyways."
your expression softens, and for a moment, jake sees the same quiet resignation in your eyes that he feels settling in his own chest. then you sigh, set your phone on the coffee table, and push yourself up from the couch. "okay."
jake doesn't say anything else, just turns and walks back down the hall into his room. you follow him a few seconds later, stopping in the doorway for a moment, one hand still on the handle like you were deciding whether to step inside.
it felt strange—walking into a room that used to feel like yours. the same plant sat on his windowsill, somehow still miraculously alive. the same string lights hang across the wall, though more bulbs have gone out since the last time you'd been here. his bed was unmade, sheets crinkled from where he'd been tossing and turning.
and then there was jake. sitting on the edge of his bed, looking warm and comfortable and hair messy and eyes sleepy and like everything you missed.
this time, when you look at him, there's something different. like seeing you walk in here and close the door behind you and stand there with his hoodie swallowing your figure shifted something in the air. jake's gaze stayed on you, heavier now, thicker and in a way that made it very, very clear that you both knew exactly why you were in here.
you walk over slowly until you're standing right in front of him, close enough that if you took one small step forward, you'd be in between his knees, close enough that if either of you leaned in even slightly, it would turn into something else entirely.
jake looks up at you. your hands move first, resting lightly on his shoulders, like you're still testing whether you're allowed to touch him. his hands answer before his brain does, moving up to settle on the back of your thighs beneath the hem of the hoodie, his palms large and warm against your skin.
your gaze drops to his hands before going back up to his face. "so much for not making it weird," you whisper quietly.
jake lets out a small breath that almost becomes a laugh. his thumbs start moving up and down on their own, and your breath hitches immediately. "you were out there sleeping in my clothes," he murmurs. "it was already weird."
your mouth twitches into a small smile, your fingers shifting against his shoulders, sliding slightly towards the back of his neck, and jake has to look down for a second and take a breath because there's only so many things a person can survive at once.
"plus," he adds, "you let me sleep in your bed last night. i'd be kind of a jerk to make you sleep on the couch."
he then spreads his knees slightly and tugs you just an inch closer, and you let him, stepping into the already small space between the two of you in between his legs. you look down at him, eyes soft but guarded.
"we said it was a one time thing," you murmur softly.
jake's thumbs kept moving in that slow, comforting motion, and you feel his grip tighten just slightly, like he was afraid you would step back.
"well," he says, voice low and a little rough, "technically we didn't break that yet."
jake knew what he was doing. he knew that you knew it too. that he was toeing the line, that he was giving in, and the dangerous part was that you weren't stopping him. you weren't stepping back. you were still standing there, letting him touch you, letting the space between you disappear like some unspoken part of you has been waiting for this as much as he has.
his eyes drag over you slowly, the way you look small in his hoodie, the way it fell just past the middle of your thighs. something flickered across his face, something raw and dark and a lot like he was trying very hard not to feel what he was feeling.
"this is still a bad idea," and you try to sound steady, but your voice cracks at the end.
"i know," jake answers, hands sliding a little higher up the back of your thighs. "i know it is."
he gently tugs you forward, slow, careful like he was giving you every chance to stop him, eyes watching your expression the entire time. your knees bump against the edge of the bed as he guides you closer, until you're standing right against him. then his hands move up higher and settle on your waist, and with one gentle pull, he brings you down into his lap.
you go willingly, a small sound escaping you as your knees settle on either side of his hips, your hands find his shoulders and grip them tighter, like you were trying to ground yourself. neither of you speak for a moment, the silence stretching and growing heavier with every slow second that passes between you.
jake's eyes drop to your mouth, then flick back up to meet yours, his voice barely above a whisper.
"tell me to stop."
you don't. instead, you lean in first.
the second your lips touch his, jake feels something inside him give way, like a silent, inevitable unraveling.
he knew he shouldn't be doing this, knew this was exactly what you both said you wouldn't do. but the moment your hand slides into his hair, he stops thinking altogether. he kisses you back like he was trying to be careful, trying to keep it soft, but the second you sigh against his mouth, the cautious thing inside him cracks open, and his hands are already sliding higher, pulling you closer like his body had been waiting for permission.
he missed the way you used to kiss him like this, like you still knew exactly how he liked it. he missed the way your body fit against his, the quiet and familiar weight of you in his lap, the way your fingers always found their way into his hair. and the longer it goes on, the less jake can pretend he's trying to be careful.
he suddenly deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding slowly against yours that makes you tug slightly at his hair. his hands slide down to grip the back of your thighs as he lifts you with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively before he turns and lowers you onto the bed without breaking the kiss. you let out a small giggle against his lips at the sudden movement, and he smiles into the kiss before settling between your legs, the mattress dipping beneath your weight as he follows you down. his hips roll down against yours on instinct, and the friction pulls a small gasp from your breath.
jake pulls back just enough to look at you, both of you catching your breath. your eyes were dark, lips swollen, the hoodie bunched up around your waist. his hand moves again, sliding higher until his palm covered your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in light, teasing strokes, making you arch into his touch with a soft, desperate sound that goes straight to his core. he breaks the kiss to press his forehead against yours.
"missed you," he admits, the words slipping out before he can stop them. "missed the way you sound when i—" his thumb circles again, slower this time, and the way you shiver under his hand makes something hot and helpless twist in his stomach. "fuck. so sensitive still."
your hands slide down from his hair to his shoulders, gripping him like you needed something to hold on to. "more," you whisper against his lips, your hips rolling up to meet him in that needy way he always loved. his hand leaves your breast and slides down your stomach, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of your underwear, pausing there, breathing hard, giving you one last chance to stop him.
you look down at where his hand sits, then back up at him, and your hand then comes up to cover his, gently pushing it lower. jake lets out a shaky exhale against your neck as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding you already warm and wet. he groans quietly, forehead dropping to your shoulder.
"fuck, baby…" the pet name slips out before he can catch it. his fingers move instantly but carefully, like he's savoring every reaction coming out of you. two fingers slide through your folds, gathering the wetness there before he slowly pushes them inside you, curling them upward in a slow, firm stroke that made your walls flutter around him. the wet sound of it is obscene in the quiet room, and jake groans at how easily you take him. "you're already—shit. you feel so good."
you let out a small moan, hips shifting against his hand. one of your hands fisted in his shirt while the other stayed in his hair, tugging slightly every time his fingers found the right spot inside you again.
jake lifts his head to look at you again, eyes dark, pupils blown wide as he watches you, his fingers still moving inside you, curling on every pull back, thumb pressing circles on your clit at the same time.
"you're so fucking pretty like this," his voice comes out hoarse, his breathing getting heavier. he kisses you harder this time, swallowing the moan that escapes you as he worked his fingers faster, his own hips rocking against your thigh now, seeking friction. when he pulls back, his eyes stay on yours.
"wanna taste you," he says quietly. it wasn't a question, but there was something almost hesitant in his voice, like he was asking for permission to cross another line. you then nod, eyes half-lidded and dark and trusting, and that was all jake needed.
he moves down your body slowly, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw then your throat then your stomach as he pushes the hoodie up higher. his hands slide under your thighs, gently spreading you open as he settles between your legs. then he looks up at you for a moment, his voice low and sincere, "tell me if you want me to stop, okay?"
you just nod, already breathless as you tug his head closer.
the first drag of his tongue over you is agonizingly slow, your back arching hard off the bed as a broken whimper tears from your throat before you can catch it. jake groans against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core like he’d been waiting for that sound.
"fuck," he breathed, voice muffled. "always taste so good."
your eyes roll back as he starts taking his time. long, unhurried licks that make your thighs start to tremble, gentle sucks that pull desperate little sounds from your throat. every so often he glances up, watching your face like he wanted to memorize every reaction. one of his hands stayed firm on your thigh, holding you open while the other slid up to rest over your stomach, grounding you there.
"you're being so quiet," he murmurs between his strokes that were getting quicker and quicker. "you used to be louder for me."
you gasp right as you feel his tongue dip right into you, "jaeyun—"
"there we go," he whispers, almost to himself. he slides two fingers back inside you, curling in that same way that made your vision blur while his tongue circles your clit again. "say it again."
your voice cracks on his name, hips jerking, "jaeyun—fuck—"
jake groans again, the sound going through you as he works you harder, fingers moving in tandem with his mouth. he pulls back just enough to look at you again, lips shiny.
"god, love it when you say it like that," he admits, eyes glassy. "like i'm still yours."
you look down at him, chest heaving, "you're not supposed to—fuck—not supposed to say shit like that."
"yeah," he breathes, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "i know."
jake doesn't stop though, still keeping his mouth on you, still sliding his fingers deep inside you until your legs were shaking and until you were getting louder. not that jake minded, if anything, it made him more determined, like every sound you made was something he wanted to earn.
when he finally pulls away, his mouth is wet and eyes wild as he goes back up and kisses you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. one of his hands stays between your legs, still moving slowly inside you.
"need to feel you, yun," your voice strained now against his mouth. "please."
you're already reaching for the waistband of his sweats when he answers, "yeah. yeah, okay."
jake helps you shove his pants down just enough, then pauses, breathing uneven as he looks down at you. one hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently over your bottom lip. "look at me."
your eyes lift up to meet his and for a moment, jake forgets everything else. forgets the circumstances, forgets the careful distance he's supposed to be keeping. in that exact second, jake forgets that this isn't supposed to mean anything, that you weren't his anymore. none of it existed in the space between your bodies, all he can feel is the way you're looking at him, open, vulnerable, and so painfully familiar.
his eyes stay locked on yours as he lines himself up and pushes in slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully buried inside you. the stretch makes your mouth drop open slightly, and jake has to stop and stay there for a second, like he needed a moment to feel it.
"fuck," he groans, forehead dropping to yours, eyes squeezing shut like he was trying to keep it together. "you feel so good. so fucking good, baby."
jake starts thrusting deeper, slower at first—long, deliberate strokes that make you feel every inch of him, his hips rolling forward until the slick sound kept growing louder with every movement. one hand stays wrapped around your jaw while the other grips your thigh around his waist, pushing it higher and wider as he fucks into you with steady, heavy rolls of his hips.
"missed this," he murmurs between thrusts, the words low and honest. "missed the way you look at me when i’m inside you like this."
your hands then slide under his shirt, nails dragging lightly down his back as you meet his every thrust.
"yun—" your voice cracks again, more breathless now. "harder. please."
he lets out another low groan like he’d been waiting for permission this entire time. he shifts his weight and snaps his hips harder on the next thrust, going a little faster, a little rougher. the new force pulls a sharp sound from you.
“yeah?” he pants, eyes locked on you. "like that?"
you nod quickly, eyes squeezing shut as your fingers dig harder into his back. “more, yun, please—”
that was all it took. he gives it to you, gripping your waist hard enough to leave marks, fucking into you properly now, hips driving into you with deep, forceful thrusts that make the bed creak loudly beneath you. the wet, filthy sound of skin meeting skin fills the room with every thrust, each snap of his hips sharper, rougher, like he was finally letting himself take what he’d been aching for all night. every thrust, every time he bottoms out, knocks another helpless whimper out of you, and jake drinks it in like it's his air. his hands tighten where they hold you, fingers pressing into your skin as he kept you exactly where he wanted you, fucking into you harder, faster, the rhythm turning relentless, like he was trying to fuck the memory of the last eight months out of both of you.
"you're so beautiful," he breathes out, the words coming out like muscle memory, his mouth curving into a small smile against yours. "especially when you're trying to stay quiet."
you let out a shaky laugh that turns into a moan right when he hits that spot inside you just right. you can feel the shift in him, the way his control starts to slip as his thrusts grow faster, rougher, the bed frame now hitting the wall in a steady rhythm. he shifts slightly, changing the angle, and you can’t stop the sounds suddenly slipping out of your mouth.
"there it is," he pants against your month. "right there, baby. let me hear you."
you moan again, louder this time, and jake's rhythm stutters for a second.
"fuck—yeah, keep making those sounds," he murmurs. "not gonna last if you keep doing that."
you arch up into him even more, your back curving off the bed as you chase the new angle, the shift making him sink even deeper, the stretch and pressure pulling a choked moan from your throat. your hands slide up the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you pull him down into a desperate kiss, all tongue and heavy breaths, the low sound he makes against your mouth vibrating straight through you.
"hate how good you feel," you breathe against his mouth, the words coming out strained.
jake lets out a breathless laugh, retaliating by thrusting into you with more purpose. "yeah?" he mumbles, voice rough. "then why are you squeezing me so tight?"
one of his hands move to pin yours down next to your head, fingers threading with yours. "come on," he whispers, eyes never leaving yours. "wanna feel you come. let me feel it."
you were so close, jake could feel it in the way you clenched around him, in the sharp, stuttering rhythm of your breath against his neck, in how your thighs start to shake where they stayed locked around his waist. he feels your walls flutter again and his hand immediately slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit again, rubbing faster, tighter circles as he kept the same deep, relentless angle.
"yun—" your eyes squeeze shut and your free hand grabs onto his shoulder, your jaw falling open, the words stumbling out on their own. "i'm—keep going, i'm gonna—"
"that's it," his voice muffled against the side of your neck. "let go, baby. i've got you."
your back arches hard as it hits you, a moan tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clamping down around him in tight, pulsing waves.
"fuck—fuck—yun," the words spill out of you in a rush, half a moan and a sob all a once as your free hand flies to his shoulder, nails digging in until jake could feel every tremor running through you. jake groans loudly at the feeling of you clenching around him, his rhythm now faltering in a way he can't recover from.
"shit—fuck, that's it," his voice wrecked as his hips keep thrusting you through your orgasm, chasing his own release now, hips stuttering as he loses the last of his control. "just like that." his forehead then drops back against yours, his eyes shut, short gasps spilling from his mouth. "fuck—fuck, baby—gonna come—tell me it's okay, please—"
“do it,” you manage to gasp, body still shaking underneath him as your legs pull him in even more. “please—i want it—”
jake buries his face in your neck with a low, wrecked sound as he finally comes, hips jerking as you feel the hot spill of him deep inside you. his whole body tenses above you, the noises leaving him raw and desperate and just purely him.
"fuck—baby—" his voice is muffled against your neck. "oh my god—" he keeps moving through it, his thrusts getting shallower and shallower through out both your highs, until he finally stilled, breathing hard against your skin.
for a long moment, neither of you move. jake stays buried inside you, chest heaving, one hand gently stroking slow and soothing lines down your thigh now while the other stays tangled with yours beside your head. his lips press soft, shaky kisses against your neck as he tries to catch his breath, and yours stay in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp the way you knew he liked.
eventually, jake lifts his head just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy, a little overwhelmed and a little dazed, like he still hasn't fully come back to himself yet. the sharp loss of contact draws involuntary sounds from the both of you as he shifts carefully onto his side, automatically reaching for you as he went. his arm slides under your neck as he gently pulls you into his chest, drawing you in until your body presses flush against his.
the room falls quiet except for the sound of your breathing slowly settling and the faint rustle of sheets as he adjusts his hold on you, tucking you closer into him. his fingers trace slow, absent patterns along your spine, his touch careful and tender. it all felt too easy, too natural, like slipping back into something that was never supposed to become a habit again.
"yun…" you break the quiet first, your voice low against his chest. he hums softly in response, hand still moving along your back. you swallow, fingers curling slightly into the front of his hoodie. "i'm serious. this was the last time."
jake's hand pauses for a second against you, his movements faltering. then, he just nods, his arm tightening around your waist as he presses one more kiss to the top of you head, your breathing already evening out and your eyes fluttering closed.
"yeah," he whispers against your hair as his hand starts moving again, slower this time. "last time."
and so, obviously, it was not the last time.
the next time is only two days later. your car decided to break down in the parking lot of your work office, and you sent a panicked SOS text to the group chat. and it’s almost impressive how thoroughly the universe particularly set you up that night, because heeseung’s phone is on do not disturb, jay stuck in a late meeting, and sunghoon, based on absolutely no evidence whatsoever but strong historical precedent, is probably ‘resting his eyes’ on the couch.
which, by process of elimination, leaves jake.
so the next thing jake knows, he’s pulling into a mostly empty parking lot and you’re getting into his car and he’s looking at you with a small smile and you’re looking back at him like you were hoping it’d be him.
you complained about your car, jake complained about how you ignored the check engine light for three weeks. you tell him not to victim blame you in your time of need. he says your car literally gave you a warning in bright orange. you say cars are depreciating assets and capitalist by design. he says that doesn’t mean they’re wrong.
you laugh and then he laughs and just like that, the two of you fall back into that gray area where the line blurs a little more every time you cross it until jake isn’t sure which side he’s supposed to be standing on. what he is sure about is that when he gets to your building, he parks and then looks at you and you look at him and then he finds himself turning his car off and waking up in your bed the next morning.
the time after that happens after dinner with everyone. it’s you sitting across from him at the restaurant, laughing at something jay says, your chin resting in your hand, the sleeve of your sweater slipping over your fingers. it’s jake trying very hard not to look at you too much and failing horribly. it’s your foot bumping his once beneath the table and both of you pretending it was accidental. then twice. then not accidental at all. and then it’s jake later finding himself underneath you in the backseat of his car with his mouth on your neck and your hands under his shirt.
then it’s a week before it happens again, which is pretty impressive given you two see each other twice in between and manage not to cave. one of those times is coffee with heeseung and sunghoon where jake mentally curses heeseung for taking the seat next to you before jake gets there. the second time is game night again but this time with too much beer involved, and you all pass out in the living room before midnight.
the next evening, however, you show up at their door with a large tote bag in your arms and two containers of hangover soup balancing on top. jake answers the door, and you're just standing there, hair a little messy, face bare, and looking at him in that very specific way that doesn't even make jake think twice before he mentions that neither heeseung or sunghoon were home at the moment. and so by now, we all probably know how this ends, and it looks a lot like you on the kitchen counter, tote bag abandoned on the floor, soup containers left unopened near the sink, and jake standing between your legs, mouth hot against your neck like he was making up for every second of the past week he spent pretending he didn't want this.
sometimes the excuse was simple. sometimes it was you needing a ride and turns into you under him in his passenger seat with the windows fogging up and his hand braced against the center console. sometimes it was because you had a bad day, and jake would show up with takeout in his hands, and then somewhere between opening the orange chicken and act two of the movie you put on, he ended up in your bed.
sometimes, there was no real reason at all, and it just simply happened, whether in his car or yours, in your bed or his, and that one time in your shower when he was supposed to be getting ready to leave and very much did not leave for another forty minutes. sometimes it was you pressed up against your front door before it even fully clicked shut and most of the time, it was on your couch because neither of you could wait to go down the hall.
jake can't really tell you exactly how long this goes on for, and that's the thing he's starting to learn about bad habits. one day something happens once, and it's a mistake. then it happens again, and it's a coincidence. then a third time, then a fourth, and suddenly there's a rhythm to it neither of you say anything about because labeling it would mean admitting you both know it exists. so jake doesn't say anything and neither do you, and if any of the guys noticed it, they don't say anything either.
it goes on long enough for the green leaves on the trees to start fading at the edges into an early stage of orange, long enough for the nights to get cooler, long enough for you to start taking his hoodies back home again without asking, and if jake notices, he pretends he doesn't. because noticing means he would having to confront this entire situation, and he knows better than to ask what this is, because is answer is probably nothing good, but also because some selfish part of him is terrified that asking will make you stop.
so he takes what he can get; he takes the late nights, the borrowed clothes, the half-finished takeout and abandoned movies, the mornings where you wake up and kiss a smile into his lips but then can't quite look at him in the eyes when he leaves. the brief, stupid moments where it almost feels like having you again.
one particular night, it had been less than twelve hours since jake last saw you. the last time being earlier that morning, when he was leaving your apartment with his hair still damp from your shower and his shirt wrinkled in a way that made him feel very obvious walking late into work. he was running on maybe three hours of sleep, which was pretty generous, honestly, because not much sleeping had actually happened with you.
so by the time midnight rolls around, jake is exhausted. he’s already in bed when his phone buzzes next to him on the nightstand.
y/n: hi
jake stares at his screen for half a second, his heartbeat doing that annoying thing it still, and always has, does whenever he thinks of you. then he types back.
jake: hey
jake: everything okay?
he watches as the typing bubble appears, disappears, appear again, then disappears one more time. then, finally—
y/n: remember how we used to go on late night drives whenever i couldn’t fall asleep?
jake’s thumb stills over the screen. he blinks hard, because of course he remembers. you in the passenger seat with your knees tucked up, shoes kicked off, his phone in your hand because you had the important responsibility of choosing the music. the two of you driving nowhere with the windows cracked open, city lights dragging soft lines across your face, you feeding him snacks as he drove. he remembers the nights you talked about everything. the nights you said nothing at all. the nights he drove until your voice got quieter and your head finally tipped against the window.
jake swallows.
jake: of course
jake: pretty sure you’re personally responsible for half the miles on my car
a few seconds pass. then your reply comes through.
y/n: what are you up to rn?
and jake knows what the correct answer is.
he could say he’s tired, which is true. he could say it’s late, which is also true. he could say he has work in the morning, which would be most definitely true and responsible and deeply unlike anything he has done lately when it comes to you.
and so, about eleven minutes later, jake finds himself parked outside your building with you climbing into his passenger seat in your pajamas.
“hi,” you say softly.
jake looks over at you, one hand still resting on the gear shift.
“hi.”
for a second, neither of you move. then you glance down at his phone connected to the charger and raise an eyebrow.
“you still have my night drive playlist saved?"
jake’s fingers tighten slightly against the wheel, “you mean the one you named ‘insomnia is a bitch.'”
“yeah,” you say. “and?”
“kind of hard to delete something with that much artistic integrity.”
then you let out a laugh and jake decides that alone makes the whole stupid night worth it before it has even started.
jake puts the car in drive.
“where to?”
you lean your head back against the seat, eyes drifting back to meet his.
“nowhere.”
jake nods, because he knows that place. he’s taken you there before.
so he drives, with no destination, no real route. just the familiar pattern of roads the two of you used to take when sleep felt far away and the apartment felt too small and you needed to breathe for a moment.
the streets are almost empty at this hour, which helps in jake's case, because it means he can look over at you more than he probably should. you're turned toward the window, cheek resting against the seat, one sleeve covering your hand tucked under your chin. the surrounding city passes you in pieces—gold from a streetlamp, blue from a store sign, red from a traffic light that catches in your eyes when you blink.
jake keeps one hand on the wheel and the other low on the console, fingers drumming like he needs something to do with them when reaching for you isn't an option. and for the first part of it, neither of you say much, it's just the sound of your playlist in the background and the engine running and your low humming to a song you added because you knew jake liked it.
late night drives with you were never really about conversation, at least not always. sometimes they were about the silence. about knowing someone well enough that you didn't have to fill every second just to prove you still belong there. about the soft kind of company that didn't ask anything from you except presence. jake used to love that. and frankly, he still does.
eventually at some point, you shift in the passenger seat, pulling one knee up slightly as you turn towards him. jake feels the sudden attention, the way you're just quietly and carefully studying the side of his face as he tries his best to stay focused on the road ahead of him.
"did you figure it out?"
the question comes out softly. so softly in fact, that jake almost convinces himself he heard you wrong. his eyes flick to you, then back to the road.
"…figure it out?"
you don't answer right away. the car moves through a green light, an empty crosswalk. a closed bakery. a laundromat still glowing at the corner.
then you say, "you."
jake's hold tightens around the steering wheel, not looking away from the street quite yet. you keep looking at him.
"when we broke up," you say, voice almost too calm, too accepting, "you said you needed to figure out who you were outside of us. outside of me."
jake feels his stomach drop, and he can't will himself to look at you yet. because your voice isn't even sharp, isn't accusing, but moreso gentle, like you're not trying to cause a scene or hurt him with it, which somehow makes it hurt worse.
he doesn't say anything. for one ridiculous second, all he can remember is the way he said it back then, how reasonable he tried to make it sound. how carefully he chose his words, like if he stacked them neatly enough, you wouldn't see that he built something to hide behind because he was scared and tired and overwhelmed by the size of a future that started to feel more like something he could ruin if he held it wrong.
"jaeyun."
your voice pulls him back, and jake realizes he's been quiet for too long, the car slowing down like his body is trying to buy more time.
"i don't know," he says finally.
your expression doesn't change much, but your fingers curl slightly into the sleeve of your sweatshirt. "you don't know?"
he breathes out a humorless laugh. "i thought i would."
and then jake can feel it on the side of his face—the way you're looking at him, caught somewhere between hurt and frustration and like part of you understands what he means and another part of you hates that you do.
"i thought—" he starts, then stops, because the sentence already sounds stupid in his head. "i thought if i had enough space, it would make sense eventually."
"did it?"
jake swallows. because the honest answer is no. but the more honest answer is that nothing made sense, at least not in the way he wanted it to.
because, yes, he learned things. he learned how to sleep alone again, technically. granted, much, much worse, but technically. he learned which takeout places delivered late enough so he didn't have to stand in the kitchen and remember all the meals you used to make together. he learned that grocery shopping for one person is depressing in a way nobody warns you about. he learned that some silences are peaceful and some silences are just rooms missing the person who used to laugh in them.
he learned that he could live without you.
he could wake up, make his coffee, go to work, show up to game nights, make small talk, fold laundry. he continued, in the most basic and humiliating sense of the world. he learned that life did not stop without you. it just got worse.
"not really," he exhales and he feels his chest tighten when your gaze drops to your lap. "i mean, i figured out some stuff," he adds, his voice smaller now. "just not…not what i thought i would."
you're quiet for a moment. then, "like what?"
jake should keep driving. he should keep his eyes on the road and his hands where they are and answer carefully, if he answers at all. but suddenly what was supposed to be a simple night turned into this, and the thought feels instantly dumb because nothing about nights with you has ever been simple. so instead, he pulls into an empty parking lot close to the river and parks under a flickering lamp. he lets his hand fall from the wheel, rubbing once over his mouth before he finally looks over at you.
"i figured out that being without you didn't make me feel more like myself," he says. your eyes lift to his and his stomach twists. "it just made me realize how much of myself i built around loving you."
the words land and they stay there. they're out there, in that undefined space between you and him and that's when jake almost wishes he could take them back. and not because they aren't true, but because they're too true and he knows it and he can tell by the way you go still that you know it too. and now he's looking at you and how your lips part slightly but don't say anything. so he keeps going, because he thinks stopping now would somehow make everything worse.
"and i know that's not fair," he says quickly, looking down at his hands for a second before forcing himself to look back at you. "i know that sounds like i'm making it your responsibility, and i'm not trying to. i'm not. i just—" he lets out an frustrated exhale. "i thought space would teach me who i was without you. but it just taught me what everything felt like without you in it."
and then your face changes. and it's barely there, barely noticeable to the average human being. but this is jake we're talking about and jake knows you, so he knows the tiny things. he sees the way your throat moves when you swallow. he watches the way your eyes go shiny before you decide whether or not you're going to let yourself cry. he recognizes the way you look away when something hits too close because you hate giving people the satisfaction of knowing they reached you.
"hey—"
"it's fine," your words come out too quickly, too automatic, and jake hates it.
"y/n."
"it's fine," you say again, but this time when you lift your eyes to his, the expression on your face doesn't match the sentence at all. "i asked, you answered."
and jake hates that word by now. he hates it because he's spent the last eight months trying to convince himself he's fine and so by that logic, he knows you're objectively not fine.
"don't do that, y/n," he lets out quietly, eyes steady on you.
your brows then pull together and you let out a small breath through your nose, something almost like a laugh with no humor in it. "what do you want me to say, yun?"
jake feels his throat tighten, he feels his answer die on this tongue because it's selfish, and he knows it. that he wants you to say that you missed him too. that this meant something to you and that you still want him even though he doesn't deserve it or even knows what he wants himself.
you shake your head faintly, eyes dropping back to your hands. "you can't just say something like that and then look at me like i'm supposed to know what to do with it."
jake's chest caves in a little. "you don't have to do anything with it."
you turn your head slightly then, and jake sees the sad smile on your face and the way yours eyes are shining and he immediately has to look away because he doesn't think he can survive that right now.
"that's not how this works."
jake pauses for moment, his heart hammering and brain screaming yet failing to find the right thing to say when the moment actually matters.
"i'm sorry," he eventually says, because he doesn't know what else to do with the ache in his chest. and he even doesn't know which part he's apologizing for—for everything he said? or everything he didn't? or maybe the breakup, then the late nights, and the last times that kept turning into next times.
your eyes close at his words, your head leaning back against the seat as a small, unsteady breath slips out of you.
"i know."
not forgiveness, not closure, but just two soft words sitting quietly between you, like you don't have the energy to be angry at him right now. like anger would require too much from you, and this conversation has already taken enough.
jake stays still. he watches you carefully, fighting back every instinct in his body telling him to reach for you when he notices the way your lashes are damp and the way your mouth presses into a thin line like you're holding so much back.
then, quietly, you whisper, "drive?"
jake nods, even though your eyes are still closed.
"yeah," he says softly, and then he puts the car into drive and backs out of the parking lot and that was it.
the next few days after that go terribly slow, because they feel terribly normal, which doesn't help jake's case at all because he just feels plain terrible. your name still shows up in his texts, because you're still laughing at sunghoon's jokes and liking messages and sending random tiktok posts. but you stop texting him separately, you stop showing up randomly at the apartment with takeout because you were bored. you don't complain about your car or tell him your day in that casual, thoughtless way you had started doing again. and jake spends three long, terrible days pretending he is normal about it.
by the third night, he gives in.
jake: hey
jake: are we okay
he stares at the message after he hits send and mentally smacks himself in the head. what a stupid question. what does okay even mean between two people who broke up almost ten months ago, hooked up more times than considered healthy, had a deeply unsettling conversation in an empty parking lot, and then ended the night with you asking him to drive you home because sitting still in silence with him became unbearable?
still, he waits. one minute. three. seven. then your reply comes through.
y/n: yeah
y/n: why wouldn't we be
jake exhales. then that exhale turns into a groan which then turns into him pressing his face into his pillow and screaming into it for a full three seconds, because that is both an answer and not helpful whatsoever.
why wouldn't we be?
jake could think of at least twelve reasons off the top of his head right now, and that was him being generous, because the two of you have been operating under a very loose definition of okay for months now.
okay meant broken up but still friends. okay meant friends but sleeping together. okay meant sleeping together but not talking about it. okay meant not talking about it then everything exploding in jake's face all at once.
so, really, the range of what okay meant here was alarmingly broad.
jake: idk
jake: just checking
your typing bubble appears, disappears. appears again.
y/n: we're fine yun
jake lies back against his pillow and stares at the ceiling and pretends he didn't just see that word. fine. his least favorite word in the entire english language, currently beating last time, mature, and okay, which says something because he feels very strongly about those words in this phase of his life right now.
still, he takes it and runs with it.
jake: okay
jake: can i see you?
and then he shuts his phone off. because he doesn't really know how else to word can we fix whatever happened in the car and, the more private one in his head, can you please stop sounding like you're already halfway gone?
you take longer to answer this time. long enough that jake picks his phone back up, locks it, unlocks it, puts it back down, then considers throwing himself directly into traffic.
y/n: early morning tmrw, sorry
y/n: another time?
it's not a no. but it's not a yes either. and that's pretty much how the next two weeks pass.
you don't show up to game night that week, telling the group you're feeling under the weather. heeseung sends three sad face emojis. jay tells you to drink water. sunghoon says, okay yea sureee, and then follows up with a but get better <3. jake waits exactly nine minutes before texting you privately.
jake: are you feeling okay?
y/n: yeah just tired
jake: need anything? i'll can get the soup you like
y/n: no im ok
y/n: thank you though
jake stares at it until the screen dims.
by the end of the third week, jake found himself getting better at finding distractions to keep his mind elsewhere. errands help a little, long showers help sometimes. work helps because he's busy enough to forget he has a phone. and soccer, as it turns out, is one of them.
the day is going objectively well, which really means something because it has been some time since jake has had a day he could honestly call good. the sun is out, the sky is clear. he remembered to eat breakfast before noon and his coffee tasted just right. his favorite hoodie came out of the wash without shrinking, and for a few hours, his chest doesn't feel like it has something heavy sitting inside it.
so when sunghoon suggests they play at the park nearby, jake actually says yes before anyone can guilt him into it. and it feels good. he scores once against jay, then again, then a third time which jay insists doesn't count because he was not ready but jake counts it anyways. by the end of it, jake is sweaty and out of breath and lying dramatically on the grass with one arm thrown over his eyes while heeseung complains about his lungs from next to him.
"i think i'm dying," heeseung says.
sunghoon, sitting besides him with his knees pulled up, barely looks over. "i think you're being dramatic."
heeseung then shoots him a pointed look and jay snorts and takes the water bottle from jake's hand.
the four of them end up in a scattered circle at the edge of the field, passing around the same water bottle because everyone except jake forgot to pack theirs, naturally. they talk about nothing for a while. about how lucky they got that the highschoolers in the area didn't claim the field before they did. about the new burger king opening down the block even though jake is pretty sure no one has willingly gone to a burger king since 2014. about how jay thinks he can beat them all in a footrace if properly motivated, which immediately turns into a ten minute argument because sunghoon says jay runs like the character that dies first in a horror movie.
jake lets himself enjoy it for a little while, which was a mistake from the start and he should've known it. because eventually a short silence settles over the group, the kind that only happens after everyone runs out of nonsense to contribute and is too tired to invent more.
sunghoon is the first one to break it. he clears his throat, twisting a blade of grass between his fingers before looking over at jake.
"you look like you're doing okay," he says, carefully enough that the carefulness becomes suspicious. "considering everything."
jake stills. the water bottle pauses halfway to his mouth. then he lowers it slowly.
"considering everything?"
he looks at sunghoon, but sunghoon is looking at jay, who's already staring at him with a death stare, and then heeseung, still lying flat on his back, suddenly starts coughing on absolutely nothing.
jake looks between the three of them, eyes narrowing. "why wouldn't i be?"
and then no one says anything, which is impressive, honestly, because between the three of them, silence has never been a skill they possess collectively. jake turns his head to jay, who is now looking at a patch of grass in front of him.
"jay," jake says slowly. "why wouldn't i be okay?"
jay looks up. his mouth opens, then closes. then opens again, but with much, much less confidence than before.
"i—we—okay, look," he drags a hand over his face, eyes darting from jake to sunghoon to heeseung, then back to the grass. "she didn't want to make it a big deal."
jake's stomach drops. he thinks he stops breathing but he can't stop the next word when it slips out of him anyways. "who?"
which is stupid, because he knows who, we all know who.
sunghoon groans quietly, heeseung sits up slowly, and jay genuinely looks pained.
"y/n," jay says finally. and just like that, jake's objectively good day has taken a turn because just hearing your name gives his nervous system the absurd power to malfunction. he has to force himself to breathe.
"what about her?"
jay hesitates. then, "it was just something she told me in passing the other day," he adds quickly. "and i didn't really think much about it at first."
"think much about what?"
sunghoon closes his eyes like bracing himself, and from next to him, heeseung mutters, "oh god."
jay exhales. "she went on a date."
for a second, jake doesn't move, doesn't breathe, and he's pretty sure his heart stops for a moment there.
and the world keeps existing around him. somewhere across the grass, a kid laughs loudly and someone's dog barks at absolutely nothing and a car honks in the distance. but inside him, everything goes very, very still. his face feels strange, too blank, too calm for having just heard five words that could have very well just changed the trajectory of his life.
"who?" is the first word that comes out of him and he regrets it immediately. because he doesn't want to know. because he does. no, he doesn't and he really, really shouldn't.
jay's expression shifts to something more gentle. "i don't know."
jake gives him a look. "you don't know?"
"she didn't say."
"you didn't ask?"
"no, jake," jay sighs in between. " and even if i did, you probably shouldn't know that information anyways."
"right," jake lets out, the expression on his face blank then shakes his head to himself. "right, yeah. of course."
and then all at once, it all made sense. the quiet, the distance. the way you've been slowly pulling back these past few weeks ever since the night in the car. the way that another time texted turned into nothing. the way jake stopped texting first because he told himself he was giving you space, because he didn't want to look too desperate, which was stupid, because he is, but also because some stupid, fragile part of him wanted you to be the one to reach for him this time. but you never did. and maybe that night had been it.
maybe that night had been the thing that made you decide you couldn’t keep waiting for him to become brave enough to want you properly. that you needed to try something else, someone else. the thought of that twists something in jake so hard it almost feels physical.
sunghoon lean back on his hands, "you knew this could happen one day."
jake laughs once, short and humorless. he knew you could date. he knew you should date, probably. he knew you were allowed to move on because he was the one who let you go. actually no, that sounds too generous. he was the one who pushed you there, handed you back to the world, and is now sitting here, shocked as if he wasn't the one who did it himself.
"i mean," heeseung then clears his throat, and pauses for a moment to rethink his next words. "you could also…go on one. a date."
jake turns his head slowly, and heeseung lifts both hands a little, already defensive. "i'm just saying."
"don't," sunghoon mutters.
"look," heeseung ignores him and then looks back at jake. "i know some people, and i think it'd be good for you."
and somehow, out of everything said so far, that is the sentence that makes jake's brain stop fully working. because the idea is so foreign to him that, for one second, he genuinely doesn't understand it. it's like a formula jake has never once ever thought he would need to solve: a date + him + someone else that isn't you.
some girl sitting across from him at a table, asking what he does for work, laughing politely at something he says, maybe touching his arm if the conversation goes well. some girl he would have to learn from the beginning. favorite drink. favorite movie. whether she likes cilantro. if she runs cold or warm. what makes her laugh too hard, what she looks like when she's tired.
the thought feels less like moving on and more like being asked to speak a language he never learned. or worse, one he only used to know because of you.
"he has a point. it's not the craziest idea," jay says. "not right away, maybe. but eventually."
eventually.
eventually almost beats fine on jake's list of hated words. because eventually implies a future where this is normal. where you date someone else and he dates someone else and the two of you become a story told in past tense. three and a half years turned into a story time. something that happened before whatever comes next. and maybe that's healthy, maybe that's the entire point of this entire thing.
but eventually is not now, and right now, the sheer thought of moving on feels impossible in a way he doesn't know how to explain without sounding pathetic.
"i'm not really interested," he then says.
heeseung nods quickly. "yeah. no. totally fair."
"like, at all."
"yep. got it."
"not even a little."
"heard you the first time."
jake rubs a hand through his hair as he exhales. "sorry. thank you, though."
heeseung softens a little. "don't be."
"look," jay speaks up again, with something that sounds genuine laced in his tone, which just makes it worse. "you don't have to be ready to fall in love with someone else, nobody's saying that. but maybe you should at least find out whether the idea of moving on is impossible because you're actually not ready, or because you've never let yourself try."
jake's mouth closes. because that, unfortunately for him, is a very valid sentence. a sentence with full structure and complete sense and a point that lands somewhere jake doesn't particularly want to confront right now. because he can't even imagine it without feeling like he's doing something wrong. which is stupid, because he has been single for almost ten months now. you went on a date. and you are allowed to go on dates. he is allowed to go on dates. everyone involved is technically allowed to do everything they are doing and that just makes it ten times more complicated because nothing ruins a good spiral more than the fact that no one is actually breaking any rules.
"i don't know," he mutters eventually, and jay just nods back, like he was expecting that.
"you don't have to know. just think about it."
"i don't really want to think about it."
"then think about why you don't want to think about it."
jake lets out a small laugh, but it comes out wrong. "jay."
"yeah?"
"you're being deeply irritating."
"i know," jay shrugs. "but i'm right."
jake hates that no one immediately disagrees.
heeseung just nods, not really saying anything else and sunghoon is just staring at the blade of grass in between his fingers.
after another minute, jake stands too quickly, brushing dirt off his shorts. "i'm gonna head home."
sunghoon looks up. "jake."
"i'm good," he says, already reaching for his bag. "seriously. i just need to shower."
the three of them give him a long look.
"don't disappear. you'll be okay."
jake pauses. then shrugs. "i'm not disappearing. i live with you."
then he swings his bag over one shoulder and starts walking before anyone can say anything else helpful, which is really just another word for unbearable at this point. and on his walk back home, jake thinks about it. not willingly, of course, but because now the idea is in his head and it refuses to leave.
he tries to picture it practically first, as if maybe it will make it less awful. heeseung gives him a number. he texts some girl. they agree on dinner. he picks a place that isn't too romantic but not too casual either. he shows up, she shows up. they sit down. they talk. all simple, normal things that normal people do every day. so maybe the idea isn't all too impossible.
maybe he could do it. and maybe that was the terrifying part. maybe he goes and maybe he survives it, or maybe he genuinely enjoys it.
or maybe, and this is the uglier truth he doesn't want to examine too closely, something deep inside him is scared and bitter and hurt that you are clearly trying to be okay without him. that you sat across from someone else and gave the world proof that your life could move on, even after him.
and so maybe jake is not mature enough to sit with that. maybe he needs to prove to you, to himself, to whatever higher power there is out there that he too can move on, even if he has to force it.
so by the time he enters the apartment, drops his bag by the door, and stares at his phone in his hand, the decision is already there. he unlocks it before he can talk himself out of it and texts heeseung.
jake: what's your friend's name?
her name is mina.
and she is nice. that's the first thing jake learns about her. she's nice in that easy, uncomplicated way that makes people comfortable. nice in the way she laughs at his jokes even when they're only kind of funny, which jake appreciates but also immediately distrusts because he knows, objectively, that he is not that funny.
the first date is at a cafe heeseung recommends. mina asks about his job, his roommates, soccer, what kind of movies he likes. she tells him about her own work, about her older sister, about how she hates olives but keeps trying them every year just to confirm she still hates them. she’s easy to talk to, the conversation doesn’t drag.
jake walks away thinking it could have been worse.
the second date is dinner. nothing too fancy, just some small place downtown with warm lights and a menu that takes jake too long to read because he keeps thinking about what you would’ve ordered.
which is unfair, he knows. unfair to mina, mostly, and also to him, maybe. but the thought appears anyways and sticks until the appetizers come out.
mina then tells a story about getting locked out of her apartment once while holding a bag of frozen dumplings, and jake genuinely laughs that time, and it surprises him enough that he feels guilty for it immediately after.
and then he feels guilty for feeling guilty for having a moderately pleasant time with a nice girl who has done absolutely nothing wrong except not be you.
the third time, mina asks him if he's ever been to the park near the river at the edge of town. jake says yes before he thinks too hard about it, but unfortunately, he is already thinking hard about it.
she doesn't know it's where jake kissed you for the first time ever. where the two of you stood underneath a streetlamp in the middle of october, both pretending you weren't cold because neither of you wanted to be the first one to suggest going home. where you laughed against his mouth afterwards because he was so nervous.
she doesn't know any of that. she just says, "it's pretty this time of year," and jake just agrees like his entire chest didn't just cave in and goes anyways.
it's cooler out by now, the trees either fully orange or already shedding around them. jake buys them hot chocolate from a cart nearby because he doesn't know what else to do with his hands. she laughs when he burns his tongue, and he laughs too. and again, it's simple at first.
but every few steps, the park starts to become something else. a bench becomes you sitting cross-legged next to him with fries balanced in your lap. the river railing becomes where jake first grabbed your hand and held it inside his jacket pocket because you forgot gloves one winter.
that one streetlamp they pass becomes three and a half years ago, with you looking up at him, cheeks pink from the cold, your hair slightly messy from the wind, looking up at him with your eyes bright and teasing, saying, "are you going to kiss me or are you just going to keep staring?"
jake laughed nervously, caught off guard, looking down,"i'm not staring."
"you are. it's okay though."
"i'm…trying to be respectful."
"you've been staring at my mouth for ten minutes."
"that's not—"
"jaeyun."
and that had done it. you said it quietly and carefully, like you knew exactly where to touch the sentence to make him stop running from it. his smile softened.
"i just really want to do this right," he admitted, voice lower now.
then you stepped closer, tilting your head as you looked up at him.
"you've been doing everything right," you said with the softest smile on your face. then your hand came up just enough to catch the front of his jacket and he leaned it first.
and the first kiss was not perfect, by all means. he bumped your nose and then you laughed against his mouth. he whispered "sorry" even though he was smiling so hard the word barely came out and you whispered, "don't ruin it."
so he kissed you again, this time with your hand curled into his jacket and his fingers brushing your cheek like he can't believe he was allowed to finally have you like that. and when you pulled away, you had that kind of smile on your face made him feel, stupidly and immediately, like the whole world had narrowed down to one streetlamp, one cold night, one girl looking at him like she chose him on purpose.
"okay," you exhaled afterwards.
jake just blinked back. "okay?"
"yeah." you smiled wider. "you should do that again."
"you okay?"
mina's voice cuts through so suddenly, making jake blink hard.
"yeah," he says, looking away from the streetlamp before forcing a small smile. "just cold."
and still, after that night, jake keeps going. that's kind of how his life moves on for the next month. he wakes up, goes to work. comes home from work, plays video games with the guys until someone falls asleep. plays soccer on the weekends when the weather is decent. sees mina every now and then when their schedules line up and tries very, very hard not to spend the entire time wondering what you're doing on your end.
because mina is nice. and mina is funny. and jake likes her, in the general sense. in the she is a good person and this is objectively pleasant sense. in the sense that makes jake feel like if he was a decent guy, he would know what to do with that. instead, he finds himself sitting there, waiting for that ache. that shift, that terrifying, inevitable feeling of wanting so badly to know someone better and realizing it might ruin him.
but jake keeps trying anyways, because he convinces himself that maybe this is what moving on looks like—it's messy, it's nonlinear, it's effort.
by the seventh or eighth time they see each other (jake stopped counting because counting makes it feel like something), sunghoon casually brings up one night, "so are we ever meeting her or are you embarrassed by your friends?"
jake looks up from his phone. "i'm always embarrassed by my friends."
and that is how he ends up at the bar that weekend with mina tucked into the corner booth beside him. heeseung sits across from her, smiling too polite, sunghoon beside him, looking calm but observant in a mildly intimidating way, and jay at the end of the booth, already looking like he's pretending not to judge.
and jake sits there, hand wrapped around his glass, watching mina laugh at something heeseung says, trying to feel normal about the fact that maybe this is what his life looks like now—and then trying even harder not to think about the one person missing from the table.
it's around an hour into the night when jake wishes he didn't think about it too hard though, because he's pretty sure he manifested you. because then the bar door opens, letting in a breeze of cold air rush in, followed by a burst of laughter from a small group near the entrance that makes everyone at the table look over, and suddenly, there you are.
jake doesn't know how to really describe the emotions that rush through him all at once in that moment. fear first, maybe. then guilt. then shock, even though he really shouldn't be surprised, because this is your usual bar too, your usual people, your usual seat tucked under jake's arm before everything got complicated and then more complicated and then quietly disappeared.
he sees the exact moment you spot them, sees the way your expression pause, but not drop exactly, because you're too good for that. he just sees something in your face still, just for half a second, your eyes moving from heeseung to jay to sunghoon before landing on mina beside him. and then finally, him. and that's when jake adds a new emotion onto the list—nauseous.
but because you've already seen them and they've already seen you, you come over anyways and jake can see the equally subtle and deeply terrified looks the guys are giving him from the corner of his eyes as he chooses to stare directly at his empty glass instead.
by the time you reach the table, mina, bless her heart, is the first to speak, bright and excited and entirely unaware of the scene she just wandered into. "oh my gosh, you must be y/n!"
and jake feels everything in him still. of course she knows your name, of course. not in the way you probably know hers, by force and bad luck and most likely from the guys mentioning her to you before anyone thought to warn him this night might someday exist, but in a normal way. in that casual way someone learns the names of their boyfriend's friends.
boyfriend.
jake doesn't know if that word belongs there. he doesn't know if mina thinks it does. he doesn't know if you do. he hopes you don't and he hates that he hopes that.
you smile back immediately and it's polite and smooth and sweet and jake wants to crawl out of his own skin.
"hi," you say. "mina right?"
"yeah," mina says warmly. "it's nice to finally meet you. i heard you're, like, the glue of this group."
jake looks down at the table. you glance at him for one second before looking away and back at her with a small smile, "i try my best."
sunghoon then immediately shifts over, pressing closer against heeseung to make a small space at the end of the booth. "sit," he says, too loudly and too stiff. "unless you're meeting someone. are you meeting someone? you can still sit. or not. no pressure."
jay closes his eyes immediately.
heeseung mutters under his breath, "wow."
you let out a small laugh, and jake hates how fast his body reacts to it.
"i came with some people," you say, glancing vaguely over your shoulder at a small group standing near the bar, "but i can stay for a little."
so that's how you end up here, squeezed next to sunghoon and heeseung, and across from jake in that complicated way where it makes it impossible for him to not look at you.
the next thirty minutes go painfully slow for jake. mina talks about work, heeseung asks too many questions because silence makes him nervous, sunghoon makes one of his dry jokes and everyone laughs.
and you are perfect.
you smile when you talk, you ask mina about herself, you nod when she talks and you act like this is normal. like sitting across from the girl jake has been seeing doesn't make your throat tight.
jake, meanwhile, barely says anything all night. which you, of course, notice immediately. but mina also notices. mina notices and then everything proceeds to blow up in flames right afterwards. because after a while, she turns towards him, nudging his arm gently with hers.
"you're quiet tonight," she says, smiling softly, voice low but still clear enough for everyone at the table to hear. "tired, jaeyunie?"
and the best way to describe the mutual, shared reaction the table has at the sound of her saying those words, that name—that name no one else calls him because they've tried and he would shoot them down with something like "only y/n calls me that"—is like watching a house catch fire, explode, and then burn down into ashes in real time.
jake freezes. jay stops mid-sip. heeseung's eyes flick to jake so, so fast. sunghoon's face goes completely blank like he knew shit was about to go down and you—you don't move. you just look down at the drink in front of you and blink a few times and suddenly jake can't breathe.
mina doesn't pick up on it fully, of course, because she doesn't know. she doesn't know, which is the problem. it's soft, affectionate, and harmless to her. to her, it's probably just a cute nickname, something she tried once and he didn't correct because he had been too startled, too tired, too cowardly to explain that the name already belonged somewhere, to someone else.
your eyes stay down, and your hand around the glass is shaking now, and of course jake notices. he notices everything when it comes to you, apparently, except how not to hurt you. jake stays quiet, his heart pounding too quickly now, swallowing hard because there's now a lump sitting in his throat and he might actually be sick.
mina's smile falters a little. "what?"
"nothing," jake says too quickly. too quickly, because jay looks at him. too quickly, because you finally lift your eyes and you finally look right at him. and you're not angry, not even hurt in a way jake could apologize for. but it was like something small and private had been taken right out of your hands in front of everyone, and you're trying very hard not to make anyone feel bad for noticing you lost it.
you suddenly sit up a little straighter. "i'm gonna get some fresh air," you say, your voice too light.
sunghoon shifts immediately, "do you want me to—"
"no," you say quickly, already sliding out of the booth. then, softer, with a smile that doesn't fully reach, "i'm fine."
and there it is again. that word again. fine. the most useless lie any of you have ever told.
you grab your bag and step away from the table before anyone can stop you. everyone watches you go in a terribly awkward silence, and mina's brows pull together, turning back to jake.
"did i say something?"
jake's throat tightens.
"no," he says too quickly and too automatic before he feels an instant wave of guilt and pain and regret because now mina is there, kind and oblivious and confused, while jake feels like the cruelest person in the room for letting her borrow a name he never should have let anyone else touch.
"i'll be right back," he then says, already moving.
jay's head snaps up. "jake."
sunghoon says his name too, quieter. like a warning, or a plea, or both.
mina looks up at him, confusion still written all over her, "is everything okay?"
jake looks at her, then toward the bar's doors where you left, then back at her and realized, with something incredibly heavy in his chest, that there is no good answer.
"yeah," he says, because apparently lying badly is the only thing he knows how to do anymore. "i just need a second."
mina nods slowly as jake steps out of the booth. and as he walks towards the exit and through the doors, he can feel all three of the guys watching him like they already know this is either the first right thing he's done in weeks or another terrible mistake he's going to regret.
the cold air hits jake the second he steps outside and for one disoriented second, he just stands there under the weak glow of the bar sign, the sound of music and laughter muffled behind the door as it swings shut behind him. he looks both directions down the sidewalk before he finally sees you near the end of the block, head down, walking fast with your arms wrapped around yourself like you're trying to keep yourself together.
"wait—y/n—" his voice cuts through the quiet, rougher than he means it to be. you don't turn around, still walking away.
"i'm good, jake. seriously," you sound small as you call out behind you.
he jogs a little to catch up. "no, please," he says, voice heavy. "can we just talk?"
you turn in your steps so sharply that jake has to stop short, his shoes skidding slightly against the pavement. jake halts in his step, brows furrowed, chest rising up and down.
"why?"
jake blinks back at you, shaking his head slightly in confusion. "w-what?"
"why," you repeat, and your voice is already trembling, already angry, your eyes already shining with the kind of tears you've been holding back for too long. "that night in your car, when you told me you didn’t know if you’d figured—" you gesture vaguely between the two of you, around the street, at the space where your lives used to fit together cleanly. "if you’d figured all this shit out. our breakup, who you are, what you wanted, all of it. you said you didn’t know."
jake doesn’t say anything. he just stands there, breathing too hard, watching the tears gather along your lashes.
"so why did you do it?" you ask.
his throat tightens.
"why did you—" your voice cracks, and you press your lips together like you hate yourself for it. "why did you break us?"
and that was the real question from that night in the car. the one you were too scared to ask because the answer terrified you. not did you figure it out? but was it worth it? did losing you give him whatever he thought he needed? did ruining the best thing in his life at least mean something?
jake looks away first. he looks away and he knows he's a coward and that he always has been a coward in the moments that matter most.
"y/n—" he says, barely above a whisper.
"no." you shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks now. "no, don’t do that. don’t say my name like that, like you’re hurt because i’m finally asking.
he goes quiet, his arms hanging uselessly by his side. because maybe that’s what he should have done the first time. maybe he should've listened, and stayed, and let you be angry without trying to turn it into something easier for him to handle.
"you made that decision alone," you say, voice cracking hard now as you spoke louder, faster, "you stood there and told me it was for the best, and i believed you because i loved you, and because you looked so sad saying it that i thought…" you swallow, wiping angrily under one eye. "i don’t know. i thought maybe loving you meant trusting that you knew what you needed."
jake can’t breathe right. he blinks hard, one of his own tears now running down his face.
“i trusted you more than i trusted myself,” you whisper. “like loving you made me stupid.”
his head snaps up. “i never thought that.”
“but you acted like it.”
jake shakes his head, looking down at the ground, silently begging the universe that this is all some sick, cruel dream. he has no defense, nothing he can say that can reverse this entire night, this entire past year that's been haunting his every waking moment of every day. so he just stands there and takes it.
"you acted like you could decide what hurt less for both of us," you continue. "like you could walk away and call it mercy. like—" you stop, letting out a broken exhale to ground yourself for a moment.
jake’s eyes burn.
"it wasn’t like that."
"then help me understand," you say, words coming out more like a plea, "because i have been trying to understand you for eleven months, jake. eleven months. i have replayed every conversation, every look, every stupid quiet moment before you left, trying to figure out what i missed."
his jaw trembles and he hates that it does. he hates that he has no right to look hurt and ruined when you're the one he left, you're the one who he broke.
"and then you pull me back into this fucked up mess," you say, voice rising. "you act jealous, you tell people we're together, you text me. you ask me to come over. you look at me like that. you touch me like you—"
you stop. then he watches as your face crumples for half a second before you force it back.
"like you just want the easy parts of me without actually choosing me."
and that one goes straight through him. that one makes jake feel like he just got punched right in the gut and he wants to vomit everything inside him right then and there because no other words said could be untrue.
"you know that's not what i was doing," he says, stepping forward, and it's the first thing he's said steady enough. "you know that's not true, y/n."
your eyes flash. "then what were you doing?"
jake doesn't answer fast enough, not because he doesn't know, but because he's terrified that he does. because you’re standing there with tears streaming down your face, close enough for him to reach for and too far for him to deserve, and every possible version of the truth makes him sound exactly like the person he never wanted to be to you.
you just nod, crying harder now, almost laughing like you can't believe you expected anything else from him. "exactly."
there's a beat of silence.
"i'm sorry," the words fall out of him uselessly. too small, too minor for what they're standing in. his voice breaks again. "i'm so sorry."
"i know," you whisper, and that somehow makes it hurt worse. "i know you are. i know you're sorry. i know you didn't mean to hurt me. i know you're confused and scared and whatever else you are, and i keep letting that matter more than the fact that you hurt me anyways."
jake forces himself to look at you, and you look so small in front of him, so broken, because of him.
"and i know i’m part of it," you say, voice softer now. "i know i keep letting it happen. the first night in your car, in your apartment, every time after that. i keep answering and showing up and asking you to, and i know that’s on me too. i’m not pretending i’m innocent here."
"don’t," jake lets out quietly. "don’t blame yourself for me being selfish."
for a second, you just stare at him. then your face twists into something sad, angry, tired, all of the above.
“then stop being selfish.”
he flinches and you see it, but you keep going anyway.
"because i don’t know what you want from me anymore." your voice breaks completely into a sob there, and you press a hand to your chest like the words physically hurt coming out. “i don’t know if you want me to wait. i don’t know if you want me to move on, and trust me, i tried so, so hard to. and i don’t know if you want to be my friend or my ex or whatever the fuck this is supposed to be when you look at me like you still want me and then bring your new girlfriend to places we share with our friends.”
"she's not—"
you shake your head, forcing out a bitter laugh. "don't correct me on the technicality, yun. please. not right now."
his mouth closes.
"maybe she's not your girlfriend," you say, tears still falling. "maybe you don't know what she is either. apparently that's kind of your thing now." you gesture back to the bar behind him. "but she's in there right now, thinking she's something in your life enough to call you that name, and i was supposed to just sit there and smile like you weren't texting me to come over a month ago like it would actually mean something."
jake's eyes squeeze shut for a second. his face immediately feels hot.
"it did," he forces out through a choked breath. "every single time, it meant something."
you go still. then, quieter, "did it?"
and that one hurt, because he wants to say yes immediately. he wants to say of course it did, are you insane, it meant everything, it has meant everything since the second you walked out of his apartment eleven months ago and took every version of his future with you.
"to me," he says, voice shaking. "yes."
"then say it," your expression shifts. "say what this is."
jake's mouth opens but nothing comes out. because the truth is too ugly and too honest for him to just hand to you. that he regretted leaving almost immediately, but his pride was too fragile to admit it and his fear too loud to undo it. that he broke your heart trying to save himself, then came crawling back to you in pieces because he still missed you, wanted you, loved you but couldn't bring himself to say it.
that he has spent the last year making decisions too big for him and then acting surprised when he finds out he can't carry them.
you nod once, like his silence confirms something you were already afraid of.
"yeah," you whisper.
"y/n—"
"i love you, jaeyun."
everything in him stops. everything physically hurts immediately.
it’s been nearly a year since he last heard you say those words, and after all that time, this is what they sound like now. not warm, not sleepy, not mumbled against his shoulder in the morning. they sound ruined. they sound like something you wish you could take back from your own heart, like you wish it wasn't true. like the words have been sitting in your throat for months, cutting you open every time you swallow them back.
"i love you," you say again, crying openly now. "and that is the worst part, because i don’t know what to do with it anymore. i don’t know where to put it."
jake's vision blurs.
"i love you too," he says, and it comes out broken. "i never stopped."
your face crumples and for one awfully slow second, he thinks you might step towards him. but instead, you step back, shaking your head.
"then you need to figure your shit out," you say, voice shaking. "because i can’t keep doing it for you."
he takes a step forward, and you immediately shake your head even harder. "no."
he freezes, his hands trembling like they're instinctively trying to reach you and comfort you and tell you that the two you are going to be okay. "please," he whispers.
"i can’t keep doing this." you wipe at your cheeks with both hands now, angry at the tears, angry at him, angry at yourself. "as friends. as exes. as whatever the fuck this is. i can’t keep being around you and pretending like we’re okay when we haven’t been okay for a long time."
jake has never hated himself more. not when he broke up with you. not when he woke up next to you in your bed a few months ago and left without saying anything. not even inside the bar, when you watched mina fit into his life and he did nothing fast enough to stop it. this is worse. this is you finally telling him what his pride, his fear, his confusion—what it all cost, and he has to stand here and hear every word.
"i need to go," you say. "i really hope you find what you need, yun. genuinely."
and that is the final blow to what's left of jake's heart. because after all of it, after ten minutes of standing in the cold and crying through every way he hurt you, after finally letting out what you've been carrying with you for nearly the past year, the last thing you give him isn't anger. it's still kindness, the tired, broken, honest fragments of it you have left. the kindness that still wants the best for him even if you can no longer be the person who helps him find it.
jake doesn’t follow when you finally turn and walk away. he stands there on the sidewalk, under the distant bar light, with the door somewhere behind him full of warmth and music and people who have no idea his whole life just split open in the middle of the street.
and for a long time, he doesn’t move. because jake had spent the last eleven months convincing himself he was fine.
he wasn’t fine. he hasn't been fine in a long, long time.
jake has felt heartbreak before. heartbreak was the first morning after the breakup, waking up on his side of the bed and reaching for a body that wasn't there anymore. he's felt sadness too. sadness was seeing you laughing in the same room as his friends and realizing he was missing his best friend, even though she was only five feet away. anger, definitely. anger was seeing red at that party all those months ago when jungwon stood too close to you, when jake realized the world didn't stopped wanting you just because he had been stupid enough to let you go.
but this? this is new. this is numbness. jake feels numb and hollow and empty because he thinks he really, truly lost you this time. which is exactly what he had been so afraid of in the first place, and somehow, impossibly, the place every one of his decisions had been leading him towards.
because at least during those first eight months after the breakup, he still had you in some way. you, as his friend. you, as the girl who still texted the groupchat and showed up to game night and smiled at him sometimes, even if the smile was forced or polite.
then you, as the girl he kept finding his way back to in the worst possible way. one night that became another. one mistake both of you swore wouldn't happen again until it did. one almost, then another, then another, all of them close enough to feel like love and far enough that neither of you had to say what it really was.
but now, you are just y/n. someone who used to everywhere, but now nowhere. someone who is suddenly trying very, very hard to make it seem like you were never in his life at all.
the texts stop completely. the guys stop mentioning you whenever jake is in the room, which just makes everything obviously ten times worse. conversations bend around your name, jokes cut off too early. heeseung starts saying "someone" when he means you, and jay starts glaring at him every time he does.
you unfollow jake on everything too. which is a stupid and small thing for jake to overthink, except he sits there anyways staring at his phone for ten full minutes when he notices, feeling like someone reached into his life and took one more ordinary thing he didn't know he was still counting on.
game nights still happen, just not the same, for obvious reasons. your usual spot on the couch stays empty the first time, and everyone pretends not to notice. the second time, sunghoon sits there by accident and then looks so uncomfortable about it that he gets up halfway through the night and says the angle is bad for his neck. jake doesn't say anything.
figuring his shit out, jake learns very quickly, is not nearly as poetic as it sounded when you said it. it's mostly quiet. ugly, sometimes, and then boring, often. it's waking up and trying not to check his phone. then it's opening your contact anyways, staring at your name until his chest hurts, then locking his phone and putting it facedown because missing you is not the same thing as respecting you.
figuring it out is telling mina the truth.
not all of it, because some of it is not hers to carry anyways, but enough. that she's nice, that she did nothing wrong, that he's sorry for trying to turn her into proof that he was ready when he wasn't.
mina listens quietly, then she nods and says, "i hope you figure it out."
and jake almost laughs, because of how ironic that is.
but he tries and frankly, badly, at first. but then a little less badly.
he plays soccer even when he doesn't feel like moving, he lets sunghoon drag him to the grocery store and he tries to cook a new recipe which he inevitably butchers, but at least he tried.
one night, they're all sitting around in the living room when heeseung starts telling a story. and being heeseung is heeseung, he gets too invested and realizes halfway through that the story involves you. your name catches before it leaves his mouth and he tries to clear his throat just as quickly but there's an awkward pause anyways.
that's when jake says, "you guys can say her name."
the room goes quiet. he keeps his eyes on the tv in front of him.
"i mean it," he says. "you don't have to keep acting like she died."
sunghoon is the first to answer. "good," he says, too quickly. "i was running out of fake names to use in my stories."
heeseung lets out a laugh that sounds mostly relieved. jay doesn't say anything, but later, when they're cleaning up, he squeezes jake's shoulder and leaves it there for half a second and jake understands.
winter starts to slowly settle in, enough for the windows to fog in the morning, that the bar puts festive lights up. enough that jake starts seeing his breath in the air and starts wearing jackets over his hoodies. enough that the park near the river turns gray and bare, all the leaves gone now.
jake goes there alone one night. he tells himself he's just on a walk, because he read somewhere that they're good for you and he's trying to be better at whatever “good for him” looks like, so he puts on a jacket over his hoodie, shoves his hands into its pockets, and walks.
he walks until he gets to the spot. until he gets to the streetlamp where he kissed you for the first time and he stands there and waits for the memory to swallow him whole.
he stands there and closes his eyes and it hurts. it really, really hurts. but then he opens his eyes and realizes it doesn't destroy him, that he's still standing and that he's, relatively, more or less, okay. so he stays there for a minute, then for two more. then he breathes in, breathes out, and for the first time, he lets himself remember you without turning the memory into a reason or an excuse to want something from you.
he just lets himself miss you.
because maybe healing is not forgetting. maybe healing is learning how to hold the memories even if it cuts him, even if it hurts. maybe healing is letting himself fully feel every emotion, everything he ignored, pretended didn't exist, everything he thought would disappear if he kept moving.
so jake keeps trying.
he fixes the plant on his window sill, he takes down the broken string light instead of leaving it slowly dying, blinking above his bed. he washes the hoodie you used to steal the most and folds it into the back of his drawer.
he starts making decisions. small ones, but his own ones. what to eat, where to go. what to do with a free afternoon when there is no you to ask, no you to orbit, no you to think about. and then slowly, so, so slowly, jake starts to understand.
maybe he had been right about one thing.
he did need to know who he was without you.
not because loving you made him less himself, but because he had loved you so much, so completely, that somewhere along the way he had started using love as a place to hide. a safe place to hide from fear, from change, from the possibility of becoming someone you might not need.
so he lets you stay gone. and everyday, it feels impossible. but every day, he does it anyway. and somewhere in the middle of the cold, ordinary winter, jake feels the difference.
he can live without you, he is living without you. bad on some days, better on others, but he can, regardless. and that is what makes the truth clearer to him, because wanting you is not the same as needing you to hold him together, loving you is not the same as being unable to stand alone.
because you are a part of him in a way that he can still learn to survive without, but like a language he learned so deeply he still thinks in it sometimes, or like a song he knows by heart even without hearing it for years. like a home, not because he has nowhere else to go, but because even after he finally learns how to leave, some part of him still chooses to return one day.
and jake knows, if he ever gets the chance to tell you this, he knows he can't come back with just regret, because regret is not enough. missing you is not enough. even love, by itself, it not enough if all it does is ask you to carry the weight again.
so that's why jake keeps trying. not so you'll come back, even though a large part of him wakes up every day still wishing you could, but because if you ever do, he wants to be your someone who knows how to love you without making you responsible for holding him up. and even if you don't—
jake closes his eyes again. breathes through the ache.
even if you don't, then he still has to become that person anyways.
the holidays come eventually, which makes everything sting in a little more specific way, because this is the time of year jake usually takes you home. for three years in a row, you had been there. in his parents' kitchen, stealing pieces of food before dinner and pretending you weren't. on the couch with his cousins, arguing over a kid's movie, beside him at the dinner table, your knee pressed against his under the tablecloth, laughing at something his aunt said while jake sat there feeling stupidly proud that you fit into his life so easily.
this year, he goes home alone. his mom opens the door first, pulls him into a hug, and looks over his shoulder, still expecting you to be standing behind him with a bag in one hand and that polite, nervous smile you always had for the first five minutes before remembering everyone already loved you, already made space for you like you were always going to be there.
"just you?" she asks him gently.
jake holds the strap of his bag a little tighter, and for a second, he almost lies, because it would be too easy. too easy to say something like, oh she's busy this year, or visiting her family, or work stuff. something simple and normal. something that lets the idea of the two of you keep existing together in someone else's version of reality out there for just a little longer. but even he knows that wouldn't be fair and it definitely wouldn't be the healing he has been trying, miserably and imperfectly, to do. so instead, he swallows hard and looks at his mom with a sad smile.
"we're not together anymore," he says.
his mom's face changes and he doesn't try to ignore it this time. "oh, sweetheart," she says softly.
one by one, the rest of his family finds out too.
his aunt asks where you are while setting plates down. his cousins says your name too casually from the living room. his dad pauses for half a second before patting a hand gently on jake's shoulder and saying he's sorry in that quiet, steady way that makes jake want to be eight years old and cry to him again.
but regardless, each time, jake tells the truth. he doesn't tell the whole story, not every ugly detail, but just enough. yes, you guys broke up. yes, it's hard. yes, he misses her. he lets everyone look at him sadly, he lets everyone see his sadness, too. he lets the loss be real instead of hiding it behind some convenient lie, and he has to live in rooms where people know it now.
everything else happens anyways, like christmas dinner where he argues with his brother over who gets the corner piece of dessert. he opens gifts the next morning and laughs when his uncle gives him socks with his own face printed on it. he watches movies on the couch while the house gets warm and loud around him.
he doesn't pretend it doesn't hurt. he doesn't pretend he isn't aware of the empty space next to him where you used to sit with a blanket pulled up to your chin, whispering commentary into his ear until he almost choked trying not to laugh. he doesn’t pretend he doesn’t look in the mug cabinet and remember the ugly holiday mug you loved for no reason.
but he also doesn't shut down, because life is still happening. because his family is still there and his cousins are still annoying and his mom is still asking him if he wants more hot chocolate. because love, jake is starting to learn, does not become less real just because one version of it is gone.
jake goes back to the city in time for new year's, mostly because jay rents out the same rooftop every year for the countdown party, and jake has gone every year. before he met you, after he met you, while he dated you. and now, it'll be after he lost you. he goes anyways, because he knows that avoiding every place that might still have your finger print on it won't do anything good for him.
the city is freezing by the time he gets there, all sharp wind and wet pavement and people spilling out of restaurants in glittery dresses and jackets that are too thin, but laughing anyways because that's just how these things go.
jay meets him by the elevator with a drink in one hand and a look on his face that is trying very hard to not look surprised.
"you came," jay says, smiling.
jake gives him a look. "you invited me."
then jay's expression softens just a little, enough that jake knows what he's really asking. if he's okay, if he's ready, if this isn't going to be too much for much.
jake looks past him, toward the rooftop door where music and laughter is already spilling out into the hallway.
"i'm good," he says, nodding like it'll make his statement more convincing.
jay's brow lifts. jake exhales, then corrects himself.
"i'm not good," he says quietly. "but i'm okay enough."
jay then studies him for a second before nodding. "okay enough is solid."
"thanks."
"low bar," jay gives him a smile, "but we celebrate growth. i'm proud of you."
and jake gives him a genuine smile back.
the rooftop is exactly the same as it always is—string lights wrapped along the railing, heaters glowing red in the corners, a dj booth in the center and an open bar with far too many people tucked into the side. heeseung is already arguing with sunghoon near the speakers, and sunghoon is already wearing a party hat against his will.
jake takes a drink jay hands him, talks when people talk to him, laughs when sunghoon says something funny, lets heeseung drag him into a conversation with someone from work whose name jake immediately forgets and feels only mildly guilty about.
he doesn't scan the party for you right away. he notices the lights first, the skyline, the little plastic champagne glasses stacked too close to the edge of one of the tables. he notices the cold air biting at his knuckles and the loud music and the way midnight feels close.
but, eventually, he notices you.
he wasn't looking, but it's that part of him that still knows when you enter a room. you're standing near the far side of the rooftop, close to the railing, talking to jay's cousin with a drink held loosely in one hand. your coat is buttoned up against the cold, your hair moving slightly in the wind, your face turned toward the city lights.
jake goes still, because even after everything, even after all his trying, his body can't help but react that way. but this time isn't like before. this time isn't like the bar, when seeing you walk in felt like a punishment he earned. not like the party months ago, when jealously made him stupid. this was different.
it still hurt, of course. the sight of you still finds the softest place in him and presses down hard, but alongside that feeling is something else too, something close to relief. the kind of relief that isn't selfish, not the kind that thinks you being here means anything profound for him. just relief that you are here, that you are laughing at something and look less tense and that the world has held you and taken care of you even when he wasn't allowed to.
jake breathes in slowly. he just looks at you for one honest second from the distance and lets himself have it.
he misses you. he loves you. and for once, neither of those things has to become a demand. then, like you feel it too because of course you would, your eyes shift across the rooftop and land on him.
the noise around him dulls just slightly, and your expression changes, just barely. a flicker of surprise, then softening into something he can't name quite yet. but he just stays where he is anyways, and after a second, he gives you the smallest nod.
you look at him for a long moment. then, you give him the smallest smile back.
somewhere close to midnight, the rooftop starts to shift in that slow and natural way new year's eve parties tend to do. people shift toward the railing with their champagne in hand, someone turns the music down just enough for the dj's voice to cut through the cold air, announcing the ten-minute warning with too much enthusiasm and then people start pairing off without meaning to.
jay gets pulled into a conversation near the bar, heeseung disappears with two champagne glasses and jake just gives him a thumbs up of good luck, and sunghoon is arguing with someone about fireworks, someone who is most likely going to be the unfortunate individual who is going to kiss him in ten minutes.
and somehow, in the middle of all of it, jake's eyes find yours across the rooftop. but this time, he doesn't look away. you're standing near the far side of the crowd, one hand tucked into your coat sleeve, your face lit softly by the lights overhead. you look beautiful.
he loves how simple and true the thought is. how it doesn't arrive with panic this time, but just tenderness. just the ache of knowing, even after all this time, even after everything he ruined and everything he learned, his heart still knows exactly where to look.
so jake crosses the rooftop slowly.
he just walks towards you with his pulse beating hard and loud in this throat, weaving past laughing friends and drunk strangers and half-empty glasses and people holding up their phones towards the skyline.
you see him coming, and your shoulders tense slightly, but you don't leave, which he takes as a good sign. when he stops in front of you, the music is loud enough that he has to lean in just a little, close enough for you to see the exhaustion in his eyes, the faint redness there, the months he spent missing you without asking you to do anything about it.
"hey," he says quietly.
your throat moves. "hey."
for a second, neither of you says anything. then, because jake is still jake, and because his heart is currently trying to crawl out of his chest, he says the first honest thing he can manage.
“you look good.”
you pause for a moment, then give him a soft smile. “you do too.”
he lets out a breath that nearly becomes a laugh. “i really don’t.”
and then the tension almost breaks right there, with that small flicker of something comforting and familiar falling in between the two of you. your mouth trembles like you’re trying not to smile too much but also trying not to cry at the same time.
the music goes quiet again for a moment while the dj announces five minutes until midnight and the rooftop cheers.
jake glances toward the crowd, then back at you.
“can we go somewhere quieter?” he asks. then, quickly, softer, “only if you want to.”
you look at him for a moment and your eyes flicker to the skyline before back to him, and then you finally nod.
jake leads you inside to the lounge just past the rooftop's glass doors, where it's empty now and the lights are dim and warm. through the large windows, the party continues outside in a blur of coats and gold lights and people waiting for the year to end. he closes the door behind you and all the noise goes muffled immediately.
you stand a few feet apart in silence, arms wrapped around yourselves against the chill still clinging to your clothes, both of you reflected faintly in the glass.
then jake looks at you, and he really, really looks. and then for the first time in a long, long time, he lets himself be brave.
"i figured it out, by the way."
your eyes flick up to his as if in a quick second of shock before looking away just as quickly.
he swallows hard. "not everything. i don’t think anyone ever figures out everything. but what you asked me that night. what i wanted, why i left, why i kept coming back. all of it."
you don't say anything, your eyes now trained on something past him just so you don't have to look at him quite yet. he keeps going.
"i left you because i was scared," he says, voice low. "not because i stopped loving you or because you were holding me back, or because we were wrong. but because i loved you so much that i couldn't admit it and i turned it into something i thought i had to save both of us from." his voice cracks. "but i didn't."
you look up at him now, and your eyes shine immediately.
jake’s hands curl at his sides, like his body still wants to reach for you before he has earned the right.
"i was trying to control the ending," he stops, letting the words sit for a moment. "because some awful part of me was terrified that one day you would wake up and realize you didn't need me when i still needed you. that maybe you had become my whole life, but i was only part of yours and if you left first, i wouldn't know how to survive it. so i left first, i hurt you first, and then i convinced myself it was love because the truth sounded uglier."
a tear slips down your cheek, and jake sees it immediately and he almost stops. he almost stops, but he doesn't. he can't, not now, not after he spent a year missing you, hurting you, hurting himself, and hiding.
not when stopping would be easier for him, and the whole point is that he is done choosing what is easy for him.
"and then i kept doing it," he whispers. "i kept coming back to you in pieces i could get because being near you was the only time i didn't feel like i had ruined my own life completely. but it wasn't fair, i know it wasn't. i wanted the comfort of you without giving you the certainty you deserved."
somewhere beyond the glass, the dj's voice cuts through the music, muffled but clear enough, one minute left.
your lips part slightly, like you might say something, but jake shakes his head, eyes burning now.
"i’m not saying this because i expect you to forgive me tonight. i’m not saying it because it’s new year’s and everyone outside is about to kiss someone and i’m lonely. i’m not asking you to fix me. i’m not asking you to come back because i finally got hurt enough to say the right thing."
he takes a breath. then another. then he holds your gaze carefully.
"i'm saying it because you deserve to hear the truth from me. because i figured it out, and i couldn't let you go thinking my confusion meant you were ever easy to lose."
thirty seconds and people outside start gathering loudly, but neither of you move.
"i know how to be without you now," jake says, voice breaking around it, eyes glassy. "and i hate it. i really, really hate it, but i know how. i can wake up and live my life and stand in rooms where you’re missing and not make that your responsibility."
fifteen seconds.
his eyes search yours.
"but i look at you," he whispers, taking one small step closer, "and i still see my future."
your face crumples and jake wants to reach for you so badly his fingers twitch at his sides.
ten.
"not because i don’t have one without you," his voice breaks again, and he has to swallow hard, "but because every version of me that is honest, every version that isn’t scared and running and pretending, still chooses you. and not as a place to hide, not as someone to hold me together. just you."
five.
jake finally lifts his hand, slowly, carefully, letting it hover just beside yours, giving you every chance to step away.
four.
"i love you," he says, the words spilling out now in that quick way they do when it’s just the truth and he can’t stop it anymore. "i love you in a way i should’ve been brave enough to choose the first time. and if you can’t choose me back anymore, i’ll understand. i’ll hate it, but i’ll understand."
three.
your eyes drop to his hand, then back up to his face. and then finally, you reach for him, your fingers slipping into his, cold and trembling, and jake lets out a breath that sounds broken.
two.
“i love you,” you breathe, voice shaking, face wet. “and i never stopped choosing you. i just needed you to choose me back.”
one.
the rooftop erupts outside in loud cheers, fireworks bursting over the city, gold and red and blue spilling across the glass, lighting your face in flashes.
jake hesitates for one heartbreaking second, his forehead nearly touching yours now, his breath trembling against your mouth, like even now he's asking. even now, he's waiting. because after everything, after all the hurt and healing and polite smiles and quiet looks, after all the late night drives and one more times he had no right to ask for, he needs this part to be yours.
not taken, not assumed by him, but yours to choose.
and so you do.
you tilt your face up, and you kiss him. and it's barely anything at first, it's soft and a trembling press of your mouth to his, so light it almost feels like both of you are afraid to ask for more. but then jake kisses you back, just as gentle, and just as disbelieving. but then your fingers tighten in his and your other hand finds the front of his jacket and you lean closer, pressing yourself into his hold and then it's desperate in the quietest way. the kind that comes from two people choosing, after the long, long road behind them, to find their way back to one another.
he kisses you like this is something he should have been more careful with from the start, one hand holding you at the waist, the other rising to your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear he caused and is finally trying to deserve the chance to heal.
you kiss him back like you’ve been holding your breath for months. like anger and love and grief and relief all have nowhere else to go except the small, fragile space between you.
outside, people are screaming happy new year. people are kissing and hugging and spilling champagne onto the rooftop floor and laughing into the cold.
inside, jake pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing unevenly, eyes wet. neither of your move, his thumb staying against your cheek, your fingers staying twisted in his jacket.
and the year begins quietly between you. it’s not perfect, it’s not untouched, but it’s yours.
"happy new year," he whispers.
you let out a tiny broken laugh, your fingers tightening like you’re still making sure he’s there. then you look up at him.
"happy new year, jaeyun."
and this time, when you say his name, it sounds like coming back home. not because the long and complicated road behind you disappeared. it hasn’t, it will always be there.
but because, finally, he knows the way back.
꩜｡⊹ ࣪ ˖ as always,,,,ty for reading if you made it all the way here <3 MWAH
easily one of the best things i’ve read this year.
like y/n being so selfless and wanting what’s best for jakey even tho he, himself doesn’t even know and having to hide how devastating it is that someone else is calling him jaeyunnie??? and then thinking the guy she loves more than anything in the world has reduced his feelings for her only to her body????
i can’t. i just can’t.
someone give @jakesimfromstatefarm a daesang for angst
심재윤) being with jake meant never having to think before you spoke. he was the first person you told everything to, no matter how important or stupid it was. but after hearing him call you irritating, even once, you can’t stop wondering if he’s been thinking it all along. what starts as giving him a little space slowly turns into shorter answers, unfinished stories, and eventually, complete silence.
content warning !
emotional hurt, relationship conflict, miscommunication, insecurity, self-doubt, crying, hurt feelings, guilt, comfort, reconciliation, and fluff with angst.
the apartment had that soft late afternoon glow. rain tapping the windows and a candle burning somewhere in the kitchen because you swore expensive candles made the place feel “emotionally moisturized.” jake said that phrase haunted him daily.
you were curled up on the couch beside him in oversized pink pajama shorts, talking with your hands at full speed.
“and THEN she blended the contour with a damp sponge instead of a brush and i’m telling you jake, it literally changed the structural integrity of her face.”
jake blinked slowly from where he sat, one arm stretched behind you. “structural integrity.”
“yes!” you laughed. “like she went from moon emoji to greek statue in thirty seconds.”
he gave a small chuckle at first. he always did. even when he didn’t understand you, he liked hearing you excited. your voice filled rooms too easily. like confetti someone forgot to clean up.
“and okay wait because THEN i started thinking maybe i should try that peach undertone thing? but i don’t know because the lighting in sephora is literally government propaganda.”
jake rubbed a hand down his face.
“mhm.”
you didn’t notice the shift at first.
“and babe, imagine me with that glossy lip combo i showed you? the one with the liner and—”
jake exhaled hard this time.
you paused for half a second. “what?”
“nothin.” but his eyes had already drifted away from you toward the tv that wasn’t even on.
you tried smiling anyway. “no, tell me.”
another sigh.
“baby…” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i just… i don’t understand any of this stuff.”
your fingers slowly stilled in your lap.
“i know…” you said softly, trying to laugh it off. “you don’t gotta understand makeup.”
“no but it’s like…” he shook his head. “can you stop talking about it for like, one second?”
the room went weirdly quiet after that.
jake looked irritated in the careless way people do right before they realize they crossed a line.
“it’s just… damn.” he let out a dry laugh. “you’re kinda irritating when you get like this.”
and there it was.
it wasn’t not yelled or cruel. just tossed at you casually like it wouldn’t land somewhere permanent.
your smile faded almost invisibly.
jake finally looked at you properly then.
you swallowed once and nodded a little too quickly. “oh.. yeah. okay.”
jake looked like he had been slapped by his own sentence. just genuinely stunned at what came out of him earlier.
his eyebrows pulled together.
“no—” he let out a breath, almost disbelieving at himself. “no, i did not mean that.”
the bubbly energy that had been bouncing around the room seconds ago vanished like somebody unplugged it from the wall.
you stood up carefully, smoothing your shorts even though they didn’t need smoothing.
“i think i’m gonna take a nap.” you said quietly. “i’m tired.”
you usually argued back. teased him. dramatically gasped and called him rude before talking again five minutes later anyway. but this? this was different. your eyes wouldn’t even stay on him now.
he sat up straighter. “baby, wait, i didn’t mean it like that.”
you nodded again. too nice. too fast. “it’s okay.”
it was the “okay” people use when it absolutely is not okay.
you started walking toward the bedroom.
jake stared at your back for two seconds before standing abruptly. “babe.”
you stopped but didn’t turn around.
he ran a hand through his hair, already hating himself. “don’t do that.”
you looked down at the floor. “i’m not doing anything.”
and somehow that hurt him more.
jake reached for your wrist gently. “baby… look at me.”
you finally did and your eyes were glossy now, trying so hard not to be.
the regret hit him like a truck with brass knuckles.
“shit…” he whispered immediately. “no, no, sweetheart…”
his hand slid up your arm carefully like he thought you might pull away.
“i didn’t mean you’re irritating.” his voice softened fast. “i was irritated. that’s different.”
you gave the tiniest shrug. “it’s fine.”
“it’s not fine if i made you feel bad.”
your face crumpled just a little at that, enough for him to realize how hard you were trying to hold it together over one stupid comment.
jake cursed under his breath and pulled you into him before you could protest.
“you get excited and you ramble.” he murmured into your hair. “i know that. i love that about you.”
you stayed quiet against his chest.
“i’m just an idiot.” he rubbed your back slowly. “a giant one. like medically concerning levels.”
a tiny laugh escaped you accidentally.
“there she is…” he whispered immediately, relief flooding his voice like sunlight through cracked blinds.
you hid your face against him. “you hurt my feelings.”
“i know.” his grip tightened. “i know, baby. i’m sorry.”
after jake apologized. more than once, actually. he hugged you and kissed your forehead and called himself an idiot, and swore he never meant it the way it came out.
but suddenly that sentence would flash through your head out of nowhere.
irritating.
it lodged itself somewhere ugly in your brain and refused to leave.
and you hated that.
because logically, you knew jake loved you.
you knew it every time he pulled you into his lap while playing games. every time he saved the pickles from his burger because you liked them. every time he looked for you first in crowded rooms like his eyes did it automatically.
you knew.
but insecurities are weird little parasites.
they don’t care about logic.
so now every time you got excited, something inside you hesitated first.
you started noticing yourself more. maybe too much.
the way your voice got louder when you were passionate about something. the way you interrupted yourself because your thoughts moved too fast. the way you jumped from topic to topic without warning.
before, it used to feel natural.
now it felt embarrassing. like becoming aware of how loudly you chew. you couldn’t unnotice it anymore.
and the worst part?
jake didn’t even realize how much it affected you because you tried so hard to act normal.
you still smiled, still laughed and still cuddled him at night.
you just… edited yourself now.
when you got excited about something from tiktok, you’d think about bringing it up… then decide not to.
sometimes you caught yourself literally checking his face while talking to see if he looked annoyed.
that part made you feel pathetic.
and the next few days they felt… off.
not in an obvious fighting way, probably worse. but you just got quiet.
jake noticed it almost immediately.
usually when you came home from college, the apartment exploded with noise within five minutes. your bag hitting the floor dramatically. you talking about professors like they were reality show villains. random makeup opinions nobody asked for. twenty different stories tangled together at once.
but now?
nothing.
that afternoon the apartment was filled with the low hum of rain again, the tv playing some random show neither of you were paying attention to.
you sat curled into the opposite end of the couch, knees tucked to your chest while scrolling on your phone silently.
too silently.
jake glanced over from where he sat.
usually you would’ve been halfway laying on top of him by now.
instead there was actual distance between you two.
it bothered him more than he expected.
he muted the tv after a while. “how was college today?”
you didn’t even look up from your phone.
“alright.”
jake waited.
normally that question unlocked a forty minute recap complete with impressions, side quests, and emotional damage.
but that was it.
“…busy, i guess.”
his eyes narrowed slightly.
“busy?” he repeated.
“mhm.”
silence again.
the rain tapped softly against the windows.
jake stared at you for another second before leaning back slowly.
another ten minutes passed and you barely spoke. every answer was short, polite or neat. like you were trying not to bother him.
jake finally tossed the remote onto the couch with a sigh.
“okay, no.”
you looked up finally. “what?”
“why are you acting like that?”
you blinked innocently. “like what?”
“like you’re in a waiting room.”
your fingers paused against your phone screen.
“i’m not.”
“baby, you’ve said maybe six words since you got home.”
you shrugged lightly. “i’m tired.”
jake stared at you.
that shrug almost pissed him off because it was so obviously fake-casual.
he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “you’re still upset about the other night?”
your eyes dropped back to your phone instantly. “i said it was fine.”
“yeah, and i’m starting to realize that when you say ‘it’s fine’ it actually means i should start preparing my funeral arrangements.”
that almost got a smile.
he scooted closer slowly. “hey…”
you kept staring at your phone even though you hadn’t scrolled in thirty seconds.
his voice softened.
“baby.”
you swallowed. “what?”
“talk to me.”
your throat tightened a little at that because the stupid part was… you wanted to.
you missed talking to him normally.
but now every time you got excited about something, that sentence echoed in your head.
you’re kinda irritating when you get like this.
so instead you just shrugged again. “there’s nothing to talk about.”
jake’s expression shifted immediately.
hurt.
real hurt.
“don’t do that.”
you frowned softly. “do what?”
“shut me out because i said something stupid.”
you finally looked at him then.
“i’m not shutting you out.”
“yes you are.” he said quietly. “you don’t even ramble anymore.”
that word made your chest ache.
ramble…
because before, he used to say it like it was something fond.
now it just felt embarrassing.
you looked down at your lap. “i didn’t realize it was that annoying.”
jake’s face dropped instantly.
“baby…”
“it’s okay.” you said quickly. too quickly. “i’ve been trying to chill out more anyway.”
that sentence hit him like a brick to the throat.
because you sounded sincere.
like you were genuinely trying to make yourself smaller for him.
“no.” jake moved closer immediately. “no, don’t do that.”
you looked confused. “do what?”
“this.” he gestured toward you helplessly. “being all quiet and weird.”
your voice came out tiny. “i thought you wanted me to.”
jake physically flinched and silence filled the room again.
then suddenly he was pulling your phone gently out of your hands and tossing it onto the couch beside him.
“c’mere.”
before you could protest, he tugged you into his lap.
you let out a surprised noise, hands instinctively grabbing his hoodie.
jake wrapped both arms around you tightly. “i was irritated one time.” he muttered into your shoulder. “one time, and now my girlfriend acts like she needs customer service training before speaking.”
you huffed the tiniest laugh despite yourself.
“baby, i miss hearing you talk.” he admitted quietly. “the apartment feels creepy without it.”
you looked down. “really?”
“yes, really.” he said immediately. “i wanna hear about your professors and your makeup theories and whatever random thing your tiktok algorithm taught you today.” he rested his chin against your shoulder, holding you a little closer. “i don’t want you sitting here and second guess every thought before you say it.”
your eyes stung a little at that.
jake noticed instantly and groaned softly. “i meant it baby.”
he pulled you closer against his chest, rubbing your back slowly.
“i’m sorry, sweetheart.” he murmured into your hair. “seriously.”
then after a second.
“…now tell me how college was for real this time.”
you sniffled once.
“my sociology professor accidentally emailed the entire class her grocery list.”
jake blinked.
“…see? this is the quality content i’ve been missing.”
based off of this beauty of a video ( bf!heesung x reader )
in which you haven’t spoken to your boyfriend Heesung in days after a big argument, but when he shows up at your place desperate, with these sweet eyes of his, everything goes away for an instant…
warnings straight fluff, angst, caring heesung, emotional reader / heesung, yearning, begging, genuinely just too lovers completely obsessed with each other, skin to skin, they’re interlinked. ( ‘no one understands me like you’ do type of trope ).
taglist : @heejakexx68 @jakeycakeys
𝜗ৎ
The rain had not stopped for three days straight, and somehow it made everything feel heavier.
The silence in your apartment had become something alive, crawling into every corner, stretching itself across your bed, lingering in the untouched mugs in the sink and the unopened messages on your phone. You had spent those days pretending not to look at his contact whenever your screen lit up, pretending your chest did not tighten every time you heard footsteps outside your door, pretending you were angry enough to survive without him.
But the truth was uglier than anger.
You missed him in humiliating ways.
You missed the weight of his arm around your waist when he slept, the way he always stole the blanket and then apologized half asleep without even waking up, the way he looked at you like he was constantly trying to categorize ever facial expression you made. Heesung was so deeply interested in everything about you, often taking hours of his days to try to figure out your brain. You missed his voice in the kitchen at two in the morning asking if you wanted ramen, missed the warmth of his fingertips brushing yours absentmindedly whenever you sat close enough.
And most of all, you missed the feeling of being understood without having to explain yourself.
The argument had started stupidly, like they always do. A build up of exhaustion, schedules, jealousy, loneliness, both of you speaking with bruised hearts and sharp tongues. He had accused you of shutting him out, and you accused him of disappearing whenever things became difficult. Neither of you meant half the things said that night, but pain has a cruel way of making itself believable.
Then came the silence, no calls, no visits.
Only the lingering ache of each other settling deep inside in ways unfathomable even to the most desperate of lovers.
You were curled on the couch in one of his old hoodies when the knock finally came.
Soft at first.
Then again, more desperate this time.
Your entire body froze. You stared at the door for several seconds without moving, your heart already betraying you before your mind could catch up. Somehow you knew it was him. You could feel him there, like your body had been tuned specifically to his existence.
Another knock.
You stood slowly, your legs almost weak beneath you, and walked toward the door with your breath caught somewhere in your throat.
The moment you opened it, everything hurt like thousands of stabs.
Lee Heeseung stood there drenched from the rain, dark hair clinging to his forehead, chest rising unevenly beneath a soaked black hoodie. His eyes were red around the edges like he had not slept properly in days, and the second he saw you, something inside him visibly cracked.
His eyes carried the same quiet vulnerability as a deer caught beneath moonlight, soft and glassy and impossibly sincere, the kind of eyes that looked defenseless until you realized how much they had survived.
He looked devastated, not dramatic. Not angry.
Like the world had been unbearably loud without you in it.
And for a moment neither of you spoke.
You only stared at each other while rainwater dripped from the ends of his sleeves onto your floor.
Then he whispered your name.
And suddenly every ounce of anger you had spent days holding together unraveled so fast it made your chest ache.
“You weren’t answering me,” he said quietly, voice rough and exhausted. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the door tighter. “You said you needed space.”
“I lied.”
His eyes filled immediately, embarrassingly fast, and he let out a shaky breath while rubbing a hand over his face. “I was angry and I lied because I thought if I acted like I didn’t need you, maybe it would be okay.”
There was something painfully deerlike about him, in the way he startled so easily at the thought of losing you, yet returned to you every single time as if his heart knew no other direction home.
Your throat tightened painfully with constricted sobs.
He took one careful step closer like he was afraid you would disappear if he moved too quickly.
“But it didn’t,” he continued, barely above a whisper. “It got worse every day.”
You hated how quickly your eyes burned when he looked at you like he had crossed oceans just to stand here.
“You really weren’t going to call me?” he asked, though the question came out trembling instead of accusing.
His head tilted to the side, eyes wide and filled to the brim as his lower lip quivered. The sight made your insides burn with blame.
“I picked up my phone a hundred times,” you murmured. “I kept typing messages and deleting them because I thought maybe you hated me now.” A small helpless laugh escaped you.
The silence between you became unbearable.
Heeseung looked exhausted in the way only heartbreak can exhaust someone. His shoulders were tense, eyes glassy, lips parted like he still had too much left to say.
Then quietly, almost shamefully, he admitted, “I can’t do this without you.”
That was the thing about him.
He never loved halfway, and when he loved you, he did it the way a deer lowers itself beside someone it trusts completely, hesitant at first, then all at once, placing the entirety of its fragile existence into waiting hands. He loved like a wounded deer standing at the edge of a forest, all cautious eyes and trembling devotion, as though the world had only ever taught him how to flee until you touched him gently enough to make him stay.
Everything inside him belonged to you so completely it frightened both of you sometimes.
You felt tears sliding down your cheeks before you even noticed you were crying, and the second he saw them, instinct took over him immediately.
“Hey,” he breathed softly, your tears triggering his.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him before reaching for you carefully, as if asking permission without words. The second his hands touched your face, warmth exploded through your chest so violently you almost sobbed.
There he was.
Your person.
His thumbs brushed beneath your eyes desperately, wiping tears away faster than they could fall, but his own were escaping now too.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
You shook your head quickly, grabbing his wrists like you needed proof he was real.
“I hated this,” you admitted brokenly. “I hated sleeping without you. I hated waking up and not talking to you.”
His forehead dropped against yours instantly, relief crashing through him so visibly you could feel it in the way his body sagged.
“I know,” he whispered shakily. “Me too.”
You could hear his breathing, feel it.
Everything about the two of you always felt intertwined in ways neither of you knew how to explain to anyone else. Loving him had become something instinctive, something living inside your bloodstream. It was inevitable as breathing, the singular thing you’d been destined to do.
His hands slid from your face to your waist slowly, fingers pressing there like he needed grounding.
“I kept thinking about the last thing you said to me,” he confessed quietly. “That maybe I don’t understand you anymore.”
Your face crumpled immediately because you remembered saying it only to hurt him.
He closed his eyes briefly before speaking again.
“But nobody gets me like you do.”
His voice sounded so honest, so raw and stripped open that it hurt to hear.
“Nobody,” he repeated softly. “Not the others, not my friends, nobody. You look at me and somehow you always know when something’s wrong.” He let out a shaky breath. “And I kept wondering if I’m gonna ruin the only thing in my life that’s ever felt real.”
You buried your face against his chest instantly, unable to hold yourself together anymore; he wrapped himself around you without hesitation.
Completely, lke his body knew yours by memory.
One of his hands slid into your hair while the other held your back firmly, fingertips pressing against your spine possessively, protectively, like he was terrified you would slip away again.
“I’m here,” he whispered against the top of your head. “I’m here now. You’re not gonna go anywhere right?”
You could feel his heartbeat racing beneath your cheek as you nodded.
And suddenly you realized he had probably come here terrified you would shut the door in his face, the thought alone made your chest ache.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes still wet. “You came all the way here in the rain.”
A tiny sad smile appeared on his lips.
“I would’ve come anyway.”
God.
There was something about the way he loved you that always undid you completely. Not loudly, not extravagantly, but with this terrifying sincerity that made everything else in the world feel insignificant beside it.
You touched his face gently, brushing damp strands of hair away from his forehead.
“You look tired.”
He leaned into your hand instinctively, eyes fluttering shut for half a second.
“I couldn’t sleep without you. You were my routine.”
You pulled him toward the couch without another word, and he followed immediately, refusing to let go of your hand even for a second. The moment you sat down, he went directly into your arms like separation itself had become unbearable now.
Neither of you spoke for a while.
You both undressed at some point, his clothes sitting in a puddle on the floor.
You just held each other, skin against skin.
Like the contact alone could satiate an eternity of starvation.
His fingers tracing slow patterns along your back while your hands rested against his neck, thumbs brushing softly against warm skin. The rain continued outside, tapping against the windows gently now, but inside your apartment everything had softened into something fragile and intimate.
Heeseung buried his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply like he had finally found oxygen again.
“I missed you so much,” he whispered.
You closed your eyes tightly. “I missed you too my sweet boy.”
Then he tilted his head just enough to look at you again, and the expression on his face nearly destroyed you.
Pure love and not the highschool kind, the kind that aches. The kind that lingers in every touch and glance and absence.
“I don’t care if we fight sometimes,” he murmured softly. “Just don’t shut me out like that again. I can handle anything except losing you.”
Your fingers curled against the back of his neck immediately. “You are never losing me. I’m just- i don’t even know why i’m like that sometimes.”
His entire face softened at those words.
Then he kissed you, slowly. Desperately but no rushed. Just burning, emotionally charged, like he was trying to pour every unsaid word into the space between your mouths. His hands trembled slightly where they held your waist, and you realized he was still overwhelmed, still scared this might disappear if he held it too tightly.
When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours again, breathing unevenly.
“You know what scared me the most?” he whispered.
“What?”
“That I still wanted to come here even if you were angry at me.” His eyes searched yours carefully. “Because when something happens to me, good or bad, you’re still the first person I want. You’re still the one i run to.”
Your heart tightened painfully.
You kissed him again before he could see yourself start crying all over again.
And later, when the apartment had fallen quiet enough to hear the rain dissolving against the windows, the two of you remained tangled together beneath dim golden light, his body curved instinctively around yours like something born for the sole purpose of returning home.
And you realized then that this was why losing him had felt like watching a frightened creature disappear back into the woods, leaving behind only silence and the ache of absence.
But now he was here again.
Resting against you with sleepy eyes and loosened breathing, fingers intertwined tightly with yours beneath the blanket as though he feared even sleep might separate you. Every so often he would unconsciously pull you closer, pressing his face into your neck with the quiet yearning of something exhausted from wandering alone for too long.
Outside, the storm softened into mist.
Inside, he held you the way wounded creatures cling to warmth in winter, carefully, desperately, with the kind of love that survives not because it is painless, but because it cannot bear the thought of living anywhere else.
And perhaps that’s what the two f you were.
Not lovers in the ordinary sense.
But two trembling creatures who had spent their entire lives outrunning the world, only to find each other deep within the same quiet forest, recognizing something achingly familiar in the other’s frightened eyes.
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come home to me…. 𝓘n which, you come home from a long day of preparing for your group’s comeback to find your boyfriend Jungwon worried about your well-being and the fact that you are obviously overworked.
𓆱 : angst, comfort, fluff, skinship. ( first time writing in present tense hello? ) shower together, cutesy stuff really. reader cries :(
❛ 양정원 ❜ 𝑥 ƒִ֗!reader. 𓈒𓈒 based on an anon- request.
𓏸 5k ╱ 𝓶. list
The city doesn’t sleep.
That’s something you’d thought was romantic, once -back before you understood what it meant to be a part of it. Back when the skyline from your trainee dorm window felt like a promise instead of a deadline.
Now the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your shared apartment just mean it’s late, you’re only just getting home, and the ache behind your eyes has graduated into something with roots.
The elevator ride up is the quietest part of your day.
You count the floors. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. You lean your head back against the cold mirrored wall and close your eyes for exactly the length of the ride because that’s all you can afford.
Your reflection, when you accidentally glimpse it on the way up, is not something you linger on. The lighting in elevators is cruel to everyone, you remind yourself. It’s not just you.
It is, a little bit, just you tonight.
Twenty-eight
The doors open and you take off your long coat.
The apartment is lit when you push the door open, which means one of two things: you left a lamp on this morning in your rush out the door, or Jungwon is here.
Your keycard beeps. The door swings. And you know immediately, from the smell alone -something warm, something that takes you a second to identify as ramyeon, the specific brand he likes with the extra spice packet -that it’s the second one.
He’s not supposed to be here tonight. Schedule ran late at the Hybe building, he’d texted you around seven. Don’t wait up. You hadn’t, technically. You’d just also not come home until midnight.
You toe your shoes off at the entrance, set your bag down with more care than your body wants to give it, and pad into the living room in your socks.
Jungwon is on the couch.
He’s sitting up -not lying down, not asleep, sitting up -with his phone face-down on his knee and his jaw set in a way you recognize. He’s wearing the oversized grey hoodie you accidentally packed into your bag once and he reclaimed, sleeves pushed to his elbows, and he looks so stupidly soft that for a half-second you forget the expression on his face.
Then you remember.
“Hey,” you say, voice coming out rougher than you intend. You clear your throat. “I thought you had-”
“I finished early.” His voice is even. Not cold, exactly, but careful, controlled. “It’s twelve forty-seven.”
“I know what time it is.”
“Do you?” He looks at you then, really looks at you, and you watch something move behind his eyes that he doesn’t quite manage to keep off his face. His gaze tracks from yours down, a quick sweep -the slump in your shoulders, the way you’re standing slightly off-center, favoring your left foot because your right ankle has been unhappy since Tuesday’s choreography run. “When did you last eat?”
You open your mouth and he reads the pause before the words come out.
“When did you last eat y/n.”
“Jungwon-”
“Answer the question baby.”
The even tone is worse than anger. You’ve had this conversation before, fragments of it, but never quite like this -he’s never been waiting for you before. Never had hours of sitting in this quiet apartment with nothing but the city lights and his own thoughts to turn the worry into something with an edge.
“I had something around two,” you say. “I was going to eat after the evening run but we went long and then the vocal coach wanted to go over the bridge section again and by the time we finished it was already-”
“Ten hours ago.”
“Jungwon.”
“Ten hours.” He stands up. Not fast, not dramatic, just- unfolds from the couch and stands, he’s not much taller than you but right now the space between you feels significant. “You’ve been dancing for-” he stops, recalculates, shakes his head. “How long was the rehearsal today?”
“We started at nine.”
The muscle in his jaw moves.
“So fifteen hours,” he says. “Fifteen hours of rehearsal, on whatever you had at two in the afternoon, and you walked in here like everything was fine.”
“Everything is fine, I’m tired, it’s a comeback season, that’s how it-”
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharp, and he catches it, pulls it back, tries again. “Don’t do the thing where you make it sound normal.”
“It is normal. You know it’s normal. You’ve done this exact same thing, I’ve watched you do this exact same thing-”
“I know I have.” He runs a hand back through his hair, and you see it then -the tiredness under his frustration. “And I know what it looks like from the outside. When I watch you do it, it looks like-” he stops again. His hands drop to his sides. “It looks like you’re disappearing.”
The apartment is very quiet. Outside, far below, a car passes and the sound drifts up and away like smoke.
“I’m not disappearing,” you say, but your voice has gone smaller without your permission. “C’mon.”
“You’re limping.”
You hadn’t realized it was that obvious. “My ankle is-”
“You haven’t mentioned your ankle.”
“Because it’s not a big deal-”
“Have you iced it?”
The silence is its own answer. Jungwon exhales. It’s a long, slow breath, the kind that’s doing a lot of heavy lifting -anger going out, something more tired coming back in. He crosses the room in a few steps and stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell the fabric softener on his hoodie, and he looks at your face for a long moment like he’s reading something there.
“I’m not -I’m not trying to fight with you,” he says, quieter. “I want you to know that. I don’t want to fight.”
“It doesn’t feel like not fighting.” you shrug.
“I know.” He reaches up, slowly, like he’s giving you time to decide, and his thumb presses gently under your eye. You flinch -not from the touch but from what the touch finds, the tenderness there, the way even that light contact makes you aware of how tight everything has been all day. “You have a bruise forming.”
“Soeun accidentally smacked me during the lift section. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” His thumb doesn’t move. “You’re here, and you’re standing, and you came home, and I’m so glad you came home, but you’re not fine, and I need you to stop saying that word for tonight.”
Something cracks, very slightly, in the back of your chest. You don’t know if it’s the words or the way he says them- low and careful, like he’s aware of how thin the surface is right now, like he’s choosing each one with both hands.
“I can’t just fall apart because it’s hard,” you say. “There are four other people counting on me-“
“You can fall apart at home.” His other hand comes up and he’s cupping your face now, both palms, so gentle it almost hurts. “That’s what home is for. You can fall apart here. I’ll put you back together every single time, do you understand me? Every time. That’s not -it’s not a burden, it’s not too much, it’s just what I wanna do.”
Your eyes are burning. You hate that.
You’ve held it together through a fifteen-hour rehearsal, through your manager’s stress, through the vocal coach’s fifth correction of the same note, through the elevator ride, and it’s this- his hands on your face in your quiet apartment -that does it.
“Don’t cry, my love,” he says, and there’s a thin thread of something almost like humor in it, almost like tenderness, “you’re not in the shower yet.”
You blink. “What?”
“You’re going in the shower.” He says it like it’s obvious, like it’s already decided, and he drops his hands from your face and instead takes your hand, turns toward the hallway. “Come on.”
He leads you to the bathroom without another word, and you let him, which says more about the state of you than anything else. You’re not someone who gets led easily.
He knows this about you.
He leads you anyway, gently, like you’re something that might startle.
He lets go of your hand to reach into the shower and turn it on, before testing the temperature with the inside of his wrist the way he always does, he adjusts it and tests it again.
The bathroom fills slowly with steam, and the mirror begins to go soft at the edges as you stand by the door and watch him move around the small space with a quiet efficiency that makes something in you ache.
It’s your Jungwon, the only thing you’d trade your lifestyle for.
He gets your towel from the rack, sets it on the counter, folded and he finds your face wash on the shelf to put it within reach.
“Okay,” he says after a beat.
“Okay,” you echo, not entirely sure what you’re agreeing to.
He reaches out to take the hem of your outer layer -the thin dance jacket you’ve been wearing since this morning -and looks at you with the question in his face instead of his voice. You lift your arms and he pulls it off over your head, careful, before folding it once and setting it aside.
You think he’s going to leave then. You think he’s going to give you privacy, close the door on his way out, be waiting with tea or food or something sensible when you emerge.
Instead he reaches over his own shoulder, pulls his hoodie off in one motion, drops it on top of your jacket, and steps out of his sweats.
You stare at him.
“I’m getting in with you,” he says simply, like this is obvious, like this has always been the plan. “Don’t argue.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Task. You were thinking about it.”
You were. You close your mouth.
He waits. Gives you your space to change, turns slightly as if he’s never seen you naked before, finds something to look at on the middle distance of the wall as the steam is rising.
The room is warm and something about the whole arrangement -his patience, the mundane tenderness of it, the way he’s treating this like it’s not a significant thing even though it is -undoes the last careful knot you’ve been holding since nine o’clock this morning
The water is hot. Not scalding, but close -the kind of heat that reaches into muscle and makes demands, that tells your body it’s allowed to stop performing now, that the audition is over, that there is no one watching.
You step in first, the pressure hits your shoulders and you feel it physically, the way it lands, like something releasing a grip it’s had on you all day.
Then Jungwon steps in behind you.
He doesn’t say anything. He just slots in behind you, both of you under the spray, and his arms come around you from behind, crossing over your chest as he holds you.
His chin comes to rest at your temple, the same place it always finds, the water running down both of you in sheets, the bathroom is full of steam and the city outside is doing its relentless indifferent thing forty floors below.
In here it is just this -his arms, the heat, the sound of water - and that’s when you fall apart.
It doesn’t arrive with volume or with warning- that’s the thing about crying-. It arrives as a hitch in your breath, just one, and then your face crumples, then your shoulders, and then the sound comes out of you small and wrecked- nothing like the person you perform all day.
Jungwon holds tighter.
“There you go,” he says, very low, against your temple. “It’s okay. There you go.”
“I don’t know why I’m-“ your voice breaks cleanly in half. “I’m so tired.”
“I know.”
“I’m so tired and there’s still so much-“ another breath, jagged at the edges. “Three more weeks of this and we’re not even close on the second formation and my ankle won’t stop and I don’t-” you stop. The words dissolve before they get where they’re going. “I don’t know if I have three more weeks of this in me.”
“You do.” He says it without hesitation, firm and quiet. “You do, I know you do.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.” His arms adjust, one hand coming up to press flat against your sternum, and you can feel your own heartbeat under his palm, too fast, all adrenaline and no rest.
“I know exactly what you have in you. I’ve watched you do this. You always think you’re out and you never are.” A pause. “But you have to let yourself rest in the in-between. You have to come home and stop being her for a little while.”
“Her,” you repeat.
“The person you are on that floor. The one who doesn’t limp and doesn’t need to eat and doesn’t-” his breath is warm at your ear. “She’s incredible. She really is. But she’s not all of you, and I need the rest of you too. I need this part. The part that cries when it’s allowed to.”
You’re still crying. Quietly, the way you do everything when you’re too tired for performance -small and honest and not entirely in your control. You nod, and he keeps holding you like he doesn’t need an answer to know you’re honest.
“The forum posts,” you say, after a while, digressing. Your voice has cleared a little. “Did you actually see them?”
“Yes”
“And?”
“And nothing.” His chin presses slightly. “We’ve been careful. One blurry convenience store photo doesn’t end anything. It doesn’t even look like us.”
“If it gets bigger then what?”
“Then we handle it.” He says it the same way he said you do earlier -no hesitation, just certainty, the kind that isn’t naive, the kind that’s been thought about. “Together. We’ve already talked about what that would look like. We have a plan. You don’t have to carry that tonight too.”
You exhale, long and slow, and feel something loosen.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
“For what, baby?”
“For scaring you. For coming home like this.”
“Don’t apologize for coming home.” His voice is low and certain. “Never apologize for coming home to me. That’s the one thing you never have to apologize for.”
You bring your hand up to cover his, the one on your sternum, and his fingers lace through yours immediately, like they were waiting.
“You should have gone back to the dorm,” you say. But there’s no heat in it. It’s more like something you’re saying to have on the record.
“Probably.” You can hear the small warmth underneath it. “Didn’t want to.”
“Sunoo’s going to know you weren’t there.”
“Sunoo already knows everything regardless of where I sleep. It’s genuinely unnerving.”
The sound that comes out of you is not quite a laugh but it’s in the same family, you feel him smile against your temple when he hears it.
“There,” he smiles, soft. “There she is, my happy girl.”
“I’m still here,” you say, same as you always do.
“I know.” His thumb moves against the back of your hand. “Tonight you’re here and I can feel it. That’s what I needed.”
The water starts to cool, incrementally, the way it always does when you’ve been in too long, and Jungwon reaches past you to adjust the temperature without breaking the circle of his arms around you. He finds the warmer setting by feel, and the heat comes back as you close your eyes.
“We should wash your hair,” he says eventually, practical and soft.
“We?”
“I know you can do it alone.” He’s already reaching for the shampoo on the shelf, the one he knows by touch because he’s watched you use it a hundred times. “But i want to.”
You could argue but you don’t.
He’s careful with your hair the way he’s careful with things that matter to him, which is quietly and without announcing it.
His fingers work from the roots, he doesn’t rush, he doesn’t tangle, and you stand with your eyes closed and your head tipped back slightly and let him, which is perhaps the most honest act of trust you’ve performed all day.
He rinses it clean. Finds your conditioner without being told which one.
By the time he’s working it through the ends you’ve stopped crying completely, wrung out in the good way -the way that leaves space, the way that’s actually different from empty.
Your ankle throbs gently in the steam. Your shoulders have dropped three inches from where they were when you walked in the door.
“Your comeback is going to be incredible,” he says, while his hands work. Not a consolation. Just a statement of fact, the way he says things he believes. “The second formation is going to click. These things always click right before they need to.”
“You sound very confident for someone who hasn’t seen the second formation.”
“I’ve seen you work. That’s enough.” A pause. “Also Sunoo saw the rehearsal footage your member posted to the private channel and told me it looked good.”
“Jungwon.”
“He showed me without asking. I had no power over it.” he kisses the crown of your head.
You laugh this time, properly,it bounces off the tile walls and sounds so out of place and so exactly right that it surprises you both.
His hands go still in your hair for just a moment.
“I missed that.”
“It’s been one day.”
“One day too long.” Jungwon pecks your cheek.
He turns the water off eventually and reaches for your towel first -wraps it around you before he reaches for his own, which you notice and don’t comment on.
You dry your face and he towels his hair and you stand next to each other in the steamed-up bathroom, the mirror completely fogged over, both of you just shapes in it.
He finds the leave-in conditioner on your shelf and holds it up in question.
“Lower shelf,” you say. “The purple one.”
He finds the purple one. He stands behind you and works it through section by section, unhurried, while you watch the fog on the mirror slowly begin to clear, your outlines sharpening.
“Does it ever bother you?” you ask. “That we can’t -that it has to be like this. The secrecy.”
He meets your eyes in the mirror. The reflection is still slightly soft at the edges, both of you wrapped in towels in the warm bathroom, and he holds the look for a moment.
“Sometimes,” he says honestly. He’s always honest, which is one of the things you love about him, the way he won’t smooth something over just to make it easier.
“Not the way you mean, though. It doesn’t make me doubt it. It just -sometimes I want to be able to say something on a stage and have it be-” he pauses, searching.
“I want to be able to say I’m going home and have it mean what it means.”
“What does it mean?”
“You,” he says. “It means you.”
The back of your throat does the thing again. You look away first, at your own reflection, at the bruise forming under your eye from Soeun’s elbow, at the tiredness still written in your face even now, even washed and warm and held.
“I look terrible,” you say. “Your fans would probably make fun of you.”
“You look like yourself,” he replies. “After a fifteen-hour day. Those are different things. But you’re still the most beautiful woman there is.”
“Flattery.” you smile.
“Accuracy.” He drops a brief kiss to the top of your damp head, matter-of-fact. “Come on. I made ramyeon before you got home and it’s going to be sad if you don’t eat it.”
He’s added an egg.
Soft-boiled, not hard -the way you like it. Green onion from somewhere in the back of the fridge, fished out by someone who knows where you keep things because he’s been keeping things here long enough to have learned.
The broth is darker than the packet, which means he added something, soy sauce maybe, or the small pot of doenjang you have in the back of the cupboard that he figured out weeks ago makes everything better.
It’s in your favorite bowl. The ceramic one with the chip on the rim.
You sit on the couch in your softest clothes -his softest clothes, actually, the ones you’ve slowly adopted- and you eat, he sits beside you close enough that your knees touch but he doesn’t talk, because he understands that eating right now is also a form of rest and rest needs quiet.
You finish everything and when you set the bowl down, he takes it to the kitchen without being asked. He comes back with a glass of water and two of the small pain tablets you keep in the cabinet above the sink, which means he’s been paying attention to the ankle since you mentioned it, storing the information away, retrieving it now.
“I don’t need-“
“Tsk. Your ankle says otherwise.” He sets them on the cushion beside you and doesn’t make it a fight.
You take them.
He rearranges the cushions into something better -he’s been doing this for months, quietly optimizing the nest configuration of this couch, and it’s gotten genuinely good -and then he holds out one arm in the unambiguous way that means come here and you go, curling into his side, your head finding his chest, his arm settling around you like it’s relieved to be back.
“Your heart is slower,” you say.
“I’m not worried anymore.”
“Were you very worried?” you look up at him, nose nuzzling on his t shirt.
“Catastrophically,” he agrees, easy now that it’s past. “I had been sitting here since nine imagining all the worst possible scenarios-” he stops. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here.”
“What was the worst one?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Won.”
“Absolutely not.” His hand starts moving through your damp hair. “You’ll just feel guilty and then you’ll apologize and I’ll have to tell you to stop and we’ll be here for another hour.”
You consider this. “Fair.”
Outside, the city. Its relentless, indifferent, beloved lights.
Inside, this. His heartbeat and his hand in your hair and the lamp throwing everything in warm gold.
“The members know you weren’t at the dorm tonight?” you ask.
“I texted Jay. He covered.”
“Jay covered for you... how weird” you smile.
“Jay has been covering for me for eight months. Jay deserves a freaking gift.”
“And what does Jay want?” you ask, eyes on him.
“Honestly? I think he just enjoys the drama. He’s very invested in us as a concept.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“He has opinions about your group’s discography as well. Very specific opinions. He wanted me to pass them along but I refused.” he chuckles.
You smile into his chest. Feel him notice it, feel the small adjustment in his posture that’s really just him holding the moment.
“Jay also said,” Jungwon continues, quieter, “and I’m quoting, ‘tell her we’re rooting for the comeback.’ The members. Not just Jay. They’ve all -they know about the comeback date. They’re excited.”
You didn’t know that. You didn’t know they were paying attention.
“They’re going to be in the audience when you announce a tour,” he says. “Beomgyu texted me asking if he could -actually that was Beomgyu from TXT, different situation, he saw something on- whatever” he waves a hand. “The point is, people are rooting for you. Not just me. A concerning number of people, actually.”
“Concerning? You’re very nice.”
“Very. You’ve collected a lot of people who care about you. I don’t know how you managed it.”
“I have a good personality” you shrug, humble.
“Debatable.” But his arm tightens when he says it, and you feel the smile in his chest even if you can’t see it.
The lamp across the room is on its lowest setting. The city outside is beginning, somewhere at the edges, to approach the specific quiet of past-two-in-the-morning, the lull before it picks back up. Your eyes are closing without a decision being made.
“When’s your alarm baby,” he asks.
“Six.”
“I’ll be up first. I’ll have something ready.”
“You don’t have to Wonnie-”
“I know I don’t have to.” His voice is already softer, quieter, matching the room. “Go to sleep.”
“But you have practice?”
“Not until ten. I have time. Go to sleep.” His hand resumes its slow movement through your hair and your eyes close all the way and he says, softer still: “I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll be here.”
You believe him.
That’s the whole thing, really -the whole complicated, careful, city-lit thing you’ve built together in this apartment that officially belongs to only one of you.
You believe him.
All the way down, without reservation, in the place underneath the exhaustion, the bruise under your eye and the ankle.
So you sleep.
𓇢𓆸
At six, the alarm. His hand finds it before you fully surface, quiets it, and his arm is still around you and the apartment is pre-dawn grey and soft.
“Hey,” he says. Low. Morning-rough. “You have forty minutes before you need to move.”
“Mmh.”
“Forty minutes,” he repeats. “Sleep for thirty-five. I mean it.”
You sleep for thirty-eight. He lets you.
When you finally sit up he’s already in the kitchen, hair unstyled, in yesterday’s sweats, there are eggs on the stove -soft-boiled again, already peeled -toast, and the specific yogurt you eat before hard rehearsal days because it sits well.
When you leave he walks you to the door.
He holds your face in both hands -always both hands, always this -and he looks at you for a long moment like he’s checking something, making sure something is still in place, and whatever he finds there seems to satisfy him.
𓆩♡𓆪 bf! heeseung x reader; angst/ bit of fluff at the end
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
𓆩✧𓆪 you always thought your relationship with heeseung was unbreakable. he was your constant, the one who held you when the world got too loud. but when comeback stress turns into weeks of absolute silence, the miscommunication runs so deep that you both start to believe the other has already given up.
the silence inside the apartment was suffocating.
the kind that only happens when two people have run out of things to say.
heeseung was sitting at the kitchen island, his laptop open, the glow of the screen casting a sharp, blue light across his face.
he’d been staring at the same music production software for three hours but the timeline hadn't changed.
he was just clicking back and forth.
avoiding the space behind him.
you were across the room on the couch, the television playing some random sitcom on mute.
your chest felt tight.
a dull ache settling right behind your ribs, waiting for a shift, closure, something that you knew deep down would never come. yet hoping for the best anyway.
you’ve been together for four years, long enough to know the exact shift in his posture when he was pulling away, long enough to know that the sigh he just let out meant he was building a wall.
"are you going to bed soon?" you asked. you hated how thin your voice sounded.
he didn't look up from the screen. "in a bit. just need to finish this arrangement."
it was the same answer he gave yesterday.
and the night before that.
and the entire week before that.
every repetitive response felt like a door closing in your face with such gentleness you couldn't even be angry.
you felt a familiar knot twisting in your stomach. that quiet panic that told you you're slowly becoming invisible to the person who used to see you clearest.
used to.
you prayed not. not your hee.
he was the only one who saw you at your lowest, who held you when the rest of the world felt too loud. that one rare constant in a life that felt like an unpredictable maze.
he was the person who knew exactly how you took your tea when your chest felt too tight to breathe, the one who would silently drive you around the city for hours without demanding an explanation for your tears.
you had survived so much loss, left holding so many broken pieces of a life you were still trying to glue back together to this day, and he had been the glue.
the constant.
you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, looking at the space between the couch and the kitchen island. it felt like an ocean.
the disagreement hadn't started with a shout; it had started three weeks ago with a missed dinner, a forgotten anniversary plan, and a quiet, "it's fine, you're busy," that you didn't really mean.
you said it because you loved him.
since then it had been a slow painful slide into miscommunication.
your mind had spent the last 21 days spinning in circles, replaying old conversations. trying to pinpoint the exact moment the warmth drained out of the room.
you thought he was pulling away because he was losing interest; he thought you were being distant because you were tired of his schedule.
neither of you asked.
the uncertainty felt like a constant fever, leaving you ultimately exhausted and raw.
you stood up, the friction of the blanket against the fabric of the couch making a soft sound.
heeseung’s hand froze on his mouse, but he still didn't turn around.
the urge to say something, anything to make him snap out of it fought with the utter dread of hearing him confirm your worst fears.
your heart thumped harshly against your ribs. a frantic rhythm that made you feel dizzy.
"i'm going to sleep," you said softly. waiting for just a second to see if he'd ask you to stay.
"okay. goodnight," he murmured, his tone level. completely unreadable.
the utter lack of emotion in his voice made something break inside you. you walked into the bedroom, closing the door just loud enough for him to hear the click of the latch.
it was 2:14 am when the bedroom door finally opened.
the light from the hallway cut a sharp line across the bed before disappearing as heeseung closed the door behind him.
he moved in the dark with the familiarity of someone who knew every square inch of this space. but he hesitated before getting into bed. you caught it.
when he did lie down, he stayed on the absolute edge of his side. the mattress barely dipping under his weight.
you were awake.
staring at the wall, listening to the uneven rhythm of his breathing.
your throat felt dry, and your eyes burned from staring into the dark.
for four years, your bodies used to find each other automatically in the dark. now, the space between you felt deliberate.
the emptiness of the mattress between your bodies felt massive, like a barrier you weren't allowed to cross. your chest hurt with the sheer amount of effort of keeping your breathing steady so he wouldn't know you were crying.
"hee?" you whispered into the dark, unable to take the quiet anymore.
a long pause. you thought he might pretend to be asleep, but then he cleared his throat. "yeah?"
"are we okay?"
the question hung in the air. your stomach dropped, waiting for his answer.
heeseung shifted, the fabric of the sheets rustling. "why wouldn't we be?"
it was the wrong answer. it was the safe, defensive answer that closed the door before the conversation could even start. its the reason this started in the first place.
"because you haven't even looked at me in three days," you said, your voice cracking slightly. the built up frustration of the last month finally leaking through. "because you're here, but you're not actually here. you're just..."
you trailed off. you were at a loss for words.
he let out a sharp, frustrated breath, sitting up in the dark. "i'm working. you know how important this comeback is. i thought you understood that. you said you were fine with it."
"i'm fine with the work, hee... i'm not fine with the absolute silence," you turned around to face him, though you could only see the silhouette of his shoulders against the window light.
"you don't talk to me. you just assume i'm angry, so you stay away, which makes me think you don't care anymore. it feels like you're just waiting for me to leave."
"waiting for you to leave?" he repeated. his voice dropping to a strained whisper.
"is that really what you think? i stay away because every time i walk into the room, you look like you want to be anywhere else. it's like you're unhappy. i'm trying to give you space because i don't know what else to do. i feel like everything i do right now is just... wrong. i'm watching you look more and more distant, and i'm just trying not to make it worse."
the raw honesty of his words echoed through the room, cutting through weeks of built up hatred.
he thought you wanted space. you thought he was abandoning you.
you looked at his slumped outline, the weight of the last month finally crashing down on both of you.
the miscommunication had dug a trench so deep between you that you'd both given up trying to reach across it.
ultimately assuming the other had already let go.
"i'm not tired of you," you said, the tears finally slipping down your cheeks, silent and hot. you were far too exhausted to fight it.
"i was just lonely, hee. i missed you so much, and you felt so far away."
the silence returned. but it was a different kind of silence.
heeseung dropped his head into his hands, his fingers tangling in his dark hair.
his shoulders were tense.
shaking slightly with the weight of everything he’d been keeping inside.
"four years," he muttered into his palms, his voice thick with a sudden exhaustion.
"we've been together for four years, and i still managed to completely mess this up."
you sat up, the anger draining out of you just as quickly as it had arrived. leaving behind nothing but an aching need to be close to him again.
"you didn't mess it up," you said softly, breaking the distance between you and crawling across the mattress.
your fingers brushed his wrist and he flinched slightly before completely giving in.
he caught your hand, his grip almost painfully tight. he pulled your hand up, pressing his cheek against your knuckles.
"i'm just... so tired," he whispered, and you could hear the absolute sincerity, the sheer terror of losing what you’ve built, vibrating in his chest. "im just so tired of everything...but not you. never you."
he shifted closer, sliding across the deliberate distance he had kept all night until his forehead was resting against your shoulder delicately.
"i'm sorry," he murmured against your skin.
his hands wrapping completely around your waist now, pulling you into his lap until there was no space left between you at all.
"i'm sorry for being stubborn. for hiding behind my computer because it was easier than admitting i was overwhelmed. im so sorry for everything. please don't look at me like that again."
you slid your fingers through his hair, untangling the knots. simultaneously feeling the tension slowly melt out of him as you held him close.
"like what?"
"like you think i dont love you anymore," he said softly, his voice muffled against your neck.
he stayed like that for a long time, just breathing you in, his arms locked around you.
the cold vibes that had filled the apartment for weeks finally began to dissolve; replaced by the familiar warmth of his skin.
"i missed you too, baby," he murmured after a while, his voice gentle and full of relief. "so,so much."
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing away the damp trail of tears on your cheek before he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, not minding the slight dampness.
his fingers locked tightly with yours between your pillows.
he didn't let go of you for the rest of the night.
╰┈➤ : ̗̀➛ authors note: genuinely had sm fun writing thiss !! i think i like writing angst lmfao
𝐢𝒏𝐝𝐞𝒙 ✸ and everything that's funny, i wish i could tell to him / and sometimes, at a low point, i even wish for a tragedy / cause i know hе'd come over and take rеal good care of me / but that's just a thing that happens when my baby goes away
synopsis after yn lies to her trusting, sweet boyfriend, jay and ends up in a terrifying late-night encounter with three drunk men, he completely breaks. when he raises the question of breaking up, yn's world instantly shatters.
pairing neighbour boyfriend! jay x fem! reader
genre angst, hurt, comfort
word count 12.9k (i swear this was just supposed to be 2k...)
warnings mentions of bruising, yn getting hurt, catcalling, harassment. implications of jay having gotten into a fight earlier and a bruised hand. yn is fucking stupid but she has #real problems.
nessie note Hi.. so it's been a hot minute since i've written something so long but i had a spur of inspiration while listening to ms. rodrigo's new album (everyone go cry to it like YEST!!!) and oh my god.... i'm not kidding but this rlly hit a little close than usual HAHAHAH. i may have lowkeyuninely cried while writing the argument because she's so real (and stupid). ANYWAY. i hope i write again soon and until then, i hope you cuties enjoy this and do let me know whose side you have in the fights :p happy reading !!
the silence of the night was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic clicking of yn’s boots against the cold pavement.
this had been her reality for the entire week. a sudden surge in late night project deadlines had forced her into a grueling schedule, leaving her to commute back to the apartment complex at hours when most of the city was fast asleep. and every single night, she kept it a closely guarded secret from jay.
she knew exactly how he would react if he found out. he would immediately drop whatever he was doing, argue with her and fiercely insist on driving down to pick her up, no matter how exhausted he was from his own corporate workload. honestly, she just didn't want the hassle. the thought of him losing sleep just to play chauffeur made her chest tighten with guilt. plus, she had been trying to convince herself that the twenty-minute walk from the subway station was a good way to get her daily steps in.
but as she stepped out of the station's brightly lit exit and into the chilly night air, jay’s warnings about the sketchy neighborhood echoed in the back of her mind. he was right. at this hour, the streets looked entirely different—darker, emptier and far more unpredictable.
pulling out her phone, the screen illuminated her face, displaying the time: 2:17 am. right at the top of her lock screen sat a string of text messages from jay, delivered just five minutes ago.
from seongie 🐈⬛
just finished reviewing my presentation for tomm (i hate work)
heading to bed soon baby
u’re asleep, right? ness said ur light was out
i love you
text me when u’re up ❤️❤️
yn let out a heavy, guilty sigh. she had asked ness to lie for her, telling the guys she was already asleep in her room just to avoid jay checking up on her. shoving the unanswered phone deep into her coat pocket, she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and started walking, her pace fast and deliberate.
she tried to hum a cheerful tune to break the oppressive silence but her voice sounded small and fragile against the vast emptiness of the street. there wasn't a single soul around. not a passing car, not even a stray cat. tonight, the shadows stretching from the alleyways felt heavier, casting an eerie, suffocating blanket over the neighborhood.
suddenly, a loud, piercing vibration shattered the quiet.
yn gasped, her heart leaping straight into her throat as she practically jumped out of her skin. fumbling in her pocket, she pulled out her phone. the caller id flashed with a familiar name: ms. jennifer (wife).
with a massive sigh of relief, she swiped the screen and brought the phone to her ear. "oh my god, jen. you scared the absolute life out of me."
"serves you right," jen’s voice cracked through the speaker, sharp and laced with immediate exasperation. "where are you right now? don't lie to me, yn. i just walked past your bedroom and it's completely empty. ness told me what you two are pulling."
"i just left the station," yn admitted, lowering her voice as she passed a dimly lit convenience store that had already closed its shutters. "look, can you just stay on the call with me until i hit the main street? it’s... a little more eerie than usual out here tonight."
on the other end of the line, jen let out a long, heavy sigh that vibrated with deep frustration. "i'm staying on the line, obviously. but i am seriously losing my mind with you. i already yelled at you about this two days ago! walking that route alone at two in the morning is incredibly stupid, yn."
"i'm walking fast, jen, i'm fine—"
"no, you're not fine! you're being stubborn," jen interrupted, her tone turning dead serious. "do you have any idea what jay would do if he found out you were doing this? especially after what happened last week? he literally fought a guy for just talking about you. if someone actually approached you in the dark because you wanted to 'get your steps in,' he would lose his absolute mind. you need to tell him, or i will."
yn swallowed hard, jen's words cutting through her defensive walls. she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the dimly lit sidewalk behind her. the streetlamps were spaced too far apart, leaving large patches of pitch blackness between them.
"i know, i know," yn whispered, picking up her pace until she was practically power walking. "i feel terrible about lying to him. i just didn't want him to worry. he’s been under so much stress at the office with his dad and his hand is still healing..."
"jay would rather drive you with two broken hands than have you walking alone past those abandoned warehouses," jen countered bluntly. "you're treating his protection like it's a burden, yn. it's not. he loves you. let him take care of you."
"i will. i promise, after tonight, i’ll tell him the truth," yn said, her eyes locked onto the glowing intersection a block away. that was the main street. once she reached it, she would be under bright municipal lights and within sight of the apartment complex's security cameras.
but just as she passed a narrow gap between two brick buildings, the distinct sound of a loose plastic bottle shuffling against the asphalt echoed from the shadows.
yn froze for a fraction of a second, her breath catching in her throat.
"yn? what's wrong? why did you stop walking?" jen’s voice suddenly sounded sharp and alert on the phone.
"nothing," yn whispered frantically, her adrenaline spiking as she forced her legs to move even faster. "i think i just heard something. i'm almost at the corner. just keep talking to me, jen. please."
"i'm right here. i'm not hanging up. just keep moving, don't look back and get your butt across that main street right now," jen ordered, her voice firm and grounding.
yn didn't dare look behind her. she kept her eyes glued to the bright lights ahead, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. the eerie quiet of the sketchy neighborhood had never felt so menacing and for the first time all week, the crushing weight of her stubbornness hit her full force. jay hadn't been exaggerating and he definitely hadn't been trying to control her. he just knew how dangerous the dark could be.
breaking into a light jog, she finally burst through the shadow line and onto the well-lit pavement of the main avenue. the familiar, towering structure of their apartment building loomed just a hundred yards away, safe and secure.
"i'm on the main street," yn breathed out, her voice trembling slightly as she leaned against a lamppost for a brief second to catch her breath. "i see the building."
"good," jen sighed, the immense relief clear in her voice. "get upstairs right now and tomorrow morning, you are sitting down with jay and telling him the truth. because if you don't, i'm dragging him over to our apartment myself."
"yeah, yeah, i'm practically at the front lobby now. i'll see you in two minutes, mom," yn chuckled breathlessly into the receiver, trying to laugh off the lingering adrenaline as she slipped through the secure glass doors of their apartment building.
"don't 'mom' me, yn! i'm serious," jen snapped, though her tone softened with residual relief. "tomorrow. you talk to him."
"i will, i will."
yn hung up, leaning her head against the cool mirror of the elevator. but the next morning, when she saw jay standing in his kitchen, bathed in the warm morning light while making her a perfect iced americano, the confession died in her throat. he looked so peaceful. he looked so happy just to hand her the cup, pull her in by the waist and press a soft kiss to her forehead.
"have a good day at work, baby," he had murmured, his voice deep and raspy from sleep. "text me about lunch later."
she couldn't bring herself to ruin that peace. so, she "forgot." and then she forgot the next day. and the day after that.
for the next few days, yn pushed her luck to the absolute limit. the deadlines at her firm grew more demanding, pushing her exit times further and further into the dead of night. every single night, ness covered her ass, sending text messages to jay’s roommate, sunghoon, like ‘yn’s crashing early tonight, don’t let the guys make too much noise in the living room’ or ‘she’s already asleep jay, sorry.’
and poor, trusting, sweet jay bought her and ness’ words without a single shred of suspicion. he loved her blindly, trusted her entirely. every night, his responses to her brief, pre-written texts were filled with absolute devotion:
from seongie🐈⬛
sleep well, my girl
i love you so much
can’t wait to see your face tomorrow
reading them made a heavy, suffocating weight of guilt settle in yn's stomach. she hated lying to him. she felt terrible for taking advantage of his gentle, trusting nature. but as the days passed and she made it home safely each time, a false sense of security wrapped around her. ‘i’m doing fine,’ she reasoned with herself. ‘it’s just a few more days. no harm, no foul.’
until friday night.
it wasn't just late—it was touching 2:56 am. by the time the metallic screech of the last subway train echoed through the deserted station. yn practically dragged herself off the car. her feet were throbbing, a deep, agonising ache radiating from her soles up to her calves after a grueling 14 hour shift.
stepping out onto the street, the air was bitterly cold. she pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders and walked briskly, her eyes fixed on the pavement. she didn't even have the energy to hum tonight. all she wanted was to crawl into her bed and let her comforter warmth melt the exhaustion away.
she was exactly four minutes away from the safety of the well-lit main street when she heard it.
loud, slurred laughter. the harsh, metallic clink of glass bottles colliding.
yn’s breath caught instantly in her throat. her boots struck a sudden, silent halt against the concrete and she froze, her entire body locking up in sheer terror.
about fifty yards ahead, right under the dim, flickering light of a broken streetlamp, stood three men. they were swaying on their feet, passing a bottle between them, their voices loud and aggressive as they shouted nonsensical jokes into the empty night. they blocked the sidewalk entirely.
panic, cold and sharp, flooded her veins. ‘think, think, think,’ her mind screamed. she desperately scanned the dark perimeters, trying to remember if there was an alternate alleyway or a detour she could take. but this part of the industrial district was a grid of dead ends and locked chain-link fences. to go around meant walking ten minutes backward, back into the deep dark of the station.
her hands shook violently as she pulled out her phone. she speed-dialed ness.
ring... ring... ring...
"come on, ness, pick up, please," she whispered frantically, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.
“the subscriber you are trying to reach is currently unavailable—”
ness’ phone was dead or on 'do not disturb.' swearing under her breath, yn immediately tapped jen's contact.
thankfully, it didn't even ring twice before the line clicked open. but jen wasn't in a comforting mood. "yn, i swear to god, if you are calling me from the street right now, i am locking you out of the apartment. i am not entertaining this bullshit anymore. it is almost three in the morning and—"
"jen," yn cut her off, her voice barely a ragged, hyperventilating whisper.
the sharp, heavy sound of yn’s shallow breathing immediately caught jen’s attention. the irritation on the other end of the line vanished, replaced instantly by absolute alertness. "yn? what’s wrong? where are you?"
"jen... stay on the call with me. please. don't hang up," yn mumbled, her eyes wide as she watched one of the men ahead throw his empty bottle into the street, shattering it into a hundred pieces. "there are three men, up ahead and they're drunk. they're blocking the path to the main street."
"what?!" jen yelled, her voice echoing sharply through the phone. "oh my god, yn! i told you! turn around right now! walk back to the station, go inside where there are cameras and call jay! call him right now!"
"i can't go back, it's too far and it's dark," yn whispered, her voice trembling as she tightened her grip on her purse strap. she took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking legs. "i'm just... i'm just going to walk past them. i'll pull my hood up, keep my head down, and walk as fast as i can. they might not even notice me."
"are you INSANE?! do not do that!" jen shouted, panic turning her voice screechy. "yn, listen to me, do not walk past three drunk men in a dark alley alone! turn around! yn! yn!"
but yn couldn't listen. the sheer desire to just be home, combined with the terrifying reality that she was trapped in the dark, forced her feet forward. she stepped out of the shadows and began walking toward the light, her heart hammering a frantic, deafening rhythm against her ribs.
"yn, listen to me, turn back! do not walk past them!" jen’s voice was a frantic, tinny screech against her ear, but the advice came too late. yn’s boots were already striking the pavement, the sharp clack-clack-clack of her heels echoing off the brick walls with terrifying clarity.
she pulled her hood over her head, tucked her chin into her collar and forced a mask of absolute confidence onto her face. ‘just keep moving,’ she told herself, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm. ‘look like you belong here. look like you aren't afraid.’
for three agonising seconds, it seemed like her gamble might actually pay off. she pulled level with the three men, keeping to the absolute edge of the sidewalk near the curb. the heavy, sour stench of cheap alcohol and stale cigarettes hit her nose, making her stomach twist. one man was leaning heavily against a rusted chain-link fence, while another muttered something slurred to his friend. they didn't look up.
yn passed them. one step. two steps. three steps.
the glowing, neon-lit intersection of the main street was right there, just 15 feet away. a massive wave of relief washed over her, so intense it made her dizzy. she opened her mouth, inhaling deeply to finally breathe out a sigh and tell jen that she was okay.
but the clack of her heel hit a loose piece of gravel.
"yo! hey! look at this!" a loud, rough voice suddenly shattered the silence behind her.
yn’s entire body stiffened, her blood turning to pure ice.
"well, well. where are you going all by yourself, sweetheart?" another voice chimed in, louder this time, followed by the heavy, scraping sound of boots turning around on the asphalt.
she didn't look back. she didn't dare. she just lengthened her stride, practically breaking into a frantic power walk despite the sharp ache in her toes.
"hey! we're talking to you! why you walking so fast?" the voices were getting louder, closer, the slurred confidence in their tones shifting into aggressive amusement.
"jen..." yn whispered into the phone, her voice cracking, completely stripped of its earlier bravado. "jen, they noticed me. they’re calling out."
"keep walking, yn! run!" jen screamed on the other end.
on the other side of the line, jen didn't waste another breath arguing. the sound of her flatmate's sheer panic was enough to send her into survival mode. throwing her own apartment door open, jen bolted out into the carpeted hallway of the complex. she didn't care about the neighbors or the hour; she sprinted the few feet to the boys' door and began thumping on the heavy wood with her fist, loud and frantic.
bang! bang! bang!
"open the door! jay! sunghoon! open the damn door right now!" jen shouted, her voice echoing violently through the quiet corridor.
inside, the apartment was dark. jay had been lying awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake a strange, unsettling restlessness that had been bugging him all night. hearing the violent pounding and jen’s frantic muffled screams, he threw his sheets off and bolted out of his room, crossing the living room just as sunghoon, clad in sweatpants and looking completely disoriented, unlocked the deadbolt.
the door swung open and jen practically burst inside, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror. she didn't look at sunghoon. her eyes locked instantly onto jay, who stood in the middle of the room, his brow furrowed in deep confusion.
"jen? what the hell is going on?" sunghoon croaked, rubbing his eyes.
jen didn't answer him. she lunged forward, thrusting her phone directly into jay’s hand. "take it! it's yn! she's in trouble!"
jay’s confusion vanished in a fraction of a second, replaced by a cold, sharp dread. he raised the phone to his ear, his voice dropping into a low register. "yn? what's going on?"
the sound of jay’s deep voice filtering through the speaker hit yn like a physical blow. her stomach dropped through the floor. the crushing weight of her lies, her stubbornness and the terrifying reality of her situation all crashed down on her at once. she had wanted so badly to hide this from him, to protect his peace, to avoid this exact conversation.
but as the heavy, hurried footsteps of the men grew distinctly closer behind her, the fear completely overrode her pride.
"jay!" yn sobbed openly, the tears finally spilling over her cheeks as she abandoned all pretense of walking. she broke into a full sprint, the uneven pavement making her ankles wobble dangerously in her heels. "seongie, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, i lied to you."
"yn, calm down. breathe. where are you?" jay’s voice was laced with a terrifying, quiet panic. he was already moving, grabbing a hoodie from the back of the couch with his uninjured hand, his eyes dark and wildly alert as sunghoon immediately grabbed his car keys from the counter, sensing the emergency.
"i'm on the back street—the one by the old warehouses near the subway!" yn cried out, her breath coming in ragged, painful gasps as she ran. "i've been working late all week... i didn't want you to worry... but there are three men, jay! they're drunk.. and they're chasing me. they're right behind me."
behind her, a loud, mocking laugh echoed. "hey, look at her run! don't run, girl. we just wanna talk!"
jay heard the distant, male voice through the phone speaker.
the shift in jay was instantaneous and terrifying. a dark, primal fury washed over his features, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle ticked violently. the gentle, trusting boyfriend vanished, replaced by the man who would tear the world apart to keep her safe. he didn't lecture her. he didn't ask why she lied. none of that mattered right now.
"yn, listen to my voice," jay ordered, his tone drop-dead serious, echoing with an authority that brooked no argument as he booted his shoes on without tying them. "do not stop running. do not look back. stay on the line, i am coming right now."
he shoved the door open, sprinting toward the elevator with sunghoon right at his heels.
the pavement felt endless, a dark and treacherous stretch of cracked concrete and loose gravel. yn’s lungs burned, each breath cutting like a knife in the freezing morning air. the neon glow of the main road was tantalizingly close, just a few dozen yards away but behind her, the heavy, scraping sound of the men's boots was closing the distance far too fast.
"hey, slow down, sweetheart. why you gotta be like that?" one of the men yelled, his voice horribly close now, dripping with slurred amusement.
panic blinded her. yn pushed her legs harder, her chest heaving as she sobbed into the receiver. "jay, they're getting closer! they're almost—"
snap.
a sharp, agonising crack echoed in her leg as her heel caught a deep crevice in the sidewalk. the world tilted violently. yn let out a piercing, agonised shriek that tore through the phone line, her body collapsing onto the cold pavement. the raw pain in her left ankle was instantaneous, radiating up to her knee like liquid fire.
"yn! yn, talk to me! what happened?!" jay’s voice exploded through the speaker, completely stripped of its composure. the sound of his girlfriend’s visceral scream sent a wave of sheer, unadulterated terror through him. he was trapped in the passenger seat of sunghoon’s sedan, his knuckles white as he gripped the dashboard, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"my ankle—" yn gasped, tears streaming down her face as she scrambled backward on her hands and knees, dragging her useless leg behind her. she forced herself back up, leaning heavily against the brick wall of an abandoned storefront. she tried to take a step, but the moment she put an ounce of pressure on her left foot, her knee buckled. "jay, i can't walk! it hurts so bad, i can't move!"
"baby, listen to me, please," jay begged, his voice cracking, thick with an agonising mixture of helplessness and fury. hearing her cry in pain, so vulnerable and terrified, was tearing his soul apart. "you're so close to the main road, right? just drag yourself there, crawl if you have to. just get to the light. i’m almost there, yn. hold on for me, please, i'm begging you."
"sunghoon, drive faster! step on the damn gas!" jay roared, turning to his friend, his eyes wild and dangerous.
"i'm flooring it, jay! hold on!" sunghoon yelled back, gripping the steering wheel as he whipped the car around a sharp corner, the tires screeching violently against the asphalt as they tore toward the warehouse district.
the three men had easily closed the gap, their shadows stretching out and surrounding her against the brick wall. she was trapped, four minutes away from safety, completely incapacitated.
"look at that, she fell," the tallest one chuckled, stepping forward into her personal space. the heavy, sickening stench of cheap liquor washed over her. "see? you should've just talked to us from the start."
"get away from me!" yn cried out, her voice trembling but fierce as she slapped his hand away. she held the phone tightly against her ear with her other hand, using it like a shield. "don't touch me! move away!"
"come on, don't be like that," the second man slurred, reaching out to grab her arm.
"i said don't touch me!" yn screamed, kicking out with her uninjured leg, her heel catching the man squarely in the shin. he cursed, stepping back, which only seemed to agitate the third one.
through the open phone line, jay could hear every single thing. he heard the men's disgusting, patronising tones. he heard the rustle of clothes, the sound of her desperately fighting them off, and her shaky, broken voice crying out into the dark.
"please, just move away... leave me alone..." she begged, her voice shrinking as the three men closed the perimeter, cutting off any remaining escape route.
"yn! i hear them. we're turning onto the avenue now!" jay yelled into the phone, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "don't let them touch you. i'm almost there."
a blinding pair of high-beams cut through the darkness of the lane.
sunghoon’s sedan veered sharply around the final corner where the alley met the main road. the bright, halogen headlights illuminated the entire scene like a stage play: the three men looming over a terrified, crying yn, who was pinned against the wall, clutching her ankle, her face pale and streaked with tears.
before the car had even come to a complete, shuddering halt, jay had the passenger door open.
he didn't just step out; he exploded out of the vehicle. the restraint, the corporate professionalism, the calm-headed guy his friends always relied on—all of it vanished, utterly incinerated by the sight of his girl cornered in the dark.
"get the fuck away from her!" jay’s voice boomed through the empty street, a sound so raw and menacing it made all three men snap their heads around in surprise.
yn looked up through her tear-blurred vision, the blinding headlights framing jay’s silhouette as he charged down the sidewalk toward them. a sob of pure, overwhelming relief escaped her lips.
the men didn't even have time to raise their hands or utter a slurred threat. jay reached the first man in a matter of seconds. blinded by a week's worth of built-up worry and tonight's absolute terror, jay grabbed the front of the man’s jacket with his uninjured left hand, using his entire body weight to violently slam him against the nearest metal dumpster. the heavy metal rattled with a deafening crash.
"hey! what the—" the second man started, stepping forward but sunghoon was already there, slamming his car door shut and stepping into the fray, his face grim and furious as he grabbed the second guy by the collar to keep him away from jay.
jay didn't care about the others. his eyes were locked on the third man, who was standing closest to yn. the man took a step back, suddenly realising they weren't dealing with an easy target anymore.
"if you ever look at her, if you ever even think about breathing in her, or any girl’s direction again," jay hissed, his voice dangerously quiet as he stepped between the man and yn, his chest heaving, his dark eyes burning with a promise of absolute destruction, "i will personally make sure you never walk again. get out of here before i lose whatever sanity i have left."
the sheer, terrifying intensity in jay’s posture was enough. the men, realising they were outmatched and dealing with someone who was ready to kill to protect the girl, stumbled backward. the first man scrambled up from the dumpster and the three of them quickly retreated into the shadows of the alley, their slurred bravado entirely gone.
the moment the threat vanished, the dark fury left jay’s eyes, replaced instantly by agonising concern. he dropped to his knees right in front of yn, his hands trembling as he reached out to her.
"yn... baby, look at me," he breathed, his voice cracking as he gently cupped her face, his thumb wiping away her tears. "i’m here, you’re safe. you’re okay, baby."
jay didn't waste another second. slipping one arm securely beneath her knees and the other behind her back, he lifted yn effortlessly into his arms. she let out a sharp, muffled wince, her fingers clutching frantically at the fabric of his hoodie as she buried her face into his neck, her tears dampening his skin.
he carried her carefully to the suv, his jaw set in a hard, rigid line. sunghoon held the rear door open, his face etched with a mixture of anger and deep relief. jay slid into the backseat with her, keeping her gathered closely against his chest, refusing to let her go even for a second.
the moment sunghoon climbed into the driver's seat and threw the car into reverse, the suffocating silence inside the vehicle broke.
jay reached down, his fingers surprisingly gentle despite the rigid tension in his body, and carefully inspected her left ankle. even in the dim light of the moving car, the swelling was already visible, puffing up over the edge of her sock. the moment his thumb lightly brushed the side of her foot, yn hissed in pain, sobbing quietly against his neck.
something inside jay snapped.
the terrifying fear that had gripped him for the last twenty minutes suddenly curdled into pure, unadulterated rage. he looked up at her, his dark eyes freezing over.
"how long?" jay demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerously low, cold register that made yn shiver.
yn kept her face hidden against his shoulder, her shoulders shaking. "seongie, please..."
"i asked you a question, yn," jay interrupted, his tone completely devoid of its usual warmth. "how long have you been doing this? how long have you been walking home alone at fucking three in the morning?"
from the front seat, sunghoon glanced at the rearview mirror, his voice cautious. "jay, calm down. let's just get back to the apartment first. she's hurt."
"shut up, sunghoon," jay fired back, not taking his eyes off her. he gripped her waist a little tighter, his voice cutting through the quiet car like a knife. "look at me and tell me the truth. every single night this week, when ness said you were already asleep in your room... where were you?"
yn finally looked up, her eyes red, swollen and swimming with fresh tears. the anger in his face was terrifying, but it was the deep, underlying hurt in his eyes that made her heart ache.
"the whole week," she confessed in a broken whisper, a fresh sob escaping her lips. "every night this week. i was working late... i didn't want you to worry, seongie. i didn't want to bother you or sunghoon after your long shifts. ness was covering for me. i... i lied to you."
the admission hit jay like a physical blow to the chest. he stared at her, the cold rage instantly fracturing to reveal a profound, crushing heartbreak. he had trusted her blindly. every night, he had fallen asleep believing she was safe in her bed, sending her sweet messages, completely oblivious to the fact that she was walking through the darkest, most dangerous corners of the neighborhood alone. she had treated his protection like an inconvenience, keeping him in the dark while putting herself in harm's way.
jay didn't say another word. he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat, completely shutting down. the silence that followed was heavy and agonising. he kept his arm around her so she wouldn't jostle as sunghoon sped through the streets, but the warmth was gone. he was entirely checked out.
when the sedan finally jerked to a halt in the parking lot, jay moved like a machine. he swung the door open, lifted her back into his arms and carried her out of the elevator and down the hallway.
inside the boys' apartment, the front door was wide open. the lights were blazing, and the atmosphere was thick with anxiety. jen was pacing back and forth near the kitchen island, her face pale, while jungwon and sunoo sat on the edge of the couch, looking wide-eyed and terrified. jen had caught them up to speed when their two flatmates barged out of the house.
the moment the front door clicked, all three of them scrambled to their feet.
"YN!" jen gasped, rushing forward the second she saw jay step into the living room.
jay didn't look at jen. his expression was completely blank, his face an unreadable mask of stone. he walked right past her, his heavy steps echoing in the quiet room as he carried yn over to the main couch. he lowered her down onto the soft cushions with meticulous care, making sure her swollen ankle was elevated on an armrest, before stepping back.
jen immediately threw her arms around yn’s shoulders, holding her tight as yn buried her face in her best friend's shoulder, weeping softly from the lingering shock and the throbbing pain.
"oh my god, thank you," jen breathed out, looking up at jay with immense gratitude, her voice shaking. "jay, thank you so much for getting to her. i am so sorry, i should have told you sooner, i—"
jay didn't let her finish. he didn't acknowledge the thank you, nor did he look at jungwon or sunoo, who were watching him with hesitant, worried expressions.
"i'm getting the sprain gel," jay said flatly, his voice empty of any emotion.
without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked down the hallway toward the bathroom, his broad shoulders tense, leaving the living room in a stunned, uncomfortable silence.
he didn’t look at anyone when he walked back into the room with the first-aid kit and a tube of cooling sprain gel. kneeling on the floor by the edge of the couch, he gently lifted her swollen ankle, placing it onto his lap. his movements were incredibly precise and careful—he didn't want to cause her any more pain than she was already in—but there was a mechanical, detached coldness to his touch that made yn’s heart twist painfully.
he squeezed a dollop of the gel onto his fingers and began applying it to the bruised skin. the silence stretching between them was agonising.
without looking up from his task, jay finally spoke, his voice low and devoid of any warmth. "did you know?"
the question wasn't directed at yn. he was looking straight down, his eyes fixed entirely on her injured foot.
jen, who was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, swallowed hard. she felt a chill run down her spine at the sheer emptiness in jay’s tone. "jay... i found out a couple of days ago. i yelled at her, i swear. i told her she was being reckless and i told her to tell you tonight, otherwise i was going to—"
"but you didn't tell me," jay cut her off softly. he didn't raise his voice, didn't sound angry anymore. he just sounded incredibly, profoundly tired. "you knew she was out there in the dark, and you let her keep doing it."
"jay, i'm sorry," jen whispered, her eyes shining with genuine guilt. "i should have called you the second i found out. i shouldn't have let her convince me."
jay didn't reply. he didn't yell, he didn't argue, he didn't even sigh. he simply opened a roll of compression bandage, wrapped her ankle with expert precision, and fastened the clips. when he was entirely finished, he stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the couch.
"seongie..." yn reached out, her fingers brushing the hem of his hoodie, her voice cracking as a fresh wave of tears spilled over her cheeks. "please. talk to me. yell at me, do something. don't just ignore me."
jay didn't look back. he didn't even pause. he gently pulled his hoodie out of her grasp and walked down the hallway, the sharp click of his bedroom door closing behind him echoing like a gunshot through the quiet apartment.
the moment the door shut, yn felt as though the air had been violently sucked out of her lungs. her chest caved in, a sob tearing through her throat as she buried her face in her hands, her whole body shaking violently.
jen immediately moved to the couch, pulling yn into a tight, fierce hug. "oh, hon, i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry."
jungwon and sunoo, who had been sitting quietly on the opposite couch, exchanged worried glances before stepping closer. sunghoon knelt down near her good foot, his expression soft and comforting.
"yn, hey, listen to me," sunghoon said gently, waiting until she peeked through her tear-stained fingers. "he's just really scared. you have to understand, he was a complete mess when jen came thumping on the door. i've never seen jay look that terrified in my life. he's just processing everything."
"he's right," sunoo chimed in, leaning over the back of the couch with a sympathetic frown. "jay loves you more than anything. he's furious because he cares. he's just mad that you put yourself in danger and that he wasn't there to protect you from the start. give him a little time to cool down."
"no, you don't understand," yn wept, her voice muffled against jen's shoulder. she shook her head frantically, a dark, suffocating realisation settling deep in her gut. "it's not just that he's mad. i broke his trust."
jen pulled back slightly, wiping a tear from yn's cheek. "what do you mean?"
"you know how jay is," yn whispered, her voice trembling as she stared blankly at the dark hallway where his room was. "when we first started dating... we had this long talk. he told me the one thing he absolutely cannot tolerate is dishonesty. he made it so clear. he said he doesn't do a relationship without absolute trust and love. he told me that once trust is gone, there's nothing left to build on."
she let out a broken, ragged breath, fresh tears blurring her vision. "and i lied to him. for an entire week, i let him think i was safe. i made ness lie to him. every time he sent me a sweet text telling me he loved me and hoped i was sleeping well, i was hiding the truth from him. i broke his trust big time, jen. what if... what if he breaks up with me?"
the boys fell silent, the gravity of her words sinking in. they knew jay better than anyone. they knew that beneath his fiercely protective, caring exterior, he was a man of strict principles. he gave his heart completely but he expected total honesty in return.
jen squeezed her hand tightly, unable to offer a reassurance that didn't feel hollow. "just rest for tonight, yn. you're both exhausted and in shock. we'll figure it out tomorrow, okay?"
the transition from the boys' apartment back to her own was a blur of physical pain and emotional exhaustion. with sunghoon supporting her left side and jen holding her steady on the right, yn hopped painfully across the carpeted hallway. every slight bounce sent a sharp, throbbing reminder of her recklessness straight up her leg, but she barely felt it. her mind was entirely trapped in the room across the hall, locked behind a closed door.
they carefully guided her into her bedroom, easing her onto the edge of the mattress.
"thanks, sunghoon," yn whispered, her voice incredibly small, hoarse from crying. she looked up at him with pleading, bloodshot eyes, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her blanket. "please... can you just check on him? when you go back? just let me know if he’s okay. if he's even sleeping."
sunghoon let out a long, heavy sigh, his expression a mix of lingering frustration and deep sympathy. he rubbed the back of his neck. "i’ll check on him, yn. but honestly? don't expect much tonight. i’ve known jay since high school and i've rarely seen him shut down like this. he just needs time. focus on resting your foot, okay?"
once sunghoon slipped out, jen quietly helped her change into a pair of loose sweatpants, careful not to jostle the tightly wrapped bandage on her ankle. jen tucked her under the covers, pressing a gentle hand to her forehead.
"try to sleep, okay? i'm right next door if you need anything," jen murmured softly, turning off the main light.
but sleep never came. for the remainder of the night, yn stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows shift as the minutes ticked painfully away. every time she closed her eyes, she either saw the terrifying silhouettes of the three men closing in on her, or the cold, empty look in jay's eyes as he walked away. she didn't know which memory terrified her more.
the next morning, the physical throbbing in her ankle had subsided into a dull, manageable ache, but the anxiety in her chest had multiplied tenfold. unable to sit still any longer, yn threw off her covers. she refused the crutches jen had left by her bed, choosing instead to lean heavily against the walls, limping her way out of her apartment and across the hall.
when she pushed open the boys' front door, the apartment was uncharacteristically quiet. the morning sun streamed through the large windows, illuminating the kitchen where the boys were gathered around the island. jungwon was pouring juice, sunoo was scrolling on his phone and sunghoon was leaning against the counter.
jay was there, too. he was sitting on a barstool, dressed in his crisp work clothes, staring silently down at a plate of half-eaten food. the dark circles under his eyes made it clear he hadn't slept a wink either.
the moment the soft thud of her limping footsteps echoed into the room, the atmosphere instantly froze.
jungwon and sunoo looked up, their eyes widening with an uncomfortable, anxious tension. without a word, as if sensing the invisible wall of lightning about to strike, the three boys quietly shuffled out of the kitchen. sunghoon gave yn a tight, warning look that silently said tread lightly, before leading the younger boys down the hallway, leaving the two of them entirely alone.
yn swallowed the lump in her throat, taking a fragile step closer to the island, gripping the edge of the counter to take the weight off her bad foot.
"good morning," she whispered softly, her voice trembling.
jay didn't look up. he didn't even flinch. his hand gripped his fork a little tighter, his jaw clenching as he deliberately took another bite of his food, treating her presence as if she were nothing more than a ghost.
"seongie... please," yn begged, her heart shattering at the absolute ice radiating from him. "can we talk? just for a few minutes. please look at me."
jay didn't say a word. he methodically finished the last bite on his plate, set his fork down with a loud, deliberate sound and stood up. he picked up his plate and turned toward the sink, completely bypassing her as if she weren't even standing there bleeding her heart out.
desperation flared through her. forgetting the pain in her ankle, yn lunged forward and grabbed his right wrist—his uninjured hand. her fingers gripped him tightly, her touch warm against his skin, begging for any sign of the man who had held her so fiercely the night before.
"jay, please! don't do this to me," she cried out, the tears she had been holding back all morning finally spilling over her cheeks. "yell at me! tell me i was stupid, tell me i ruined everything, but please don't just walk away from me again. i can't handle the silence. we need to talk about this."
jay froze. for a long, painful second, he just stood there, his back turned to her, his chest heaving under his ironed dress shirt.
slowly, deliberately, he turned around.
when his eyes finally met hers, yn’s breath caught in her throat. there was no anger in his face. there was no fiery fury like the night he fought for her. there was only a profound, hollow exhaustion and a deep, crushing sorrow. he looked at her hand gripping his wrist and then looked up into her tear-stained face.
he didn't pull away, but his voice, when he finally spoke, was a low, chilling whisper that cut deeper than any shout ever could.
"do you honestly think there is anything left to talk about, yn?"
"seongie, i—"
"no, listen to me," jay interrupted, his voice cracking slightly, the raw hurt finally bleeding through his stoic mask. "for a whole week, i went to bed thinking you were safe. i sat in this exact kitchen, typing out messages telling you how much i loved you, how much i wanted you to rest well. and the entire time, you were walking through the dark alone, putting yourself in danger and making everyone around me lie straight to my face."
he gently, but firmly, pried her fingers off his wrist, stepping back to create a physical distance between them that felt miles wide.
"you know exactly who i am, yn. i told you from day one that i don't know how to love halfway, and i don't know how to be in a relationship where i can't trust the person i'm coming home to," jay said, his dark eyes shimmering with unshed tears as he looked at her bandaged foot, then back at her face. "you didn't just break a rule, and you didn't just make a mistake. you broke my trust. big time. so tell me... when the foundation of everything we built is cracked, what exactly do you want us to talk about?"
the words hung in the sterile, morning air of the kitchen, heavy and suffocating. jay stood just a few feet away, but to yn, the distance felt like a yawning chasm. his words ‘what exactly do you want us to talk about?’ sliced through her defenses, leaving a raw, bleeding ache in her chest.
her heart didn't just drop; it felt as though it were physically breaking, fracturing under the weight of his hollow gaze. her hands, completely empty now that he had pried them from his wrist, trembled violently at her sides. she gripped the edge of the marble countertop just to keep her balance, her knuckles turning white as her injured ankle throbbed in protest. but the physical pain was a distant noise compared to the absolute terror seizing her soul.
she looked up at him, her vision completely blurred by a fresh cascade of tears, her lips shaking as she forced herself to give voice to the one question she had been running from since the moment he locked his bedroom door the night before.
"what... what do you mean by that, jay?" she whispered, her voice cracking so violently it was barely audible. she took a tiny, aching step forward, swallowing the sob rising in her throat. "please, don't say it like that. you're speaking like... like we're already over. are you—are you breaking up with me?"
jay didn't answer immediately. he closed his eyes, his head dropping slightly as he let out a long, ragged breath through his nose. the question seemed to physically weigh on his broad shoulders. when he opened his eyes again, the profound sorrow in them was devastating.
"i mean exactly what i said, yn," jay replied, his voice terrifyingly quiet, devoid of the passionate fire she was so used to. "i don't know how to navigate this. i don't know how to look at you right now and not feel a complete, overwhelming wave of fear and betrayal."
"it was just to protect your peace!" she cried out, the defense bursting from her lips in a desperate, frantic rush. she reached out again, her hands hovering in the space between them, terrified to touch him but desperate to close the distance. "i swear to you, seongie, it wasn't because i didn't care about your rules or your trust! i saw how stressed you were with work. i saw how much pressure your dad was putting on you at the office, and your hand was still broken and bruised from the party! i felt so guilty. i felt like a burden. i just thought... if i could just get home quietly, if i could just manage it on my own for a few days, you wouldn't have to carry my weight too."
"your weight?" jay echoed, a sudden, sharp spike of emotion breaking through his icy exterior. he stepped forward, his eyes locking onto hers with a sudden, fierce intensity that made her gasp. "you think your safety is a burden to me, yn? is that really what you think of me?"
"no, i didn't mean it like—"
"for three years, i have built my entire life around making sure you are taken care of," jay interrupted, his voice finally rising, cracking with the sheer volume of his suppressed hurt. "every late night i work, every meeting i sit through with my dad, every single choice i make is so i can build a future for us. i don't care about a long drive. i don't care about losing an hour of sleep. i would have crawled on my hands and knees to that station to pick you up if you had just asked!"
he gestured vaguely toward the hallway, toward the reality of the lies that had spun out of control. "but instead of trusting me to be your man, you chose to keep me in the dark. you actively constructed a lie. you had ness text me every single night telling me you were safe in bed. do you have any idea what that feels like? to look back at this whole week and realise that while i was falling asleep feeling happy because i thought you were warm and safe, you were actually out there, running for your life in the dark?"
yn covered her mouth with both hands, her shoulders shaking violently as a choked, agonising sob escaped her. "i'm sorry... i'm so sorry, jay..."
"when i heard you scream over that phone line last night," jay continued, his voice dropping back down into a raw, trembling whisper, his own eyes finally glistening with unshed tears, "my heart stopped. i have never felt fear like that in my entire life. i thought i was going to lose you. and the worst part? the absolutely crushing part, yn? it wouldn't have been because of a freak accident. it would have been because you chose to lie to me."
he stepped back again, the momentary flare of anger dying out, leaving him looking completely defeated. he adjusted the cuff of his dress shirt, the mechanical movement a stark contrast to the emotional wreckage in the room.
"you broke the one thing i told you i could never afford to lose," jay said softly, looking away from her because looking at her tear-stained face was tearing him apart. "you took my trust, and you threw it away for a week's worth of convenience. so when you ask me what i mean... i mean that i don't know how i'm supposed to look at you and believe a single word that comes out of your mouth tomorrow. and without that, i honestly don't know what we have left."
the silence that followed his words was suffocating, but instead of crushing yn, it ignited something raw and desperate inside her. the sheer terror of losing him cracked wide open, pulling up a deeply buried truth she had never fully admitted to herself, let alone to him.
"you want to know what we have left? then listen to me, jay!" yn shouted, her voice breaking violently as she let go of the counter. she stood entirely on her own two feet, ignoring the blinding flash of pain in her ankle because her chest was practically combusting.
jay froze, his broad shoulders tensing as he slowly turned his head to look at her.
"i told you i didn't want to burden you and that’s true, but it’s so much deeper than that," she cried, her hands trembling as she gestured wildly between them. "i hid it because i felt so fucking useless, jay! every single time i have to lean into you for the stupidest, most basic things—like just getting from work to my own apartment—a part of me feels completely pathetic. i knew i could call you. i knew you would drop everything and drive over with a smile on your face. but that’s exactly the problem!"
jay’s brow furrowed, his eyes darkening. "how is me, wanting to keep you safe, a problem, yn?"
"because i have spent my entire life trying to be independent!" she yelled back, tears streaming hot and fast down her face. "before i moved here, before i met you, i had to figure things out on my own. i had to be strong. but with you... i know you’re always there. i know you love me. but you also unknowingly treat me like a child, jay! you protect me so much that it feels like you're wrapping me in bubble wrap, and i just... i needed to know that i could still do something by myself. i needed to know i could handle my own life, even if it was just something as stupid as walking home alone at three in the morning."
"are you serious right now?" jay asked, his voice dropping into an incredulous, dangerous whisper. he took a step toward her, his face twisting in absolute disbelief. "you risked your life, you let three drunk men corner you in a dark alley, just to prove a point about your independence?"
"i know how stupid it sounds!" she sobbed, burying her face in her hands for a brief second before pulling them away, looking at him with fierce, raw vulnerability. "i know it was reckless! but i was just so sick of feeling like i couldn't survive without you. if i wasn't dating you right now, jay, i wouldn't have a boyfriend with a car to text. i wouldn't have anyone to call. i would have to walk that route by myself anyway. i would have to face those dark streets alone. so what is the difference? why does me dating you mean i suddenly have to give up all my agency and act like i can't walk down a street without a chaperone?"
the words echoed violently against the kitchen tiles. yn was panting, her chest heaving as she let out the bitter resentment and insecurity she had kept bottled up for months.
jay stared at her, the shock on his face slowly hardening into a cold, profound realisation. the anger in his eyes didn't flare up; instead, it dimmed into something much worse—an absolute, heartbreaking detachment.
"what's the difference?" jay repeated her words, his voice so quiet, so deadly calm, it made the hairs on her arms stand up. he let out a bitter, breathless laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "you're asking me what the difference is?"
he walked up to her, stopping a mere inches away, towering over her. but there was no warmth, no protective instinct in his posture now. just a cold, hard wall.
"the difference, yn, is that those other girls walking alone don't have a man at home whose entire world revolves around them," jay said, his voice trembling with a terrifying restraint. "the difference is that if something happens to a stranger on the street, it's a tragedy. but if something happens to you, my entire life is over. that is the fucking difference."
he leaned down slightly, his dark eyes boring into hers, piercing right through her defenses.
"you think i treat you like a child because i want to pick you up from a sketchy train station? that’s not me treating you like a child, that’s me loving you. that’s me doing what a man is supposed to do for the woman he intends to marry," he whispered, the word marry landing like a heavy, painful anchor between them. "but you want to talk about agency? you want to talk about what you would do if you were single? fine. if being with me makes you feel that suffocated, if my protection makes you feel 'useless,' then maybe you shouldn't be dating me."
yn’s breath hitched, her heart stopping completely. "jay, no, that’s not what i—"
"no, you made yourself very clear," jay interrupted, his voice completely flat as he stepped back, cutting off the space between them once again. he grabbed his car keys and his wallet from the counter, his movements completely steady now, a chilling contrast to the emotional wreck she was. "you wanted to know what it felt like to handle things on your own. you wanted to know what it was like to not have to worry about my trust or my rules or my care. congratulations. you get to figure it out."
he didn't look at her tears. he didn't look at her bandaged foot. he walked right past her, his heavy steps echoing through the living room.
"jay! wait, please!" she cried, turning around to follow him, but her ankle buckled immediately, forcing her to grab the back of a barstool to keep from crashing to the floor.
the violent, echoing thud of the front door closing seemed to reverberate through the very walls of the apartment, leaving behind a silence so absolute it felt heavy enough to suffocate.
yn stood frozen, her fingers gripping the fabric of the barstool so tightly her knuckles were stark white. her breath hitched in her throat, her chest heaving as she stared at the empty space where jay had stood just seconds ago.
for a moment, she tried to force her body to move. she wanted to throw the door open, to sprint down the hallway, to catch the elevator doors before they closed. she wanted to scream his name until her lungs burned, to tell him that she didn't want a life without his protection, that she was sorry, so incredibly sorry.
but the moment she shifted her weight, a white-hot flash of agony shot up from her left ankle, completely blinding her. her knee gave out instantly. the world tilted and a sharp, ragged gasp left her lips as she began to fall toward the hard kitchen tiles.
before she could hit the ground, multiple pairs of hands caught her.
"whoa, whoa—i got you, yn. hold on," sunghoon’s voice cut through the fog of her panic, his strong arms hooking under her armpits to bear her weight.
jungwon was right there on her other side, his hands steady against her waist, his sweet face etched with profound worry. together, they carefully guided her onto one of the padded kitchen chairs before her legs could give out entirely. sunoo quickly pulled up another chair, gently lifting her bandaged leg to rest on it, his cheek puffed slightly as he looked at her tear-streaked face.
the boys had heard everything. the apartment walls were thick but the sheer, raw volume of their desperation and heartbreak had carried straight down the hallway. they had stood in the quiet of the back rooms, chests aching, feeling entirely helpless as they listened to the foundation of their best friend's relationship fracture into pieces. they knew they had no right to step into a private argument but hearing jay's voice break—hearing him speak with a cold, hollow detachment they had never heard from him before—had deeply shaken them. they knew exactly what jay’s words meant. jay didn't make empty threats. when he shut down, he shut down completely.
"hey, look at me. breathe, okay? just try to breathe," jungwon murmured softly, kneeling beside her chair and gently rubbing her trembling shoulder.
but yn couldn't breathe. the physical ache in her leg was entirely eclipsed by the crushing, hollow emptiness expanding in her chest. the energy drained out of her body all at once, leaving her completely hollowed out and weak. she slumped forward, her forehead resting against jungwon's shoulder as a broken, choked sob finally tore out of her throat.
once the dam broke, there was no stopping it. yn wept with a violent, agonizing intensity that shook her entire frame. she cried for the terrifying fear of the previous night, for the exhaustion of the grueling week, but most of all, she cried for the immense, catastrophic loss of the man she loved.
sunghoon stepped closer, his heavy hand resting on the back of her head, pulling her into a protective, brotherly embrace as she sat there, broken on their kitchen floor.
"i didn't mean it like that, sunghoon," she choked out between ragged, gasping breaths, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. "i don't want to be without him. i don't want to figure it out alone. i just... i was so stupid. why did i say those things to him?"
"shh, i know. we know," sunghoon said softly, his voice thick with emotion. he exchanged a grim, heavy look with jungwon over her head. "you were scared and you were defensive. we get it, yn."
"he's never looked at me like that before," she sobbed, her voice cracking as a dull, pounding migraine began to throb behind her temples from the hours of crying. "his eyes... they were so cold. do you think he's really done? is he really going to leave me?"
sunoo sat on the floor near her feet, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he reached up to squeeze her hand. "jay is just hurt right now, yn. he's incredibly hurt. when he loves, he gives one hundred percent of himself. so when he feels like that love isn't trusted, it breaks him. he just needs to breathe."
"but he said... he said i threw his trust away," she whispered, her head aching so violently she had to squeeze her eyes shut, leaning heavily into sunghoon's chest. "and i did. i lied to him every single day. i made him feel like a fool for caring about me."
"you made a mistake," jungwon said firmly, his voice grounding as he looked up at her. "a really big one, yeah. but jay doesn't stop loving someone overnight. he drove like a maniac to get to you last night, yn. he fought for you. right now, he's just angry and suffocated by the fear of what almost happened to you. let him walk it off."
the day dragged on like a slow, agonizing torture. back in her own apartment, yn sat on the edge of her bed, her phone glued to her palm. every ten minutes, she would type out a message, delete it, rewrite it, and finally send it with trembling fingers.
to seongie🐈⬛
seongie please call me baby please
i’m so sorry i didn’t mean any of it
i don’t feel suffocated by you
i was just scared and stupid
please just let me see you
even if you’re mad, just let me see you
each message suffered the exact same fate. a few minutes would pass, the status would change to read, and then... nothing. just a cold, crushing silence. he was seeing them. he was reading her desperate pleas but he wasn't answering.
by the time the sun began to set, casting long, melancholy orange shadows across the hallway of their floor, yn couldn't take it anymore. ignoring the strict instructions from jen and ness to keep off her feet, she limped out of her apartment.
she stood in the carpeted corridor, leaning her back against the wall directly outside the boys' apartment door. her left ankle was throbbing aggressively, a dull, hot pain radiating up her leg from standing for so long, but she didn't care. she refused to sit down. she needed to be the very first thing he saw when he finally came back. she needed him to know she wasn’t running away from the mess she had made.
it was past 8:00 pm. when the quiet chime of the elevator echoed through the hallway.
the doors slid open and jay stepped out. he looked completely exhausted. his hair was slightly messy, his tie was loosened around his collar and his jacket was slung loosely over his shoulder. the moment his eyes landed on her slumped against the wall, a sharp flicker of frustration and worry crossed his face, breaking his stoic mask for a split second.
he strode over, stopping a few feet away, looking down at her wrapped ankle. "what on earth are you doing?" jay demanded, his voice rough and laced with tired irritation. "why are you standing out here on that foot? did you completely lose your mind?"
yn ignored his question entirely. the moment she saw his face, the dam broke all over again. she took a fragile, stumbling step toward him, her hands reaching out to clutch the fabric of his shirt.
"i'm sorry," she sobbed, the tears instantly blurring her vision. "jay, i'm so, so sorry. i wasn't thinking when i spoke to you earlier. i was just defensive and i said the most horrible, stupid things. i don't want to be single, jay. i don't feel suffocated by you. i love your protection. i love that you care about me. please don't look at me like i'm a stranger."
jay looked down at her hands on his chest, his jaw clenching tightly. he let out a heavy breath, his voice dropping into a flat, rigid tone. "i am not doing this out here. i am not having this conversation in the hallway for the whole building to hear, go inside."
"NO!" yn cried out stubbornly, tightening her grip on his shirt, her head shaking frantically. "i’m not going into the house."
jay’s brow furrowed in annoyance. "yn, stop being ridiculous. go inside and sit down."
"no, because if i go inside, you’re just going to walk away from me again!" she yelled softly, her voice thick with panic. "you'll lock yourself in your room or you'll leave the apartment and you won't look at me. i'm staying right here until you talk to me."
jay stared at her, a profound, weary sigh escaping his lips. he looked at her pale face, her red-rimmed eyes and the way her left leg was visibly shaking from bearing her weight for too long. despite the deep fracture in his trust, the sight of her in pain was still something his body physically couldn't tolerate.
without another word, jay slung his jacket onto his shoulder, stepped forward and swept her off her feet.
yn let out a small gasp, her arms instinctively flying around his neck. even now, in the middle of their worst fight, his arms were strong, secure and completely unyielding. he kicked the front door open with his boot, carried her into the living room and bypassed the boys—who were sitting silently at the kitchen island, watching with bated breath.
jay walked straight to the long couch, carefully lowering her onto the cushions. he reached over, grabbed a throw pillow and placed it beneath her swollen ankle to elevate it, his movements fast and entirely mechanical.
the moment he finished, he straightened his spine, turning on his heel to walk toward the hallway that led to his bedroom. he was shutting down again.
"jay! no, wait please!"
yn lunged forward from the couch, completely disregarding the sharp stab of pain in her leg. she reached out, her fingers catching his right hand just as he was about to step away. she gripped his fingers, squeezing them with every ounce of strength she had left, her tears falling fast onto the fabric of the sofa.
jay froze in his tracks. he didn't pull his hand away but he didn't squeeze back either. his hand felt heavy, still, and completely cold in her grasp. he stood with his back to her, his head tilted downward.
"please, seongie, i'm begging you," she cried, her voice cracking into a broken, desperate whisper that echoed rawly through the quiet living room. "look at me. just look at me for one second. don't go into your room."
"yn, let go," jay said softly, his voice dangerously calm, though his shoulders trembled slightly.
"i won't. i can't," she sobbed, pulling his hand closer to her chest, trying to ground him to her. "i know i broke your trust. i know i was reckless and that i lied to you for a week. it was the worst thing i've ever done and i hate myself for making you feel like your love was a burden. but please don't give up on us. tell me how to fix it. tell me what to do to make you trust me again. i'll do anything. i'll call you every hour, i'll quit the late shifts, i'll do whatever you want. just don't leave me."
a heavy, suffocating silence descended on the room. in the kitchen, sunghoon, jungwon and sunoo sat completely frozen, their hearts breaking for the sheer desperation in yn's voice.
slowly, jay turned around.
when he looked down at her, the sheer amount of unshed tears in his dark eyes made her heart stop. his face wasn't angry; it was entirely shattered.
"you think this is about me wanting to control your schedule?" jay asked, his voice cracking, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down his sharp cheekbone. "you think i want you to call me every hour to prove something to me?"
"no, i just—"
"i don't want a puppet, yn," jay whispered, his voice trembling with a profound, raw ache. "i wanted a partner. i wanted the girl who looked me in the eye three years ago and promised we would face everything together. i don't want you to change your life because i'm forcing you to. i wanted you to want to protect our peace just as much as i do."
he slowly knelt down on one knee in front of the couch, bringing himself to her eye level, though he gently, agonizingly loosened her grip on his fingers until he was just holding her wrist.
"you told me this morning that if you were single, you'd have to walk that dark road alone anyway. you asked me what the difference was," jay said, his voice dropping into a hollow, broken whisper. "and that's what's killing me, baby. because it means that even after three years of me giving you every single piece of my heart... in your mind, you are still completely alone. you haven't actually let me in."
the raw honesty of his words seemed to strip away the very last of her defenses. yn stared at him through a heavy veil of tears, watching the single drop trace the sharp line of his jaw. hearing him say that she hadn't let him in—that in her mind, she was still completely alone—felt like a mirror being forced in front of her face. it was a terrifyingly accurate reflection of a flaw she had buried so deep, she hadn't even realised it was poisoning the very thing she cherished most.
she didn't try to pull her hand back. instead, her fingers trembled against his wrist, her grip softening into something entirely exposed and fragile.
"i don't know how to do that, seongie," she admitted softly, her voice barely a breathy whisper that seemed to falter in the space between them.
jay’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes searching hers, looking for the meaning behind the sudden shift in her tone. the anger in the room had completely dissolved, leaving behind a heavy, tragic vulnerability.
"what do you mean you don't know how?" jay asked, his voice rough and quiet.
"i don't know how to let someone all the way in," yn sobbed quietly, a fresh wave of tears spilling over her cheeks. she lowered her head, unable to maintain eye contact with the sheer amount of love and hurt in his gaze. "you are the center of my world, jay. you have been since the moment we fell in love. but... i don't know how to help myself. i don't know how to exist in a space where i’m allowed to just have problems and expect someone to stay."
she swallowed hard, her chest heaving as the truth finally poured out of her, unedited and ugly.
"every single choice i made this week—every lie i told, every time i made ness cover for me—it was because i only thought about you," she cried, looking back up at him, her eyes pleading for him to understand the warped logic of her fear. "i thought about how hard you work. i thought about the pressure from your dad. and i thought... if i tell him i'm stuck at the office until two in the morning, he’s going to get in his car. he’s going to tire himself out. he’s going to burden himself with my stupid schedule."
"yn..."
"no, let me finish, please," she begged, her grip tightening on his wrist. "i was terrified, jay. i am always terrified of giving you a reason to realise that i have too many problems. that my life is too messy. that caring for me takes too much out of you. i can barely live with myself most days. i look at all my anxieties, my stress, my exhausting hours and i don't even know how i'm supposed to handle it. i don't know how you do it, either, but you do. you do it effortlessly and you love me through all of it."
she let out a broken, ragged breath, her shoulders shaking violently as she laid her entire soul bare at his feet.
"i was just so scared of ruining what we have," she whispered, her voice cracking into a devastating, raw confession. "i thought that if i brought too much of my mess into your life, you’d wake up one day and realise i’m not worth the hassle. so i did everything i could to protect your peace. i handled the dark streets, i handled the late hours, i handled the fear—because in my mind, if i suffered quietly, you got to stay happy. i didn't realise that by trying to save you from my mess, i was breaking the one thing that kept us together."
jay didn't move. he remained on one knee in front of the couch, his dark eyes fixed entirely on her face. the words she had just spoken seemed to echo through him, systematically dismantling the cold, detached wall he had spent the last twenty-four hours building against her.
he had been looking at her actions through the lens of betrayal, thinking she didn't value his protection or his trust. but hearing her admit that she felt so fundamentally unlovable—that she was treating her own safety as a currency to buy his peace—made his heart ache with a completely different kind of pain.
slowly, the tension left his shoulders. the rigid, stone-cold posture evaporated. jay let out a long, shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob and before yn could say another word, he closed the remaining inches between them.
he didn't just hold her hand; he reached up, his large, warm palms cupping her face entirely, his thumbs wiping the hot tears from her cheeks with a desperate, fiercely tender intensity.
"you absolute idiot," jay breathed out, his voice cracking violently as his own tears finally broke free, blurring his vision. he leaned forward, pressing his forehead firmly against hers, his breath hitching. "you stupid, beautiful, absolute idiot."
"seongie..."
"how many times do i have to tell you?" jay whispered fiercely, his grip on her face tightening just enough to ground her. "i don't love you because you're perfect, yn. i don't love you because your life is neat and convenient. i love you. the mess, the late hours, the anxieties—all of it. i took on your weight the day i asked you to be mine and i have never once thought it was too heavy."
he pulled back just enough to force her to look into his eyes, his gaze burning with a raw, undeniable truth.
"do you really think my peace comes from you suffering in the dark?" jay asked, his voice shaking with a profound emotion. "my peace is walking through that front door and seeing you safe on the couch. my peace is knowing that whatever storm is hitting your life, i am the one holding the umbrella over your head. when you hide your problems from me, you aren't protecting my peace, yn. you're starving me of my purpose."
yn let out a loud, choked sob, her hands flying up to wrap around his wrists, holding his palms against her face as if her life depended on it. the crushing weight of the breakup she had been anticipating suddenly lifted, replaced by the overwhelming, healing warmth of his grace.
"i'm sorry," she wept, her nose bumping against his as she clung to him. "i'm so sorry for lying to you. i promise i won't ever do it again. i'll tell you everything, even the stupid things. even when i think i'm a burden."
"you are never a burden, baby," jay swore, his voice dropping into a low, fiercely protective rumble. he shifted his weight, sliding onto the couch beside her and pulling her entirely into his lap, mindful of her bandaged ankle. he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face deep into the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of her body wash that had been entirely missing from his day.
"if you don't know how to let me all the way in, then i'll teach you," jay murmured against her skin, his strong arms tightening around her until there wasn't a single shred of space left between them. "we'll figure it out together, step by step. but no more secrets, baby. no more walking in the dark alone."
"no more secrets," yn promised, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder as the final remnants of her exhaustion took over.
in the kitchen, a collective, silent sigh of relief swept over sunghoon, jungwon, and sunoo. the suffocating tension that had gripped the apartment since the previous night finally dissolved, replaced by the quiet, steady rhythm of two people rebuilding their foundation.
Slowly, Jay’s subconscious mind began to register the noise.
“Eh!” Taesan let out a grunt as he climbed up the bed. “Daddy! Daddy! Wake up!”
Oh, no. Jay groaned internally. Just ignore him.
“Daddy!” Taesan shook his dad’s shoulder.
If I just ignore him, he’ll go away.
But Taesan wasn’t ready to let go. “Daddy!!” He whined louder. “You promised we’d go to the zoo today!”
Jay grumbled lowly, “hm… Taesannie… it’s too early…” he buried his face into the pillow and pulled the blanket over him.
“But you promised!” Taesan pulled the blanket from him.
“I didn’t promise.” Jay’s voice was rough and sleepy.
“Yes, you did!”
“No…”
“Yes!”
Jay grumbled lowly, pulling the blanket over his head again. “Gimme 5 minutes.”
“No! I wanna go now!”
“Taesan…”
“Daddy.”
Silence fell over the bedroom.
Nice. If I just don’t respond to him, he’ll leave.
“Daddy?” He peeked through a small gap, laying his head on Jay’s pillow.
“Daddy?” He whispered. “Are you sleeping?”
“Mhm.” Jay confirmed, eyes closed.
“Really?” Taesan lifted the blanket up to look at his daddy better.
Jay responded with fake snores. Taesan laughed, “you’re not sleeping!”
Jay’s comical snores got louder. Taesan’s laughter warmed his heart. “You’re not sleeping!” He repeated, “you’re pretending, daddy, I know!”
“Daddy’s sleeping.” Jay murmured in between snores causing Taesan to giggle even more. “You’re not! You can’t talk when you sleep!”
“Hmm…” Jay rumbled, “daddy can do it… daddy can do everything…” he covered his eyes with his arm, trying to find a way to rest even if his son won’t let him.
Taesan pouted, “daddy, zoo!”
“Hmm… 5 minutes… give daddy 5… minutes…”
“Okey…”
Suprise flickered on Jay’s face. He lifted his arm a little to peek at his son.
Wow. He’s sitting on the bed and is waiting like a well behaved, good boy. His heart fluttered at the cute sight. An affectionate smile appeared on his face. He was so cute waiting for his daddy like that.
•
•
•
“Done?” Taesan whipped his head to Jay to which he quickly covered his eyes. “Noo… 5 minutes are not over yet, baby.” Jay rarely called his son baby, but right now, at that moment, it felt just right. Taesan was his cute little baby. A little big now but still his baby.
“Oh- okey…”
“Now?”
“No, you need to count till-“ he paused, quickly doing the math with his sleep-fogged brain, “300.”
“300??”
“Mhm.”
“But that’s so many.” He pouted.
“Then you better start counting, baby.”
“No!” A sudden burst of energy filled him. He stood up on the bed and pushed Jay’s blanket off. “Get up! Get up! Get up!”
Jay moaned in a dizzy haze.
“Daddy! Now! Zoo! Zoo! Zoo!” Taesan pulled his arm and huffed at the weight, “up, daddy, up!”
He then took his hand, pulling him with all his strength. “Daddyyyyy!!!”
“Taesannie…” Jay murmured.
Taesan puffed, his daddy wasn’t budging at all. He clasped his daddy’s cheek with his tiny hands. “Wake uuuppppp!!!”
No reaction.
“Daddy?” He carefully lifted Jay’s eyelid with his thumb. Jay bursted out in laughter, “what are you doing??”
Taesan giggled, a little flustered, “I was just checking.”
Jay pulled his son down in his arms, snuggling him against his chest and pulling the blanket over them in one smooth motion. “Daddy, no! No sleep time!”
“Yes, buddy, sleep time.” He nuzzled his face in Taesan’s hair, “oh? You took a bath?” He asked, noticing the damp hair.
“Yes! Mommy said I should shower twice a day because it’s soooo hot! In the morning when I wake up and in the evening before bedtime!”
Jay hummed sleepily, “that’s smart. Mommy always says the smartest things.“
Taesan wiggled out of his arms, “let’s tell mommy!”
“What?”
“That you said that she always says the smartest things!”
Jay understood his attempt immediately and suppressed a smile, “you just want me to get out the bed, don’t you?”
Taesan giggled, “noooo~”
Jay reached out his hand to tickle his tummy, “you’re not sneaky. You can never trick your old man.”
His son giggled louder, his hands slapping Jay’s hand away, “stop!”
“You’re right, I should stop and sleep.” Jay turned on his side and covered himself with the blanket. “What?? Daddy. No!” Taesan immediately lifted the blanket up.
“Daddy had a long week, buddy. Let me sleep,” he protested without any real effort.
“No! I wanna.” He pushed the blanket completely to the side, revealing Jay’s body clothed in underwear only.
“Go.” He climbed on his naked torso.
“To.” He clasped his face in his hands.
“The zoo!” And wriggled his head.
And Jay let him do whatever.
“We will go.” Jay answered after a while of being shaken.
Taesan straightened up, “really??”
“Tomorrow.”
“DADDYYYY!!” Taesan’s shoulders slumped, “no! You said today!”
“I changed my mind.” Jay gazed at him lovingly yet tiredly.
“But you promised!” Taesan wrapped his short arms around Jay’s neck, nuzzling his face there. Jay patted his back. “I didn’t promise. I said we’ll see.”
“No! You said promise!” Taesan argued.
“No, buddy. I didn’t-“ he tried to explain calmly.
“Yes, you did! Yesterday, when we were eating dinner, you said ‘I promise, Taesannie, we will go to the zoo tomorrow and compare your neck size to the giraffes’! You really really said that! Believe me! I’m not lying! See! My nose isn’t long.” He pointed at his own nose.
Jay paused. Hm. That really sounded like him.
“Where are our girls?” Jay tried to subtly change the topic.
“Taking a bath.”
Jay brushed Taesan’s hair lovingly, “your mother takes care of you guys so well. She works so hard.” He murmured absentmindedly.
Taesan supported himself on his broad chest, “mommy says that about you, too.”
Jay’s heart melted, “yeah? She says that about me?”
Taesan nodded, “she says ‘oohhhh~~ daddy works so hard for us, and we should always respect him and take care of him and always shower him with love because he does so much for us’!”
Warmth spread in Jay’s chest, partly filled with affection, partly filled with guilt. He shook his head a little, blinking his eyes repeatedly, “that’s not true. She’s the one who does so much for us.”
Taesan, being the 5 year old little guy he was, wasn’t able to register the emotional weight of his daddy’s words and just shrugged his shoulders, “i don’t know. I wanna see the lions!”
He began to bounce on him, “zoo! Zoo! Zoo!”
Jay groaned, “Taesannie…”
Taesan stood up on his wobbly feet, Jay’s hand immediately shot up to support him.
“Zoo! Zoo! Zoo!” He jumped around on the bed as if it was a trampoline, accidentally stomping on Jay’s hand and stomach. “Zoo! Zoo! Zoo!”
Jay closed his eyes, his head spinning at the noise. Still somehow, he was enjoying it. His son’s noise made him happy.
“No, dad!” Taesan pulled his arm, “no sleepy time!”
Jay’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes still closed, “what did you just call me?”
Taesan giggled, knowing exactly what he did, “I meant daddy.” As he continued to giggle, he went to the end of the bed and lifted Jay’s leg. Well, it was way too heavy for him so Jay helped him a little.
“Up! Up! Up!” He bounced on the spot, leg in his arms. Jay grunted tiredly.
Suddenly, a bubbly little sound filled the room. “Uh- uh- uh!”
Father and son whipped their head at the sound.
There she was, the light of his life. Well, one of three. But definitely his cutest one.
Chaehee squeezed through the ajar door, crawling on all fours.
“Chae-chae!” Taesan called as he continued to bounce on the mattress. “Daddy is not waking up!”
“Bleb!” Chaehee babbled, supporting herself on the bed frame. She mimicked her brother’s movements, bouncing on the spot.
“Daddy, zoo! Zoo! Zoo!” Taesan continued with his chant, still holding on Jay’s leg and bouncing around.
“Oo! Oo! Oo!” Chaehee mimicked.
Jay rubbed his face with a frustrated laughter. “I can’t believe you guys…” he muttered to himself.
His mind wandered back to the days when he able to sleep as much as he wanted without getting interrupted. Those were the days… just him waking up to the most beautiful and peaceful view (you) after a stressful week.
But as much as he wanted to sleep in, his heart couldn’t help but squeeze at the current sight. He would always trade a peaceful morning with this. This was exactly what he needed after a stressful week.
“Zoo! Zoo!”
“Oo! Oo!”
Chaehee’s little, chubby hands grabbed at the sheets, whining and huffing. She wanted to join, but she was too tiny to climb on her own.
“Da!” She called for Jay. His eyes softened, “Help your sister, Taesannie, she wants to join us.”
Taesan hopped towards the side, kneeling on the bed to grab her arms and pull her up. He huffed, she whined. And just as she was about to lay on the mattress, his grip on her loosened. But luckily, due to his dad reflex, Jay quickly reached out his hand to help her up.
She immediately crawled towards him, babbling in her baby language. Taesan began to jump again which caused Chaehee to wobble and fall on the soft mattress multiple times. But Jay’s hand was hovering in the air the whole time, ready to protect her.
Just before she reached him, she tried to stand up, even admits the bouncy earthquake. If Jay could describe her with two words only, it would be fearless and bold.
Her shaky legs tried to straighten up, her squishy hands reaching out for him. “Da!”
Jay smiled at her with soft love in his eyes, “yes, princess, you’ve got this.” His tone was soft and high pitched, a tone he always used towards cute little creatures.
“Ba!” She babbled.
Plopp. Her bum landed on the mattress as she failed her mission to stand. She reached out for him, tiny body bouncing along Taesan’s commotion.
Jay pulled her in his arms and kissed her squishy, round cheek. “Good morning, my little love.”
“Da!” She giggled, drool forming on the corner of her mouth. He wiped it with his thumb, “did my princess take a bath? Hm?” He kissed her head, her hair damp and slightly curling at the end.
She suckled her thumb and shuffled closer to him, ultimately lying down beside his head. “Hmm… daddy missed you, too.” He kissed her nose, his hand wrapped around her tiny body, pulling her closer to himself. His other hand caressed over her dress, “you’re already dressed up? Hm? My baby looks like a real, pretty princess. So beautiful,” he smooched her round cheek, “so pretty.”
She giggled and hid her face in his neck. His heart swelled 10x bigger.
“Chae-chae!” Taesan knelt down beside her, “do you also wanna go to the zoo?” He asked as if she’d understand him. But for some reason Jay couldn’t explain, she did understand her brother. Maybe it was some sibling thing, but they always talked with each other in a way no one — not even the parents — could understand.
She nodded, “Oo!”
“I knew it! Look daddy! Even Chae-chae wants to go to the zoo!”
“Buddy, she doesn’t even know what the zoo is.”
“Yes, she does! Right, Chaechae?”
Little Chaechae cooed in agreement, “oo!”
Taesan took it as a confirmation to continue his bouncy protest, “zoo! Zoo! Zoo!”
Here we go again. Jay sighed internally. He really didn’t want to go out today.
Taesan grabbed Jay’s ankle, his jumps intensified, causing Chaehee to wobbly bounce on the mattress. Jay’s hold tightened around her a little body, but she had other plans. Through huffs and puffs, she started to climb on Jay. On his face, to be more specific.
She crawled over his face, her dimpled hands reaching out for the headboard. One tiny foot settled on the pillow, and the other— oof, right on his face. “Princess-“
But the world was too bouncy for her, so she plopped on his face right after. She huffed, climbing up once again. Her tiny foot now on his collarbone. Boing. She fell backwards on his chest, her feet flaring up and kicking against his nose and lips.
And Taesan? Taesan was determined to go to the zoo today. He wanted his dad to get up, now. And what did he always do in order to gain attention from his dad? Of course! Pull at his shirt! So what else could he pull when his daddy wasn’t wearing anything except for his underwear? Exactly! His underwear-!
“Daddy, let’s go-!”
“No-!” Jay quickly held onto his underwear within the speed of light. “Taesan-!”
“Chaehee!” He choked right after as the little one used Jay’s neck as a stepping stool. His hand flew to her chunky foot, her other foot landing on his eye right after.
“Kids-!”
No one was listening. He became a victim in his own house.
“What’s going on here?” You entered the bedroom, hands working on your earring.
“Mommy!”
“Bleh!”
You chuckled at the sight.
“Good morning, honey.” You laughed as you pulled Chaehee away who only whined for a short moment in your arms.
Jay sighed softly, a hand reaching out for a morning kiss which you gladly gave him. “Morning, love.”
Chaehee copied you, tiny lips wanting to kiss her daddy too as her chubby hands reached for him through a soft whine. Jay took her back in his arms, kissing her head and letting her kiss his cheek.
“You saved me, honey.” Jay huffed as he nestled Chaehee on his chest.
You laughed, “I’m glad.”
“Mommy!”
You hummed as you searched through your vanity drawer. It’s only then when Jay realized that you were also already dressed up, wearing makeup, even your hair was done.
“Daddy is not getting up!”
You hummed once again, “he will, honey, he just needs a little time in the morning, you know how he is.”
Taesan slumped over Jay’s legs, groaning.
Jay’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in suspicion. His hand tapped on his daughter’s back.
“Why are you looking so pretty?”
You giggled, “what do you mean? I thought I always look pretty.” Jay’s eyes widened in panic, “no! I meant why are you-“
You shook your head with a smile, applying lipgloss over your tinted lips, “I’m kidding, baby.” You turned around, shrugging your shoulders shyly, “it’s a little too much for the zoo, isn’t it?”
Jay’s eyebrows shot up. Huh?
“I guess I just wanted to make myself look a little nicer than usual, since… you know, it’s been a while you had a day off.”
“Daddy said we’re not going to the zoo.” Taesan announced dramatically.
Surprise flickered on your face. “Oh.”
Shit. Now he felt so guilty.
Jay sat upright, causing both of his children to fall off his body due to the sudden movement. “No, we can go!”
Chaehee climbed back on his lap as if nothing happened.
“Why don’t you wanna go?” A subtle pout formed on your shiny pink lips unconsciously as you sat on the bed beside him.
“He said he had a long week!” Taesan answered for him, frustrated, “he only wants to sleep all day!”
You nodded, “I see…”, rubbing your husband’s leg affectionately. “It’s okey, honey, you should rest.”
“No! He promised! He promised yesterday when we ate dinner! Do you remember, mommy?”
You looked at Jay, pursing your lips.
The guilty feeling spread out in his chest like wildfire.
Oh.
“Taesannie, it’s okey, daddy will take us to the zoo next time, okey? He’s tired from work, we should let him rest. How about we go to the park instead, hm?” You brushed Taesan’s hair.
Jay shook his head firmly, “no, honey, I’m fine. You’re already dressed up and got the kids ready, too. We should go.” He sat Chaehee on the bed and stood up.
You glanced up at him, “Jay, it’s totally fine. We can do this another time. You worked a lot the last weeks, you should rest. I’ll take the kids out.”
“No way.” Jay stood in front of you, his tousled hair and only underwear-clothed body a stark contrast to your put-together, styled appearance.
“Gimme 5 minutes.” He kissed your forehead, clasping your face. Then he leaned down to kiss your lips, your lipgloss transferring over on his lips.
“Are we really going??” Taesan stood up in disbelief.
Jay hummed, quickly pressing a kiss on his babygirl too as he went to your closet.
“Are we going because I told you??”
“Yeah… of course, buddy,” he passed by and ruffled Taesan’s hair, “and because your mother is just way too pretty to deny her anything she wants.”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚ ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
In another universe, Jungwon would be Jay’s child lol
summary: in which the truth hardly matters but all jungkook wants is to let somebody (you) love him.
idol!jk x afab!reader / fluff, angst / word count: 4k
warnings/content: jungkook gets a fever :(, he’s still keeping oc a secret but he js wants to love and be loved u guys </3, he’s stressed out and overwhelmed with work, he gets horny at one point lmao, oc is having doubts </3 and is a gem we must protect their happiness now!!
< in which masterlist
note: as always lmk ur thoughts :,) i miss talking to u all so much! + comment/send an ask if u want to be added to the taglist <3 i may have missed some the last time !!
—
as much as it disappoints him, jungkook is not invincible. the hood of his jacket wasn’t enough to shield him from the pouring rain, his hair leaving a trail of raindrops on the hallway leading to your apartment door. he anticipated the usual noise of your television, but the living room is empty. he walks into the bedroom and to no surprise, you breathe some warmth into his freezing heart.
you toss aside your headphones aside on the desk, standing up in alarm. “you’re dripping all over my floor!”
he shyly smiles, lifting up the plastic bag he’s carrying. “i brought the chicken.”
you stomp towards your annoyingly cute boyfriend and push him outside your bedroom, stumbling along with him. “get out of those clothes and take a shower, now!”
—
half an hour later, jungkook steps out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. you don’t spare him a glance, hyperfocused on the highlighted terms on your textbook and mentally cursing whoever decided on the font size. you simply point at the bed, where you laid out some clothes for him.
“you have no underwear here,” you tell him.
“oh, that’s right…” he chuckles. “i don’t leave any behind. i don’t want my girlfriend washing my dirty underwear.”
he steps into his sweatpants, pulling it up until his crotch is covered before removing the towel. he debates on whether to wear the shirt or not, then decides that it’s probably best for him to stay warm after getting himself rained on.
“so your dick’s just going to be swinging around tonight then?”
“i guess so!” he trudges to your chair with a grin and rolls you away from the desk. you groan as he traps you in his embrace, crushing the book and your folded knees between your torsos. “worst six days of my life. i missed you so much.”
“i missed you too,” you sigh, relaxing into his arms. you sneak a kiss on his warm rosy cheek. “let’s go eat so you can drink medicine. don’t want you getting sick.”
“school is giving you a tough time, huh?”
you should’ve known jungkook wouldn’t let you get away that easily. not until you’re breathless from his tickling attack, anyway. the thick book falls on the floor with a thud, but your own laughter is loud on your ears and it is the last thing on your mind. your attempts of defending your neck and your sides from jungkook’s fingers are fruitless. you’re not even sure if you’re actually that ticklish or jungkook simply makes you happy.
you look at jungkook with teary eyes, sniffling and catching your breath, but you’re smiling for the first time today.
“there it is,” he mumbles, hooded eyes admiring your face.
“i’m going to kick your ass!”
he just laughs and shakes his head at your attitude, finding it adorable, before kissing you. if the tickling didn’t work, this method has for sure succeeded in making you melt. his arms keep you steady on your chair and your hands grip at his shirt, pulling him closer as if that was still possible when his tongue is already in your mouth.
—
the chicken and kimchi fried rice have gone cold by the time the two of you got around to opening it, but nobody complained. you sat on the living room floor, turned on the television, and feasted on the midnight meal. jungkook thinks it’s worth it to have waited eating his dinner because he’s having it with you.
“i think it’s the first time i witnessed a professor not care about a student sleeping in class,” you recount the events of the previous days. “i get that it’s insulting, but also, i don’t think anyone actually decides that they’re going to sleep in class? for one, those chairs are uncomfortable!”
“i don’t see a point in embarrassing them, either,”jungkook agrees, plastic glove producing a crinkling sound as he chooses another piece of chicken from the box. he’s been purposely leaving out the drumsticks for you. “we’re all struggling, aren’t we…? do you want more rice? you can have some of mine.”
you only shake your head in response. you have more than enough. “how about you? how have you been sleeping?”
“me? well… it’s been a bit hard for me. i keep thinking about the tour even when my eyes are closed. there’s so much to prepare for,” jungkook sighs, shoulders heavy with worry and responsibility.
the scale of their work is only getting larger and the stakes are getting higher. it’s incredible to see how far they’ve become, but sometimes he looks around and everything and everyone is unfamiliar and it terrifies him. he wishes he could put it into words properly, speak his mind eloquently. he should be happy, and he is, but there is still this unease that feels almost permanent. there was once a time when making his debut as a member of bts and appearing on national television for the first time was the greatest achievement of his life. as jungkook’s dreams are getting higher and higher, is he developing a fear of heights?
“don’t get hurt, got it?” you send him a pointed look. “i won’t be able to go there. i’ll die worrying about you.”
“i mean,” he smiles toothily. “if you’re that worried, you’re free to come see me.”
you instantly snort upon hearing his invitation. in this universe?
“what will they do? fire me?” he acts cool, but he’s trying not to be mad and think about the ridiculous demands of being an idol.
“oh, as if!” you concede with a laugh. “then all seven of you would have to leave.”
“huh, that’s right. do they want us to renew the contract or not?” he puffs his chest and crinkles form at the corners of your eyes.
“the commercials are over!”
you’re so excited when it comes to your reality tv shows, he can’t help but to watch you instead. you and your cheeks full of rice and your mouth stained with sweet and spicy sauce. he just casually carries on eating his meal, because it might be too soon for him to say what’s on his mind. he doesn’t want to scare you off with the intensity of his emotions or make you carry some of the weight that comes with the life he chose. but for fuck’s sake, he truly believes that he deserves this. he deserves to be happy.
he wants to relate to all the love songs and the romantic comedies, and if god forbid you end up breaking his heart, then he will drown himself in sad songs and do whatever stupid things real people do like drunk text and regret deleting your photos during the anger stage of grief. maybe he will finally get it together and release a mixtape, make everything painfully obvious and never explain himself instead of lying through his teeth. goodness, he is in love with you. he’s been in love with you since that one night in november, when you sat down on the other end of the bench outside mj’s music box and offered him your homemade granola bar. there is no one else in the world who can have his heart beating out of his chest with the gaze of their eyes alone.
—
jungkook must’ve been dreaming of you.
“jungkook, who’s that?”
he squeezes his eyes shut not long after opening them, struggling to adjust to the light. the exertion of his sore muscles somehow makes his head a thousand pounds heavier. the room feels cold, but for some reason he feels beads of sweat forming on his forehead. what the fuck? is he actually fucking sick?
“oh? sorry, okay. i won’t ask.”
“what is going on?”
“lie back down, jungkook,” he hears the familiar voice of his manager. the man from earlier, the doctor he assumes, mumbles in agreement. “take it easy. you have a fever.”
jungkook collapses on the bed with a frustrated groan, hands coming up to his hair as the intensity of his headache hits him. he can feel the warmth radiating from his own skin. this can’t possibly be happening. he could’ve sworn that he felt completely fine yesterday. he thought he actually managed to escape from the rain unscathed.
perhaps he is too cocky for his own good.
“jungkook-ah?” seokjin bursts through the door. “you’re awake already?”
“hyung!” he cries out in distress. “how could this happen to me?!”
“what do you mean ‘how’? you carry everything in that gigantic bag of yours except an umbrella!”
yes, okay, i’m sorry, i know, i will next time— jungkook mindlessly replies on a loop as his jin-hyung assists him in getting properly dressed and freshened up. washing his face makes him feel a little bit better, but that meant being more aware of the needle piercing his skin as his doctor administers fluids. he doesn’t mind the small pinch of pain, but it certainly doesn’t feel great every time he finds himself in this position.
“yah, me and yoongi started cooking at 5am, so you have to finish everything and gain your strength back, got it?” seokjin demanded as soon as he set the tray on jungkook’s bed. “we need to go. we’re almost late for practice.”
“thank you for the meal!” he grins, rubbing his palms together excitedly.
“jungkook, i have to leave now,” his manager says from the door after attending to a phone call. “me and the doctor will come back in the afternoon to check up on you again. don’t forget to take your medicine after you eat!”
“so i’ll be here alone?”
“no, of course not,” jin laughs at his confusion. “____ will be here soon.”
“huh? you called?”
“what were we supposed to do? you were calling for ____ in your sleep like you were never going to see each other again or something! what were you dreaming about, anyway?”
“he’s got it pretty bad, doesn’t he?” his manager laughs out loud at jin’s teasing. “ah, youth… i’ve been there.”
“hyung, why speak like that? our ages are not that far apart,” seokjin interjects.
and bless his mouth that doesn’t stop running once it starts, the spotlight is diverted from jungkook’s dramatic yearning. he doesn’t even remember what he was dreaming about, but he wouldn’t put the accusation past him. he stuffs his mouth full with warm soup and rice, corners of his lips curling upwards at the ridiculous banter taking place infront of him, but mostly because the nausea has been replaced by butterflies. the moments he spend waiting to see you, he’s excited to stop missing you.
—
jungkook has fallen asleep again by the time you arrived, and you didn’t want to take the risk of waking him up yet. with your free time, you took the liberty of washing the dishes and tidying up his room. is this how he feels when he’s at your house? you wonder as every item of his that you touch makes you feel as though your heart is learning how to love him. it’s not your first time here, but you haven’t come over enough to know where everything goes. the best you could do was throw out small pieces of trash and organize the things on the table and the floor.
afterwards, you took the biggest bowl you could find in the kitchen, filled it with cold water, and grabbed a face towel from jungkook’s drawer. you gently begin wiping your boyfriend’s arms with the wet towel, smiling nervously as he wakes up almost immediately. you just couldn’t sit still and not do anything to bring down his temperature.
he stares at you wide-eyed, processing, before your name comes out from a hoarse voice. he throws his arms around you for a hug, and you squeak in alarm. “careful, your hand-” but he only squeezes you tighter, burying his face in your hair.
“i missed you.”
“so i’ve heard,” you tease, rubbing his back comfortingly. “let me finish wiping you down, then we can cuddle all you want. come on, lie down.”
jungkook’s gaze never leaves you as you take care of him. he blinks away the tears, blames it all on his headache, which earns him a kiss on the forehead before you leave the towel on top of it. this is the first time a lover is looking after him while he’s sick. suddenly, a part of him is happy that he caught a fever, some fraction guilty for feeling this way. a quick break from work. a valid excuse to spend time with you. a moment to fuel his dream and fantasy.
“drink some water, baby,” you hold up the glass, scooping your hand underneath his chin.
he slowly blinks up at you. “i love you,” the words slip away from him and he doesn’t try to stop them.
and as always, you sweetly smile at him and kiss his cheek. you know, and for today, that’s more than enough for jungkook.
—
“don’t get sick ever again,” you pout, snuggling against his side as you use his arm as a pillow. the hand with the needle sits on top of his abdomen, forcing him to lay on his back much to his discomfort. “you have no idea how worried i was, seeing you say my name like that.”
“you saw that?”
“he facetimed me for a minute.”
“aish, jin-hyung!”
“you’re looking much better. you were so pale earlier,” you playfully put your thumb and index finger on the space between his eyebrows, pulling the skin together to mimic his distraught expression from a few hours ago. “and you looked sad, but also mad.”
“probably the ugliest you’ve ever seen me, huh?” he clicks his tongue and turns his face away from you. “ah, i’m so embarrassed!”
“oh, don’t be stupid!” you squish his cheeks together and bring him back close, the tip of your noses bumping. “you’re pretty on your good days and bad days.”
pretty… he receives all types of compliments ranging from extremely flattering—unbelievable as in he doesn’t think he’s all that—to weirdly specific, downright ridiculous, in a who-even-comes-up-with-that way. he has read fan poems dedicated to his eyes, his smile, even article excerpts that spend paragraphs describing every inch of him and the trail of sparkles he leaves behind with every step. he likes the satisfaction of being praised by stylists on a regular basis, takes a good look in the mirror several times when he’s particularly satisfied with his makeup, his hair, his custom tailored clothing for the day. but there’s something about the way you’re looking at him, with the corners of your lips lifted ever so slightly, like when someone is watching a clear blue sky from the grass and for a moment it feels like everything one could ever need. and he believes you. with his bare face and chapped lips, and in his plain black cotton t-shirt—and he can’t believe he’s saying this—he does feel pretty.
“are you blushing?” you sit up for a better view of his face, and his poor effort at hiding his grin answers your question. “did you just need me to compliment you to get the color back on your face? do you like me that much?”
“i’m not blushing!” he flares his nostrils and bites the inside of his cheeks.
“you totally are!” you reach for his phone under the pillow and slide the screen to the camera. “you don’t believe me? i’ll show you!”
he buries his face on the pillow, moaning out a protest, but his belly aches as he gasps for air and laughs at the chaotic shaking of the bed and the silly noises you make to coax him back to the light.
“ou-ouch, i think i pulled a muscle…”
and then the room turns quiet and still. did you actually? he slowly lifts his head.
“got you!“ and he can’t get mad, feel anything but love really, when you start using your baby voice. “see, babe? i told you. pretty.”
he spares the photo a glance because, well, you want him to, and he does look better than he imagined. but he’s more interested in kissing your skin, your thigh being the closest.
“your manager texted. he’s asking if you want him to buy anything.”
“oh, just reply for me. tteokbokki!”
you blink down at him, trying to make sense of his penchant for biting you at random times. he’s one of a kind, isn’t he? a series of contradictions. there was a time when he felt awkward making eye contact with you, and now you’re sitting on his bed and freely using his phone without having to ask. well, not that you don’t. you believe in privacy in relationships. “i’ll add apples so you’ll leave my knees alone.”
“that isn’t guaranteed,” he giggles. “but i don’t mind eating apples too.”
“he said somin is coming here to drop off some of your work. who’s that?”
“what?”
“apparently,” you stare down at the new words that popped on the screen, a pit growing in your stomach. “somin can’t know i’m here.”
“fuck, we’re in trouble…” he slowly sits up. you can see the cogs in his brain turning and processing how to navigate the situation. “i’m sorry, baby. i’m- i’m still keeping our relationship mostly under wraps.”
that stung. you knew what you were getting yourself into… somewhat. yet your heart has begun racing with anxiety, and your face is turning warm as you feel your eyes watering.
“there’s too many things happening in the company right now… people are on edge.”
“hey, it’s fine,” you clear your throat, forcing a smile. “there’s no pressure. i understand it’s not easy for you.”
he sighs in relief. “thank you,” he caresses your cheek affectionately and you try your damn hardest not to breakdown at the softness of his touch. he is the cause and he is the cure.
“should i leave?”
“no, of course not. she’ll just drop something off so it’ll be quick.”
“but she can’t see me-”
the doorknob rattles. the room runs out of air.
“jungkook?” somin, you assume, calls out from the other side of the bedroom door. “are you there? why is the door locked?”
“what are we going to do?” you whisper-shout, panicking.
“jungkook?” the aggressive knocking makes the two of you flinch. “are you alright in there?”
“shit- shit, uhm-” jungkook whips his head around, legs bouncing as he searches the room for a solution. “just- damn it, why is this happening? just hide in the closet, i think?”
—
and that is how you ended up in your boyfriend’s walk-in closet, sweaty and breathing heavily with your back against the door. needless to say, this is not an ideal place for you to be. you hug your knees to your chest, telling yourself in your head that this isn’t serious, it’s not a big deal, it’s nothing to be scared of, just trust jungkook. but then you press your ear against the thin partition, and a part of you wonders if it’s right to allow yourself to go through all this trouble for a boy. haven’t you suffered enough in this lifetime to choose to be in this tough position? dating an idol out of all people? you don’t know enough facts to believe that you should be doing this.
maybe you and jungkook are still too young and naive. maybe love doesn’t defy all odds. maybe there are other things more important than love— love from a person who lives in a different world. you haven’t even said it yet— the three words even you are waiting to hear from yourself. it’s so selfish to be hoping that jungkook is out there fighting to keep you.
“we can’t help but to notice that you’ve been distracted recently. you know you have to tell us if you’re dating someone, right, jungkook?”
“noona, isn’t that a bit…?” jungkook laughs to mask his nervousness. “i have a fever so you guys think i’m dating?”
with a stoic expression, somin glances at the shoulder bag sitting on his gaming chair. white with pink accents. the front pockets are sparkly and transparent, filled with colorful pens, highlighters, and note pads. it stands out in a room full of his cool, clean, and neutral aesthetic. at that moment, jungkook realizes that he’s royally fucked.
“you need to tell us so we can take the precautions to protect you. we should trust one another,” somin says, going by the generic response handbook of professionals.
“protect me from what exactly?” he probes, not liking her tone that is seemingly painting his partner in a bad light. “i’ve been exhausted with work, that’s why i’m sick. we all know it’s been a lot lately.”
“the company thinks you’re distracted. i just speak for them.”
“well, it’s not true!” he purses his lips together when he realizes that he has raised his voice. “look, noona, i’m seriously not feeling well. it’s not the right time and place to be having this conversation.”
“i’m sorry, you’re right,” she sets down three binders on his desk. “make sure to be prepared for the interviews lined up for next week. there’s also some things we need your approval for by tomorrow afternoon, so notify us immediately in the morning if you’re still unable to come to the company.”
jungkook is suffocated by the sight of the amount of work piled up infront of him. he looks down at his hand and feels the urge to rip out the needle speeding up his recovery, but he just nods and smiles politely. “thank you. i’ll look through them right away.”
—
he comes back in the bedroom after sending off the company staff. “baby, she’s gone!” he waits for a few seconds, but hears no response. “babe?”
he walks into the closet while pushing the iv pole with him. “what are you doing? it’s so hot in here. you didn’t turn on the airconditioner.”
“wait! don’t look!” you squeal, scrambling to zip up yourself into the most interesting item you found among jungkook’s clothes.
you’ve already decided that you’re taking this home.
“what is this?” he gapes in shock, not having seen it in quite a long time. he was convinced that he lost it when they moved. “where did you find it?!”
you jump and turn around to face him, pulling the hood of the onesie over your head. with half of your vision obstructed, you announce “i’m pikachu!” and waddle over to your boyfriend who is in hysterics.
“i think i’m going to cry! what do i do? you’re so cute!” he engulfs you in a hug, rocking your vibrating bodies side to side. the usual smell of his fabric conditioner has long faded away, replaced by the distinct smell of a long time that has passed. “i can’t handle this. i can’t even look at you again.”
“why?”
“my heart is going to explode. seriously, it will.”
“i just saw the yellow peeking through among the blacks,” you giggle. “i thought it would be funny.”
“you just made me so happy.”
oh my god. whatever, fuck it. fuck everything. he fucking loves you.
his heart jumps when he notices your clothes scattered on the floor. “are you naked in there?”
“ugh, perv! i’m still wearing underwear!”
he squeezes you tighter in his arms, burying his face on your shoulder. “babe… that’s even hotter.”
“jungkook, stop being ridiculous,” he doesn’t need to see you to know that you’re rolling your eyes. “you’re sick.”
“hey, what does that mean?!”
—
jungkook’s manager and doctor awkwardly stand near the bed where the two of you have fallen asleep intertwined. you didn’t talk about what happened, what he said or what she said. he doesn’t know what you heard or if you heard anything at all. there’s a fresh white towel on his forehead. one of the binders lie open on his torso, its pages scribbled with his thoughts about music, touring, fame, and the fans, all in your neat handwriting. the uncapped blue pen has escaped your loose grip and rolled down onto the mattress.
his manager chortles and scratches his chin as he ponders whether to wake up the peaceful couple. he has even sliced three apples for you to share.
“sooo, this is ____?” the doctor mumbles. “may i ask what’s with the pikachu costume?”
“doctor lee, please stop talking…” the manager turns his back and covers his mouth to interrupt his laughter. “i’m going to need you to sign something for me later.”
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when you and riki finally get to begin building a peaceful future, something threatens to destroy it all.
⌛️pairing: yakuzahusband!riki x yakuzawife!reader
contains: fluff heavy angst hurt pregnancy betrayal reader gets held hostage threats violence stalking stab wound blood murder character death no happy ending
🗒️vaeh’s note: this is first heavy angst I've written and omg guys I was tearing up writing this im deadass.
its even better if you start from part one! but its not necessary for this fic.
The past three months had honestly been the best three months of your marriage.
Not perfect, Riki's life would probably never allow for perfect. You still had to spend days in boring meetings about drugs and cash. People still feared him. Problems still landed on his desk every day.
But after that night, the night Kento died. The two of you had talked for hours that night. About the future. About fear, about what kind of man he wanted to be, about what kind of life the two of you wanted together.
Riki was still Riki, but he started trying.
He worked less. Handing responsibilities off whenever he could. He stopped attending meetings that didn't absolutely require his presence.
Sometimes you'd walk into his office expecting to find him buried in paperwork, only to find him stretched out on the couch waiting for you because he'd decided he'd worked enough for the day.
You'd gotten closer too. Not that the two of you had ever struggled with affection, with Riki practically living attached to your side. But the two of you spent more time together than ever before. You'd never been closer. Never been more in love.
Tonight was one of those nights. Riki had given the cook the evening off apparently because he wanted to cook himself.
Though you were pretty sure part of the reason was that he wanted an excuse to walk around the house shirtless all evening. The man wasn't subtle. He'd spent the entire time cooking in nothing but comfortable black pants and a dark robe hanging open over his shoulders.
Now dinner was finished. The two of you sat across from each other at the dining table.
Your foot kept brushing against his leg underneath it, ack and forth. Sometimes around his ankle, sometimes up his calf. Riki kept acting like he wasn't affected by it but the slight smirk on his face said otherwise.
Until eventually Riki stood up and collected both plates.You shake your head immediately.
"You cooked. I'll clean."
"No." His answer came before you'd even finished speaking.
"Riki."
"No." He gently squeezed the back of your neck as he walked past. "You go relax. Go take a bath." You looked up at him. "A bath?"
"Mhm." His thumb brushed your skin. "I'll clean everything up."
So while Riki disappeared toward the kitchen, you headed upstairs.
The master bathroom was probably one of the prettiest rooms in the entire house. Everything about it felt warm. A massive soaking tub sat beneath an arched window. Across from it is a long marble vanity cluttered with expensive perfumes, skincare products, and the little decorative items you collected over the years.
You turn on the faucet and watch steaming water begin filling the tub.Soft jazz starts playing from the speaker on the vanity and light a candle next.
You grabbed the shower gel and squeezed a few drops into the running water. Probably more than necessary, but you liked the sweet vanilla smell. The bubbles started forming immediately.
Then your eyes drifted toward the mirror. You stood in front of it and your silk robe slid from your shoulders. You turned slightly sideways and one hand settled against your lower stomach. Studying your reflection. A small smile pulled at your lips.
The tub was nearly full now. You stepped out of the robe completely and carefully lowered yourself into the water. With a quiet sigh, you leaned back against the tub and closed your eyes.
By the time you come downstairs, your hair is still damp from the bath, falling over your shoulders. A butter-yellow nightgown brushes against your thighs with every step. The matching robe hangs open and loose around your body, and your gold necklace rests against your skin, the pendant disappearing into the neckline.
The house is quiet except for the sound of Riki moving around the kitchen. He's wiping down the counter when he hears soft footsteps behind him. Before he can turn around, two arms suddenly wrap around his waist. Riki lets out a surprised chuckle.
"There she is."
You squeeze him tighter. His hand immediately settles over yours. Standing on your toes, you lean up and press a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you for doing the dishes."
"Hm. You're welcome." You smile against his shoulder before letting go.
In the old wooden cabinet in the corner of the rooms stands a radio and a collection of CDs you've both gathered over the years. You open it, flipping through them until you find the one you're looking for. A second later, old jazz music fills the room. You turn the volume up a little higher than necessary.
Riki is still standing in the kitchen looking directly at you. His eyes slowly travel over your figure. Taking his time. You fight back a smile, then hold both hands out toward him. No words needed. Riki immediately knows what you want. You wiggle your fingers impatiently.
"Come here."
He laughs softly, then starts walking toward you.
His hands slide around your waist underneath the robe. Warm palms settling against your sides. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck.
And the two of you slowly start moving to the music. Your bare are feet gliding across the cold marble floor. Riki's gaze never really leaves your face, just admiring your beauty. His thumb brushes absentmindedly against your side.
Eventually one of his hands leaves your waist, sliding up to smooth a few damp strands of hair behind your ear. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. You smile immediately and rest your head against his shoulder. Riki's chin settles lightly on top of your head and you both close your eyes.
Neither of you talks, just feel hum of the music and the warmth of your bodies so close together and keep swaying slowly through the living room.
After a moment, he buries his face against the side of your neck and takes a good sniff.
"Mm. You smell so good."
You chuckle softly. His voice is muffled against your skin. "You smell like vanilla."
"That's because I just spent an hour bathing in vanilla."
"Hm."
One of his hands slides upward and catches on your necklace. His finger traces the thin gold chain, following it all the way down before letting it slip through his fingers again. He holds your chin lightly between his index finger and his thumbb and he looks at you for a second, before his hands start wandering off again.
They slide slowly down your spine and he lets them rest on your lower back. You can feel how relaxed he is. A version of him almost nobody else ever gets to see.
And that's when your stomach flips, because you've been waiting for the right moment all evening. Maybe all week. Every time you'd almost said it, something interrupted. A phone call. A meeting. A visitor. But now it's just the two of you and you can't keep it to yourself anymore.
"Riki."
"Hm?" His eyes stay closed.
"I have to tell you something."
That gets his attention. He pulls back slightly. Both hands settling properly on your sides as he looks down at you. "What?"
For a second you can't speak. Your throat feels tight, your eyes already sting. Which is ridiculous. You've rehearsed this conversation in your head a hundred times. Yet now that it's actually happening, all your words disappear.
Riki notices immediately and his expression shifts. Concern replacing the relaxed smile.
"Baby?"
You let out a shaky laugh. Then another. And somehow that turns into tears. His eyebrows pull together instantly. "Hey." One hand comes up to your cheek. "What’s wrong?"
You shake your head. Nothing’s wrong. A laugh escapes you through the tears.
Then finally—
"I'm pregnant."
The room suddenly feels very quiet. Riki just looks at you like his brain is trying to catch up.
"Really?" The smile starts before he even finishes speaking. You nod.
Tears immediately spilling over. "Yes." Your voice wobbles. "I took a test a few days ago."
Then he laughs. Completely caught off guard. His hands grab your face.
"Really?" You start laughing too. "Yes, really."
The smile on his face gets even bigger. You don't think you've ever seen him smile like that before. Then suddenly his hands slide to your waist. Before you can react, you're lifted completely off the ground.
"Riki!" He spins you around once and your laughter fills the room. For one of the only times in his life, he feels like nothing else in the world matters. Just you and the tiny secret you've been carrying for days.
—
The next few months felt like a completely different life for both of you.
The pregnancy changed everything. The way he'd suddenly become interested in things he'd never cared about before. Doctors appointments. Baby names. Cribs. Tiny clothes. Tiny clothes especially. You caught him staring at baby shoes for ten straight minutes once, then pretending he wasn't.
It was the happiest you'd ever seen him. Genuinely. Even the people around him noticed. His employees noticed. His men noticed. The people in the office definitely noticed.
Especially his assistant Kenji. Poor Kenji nearly had a heart attack the first time Riki thanked him for something. A simple thank you. That's all it was. Yet Kenji had stood there looking so confused that Riki ended up laughing at him. The entire office talked about it for a week.
Things were good, really good. You were building a family. A future. The kind of future the two of you had spent years talking about. For the first time in a long time, everything felt settled. Like the universe had finally decided to leave you alone.
But of course it didn't.
It started with a letter. A plain white envelope sitting on Riki's desk one morning. No return address, no name. Just a single sheet of paper inside. The message was short: He'd pay for murdering Kaizen.
Riki barely reacted. He read it once, scoffed. Then tossed it straight into the shredder. Threats weren't exactly new to him. People had threatened to kill him before. Threatened to torture him. Threatened to burn down his businesses. Threatened to wipe out his entire bloodline. Compared to some of those, this letter was nothing. So he ignored it.
Then another one came. And another. The messages got longer, more personal. He still ignored them. Then the phone calls started. At first they only came to his office. The receptionist would transfer them through. Riki would answer, a distorted voice would start talking. Threats, promises and warnings. The first few times he hung up immediately.
Eventually he stopped reacting altogether, but they kept coming. Then they got his personal number. That was when things became annoying.
The calls started arriving in the middle of the night. Two in the morning, or thee, sometimes four. The phone vibrating on the bedside table waking both of you up. Riki would immediately grab it before you could, step into the hallway, come back five minutes later and tell you it was nothing. Just work.
You knew he was lying, but not about what.
Then the photos appeared. The first one arrived in another envelope. A picture of Riki sitting in his office, taken from outside the building. The second showed him getting into his car after work. The third showed him walking through the front gate of your home. The fourth showed him standing beside you. That one made his stomach drop.
Still, he tried to brush it off to you. Every time you asked if everything was okay, he'd pull you closer and tell you not to worry. Every time you looked nervous, he'd promise nobody would touch you. Nobody would touch the baby. Nobody would touch his family.
And he meant it.
But privately? Privately, Riki was worried.
Because Kaizen wasn't some random man he'd crossed years ago. Kaizen had power, connections, loyal people. The kind of people willing to wait months for revenge. The kind of people patient enough to make a man paranoid before making a move.
So even while he insisted everything was under control, changes started happening. Extra security around the house. More cameras. New locks. Stricter visitor checks at the office. Kenji suddenly having two security men following him everywhere.
Nobody complained. The thing that truly unsettled them wasn't the threats. It was Riki. The fact that he was taking the threats seriously. The fact that sometimes they'd catch him staring at security footage longer than necessary. Checking camera angles.
And if Riki was worried? Then everybody else had a reason to be worried too.
The thing that finally broke him was a text message that came in the middle of the afternoon while he was working.
Unknown number. Seven photos of you. His stomach dropped instantly.
The first was you walking through a shopping district. The second was you getting coffee. The third was you leaving one of the organization's office buildings. The fourth was you stepping into your car. The fifth was taken so close he could make out the necklace around your neck.
By the seventh photo, Riki was already standing. His chair slammed backward. Kenji looked up from across the room.
"Boss?"
Riki didn't answer. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He stormed out of his office. Kenji immediately followed.
"Boss?"
"Meeting room." His voice was deadly calm, which somehow sounded worse than yelling. "Get everyone."
"Everyone?"
Riki stopped walking and turned around. The look he gave Kenji was enough. "Now."
Kenji was already reaching for his phone before Riki turned back around. Within minutes, the conference room was filling up. People rushed in from every floor of the building. Department heads. Security teams. Investigators. People who normally wouldn't be in the same room together. Nobody even bothered sitting down.
Riki stood at the end of the table. Furious. When the last person entered, he threw the phone onto the table. The pictures lit up across the screen. Nobody spoke.
"Find them." His voice echoed through the room. "I don't care who they are. Find them."
One of the security managers finally cleared his throat.
"Boss, we've already been investigating—"
Riki slammed his fist into the table. Several people visibly flinched. "I don't give a fuck. My wife is being followed."
“Boss—”.
"Try harder. Check every camera. Every employee."
Another fist hit the table. "Every fucking person that has entered this city if that's what it takes."
The room remained frozen because everybody knew this wasn't about business anymore. This wasn't about power or money. This was about you. And everybody in the organization knew there was one thing Riki loved more than himself. One thing he'd burn the entire city down for.
You.
The meeting lasted three hours. For the first time since the threats started, even the most experienced people in the room looked worried. Because of Riki.
And unfortunately, things only got worse. The threats kept coming, the photos kept coming. No matter what security measures were added, no matter how many people were assigned to investigate. Nothing stopped.
And slowly, it started affecting everything. Including your marriage. Arguments became more frequent. One night you'd ended up crying in the middle of the kitchen floor because you were exhausted. Things had finally been good and now it felt like someone was stealing that happiness piece by piece.
"I'm so scared." You'd admitted it quietly with tears running down your face.
"I just wanted things to be normal now." Riki had pulled you into his arms immediately because he wanted the same thing.
He started insisting. Security everywhere, at all times. You couldn't go shopping alone. You couldn't go to appointments alone. You couldn't even go get coffee alone anymore. A guard followed you everywhere.
You hated it, absolutely hated it. It made you feel trapped. But every time you argued, Riki only got more stubborn. Because every time another photo appeared on his phone, all he could think about was what happened if one day it wasn't just a photo.
So eventually you stopped fighting him because you saw what it was doing to him. How tired he looked, how often he checked his phone, how often he checked the security cameras. How many nights he stayed awake staring at the ceiling. At one point he'd even assigned somebody to monitor your location whenever you left the house. The poor guy probably knew your daily routine better than you did.
You thought it was ridiculous. Riki thought it wasn't enough. Which was how you ended up back at the office. Just like old times. Sitting through meetings that bored you to death. Listening to people discuss violent things you used to care about, before you found out you were going to be a mother.
—
Then came the threat that changed everything.
The drive home from the office had been quiet. Just you and Riki in the backseat while the city lights passed by outside. Your head rested against his shoulder. One of his hands was loosely wrapped around yours. By the time the car pulls into the driveway, you're already looking forward to getting inside, kick off your heels and relax.
Riki steps out first, then helps you out. The security guards do their usual check. Everything looks normal. Your driver, Ren, stays by the car while Riki walks you toward the front door. His arm settles around your shoulders automatically. He pulls his keys from his pocket, then his phone vibrates. He unlocks his screen and freezes immediately.
"Riki?"
He doesn't answer, his eyes are locked on the screen. You look down and your blood runs cold. A photo taken seconds ago. The picture shows the two of you standing exactly where you are now. In front of your own front door, riki holding his keys, you standing beside him.
The message underneath makes your stomach drop.
UNKNOWN: You, your wife and your baby are no longer safe here.
Your hand immediately flies to your mouth. "Oh my God."
You look around the property, the trees, the neighboring houses. Every corner suddenly feels dangerous.
"How do they know?" You whisper. Your eyes fill with tears instantly. "Nobody knows."
Nobody was supposed to know. The pregnancy hadn't been announced, the organization didn't even know. Yet somehow... they knew. Riki's jaw clenches. You can practically feel the anger radiating off him. But underneath it is real fear. For you, for the baby.
He immediately grabs your hand.
"Back in the car." You stare at him. "Now."
He turns you around and practically guides you back to the car, your heels quickly click against the stone. Ren sees your faces and immediately opens the door. Riki climbs in after you and slams the door shut.
"Office." Ren is already pulling away. His hand is shaking slightly, something you almost never see. He calls Kenji.
"Boss?"
"They know about the pregnancy."
"What?"
"We’re coming back." Riki rubs a hand over his face. "I want guards waiting outside when we arrive."
“Okay, sir.”
"Close every blind. Nobody enters the building without clearance."
"Understood."
The call ends.
Security guards line the office building’s entrance when you arrive. The second your car stops, two guards surround it, escorting the two of you inside. The emergency meeting starts less than ten minutes later. People practically run into the conference room. The moment Riki walks in and tells them about the picture, conversations erupt immediately. Suggestions, questions, plans, investigations.
You sit beside Riki and try to pay attention, but after a while the voices start blending together. Your eyes drift down to your hands resting on the table, your wedding ring catches the light. A tear slides down your cheek. Nobody notices, or maybe they do, they just don’t say anything.
The room continues talking around you but your mind is somewhere else. Months ago. Years ago, back when things were simpler. Back when you and Riki were inseparable. When you'd follow him everywhere. When danger felt exciting instead of terrifying. When the future wasn't something you had to worry about.
You think about those nights. When your life revolved around love, money and guns . No child depending on you. Just you and him. Then your hand moves over your stomach and the thought immediately changes. Because that's not what you want either.
You want this. The family, the life you've been dreaming about. You want lazy mornings and baby names. And growing old with Riki.
Your eyes slowly lift, people are still arguing. Riki is speaking now. For the first time in your life, you realize that maybe being feared isn't enough. Because no matter how powerful Riki is... no matter how many people obey him, no matter how many enemies he's buried. Somewhere out there is a person who isn't afraid of him.
The discussion only gets worse. Every time somebody disagrees with him, Riki patience gets thinner. It literally feels like a bomb waiting to go off.
"We should wait before relocating."
The sentence barely leaves one of the managers' mouths before Riki's head snaps toward him.
"Wait?"
The man visibly regrets speaking. "Boss, I'm just saying we don't know if—"
"You don't know if what?" Riki stands up so suddenly his chair slides backwards. "We don't know if they're serious?"
"They know where we live. They know where she shops. They know what car she drives."
The room gets very still. Riki laughs but there's no humor in it.
"You think I'm overreacting?"
Some of them do, the problem is nobody wants to tell him that. Unfortunately, one woman eventually does.
"Boss, with all due respect, we're not saying you're wrong. We're just saying that moving locations immediately might be—"
"Get the fuck out. If you don't want to help, get out."
"Boss—"
Riki points towards the door. "Out."
Riki's eyes move around the room. Everybody suddenly looks suspicious, like a possible threat. A possible reason somebody out there knows too much. The room starts talking again.
"Maybe you're just overreacting because—"
"They know she's pregnant!"
The words come out before he can stop them. Every single person in the room goes silent. Then suddenly everybody is looking at you and your eyes immediately fill with tears. You quickly stand up.
"I need a minute."
Your voice comes out smaller than intended. You leave before anyone can see the tears properly.
The hallway feels blessedly quiet. You make your way to your office. The second the door closes behind you, you let out a shaky breath. You lay down on the couch and stare at the ceiling. You don't even mean to fall asleep, but somehow you do.
—
A soft knock pulls you out of it. The building is quieter than before. Then the door opens and Riki walks in. He kneels beside the bed. His fingers slide into your hair, gently petting it back.
"Honey."
You blink sleepily. "Mm."
His thumb brushes your forehead. "I'm sorry."
Your eyes open properly. Riki sighs.
"We're moving."
"What?"
"Temporarily." He strokes your hair again. "We're moving to another house."
You sit up slightly. "What? I don't want to."
"I know."
"Riki I don’t—"
"I know."
His voice stays gentle, but voice he uses means he's already made a decision.
"There isn't room for arguments on this one."
You immediately frown. He reaches for your hand. "They know where we live. They know way too much. It’s dangerous. I'm not taking any chances."
"When are we going?"
"Now."
"What?"
"Now. We're not going back to the house."
You groan dramatically and cover your face. He gently pulls your hands away. "You can take whatever you need from here."
"My stuff is at home."
"You have enough stuff here to survive for six months."
Unfortunately, he's right. Half your life somehow ended up at the office over the years.
You sigh. Riki kisses your forehead. "Thank you."
You glare at him. He kisses your forehead again.
An hour later you're walking through the underground parking garage with two bags and a bad attitude. The building is unusually busy. Everybody treating the situation with a seriousness that makes your stomach hurt. Riki thanks several people on the way out. Which says enough by itself because Riki almost never thanks people.
By the time the car door closes behind you, the reality of it all is finally settling in. You're actually leaving. Not for a nice vacation. Because somebody made your home unsafe.
—
So this is how you ended up here. One month later. Living in a house that wasn't yours.
A house that was supposed to feel safe, instead it just felt temporary. The house itself wasn't bad, most people would probably call it incredible. It was huge, modern, hidden far away from the city. The problem was that it didn't feel like home. Your home was warm, brown and gold, dim lighting. This house felt cold and dark. Floor-to-ceiling windows but the curtains are closed most of the time.
Even after a month, you still caught yourself reaching for light switches that weren't there and opening the wrong cabinets. You missed your bathroom, your soft bed, everything. Most of all, you hated why you were here. Somebody wanted to hurt your family. Every time you remember, suddenly the house felt uncomfortable all over again.
The adjustment hadn't been easy. Especially because Riki trusted absolutely nobody anymore. The cook wasn't allowed to move with you, the maid wasn't either, the gardener stayed behind too. Riki had decided the fewer people who knew the location, the better.
Which meant that while he spent twelve hours a day working, you were left doing everything yourself. Things you'd never minded helping with before because you were at the office as well. But now it just felt lonely and the silence gave you too much time to think.
Unfortunately, your marriage wasn't doing much better. Not because either of you stopped loving each other. If anything, this whole situation only proved how much Riki loved you. That was the problem. His love had turned into fear, and fear had turned into control.
Suddenly there were rules. You couldn't leave without security, you couldn't drive yourself anywhere, you couldn't visit people, you couldn't make spontaneous plans. You couldn't do much of anything.
Every conversation somehow turned into an argument. Every argument somehow turned into Riki insisting he was trying to keep you safe. And every time he said that, you wanted to scream. You knew he was trying to protect you, but it felt like while you were preparing for a family and a future together, Riki had slipped right back into his old life. Meanwhile you were stuck in this weird middle position.
The only good thing was that the photos had stopped.
But the letters and calls still came. Every single week. Different numbers, different accounts, different handwriting. Always the same message.
Eventually everyone in the organization reached the same conclusion. The threats were connected to Kaizen. Nobody knew who exactly, where, or how many people. Just Kaizen. It was a dead end.
One of the worst moments happened during the second week. Your driver disappeared. One minute he was dropping somebody off, the next he was gone.
For exactly forty-eight hours.
When he finally reappeared, two security guards found him dumped on the side of a road in front of the office. His face was covered in bruises, one eye nearly swollen shut. And missing a finger. You'd never forget the look on Riki's face when he heard.
The driver insisted he hadn't told them anything. He'd been blindfolded the entire time. He didn't know where he was, didn't recognize any voices or heard any names. Nothing that could help. Just more proof that whoever was behind this wasn't playing games anymore.
—
It’s almost 11 p.m. when the front door finally unlocks. Riki steps inside looking exhausted, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. The house is dark except for the kitchen lights. You’ve spent the entire day alone in this house again. Riki crosses the room and kisses your forehead, then your lips quickly.
“Hey.”
You try to smile. "Hi."
That's all you manage. Riki studies your face for a moment, clearly noticing the lack of enthusiasm, but doesn't comment on it.
“I saved you dinner,” you say quietly, standing up before he can really look at you.
In the kitchen, you Open the fridge. Scoop leftovers onto a plate. Reheat them.
Riki leans against the counter watching you.
“How was your day?”
You shrug. “Fine.”
"Did you eat?"
"Mhm."
You don’t continue. So he tries again. “Did you go outside?”
“No.”
“You should’ve gone into the garden at least.”
You let out a humorless laugh. “The garden surrounded by guards and cameras? Yeah, sounds relaxing.”
You set the plate down harder than necessary. Then you stop moving entirely, a long sigh leaves you.
“I can’t do this.”
Riki straightens slightly. “Do what?”
“This.” You gesture between the two of you. “Pretend everything’s normal.”
“I know about Ren.”
His jaw tightens instantly. “Who told you?”
“Kenji.”
“You weren’t supposed to know that.” He says irritated.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snap. “Was I supposed to keep living here like some clueless housewife while people are getting tortured because of us?”
“Lower your voice.”
“I don’t think anybody’s gonna hear us, Riki.”
Riki pushes off the counter. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you scared.”
You stare at him in disbelief. “Do you hear yourself?”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“Stop saying that. I’m so sick of hearing that.”
Riki scoffs and shakes his head.
“You don’t tell me things because you’re ‘protecting’ me. You lock me in this house because you’re ‘protecting’ me. You control where I go, who I see, whether I can leave the fucking property, and every time I say something you act like I’m unreasonable because you’re ‘protecting’ me.”
Riki’s jaw clenches. “Do you think I want this, y/n?”
“I don’t know what you want anymore!”
The words echo through the kitchen. Your hand slaps against the counter in frustration.
"I'm the same woman who used to run jobs with you."
"That was before."
You step closer. "You know I know how to keep myself safe because you've seen it."
"You're pregnant."
“I’m pregnant, not helpless. I hate asking permission to leave my own fucking house. I hate waking up every day feeling trapped.”
“You are not trapped.”
“It feels like a prison!”
“You’re alive.”
“And what kind of life is this?”
Riki’s voice rises now too. “A safe one.”
“I hate these fucking rules, Riki. I am not your child!"
"But you are carrying mine, aren’t you?!”
"Yes, and sometimes I really fucking I regret that!" you scream back. The words are out before you can stop them.
Riki just stares at you like he genuinely can't believe what he heard. "What did you say?"
His voice is quieter than before. You should stop. The second you saw the look on his face, you should've stopped. But you're too angry, too hurt.
"I said I regret it."
Riki blinks. "Baby."
His voice lowers, like he's trying to talk you down. "You're upset."
You laugh bitterly. "Oh my God."
"You're just angry."
"I'm not taking it back."
"You don't mean it."
You don't know what you mean. You just know everything hurts and you want him to hurt too. So you turn around and walk away.
"Fine." Your voice shakes. "I'm done talking."
"Baby—"
You ignore him. Already heading toward the stairs.
"Sleep on the couch."
Riki lets out a breath. "I'm not sleeping on the couch."
You spin around. "Yes, you are."
"No."
"Yes. Riki. You are!" You snap.
"No."
"I don't want you in our room."
Riki's jaw flexes. "Our room."
"Don't."
"I'm not sleeping on the couch."
You throw your hands up. "You're so fucking stubborn."
"And you're being unreasonable.”
You stare at him, then turn around before you say something even worse. A second later the bedroom door slams hard enough to shake the wall.
The house feels painfully quiet afterward. Riki stands alone in the kitchen. The untouched plate of food still sitting on the counter. He looks at it for a long moment, then sits down, takes one bite and stops. His appetite is completely gone. Your words keep replaying in his head. He rubs a hand over his face and lets out a long breath. He puts the untouched plate in the sink and heads upstairs.
The bedroom is dark when he enters. The only light comes from the bathroom door left slightly open. You don't acknowledge him. You're already under the blankets, lying on your side as far from his side of the bed as possible. Riki quietly changes clothes. Pulls on a pair of sweatpants, takes off his shirt, brushes his teeth.
Does everything as quietly as possible. Then finally gets into bed, the mattress shifts. Immediately you turn around.
"What the fuck are you doing?" The whisper-yell is somehow more aggressive than actual yelling.
Riki settles onto his pillow. "I'm going to sleep."
"I told you to sleep on the couch."
He closes his eyes. "I'm not sleeping on the couch."
"You're unbelievable."
No response. "Riki."
Still nothing. You sigh, long and very irritated. "You're fucking stubborn."
With an angry huff, you turn away again. Your back facing him. For a few minutes neither of you speaks.
Eventually you feel the mattress shift slightly. Riki moving closer, then his arm starts to move around your waist like it always does.You immediately push his hand away. The hand disappears and Riki doesn't try again.
Normally this would've been over by now. Normally one of you would've apologized. Or laughed, or given in. Neither of you ever really went to sleep angry. You don’t do that. Because living this kind of life, it could always somehow be your last day together.
But tonight you genuinely don't want to be touched. Or apologies or cuddles. You want as much space as possible.
Minutes pass, eventually Riki speaks.
"I love you."
Your eyes immediately sting. But instead of saying it back, you swallow hard and stay silent.
—
The next morning feels awful. Riki is already gone. No goodbye kiss, no hand brushing through your hair, o quiet I'll see you later. The guilt from last night immediately settles in your chest.
You can't stay here today. You need fresh air, people, something that isn't these four walls.
So before you can overthink it, you grab your phone and call Riki. The call only rings once.
"Yeah."
You sit down on the edge of the bed.
"Uhm. I was wondering... I wanted to maybe go out today?"
You immediately start rambling. "It doesn't have to be long. I just wanted to go to the mall for a bit and maybe look around and I can take security and—"
"You can go."
"What?"
"You can go."
His tone stays flat. "I'll send Ren."
"Oh."
"You don't have to explain."
Normally he'd tease you, ask what you wanted to buy or make a joke about you spending all his money. Now he just sounds tired.
"I'll have Ren pick you up."
"Okay."
"Be home by 6."
“Okay.”
The call ends.
The idea of leaving the house makes something inside you feel lighter. You practically jump out of bed. Finally something normal. You spend extra time getting ready, making sure you look extra good. For the first time in days, you actually feel excited about something.
Then the doorbell rings. Ren is waiting outside. You immediately notice how different he looks now. The bruises, and the missing finger is impossible to ignore.
"Goodmorning."
"Morning, ma'am."
His voice sounds strange.Before you can ask anything, he clears his throat. "Boss told me to tell you something."
"What?"
"He wants you to leave your phone at home."
"My phone?"
"So nobody can track you." That sounds exactly like something Riki would say. You sigh.
"Fine."
You go back inside and leave your phone on the kitchen counter.
Ren opens the car door for you and when the house slowly disappears behind you, you actually feel happy. The feeling doesn't last.
At first you're talking nonstop about random things. A store you want to visit, a dress you saw online, a bakery you miss. Ren barely says anything. His eyes stay fixed on the road. His shoulders look tense.
You slowly start talking less and then your gaze drifts toward his hand. The memory of what happened to him. Something uncomfortable settles in your stomach and you look away.
The car continues driving, and driving, and driving…
Eventually you glance out the window, your brows furrow. This isn't right. The route feels wrong. You know this city. You know where the mall is, and this isn't it.
You sit up slightly.
"Ren?"
You look out the window again. The roads and buildings are unfamiliar now. A cold feeling creeps up your spine. "Ren."
He keeps driving. Your heartbeat starts picking up. Maybe there's traffic?
"Ren, where are we going?" The excitement from earlier disappears instantly.
"Ren." This time your voice comes out sharper. "Where are you taking me?"
His hands tighten around the steering wheel, and then—
Click.
The doors lock.
Your stomach drops and for a second you just stare at him, your heartbeat suddenly pounding so hard you can hear it.
"Ren." He doesn't answer. The panic hits all at once. Your voice cracks. "Ren, what the fuck is happening?"
Your breathing speeds up. You grab the door handle anyway and pull it.
"Ren! I want to get out! Please stop the car!"
Tears are already running down your cheeks. Your hands shake as you pull at the handle again. "You're scaring me!"
Ren slams a hand against the steering wheel. "Stop yelling!" The outburst makes you jump.
"If you just cooperate, nothing will happen to you!"
You stare at him. "What?"
"Just work with me."
"What are you talking about?"
You start crying harder. "What are you doing?!"
Ren's grip tightens around the wheel, he looks like he might cry too. "They threatened my family."
Your heart drops. "What?"
"They threatened my family."
His voice shakes. "They found my wife, my kids. They said if I didn't do this..."
He sighs. "...they'd kill them."
You just stare at him, unable to process it. "Who? Who, Ren?"
The silence is answer enough.
"Please." You wipe at your tears. "Please tell me who."
Ren just shakes his head and keeps driving. Then suddenly he reaches forward, your entire body tenses. He unlocks the glove compartment and it falls open. Inside sits a filled syringe.
Your stomach immediately turns. You don't even have to ask.
"They told me to use it if you didn't cooperate."
Your hands instinctively move to your stomach. The baby. You immediately stop talking, you just turn your head toward the window. Tears sliding silently down your cheeks. Eventually your voice returns.
"Ren." He sighs. "What?"
"You've known us for years."
He closes his eyes briefly. You keep going. "You've worked for Riki for years. You know me." Your voice trembles. "I’m going to be a mother."
You wipe another tear away. "Please don't do this."
His eyes stay fixed on the road. "I don't have a choice."
"Everybody has a choice."
A painful laugh escapes him. "No. Not always."
You stare at him trying to find something. Some sign he might change his mind. But all you see is guilt. "Where are we going?"
He doesn't answer. "Ren… please."
You let out a shaky breath. "Am I going to die?"
For the first time since this started, Ren looks at you. And when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
"I don't know, ma’am.”
For a few more minutes, you keep trying. Because what else are you supposed to do? Just sit there and let this happen?
"No, you know what?" Your voice shakes from crying. "You're fucking stupid. Do you have any idea what Riki is gonna do when he finds out? You think threatening your family is bad?"
A tear rolls down your cheek. "He's going to kill you."
The threat sounds weak the second it leaves your mouth, mostly because your voice cracks halfway through it because you’re still crying. Ren doesn't even react.
"He'll find me. He always finds people." The silence makes you even angrier.
"You know what your problem is?" you snap. "You think I'm some helpless wife. You think I'm just gonna sit here and cry."
Your breathing speeds up. "I can fight. I've been around this shit longer than you."
Then suddenly something clicks. Your stomach drops.
"Riki never told me to leave my phone." Your voice breaks. "Oh my God. You lied."
He says nothing. "You lied to me. You’re kidnapping me."
Ren has been your driver for years, you trusted him. The tears start again.
"How could you do this? How could you fucking do this?!"
Ren suddenly slams his palm against the steering wheel. "They're going to murder my family!"
The yell fills the entire car. You jump immediately. Your mouth snaps shut. Then you slowly cover your mouth with your hand ,trying to muffle the sob that escapes.
Meanwhile, back at the office, Riki has no idea.
He's sitting in another meeting. His attention keeps drifting to you, though. To your words from last night. A part of him wants to call you, just to hear your voice and make sure you're okay. But every time he reaches for his phone, he’d tell himself you’re just having a nice day out and he should leave you alone.
He promised himself something. He promised he'd try to give you space. Try to stop controlling every part of your life. You hated the cameras, the tracking, the constant security. So he'd started easing up.
The guy monitoring your location? Day off. The guards assigned to watch you? Day off. Several camera systems around the property? Disabled. For you. Because despite everything, all he wanted was for you to be happy.
Unfortunately, that decision couldn't have come at a worse time.
—
The car finally slows. You immediately sit up and your heartbeat starts racing again.
Outside, the surroundings look unfamiliar. Industrial and empty. The kind of place nobody accidentally ends up.
Ren parks and then looks at you. "If you cooperate..." His voice is barely above a whisper. "...nothing will happen."
You nod slowly. You wipe away your tears and take a shaky breath. "Okay."
But you're lying. The second you see your opportunity, you're running. No matter how many weapons or buff men, you’re running.
A few seconds later, headlights appear and doors open. Four men, all armed. One of them immediately approaches the car. The moment the door swings open, a hand grabs your arm hard. "Move."
You do. Just not the way they're expecting. The second your feet hit the ground, you twist. Your pointy heel comes down hard on the man's foot. He curses and ends slightly and that's all the opening you need. Your knee shoots upward. The man winces in pain and you rip your arm free.
You kick your heels off and run. Bare feet hitting rough pavement. Heart pounding, adrenaline flooding your body.
For one glorious second, you think it might work. Then somebody grabs the back of your arm. You yank away. Another hand catches your shoulder. Someone shouts. You keep fighting, keep twisting, keep trying. Then somebody catches your arm and a sharp impact slams against the side of your head.
Everything flashes white, the world tilts and voices become blurry. A second later everything goes black.
—
At five o'clock, Riki is completely unaware that anything is wrong. Every now and then, he checks the time. Five already. A small part of him still considers calling you. Then remembers last night, the way you'd refused to say I love you back.
You probably need space. And that's what he'd been trying to give you so he puts the phone back down. You must be home already. Probably unpacking shopping bags, maybe cooking dinner, maybe still annoyed at him.
But safe.
Meanwhile, your head feels like it's splitting in half.
The first thing you notice is the ringing in your ears and hen the pounding behind your eyes. Then your entire body feels cold. You groan softly. Everything is blurry. Nothing makes sense. For a while you just sit there trying to remember.
The car. Ren. Running.
The realization hits all at once and your eyes snap open. Your wrists immediately pull against something. Rope. Your hands are tied behind the chair , your ankles too. A cloth is tied tightly around your mouth.
The panic returns so quickly it makes you dizzy. You look around. The room looks abandoned. Concrete walls, one flickering light hanging from the ceiling, no windows. No way outt.
Four men stand around the room. The second they notice you're awake, one of them laughs.
"Look."
Another glances over. "Finally."
Your breathing starts speeding up. The chair scrapes loudly as you instinctively try to move.
Then another man enters your line of vision. Older than the others, maybe late forties. Well dressed and too calm. He smiles when he sees your eyes open.
"Well well." He slowly approaches. "Look who's awake."
You pull against the ropes again. The chair creaks underneath you. The man chuckles.
"You were out for so long we thought we killed you already."
Your heart pounds. The panic fully sets in, a muffled scream sounds behind the cloth.
The man sighs dramatically and then crouches down in front of you. "Relax."
You scream again, louder. The man reaches forward and he grabs your chin. Hard enough to stop your head from moving.
"Stop that. Your husband won't hear you from here."
The mention of Riki instantly breaks something inside you. Tears immediately fill your eyes. The man notices, he lets go of your face with a small push and smiles.
"Aw."
He slowly starts pacing like he's giving a presentation. “I don’t think you know me. I’m Kaito. Your husband killed a lot of important people, y/n."
His smile disappears. "My brother happened to be one of them."
He studies your expression. "You know what impressed me most?"
You stare at him. Tears running down now.
"How predictable the two of you are." His smile returns. "We followed you for months. Every luxury shop. Every restaurant. Every office meeting. No matter how many guards your husband hired, we always knew where you were."
You think about the months of fear. They'd really been watching the entire time.
"You know the funny part?" He tilts his head. "Your husband is actually very smart. He moved houses."
He shrugs. "Hired security. Changed routines." Then his smile widens. "But eventually he made the same mistake every man makes. He got comfortable."
The tears won't stop now. You can barely breathe. Hiro walks closer again.
"He turned off cameras, he sent guards home. All because he wanted to make you happy."
You shake your head desperately. The cloth muffles another sob. Hiro crouches beside you again. His voice lowering, almost gentle.
"Do you know how easy today was?"
The question makes your stomach turn. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that might somehow make him disappear.
"Your husband spent months building walls around you. And a few arguments were enough to make him tear them down himself."
When you open your eyes again, tears blur everything. Hiro looks completely satisfied like he's waited years for this moment.
By seven o'clock, Riki is finally heading home.
The entire day he's been replaying last night in his head. Thinking of things he should've said differently. By the time he reaches the house, he's already decided he's apologizing first. The front door opens, he kicks off his shoes, hangs up his coat, and immediately calls out,
"Baby?"
Silence, he frowns. Norrmally you'd answer, even if you were still angry, even if it’s just a hum. He walks further inside.
"Baby, I'm so sorry for—"
The words stop in his throat. The house looks exactly the same as when he left, like nobody had been here all day. A strange feeling settles in his chest.
"Baby?"
He walks into the kitchen, nothing. Garden, nothing. His pace quickens. Upstairs. Bathroom, empty. Bedroom, empty. Guest room, empty. His heart starts beating harder. Now he's calling your name louder. He checks the time. 7:03. You were supposed to be home by six. Ren knew that, you knew that.
So where the fuck are you?
Riki rushes downstairs and that's when he sees it. Your phone still sitting on the kitchen counter.
"What." He grabs it. "What the fuck—"
His heart drops straight into his stomach. His hands are already grabbing his own phone. Already dialing Ren. Every instinct in his body screaming that something is wrong.
Miles away, your head shoots up because you hear a ringtone.
Across the room, Ren is slumped against a concrete wall unconscious with his hands tied. The phone keeps ringing. Kaito glances toward the sound and slowly reaches into Ren's pocket.
Kaito pulls out the phone, looks at the screen and smiles.
"Oh."
He turns the phone toward you. The contact name fills the screen. Riki. The sight of it almost breaks you because now you know exactly what's happening. Riki's home, he's looking for you, he's freaking out.
The phone continues ringing and Kaito studies your face, amused like he's watching a show.
"Should I ignore it? Huh?"
You violently shake your head, tears flying. Please don't. But his smile only grows.
“No? So you wan’t me to answer?” You nod your head and tears spill down your cheeks.
The phone rings, until Kaito swipes across the screen to aswer and Riki's voice explodes through the speaker. "Ren, where is she?"
No hello. Pure panic. "Where the fuck is my wife?"
Even hearing his voice makes fresh tears spill down your face. Kaito glances at you, sill smiling. Then casually pulls a chair over and sits down directly in front of you, one leg over the other.
"Good evening, Boss."
"...Who is this?"
Kaito leans back comfortably. "Oh, we have plenty of time for introductions."
Kaito keeps smiling while Riki's breathing turns harsher through the phone.
"You trusted the wrong man," he says casually. "And now I have the thing you cherish most."
You immediately start screaming behind the gag. Trying to make noise, trying to make Riki hear you. On the other end of the line, Riki loses whatever control he had left.
"I'll kill you. I'll kill every fucking person in that building. Tell me where she is."
Kaito's smile fades slightly. "Careful, Boss. Threats don't work when I'm the one holding the gun."
Riki says something else, but Kaito simply lifts the phone away.
"I'll show you something."
And then he hangs up. Kaito slips the phone into his pocket, completely unbothered. You stare at him through tears.
A minute later, somewhere across the city, Riki's phone buzzes. A video, he opens it immediately.
The screen shows you tied to the chair with a gun pressed beside your head. Your face wet with tears. If you don't come alone, Kaito says, if you tell anyone, bring anyone, fight us, or try anything clever, your wife and your baby die. Then a location appears on screen.
For once in his life, Riki listens to an enemy. Because this isn't business, his wife’s life is at risk. He just grabs his keys and leaves.
At the warehouse, you sit trapped in the chair, waiting. You keep telling yourself the same thing over and over. Riki will come, Riki will bring his men, you’ll be safe. Your eyes close briefly as you try to steady your breathing. It'll be over soon.
Then you hear a car outside, a door slamming. Your heart jumps into your throat. Kaito glances toward the entrance. One of the armed men moves toward the front.
Outside, Riki reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a handgun. He shoves it into the waistband of his suit and heads for the warehouse door without slowing down. He pounds on it hard enough to rattle the metal. The door cracks open. A guard stands there, weapon visible.
"You alone?"
"Yes," Riki snaps. "Let me the fuck in!"
The man studies him for a second, then opens the door. The moment the entrance clears, Riki sees you tied to the chair. And your scream tears through the warehouse. "Riki!"
He moves immediately, trying to get to you. A guard blocks him before he gets halfway across the room. "Not so fast. Any weapon on you," he says. "Drop it."
For a second Riki hesitates. His eyes flick to you, to the gun beside your head.
Slowly, he reaches into his waistband and pulls out the pistol. It feels humiliating, but he lowers it to the concrete floor. The guard immediately kicks it away. The second the gun is kicked away, another man moves.
Riki barely has time to react before someone grabs both his wrists and yanks them behind his back. Instinct takes over and he twists violently, trying to break free. For a split second, it almost works. But the man standing in front of him swings the butt of his gun and it lands hard against the side of Riki's head.
Your breath catches. "Riki!"
Riki groans in pain and his knees nearly buckle. Blood immediately appears near his temple, running down the side of his face. The man behind him tightens his grip and forces his arms higher. "Stop moving."
"Get your fucking hands off me."
Kaito sighs dramatically. "I told you not to fight. It's five against one."
He gestures around the room. "You're not winning this."
The men force Riki forward toward you. One of the men shoves him down. Riki hits the concrete on both knees.
He's only a few meters away now. Close enough to see every tear on your face, close enough to notice your shaky breathing. But too far away to reach you. You stare at him. Your vision blurs again.
"Riki..."
The cloth turns it into a muffled sob.
His tone immediately softens even now.
"It's okay, baby." Blood still running down the side of his face. "Trust me."
You shake your head desperately, tears falling faster. His eyes stay locked on yours.
"You'll be okay."
Kaito laughs, then grabs a handful of Riki's hair and forces his head upward. His fingers brush the fresh blood near Riki's temple.
"You really believe that?" Kaito asks.
Riki jerks away from him immediately. His eyes dark.
"If you touch her—"
"Listen." Kaito cuts him off.
The smile finally disappears from his face. "You killed my brother."
"I remember the phone call, I remember identifying the body, I remember seeing my nieces cry."
You can feel the hatred pouring out of him now. "I wasn't important enough for anyone to look at. Which worked out pretty well for me."
His eyes move toward you. "Because it gave me time. Every picture, every threat. That was me. I followed you both for months. Waiting for the perfect moment to get revenge.”
He looks directly at Riki. "It surprised me hard it was to find your weak spot. But then it happened..."
His eyes slowly move down to your stomach. Everything inside you freezes.
"...the baby."
Immediately you start struggling again. The chair scrapes loudly across the floor and a muffled cry escapes you.
"No—"
Riki visibly flinches. Kaito notices both reactions and smiles.
"See? There it is. That's the one."
Riki's entire body goes rigid. "If this is about me then leave them out of it."
"Leave them out of it? After everything I’ve worked for? The stalking, the months of paranoia, the kidnapping. It worked exactly how I wanted."
You feel sick. Because he's right, every piece led here. Riki's eyes never leave you. Almost like he's trying to memorize your face, preparing for something.
Kaito turns back toward him.
"And now you're alone. You came exactly where I wanted."
Kaito takes a gun from one of the men. He turns and presses the gun gently against the side of your head. Everybody’s breath catches.
"Since you took something from me..." Kaito says quietly. "...I think it's only fair I take something from you."
"NO!" Riki's voice explodes through the room.
He tries to get up, a guard immediately slams a fist into his side. The hit forces the air from his lungs and he groans.
"Please."
The word falls from his mouth before he can stop it. And everyone hears it. The feared boss, the man who’s never said thank you. Begging.
"Please. Don't touch her."
And sitting there with tears streaming down your face, staring at the blood on his temple and the panic in his eyes, you realize he's just as scared as you are.
Kaito studies the panic on both of your faces for a moment before slowly lowering the gun from your head. He starts pacing again, the gun hanging loosely at his side.
"You know," he says, almost conversationally, "when my brother got shot, everybody talked about him. They talked about his empire. His money. His power."
A humorless laugh leaves him. "But nobody talked about his daughters. Funny, isn't it?"
He tilts his head. "A child growing up without a father." His gaze locks onto Riki. "Does that sound familiar to you?"
The words hit harder than any punch. You immediately start shaking your head.
"No. No, please..."
Your voice is barely understandable through the tears. Riki drops his head.
"What do you want, Riki?" Kaiten says.
Riki slowly looks up. Kaito points the gun toward you.
"Her life?" Then toward Riki. "Or yours?"
"If she dies," Kaito continues, "you live. You get to spend the rest of your life remembering this moment. Remembering your wife. Remembering your unborn child."
Your breathing becomes shaky. Kaito then points the gun at Riki.
"If you die... they live."
You immediately let out a sob. "No."
"But your child grows up without a father and your wife becomes a widow."
Riki just stares at the floor, then at you, his eyes glassy. The thought of either option makes you feel sick. Kaito waits and waits. When neither of you answers, his patience begins to crack.
"Answer me."
Silence. "Answer me..."
"ANSWER ME, RIKI."
Riki closes his eyes. Kaito strides forward and puts the gun beneath Riki's chin, forcing his head upward. Riki slowly opens his eyes.
Then Kaito smiles.
"You know what?" He takes a step back. "I'll let both of you decide."
He gestures toward the men beside you. One of them immediately crouches down, a knife cuts the ropes around your wrists fall away. Your arms immediately drop, numb and aching. The ropes around your ankles follow. At the same time, one of the guards gives Riki a shove between the shoulder blades.
The second you're free, you're moving. You practically fall into him. Your knees hit the concrete and you're in his arms. Finally, but at what cost.
The first sound that leaves you is a broken sob. Riki catches you immediately, one arm around your shoulders, the other cradling the back of your head. Holding you so tightly like it’s the last time. Your face presses against his chest and you can hear his heartbeat.
"Riki..." Your voice breaks completely. "I'm so sorry."
He immediately shakes his head but you keep going. The words pour out between sobs.
"I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it."
"I know."
"I didn't mean any of it, I do want this. I want our family. I want our baby."
His hand slides into your hair. "I know… I know."
Another sob, you can barely breathe. Tears are running down his face now too, though he barely seems to notice. You cup his face with both hands.
"I love you so much." The words come out trembling. "So much."
His eyes immediately close for a second. Hearing that physically hurts because he doesn't know if he'll ever hear it again.
"I love you too." His forehead presses against yours.
Then—
BANG.
The gunshot explodes through the warehouse ceiling. Both of you jump violently. You instinctively bury yourself against Riki's chest and his arms immediately wrap around you.
Kaito lowers the gun and rolls his eyes. "Touching."
Kaito checks his watch. "You have three minutes."
Your stomach twists. Three minutes. Three minutes to decide something impossible.
"If you don't choose..." He shrugs. "...I'll choose myself."
The silence afterward feels endless. And as the reality of those words settles over the room, you cling to Riki even tighter. Because suddenly three minutes feels like the shortest amount of time in the world.
The moment Kaito says they have three minutes, something inside you completely breaks.
"No—"
Your voice cracks. Sobbing so hard you can barely breathe. Your fingers clutch at Riki's suit desperately, holding onto him like if you let go for even a second he'll disappear. The thought alone makes you feel sick.
"No, no, no..."
Your whole body shakes. Riki immediately pulls you closer.
"Baby." His hands cup your face. "Hey."
You can't even look at him. Because the second you do, it feels like goodbye.
"Look at me."
You shake your head. "No."
"Baby." His thumbs wipe tears from your cheeks. "Look at me."
Eventually your eyes lift. The second they meet his, more tears spill over, because he's crying too.
You know exactly what he's thinking and you hate it.
"Listen to me." His voice is gentle. The same voice he uses when you're sick, when you're upset. "You have to take care of our baby."
Immediately you start shaking your head again. "No."
"You do." His forehead presses against yours. "You have to."
"No, Riki."
"I want you to live."
His hand slides down to your stomach. The gesture destroys you. "I want both of you to live."
Your hand immediately covers his as if you're trying to stop him.
"You'll be okay."
"No." His lips brush your forehead. "You will."
A kiss to your temple. "You're strong." A kiss to your cheek. "You always tell me that."
Your shoulders shake harder. "Stop."
"You know how to take care of yourself."
"Stop it ."
"You'll be an amazing mother."
"Riki, stop."
His voice breaks slightly. "You'll live the life we talked about."
At that, you completely lose it. The sound that leaves your throat barely sounds human. You bury your face against his neck and cry harder, because he's talking like he's already gone. Like he's already made peace with it, he's already saying goodbye.
Kaito glances at his watch. "Time's almost up."
You immediately grab Riki tighter. "No."
His arms wrap around you. One hand rubbing your back, the other the side of your face. He can't stop touching you. His eyes close briefly. He's memorizing this. The feeling of your hair, your scent, the weight of your body against his, the warmth of you. The child you carry. Everything.
"It'll be okay."
His voice is quieter now. Almost a whisper. "You'll finally get that peaceful life."
You immediately pull back. "No. Stop."
"You will. You deserve it."
Your hands grab his face. "I want you a life with you, Riki."
Kaito sighs loudly, clearly annoyed. Then he starts counting.
"Fifty. Forty-nine. Forty-eight."
"No."
You turn toward Kaito so quickly your neck hurts. "Take me."
Riki immediately stiffens. "No baby."
"Just take me!" Your voice echoes through the room. Tears running down your face. "Please!"
Riki grabs your shoulders. "Y/n stop."
"Take me!"
His arms immediately lock around you, holding you against his chest. "Stop."
"No!" You struggle trying to pull away from him.
Eventually he places a hand over your mouth. Just to stop you from saying it. Because he cannot listen to you offer your own life. Your cries become muffled ,you hit weakly against his chest trying to fight him. But you're exhausted, you’re terrified and drained.
Eventually your strength gives out. You stop fighting and Riki slowly removes his hand.
The second he does, you throw your arms around his neck. He immediately hugs you back.
"Baby..." His thumb brushes your cheek. "I need you to listen to me."
He looks at you, his eyes glistening like he’s looking at the most precious thing in the world.
"I loved every day with you."
Your face crumples immediately. "No Riki don’t say that—"
"I mean it." A small smile appears. The saddest smile you've ever seen. "I loved every single day."
His breathing shakes, a tear slides down his temple. His hand finds your stomach.
"The day I met you... I had no idea you'd become my whole life."
You can't breathe.
"I need you." The words burst out of you. "I need you, Riki."
Your hands grab his face. "I can't do this without you. I can’t.”
"Yes you can. You're the strongest woman I've ever met."
Your entire body shakes. "No."
"You are. You’re stronger than me, baby, trust me. You survived me."
That almost makes both of you laugh weakly.
His forehead presses against yours. "You'll raise our baby."
A sob escapes you.
"You'll tell them about me. You'll tell them how annoying I was."
"No."
"You'll tell them how much I loved you."
"Stop."
"I'll always be with you." The words come out quietly. You immediately start crying harder.
"I'll look for you. In your dreams."
"No. No Riki I can’t—"
"I'll remind you I'm still around."
You're fully hysterical now. Sobbing so hard your words don't even make sense anymore.
"No, no, no, no, no..."
"TEN." Kaito's voice echoes through the warehouse.
Your arms are wrapped around Riki's neck so tightly your muscles hurt. His forehead is pressed against your shoulder.
"Nine."
His hands move to your face, making you look at him. "Riki..."
Somehow he still manages to smile. That smile he only ever gave you and nobody else ever got. That smile you hope your baby has gotten from him.
"I'll love you forever."
Your face immediately crumples. "Riki… no."
His thumb wipes away another tear. "Say it back, baby. Say it back to me."
His forehead presses against yours again.
"I love you.” You manage to say between sobs. “I love you so much.”
A tear slips down his cheek.
“Five.”
And suddenly he's kissing you. So deeply, he's trying to put every feeling he's ever had for you into one final kiss. Your hands immediately find his face. His neck, his hair. Anywhere.
You kiss him back through tears. Through the realization that this is probably the last time. The last kiss, and neither of you wants to let go.
"One."
Kaito's voice cuts through the room. The kiss breaks.
Then—
Zero.
Kaito moves so fast you barely register it, and suddenly Riki jerks. A strangled sound leaves him. Your eyes widen.
A knife is buried deep beneath his ribs. Kaito immediately steps back and blood begins spreading across Riki's shirt.
"No!" The scream tears out of you.
The entire warehouse disappears in front of your eyes. Nothing exists except him in your arms. His head lands in your lap. Blood is already soaking your clothes.
"Riki."
He coughs, blood appears at the corner of his mouth. Your heart shatters. Your hands shake so badly you can barely hold his face.
"I'm here." You don't even know why you're saying it. "I'm here."
Another cough escapes from him. Another painful breath. His eyes stay locked on yours like he wants your face to be the last thing he sees. You start crying harder.
"I love you. I love you so much."
His lips twitch. Almost a smile, almost. Then his hand slowly lifts, weak and shaky, trying to reach you. You immediately grab it and press his palm against your cheek. His thumb barely moves against your skin. The weakest little movement but you feel it.
His eyes begin drifting through you. Somewhere else.
His mind drifts to the day he met you. To your wedding. The first time he slept with you. To when he taught you how to fight and he used to let you win. Late nights cuddling in bed. When he introduced you at the office. The arguments. Slow dancing in the living room. Running jobs with you. The baby. The future. The life you were supposed to have.
The life that was supposed to keep going.
His hand starts slipping. You immediately grab it, putting it back against your face.
"No." Your voice cracks. "Stay with me."
His eyes find yours one final time, and suddenly he looks peaceful. Then his chest rises one last time. His eyes remain on yours, but something changes, he just disappears. Riki isn't there anymore.
"No." Your hands grab his face and tap his cheek gently. "Riki, baby.”
Your breathing becomes frantic. "Riki… please.”
Your voice breaks. Tears falling onto his face.
"Please wake up."
There are still people in the room, still footsteps and distant voices, preparing to leave this situation behind as fast as possible. But none of it reaches you. The world has narrowed down to the weight in your lap, to the face you've loved for years.
You don't know how much time passes. Maybe seconds, maybe hours. You just sit there.
A part of you refuses to believe it. Any second now he'll groan and tell you you're being dramatic. Any second now he'll wake up. He always wins.
Your fingers brush through his hair, sticky with blood now, but you don’t care, you smooth it back anyway. The same way you always did when he was stressed or when he fell asleep on your chest.
You lower your forehead against his and cold tears fall onto his skin. Your hand finds his, it feels heavier now, lifeless. You lace your fingers through his anyway.
Nothing about this feels real. You bend over him, pressing a trembling kiss against his forehead. One last time.
"I love you Riki." The words come out broken.
"Forever."
You don’t get an answer. The words just hangs in the air.
Outside, the world keeps moving. Rain falls, cars drive by. People laugh, people dance. Dogs bark, birds chirp. Life just continues. Completely unaware that yours has just ended.
You close your eyes and hold him tighter. You place one hand on your stomach. You were so close to a perfect future with him, and it left you in less than a second. The old house filled with jazz music. The family dinners. Gone.
But beneath your hand, there is still a piece of him. Your child. And for the first time since Kaito started counting, you finally understand why he made his choice.
Even when Riki was terrified for what was coming. Even when it meant losing everything.
He chose you.
✦
xtra note: I just realized I completely forgot to write about the little girls from the last past omg... SORRY. I was too focused on dada's death. the girls are fine ;)
— from the operator. anon, sorry this is late! if you didnt already have your exam GOODLUCK!! of you did Im sure you did amazingly. I have my exams coming up soon 🥲
It starts small. A missed sentence in your notes. Then another. A paragraph you read three times without understanding a single word. Your room is too warm, then too cold. The highlighter in your hand slips because your fingers are trembling, but you convince yourself it’s just exhaustion.
Outside your window, the city is quiet in that strange late-night way that only makes you feel more alone.
3:04 AM glows from the corner of your laptop screen.
You still have three lectures left to revise.
Your chest tightens.
You stare at the page harder like maybe you can force information into your brain through panic alone.
The words blur. You blink rapidly. Breathe.
You try.
But suddenly your heartbeat feels wrong. Too fast. Too loud. You become horribly aware of your own body—your lungs not filling enough, your throat too tight, the pressure building behind your ribs.
No no no.
You push your chair back too quickly. It screeches against the floor.
Your notes scatter.
Your hands are shaking now. Actually shaking.
You inhale sharply, but it catches halfway, turning into this awful broken gasp that makes fear shoot through you even harder.
“I can’t do this,” you whisper.
And once the thought enters your head, it multiplies.
I’m behind.
I’m going to fail.
Everyone else understands this except me.
I wasted too much time.
I can’t breathe.
Your vision starts tunnelling.
You grab the edge of your desk because suddenly the room feels unsteady.
But then you have your phone in your hand and you see his name.
Won <3
Something in you cracks.
You don’t even think before pressing call.
The ringing barely lasts a second.
“Hello?”
The second you hear his voice, warm and sleepy and concerned all at once, your composure completely collapses.
He hears it immediately.
“Hey,” he says softly, voice sharpening with worry. “What happened?”
You try to answer, but your breathing breaks apart halfway through the sentence.
And Jungwon goes quiet for half a second.
Not confused quiet.
Focused quiet.
The kind where he’s already switching into taking care of you.
“Okay,” he says gently. “Baby, listen to me first.”
You press a trembling hand over your mouth.
“I can’t—” Your breath stutters painfully. “I can’t breathe properly—”
“You can,” he says immediately, calm and firm in a way that makes you want to cry harder. “I know it feels like you can’t right now, but you are breathing. Your body’s just panicking.”
Another sharp inhale catches in your throat.
“I’m gonna stay with you, okay?”
You nod before realising he can’t see it.
“O-okay.”
“Good.”
You hear movement on his end—rustling sheets, a drawer opening.
“Are you alone?”
“Mm.”
“Can you unlock your door for me?”
Your head lifts slightly. “What?”
“I’m coming over.”
“Jungwon, it’s late—”
“I know.”
His voice stays impossibly gentle.
“I’m still coming.”
The next ten minutes feel endless.
You sit curled on the floor beside your bed because somewhere during the call your legs stopped feeling stable enough to stand. Jungwon keeps talking the entire time.
Not forcing conversation.
Just… grounding you.
“Tell me five things you can see.”
You sniff shakily, staring around your dim room.
“My lamp.”
“Good.”
“The mug you got me.”
“The ugly cat one?”
A tiny, broken laugh escapes you despite yourself.
“Yeah.”
“There you go,” he murmurs softly, hearing the change instantly. “Keep going.”
By the time you get to the fifth object, your breathing is still uneven, but slightly less suffocating.
Then you hear hurried footsteps outside your apartment.
A knock.
“Baby?”
You stand too fast and nearly stumble.
The moment you open the door, Jungwon’s face changes.
Not dramatic.
Not panicked.
But his eyes soften immediately in that painful way people do when they see someone they love hurting.
You must look awful—tear-streaked face, oversized hoodie, shaking hands.
He steps inside quickly and shuts the door behind him.
And then he reaches for you.
Not suddenly.
Slowly.
Giving you time.
His hands settle carefully around your wrists first, thumbs rubbing lightly against your skin.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
That’s it.
Just hey.
Like he’s speaking to something fragile.
Your face crumples.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper instantly.
“For what?”
“I called you and—I know you were sleeping and I’m being dramatic and—”
“No.” His voice cuts through yours immediately, firm but soft. “Don’t do that.”
Your breathing catches again.
Jungwon moves closer until his forehead almost touches yours.
“You are not a burden for needing help.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Your eyes burn.
“I can’t calm down,” you admit in a tiny voice.
“That’s okay. I’ll help you.”
There’s something about the way he says it.
Like helping you is the most natural thing in the world.
He guides you toward the bed slowly, keeping one hand around yours the entire time.
“Sit.”
You obey automatically.
Jungwon kneels in front of you immediately after, still in sweatpants and a hoodie he clearly threw on in a rush. His hair is messy from sleep. There’s a faint crease on his cheek from his pillow.
And yet every bit of his attention is fixed entirely on you.
“Look at me for a second.”
You do.
“Good.”
He takes your trembling hands carefully into his own.
“Match my breathing, okay? Don’t force it. Just follow me.”
He exaggerates the inhale slightly.
Slow in.
Slow out.
Again.
You try.
The first attempt fails halfway and turns shaky.
Your chest tightens in frustration instantly. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” Jungwon squeezes your hands gently.
“Don’t think about fixing it all at once. Just breathe with me one time.”
One time.
That feels manageable.
So you try again.
Inhale.
His thumbs stroke over your knuckles.
Exhale.
“There you go,” he murmurs softly.
Again.
And again.
Your breathing still trembles, but the horrible dizzy edge starts fading little by little.
Jungwon notices every tiny improvement.
“You’re doing well.”
You shake your head weakly.
“I’m really not.”
“You are.”
His voice stays steady.
“You called me before it got worse. You’re breathing. You’re trying. That’s doing well.”
You stare at him.
Your chest aches for an entirely different reason now.
“I’m scared,” you whisper.
The admission comes out so small it almost embarrasses you.
But Jungwon’s expression only softens further.
“Of the exams?”
You nod.
“What if I fail?”
He leans forward slightly, elbows resting against your knees.
“Then you fail one exam.”
“It’s not just one exam—”
“I know it feels bigger than that right now,” he says quietly. “But listen to me carefully.”
His fingers tighten gently around yours until you focus fully on him again.
“One exam cannot measure your worth as a person.”
Your eyes sting.
“You worked so hard these past weeks. I’ve seen you studying until your eyes hurt. Missing meals because you forget. Falling asleep on your notes.” His brows pull together slightly. “You care so much that you’re destroying yourself over it.”
A tear slips down your cheek.
Jungwon wipes it away immediately with his thumb.
“You don’t need to earn rest,” he says softly. “And you don’t need perfect grades for people to love you.”
That one breaks you.
Because somewhere deep down, you think maybe you do.
Jungwon sees it on your face instantly.
“Oh,” he whispers. Heartbreaking.
Like he hates that you’ve been carrying that thought alone.
He shifts upward onto the bed beside you and pulls you carefully into his chest.
You go willingly this time.
The second his arms wrap around you fully, something inside you unclenches.
He’s warm.
Warm enough that your freezing hands start thawing against his hoodie.
One of his hands slides up and down your back slowly.
Not rushed.
Just repetitive enough to soothe your nervous system.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your hair.
Your breathing hitches again, but softer now.
“I feel stupid.”
“You’re having a panic attack,” he says quietly. “Not failing at life.”
You clutch weakly at the fabric of his hoodie.
Jungwon adjusts immediately so you’re more comfortable, one hand cradling the back of your head.
“Can you tell me what started it?”
“The studying,” you mumble against him. “I couldn’t understand anything anymore and then I started thinking about failing and disappointing everyone and—”
“Did you eat dinner?”
You pause.
“…I had coffee.”
He sighs softly into your hair.
“That’s not dinner.”
“I forgot.”
“I know.”
No annoyance.
Just concern.
He pulls back slightly to look at you.
“When’s the last time you slept properly?”
You avoid his eyes.
Jungwon gives you the tiniest look.
“Baby.”
“…Yesterday?”
“That’s not a proper answer, Y/N”
You mumble something unintelligible.
His eyebrows rise.
“You slept three hours.”
It isn’t a question.
You look away guiltily.
Jungwon exhales slowly through his nose like he’s trying not to sound upset.
Not at you.
For you.
“No wonder your body crashed.”
He brushes your hair away from your face carefully.
“You can’t run entirely on stress and caffeine.”
“I don’t have time to rest.”
“Yes, you do, princess.”
“I really don’t.”
“You do if the alternative is collapsing.”
You go quiet.
Because he’s right.
And you both know it.
Jungwon studies your face for a moment before speaking again, voice gentler now.
“Do you trust me?”
“…Yes.”
“Then tonight we’re not studying anymore.”
You immediately tense. “But—”
“No.”
He says it softly but decisively while kissing you swiftly on the forehead.
“You’re done for tonight.”
Your eyes widen slightly in panic again. “I can’t afford to waste more time—”
“Resting is not wasting time.”
He cups your face lightly, forcing you to look at him.
“Right now your brain is overloaded. Nothing is sticking anymore anyway.”
You hate that he’s right about that too.
Jungwon strokes his thumb under your eye.
“So here’s what we’re gonna do.”
His tone becomes calm and practical—the voice he uses whenever he’s taking care of things for you.
“You’re going to drink water.”
You make a face.
“Yes, actually.”
Despite everything, you let out a tiny laugh.
“There she is,” he says quietly, smiling just a little.
Then he stands, grabs your water bottle from the desk, and returns without letting you protest.
He waits while you drink.
Then he disappears briefly into your tiny kitchen.
You hear cupboards opening.
A few minutes later he comes back with instant ramen and the last packet of crackers you forgot you owned.
“You cooked?” you ask weakly.
“Using the term ‘cooked’ generously.”
He settles beside you again.
“Eat a little.”
You try to refuse at first.
Jungwon gives you a look.
You eventually take the chopsticks.
He watches carefully to make sure you actually eat more than two bites.
And the entire time, he keeps touching you lightly.
A hand on your knee.
Your shoulder.
Your hair.
Tiny grounding reminders that you aren’t alone.
Later, when the panic finally fades into exhaustion, you end up curled against his chest beneath your blankets while he reorganises your chaotic exam schedule on your laptop.
“You colour-coded it?” you mumble sleepily.
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re such a nerd.”
“You like me.”
You smile faintly against his hoodie.
“I love you, actually.”
His fingers comb gently through your hair.
“You know,” he says quietly after a while, “if you fail something…”
𝒷oyfie!han's new lizard might be the death of you (◞‸ ◟)
💭 :: 1O15 fluff established relationship
"close your eyes. no peeking, i mean it," jisung whispered, his hands gently guiding you by the shoulders into his dorm room.
you laughed, letting him lead you forward. "jisung, if i trip over one of minho's random shoes on the floor, i'm hitting you."
"you won't trip, i got you. okay, stop right here," he said, his voice buzzing with that pure, chaotic excitement he got whenever he bought a new piece of music gear or found a really good lyrics notebook. "ready? three, two, one... open!"
you blinked your eyes open, expecting maybe a giant plushie, a rare vinyl, or even a ridiculously oversized hoodie.
instead, you were looking directly into two tiny, unblinking bug eyes.
about two inches from your nose, sitting right on jisung’s open palm, was a small, tan, slightly bumpy creature. it had tiny webbed toes, a wide, flat head, and a little row of spikes that looked like eyelashes above its eyes. it just stared at you, completely still, occasionally licking its own eyeball with a pink tongue.
you froze. every muscle in your body went completely rigid.
"surprise!" jisung beamed, his face practically glowing with pride. "isn't she beautiful?"
"oh," you squeaked. your brain was screaming at you to run out the door, down the hall, and entirely out of the building, but your feet were glued to the carpet. "that's... so... cute."
it was not cute. it was a reptile. you hated reptiles. lizards, snakes, frogs—anything cold-blooded and scaly made your skin crawl. you were absolutely terrified of them.
"i knew you'd love her," jisung said, completely missing the sheer panic in your voice because he was too busy admiring the little thing. "she's a crested gecko. look at her little eyelashes! she doesn't even have eyelids, she just licks her eyes to clean them. watch, maybe she'll do it again."
"fascinating," you muttered, slowly taking half a step back to put some much-needed distance between your face and the lizard. "where did you... why do you have this, sungie?"
"well, i went out with changbin hyung yesterday, and we passed this pet store. i saw her in the window and just felt this instant connection, you know? like, she looked as stressed as i do when i'm trying to write a bridge," he explained, holding her up a little higher. "so i bought the whole setup. she's a girl."
"a girl," you repeated, trying to keep your voice level. "nice. does she have a name?"
"yeah! changbin hyung named her richard."
you blinked. "richard. for a girl gecko."
"yeah, he said she looked like a richard. i didn't want to argue with him, he was really passionate about it," jisung shrugged, looking down at richard with pure affection. "here, you want to hold her? she's super soft, i promise. she feels like a little piece of velvet."
he started to move his hand closer to yours, and panic shot through you.
"no! no, that's okay!" you said a little too quickly, putting your hands behind your back. "i don't want to... disrupt her. she's transitioning into a new environment. she needs her space, jisung. structural stability."
jisung paused, finally looking up from the lizard to scan your face. he noticed the way your eyes were wide, your shoulders were hitched up to your ears, and how you were practically leaning your entire weight away from him.
a slow, amused grin spread across his face. "wait. are you scared of her?"
"i'm not scared," you lied, keeping your eyes glued to richard, who chose that exact moment to do a tiny, uncoordinated head-tilt. "i just have a healthy respect for prehistoric creatures."
"she's harmless, baby. she doesn't even have teeth, she eats fruit puree," jisung teased, taking a step closer to you.
"jisung, i swear to god, if you bring richard any closer to me, our relationship is on pause," you warned, pointing a finger at him from behind your back.
he let out a loud, dramatic laugh, his shoulders shaking. "oh my god, you're terrified. i had no idea. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i won't make you hold her."
he carefully walked over to the desk, where a brand new glass terrarium was sitting under a warm light, filled with fake plants and little branches. he gently let richard crawl off his hand onto a large green leaf. as soon as she was safe inside the glass, you finally let out a massive breath you didn't realize you were holding, your shoulders dropping.
jisung closed the screen lid of the tank, turned around, and immediately walked over to wrap his arms around your waist. he was still giggling, burying his face in your shoulder.
"you're awful," you mumbled, though you couldn't help but wrap your arms around his neck, finally feeling safe now that the tiny dinosaur was behind glass.
"i'm not awful, i'm a proud pet dad," he mumbled into your skin, kissing your shoulder. "but really, are you okay? i didn't mean to freak you out. if you really hate her, i can keep the tank strictly on my side of the dorm and cover it when you come over."
you looked past his shoulder at the tank. richard was currently hanging upside down from a plastic vine, looking incredibly goofy and not at all threatening now that she was contained.
you sighed, running a hand through jisung's messy hair. "no, no, it's fine. she can stay. she's actually kind of funny looking. i mean... i'll get used to her."
"she gets her looks from me," jisung joked, pulling back to look at you with a grin. "so... you'll help me feed her? she eats stuff that looks like baby food."
"absolutely not," you said instantly. "that is a hundred percent a dad job. i am strictly the cool aunt who visits and stays on the other side of the room."
"fair enough," jisung laughed, leaning down to press a quick, sweet kiss to your lips. "come on, let's go get some food. richard needs her rest anyway. she's had a big day terrifying my girlfriend."
your boyfriend can’t sleep well, so you decide to surprise him
pairing: sunghoon x reader || wc: 2.6k || cw: all fluff and cutesy! established relationship, mentions of exhaustion and nightmares, kissing, use of petnames, mentions of showering together (non-sexual!) || warnings: none! || a/n: based on this lovely request <3 i looove this hoonie so much
sunghoon sits on the edge of the hotel bed in a foreign city, the lights of tokyo bleeding through the half-closed curtains. his body feels heavy, like every step on stage earlier drained something vital out of him.
the tour has been nonstop for weeks now, and tonight his throat scratches with the beginning of a cold while his head throbs in rhythm with the distant city noise.
he misses his home.
he misses you.
he lies back against the pillows but sleep refuses to come. again. the same nightmare from last night flickers behind his eyes every time he closes them — blurry images of forgetting choreography, of the crowd turning silent, of reaching for your hand only for you to fade away.
he turns to his side, hugging a pillow that smells nothing like you, and sighs. practice today was rough. his moves felt stiff, his focus scattered. the members noticed but said nothing, giving him space he doesn’t really want.
his phone lights up on the nightstand. it’s a message from you, sent hours ago because of the time difference. thinking about you. hope the show went amazing today. love you so much.
he stares at the words until they blur. his chest tightens. god, he needs to hear your voice.
he dials before he can talk himself out of it. the phone rings once, twice, and then your sleepy voice answers.
“sunghoon? baby, are you okay?”
he tries to speak but his throat closes up. the exhaustion, the loneliness, the pressure — everything crashes down at once. a quiet sob slips out, then another. soon he’s crying properly, shoulders shaking as he presses the phone closer to his ear.
“i… i miss you,” he whispers, voice cracking. “so much it hurts. i can’t sleep. can’t even practice right. everything feels wrong without you here.”
you’re instantly awake on the other end. he can hear you shifting, probably sitting up in bed back home. your voice turns soft and soothing, the way it always does when you comfort him.
“oh hoonie… i’m right here. tell me what’s going on. breathe with me, okay?”
he tries. he really does. you talk him through it — reminding him how proud you are, how the fans love him, how this tour is temporary and soon he’ll be back in your arms. you tell him silly stories about your day, about the cat you saw on your walk that looked like him when he pouts. for a few minutes it helps. his breathing evens out and the tears slow.
but then another wave hits. the nightmare flashes again. the emptiness in his chest feels too big.
“it’s not enough,” he admits quietly, ashamed. “i know you’re trying and i love you for it but… i feel so lost right now. my body hurts. my mind won’t stop. i keep dreaming you’re gone and i wake up reaching for you and you’re not there.”
you stay silent for a second, then speak with even more tenderness. “i wish i could hold you right now. i’d play with your hair until you fell asleep. i’d make you that tea you like and kiss your forehead until the bad thoughts leave. you’re doing so well, sunghoon. even on hard days you’re still my strong, beautiful boy.”
the praise makes fresh tears spill. he curls up smaller on the bed, phone tucked between his ear and the pillow. you stay on the call for over an hour, voice never wavering even as sleep tugs at you. you sing softly — one of the songs he wrote for you — and it almost lulls him. almost.
eventually his sobs turn to quiet sniffles. you whisper goodnight promises, telling him to try and rest, that tomorrow will be softer. when the call ends, the hotel room feels even emptier. sunghoon stares at the ceiling, phone still clutched in his hand, missing you worse than before.
the next day is worse. rehearsals drag. his voice cracks during vocal warmups and he keeps missing counts in the choreography. the choreographer pulls him aside gently, suggesting he rest, but sunghoon shakes his head. he pushes through, sweat mixing with frustrated tears he refuses to let fall. back at the hotel he skips dinner with the members, claiming he’s tired. in reality he just wants to lie in the dark and think about you.
night falls again and the cycle repeats. another nightmare — this time he’s lost in an endless airport, announcements calling your name but you never appear. he wakes up gasping, heart racing, skin clammy. it’s 3am local time. he knows it’s late for you but he calls anyway.
you pick up on the second ring, voice thick with sleep but full of concern. “sunghoon?”
“i had another nightmare,” he chokes out immediately. tears are already falling. “i can’t do this anymore. i feel sick and empty and i just… i need you.”
you comfort him again, stronger this time. you tell him stories from when you first met, how his shy smile made your heart flip. you describe in detail what you would do if you were there — wrapping him in your favorite blanket, cuddling until he feels safe, tracing patterns on his back. your voice is a lifeline, warm and steady, but he can hear the worry underneath it. no matter how much you say, the distance feels like an ocean.
“i love you,” you repeat for the tenth time. “this tour is hard but you’re not alone. i’m with you even from here.”
he nods even though you can’t see, wiping his face. “i know. i’m sorry for calling so much. i’m being a burden.”
“you are never a burden,” you say firmly. “cry if you need to. i’m here.”
the call lasts even longer this time. nearly two hours of you holding space for his tears and exhaustion. when he finally hangs up, a small spark of determination lights in his chest. he loves you too much to keep dragging you through his pain from so far away.
the following morning he moves through schedules like a ghost. another show, another flawless performance on the outside while inside he feels like he’s crumbling. during the encore he looks out at the sea of lightsticks and forces a smile, but his mind is on you. on how your eyes light up when he comes home. on how your laugh fills every empty corner of his life.
back in the hotel after the show, he showers and collapses on the bed. he doesn’t call this time. instead he texts you goodnight messages, heart emojis and promises that he’s trying. but inside the ache grows.
you, meanwhile, are pacing your apartment. the last few calls have left you restless. hearing sunghoon cry, hearing the exhaustion in his voice, it breaks something in you. you’ve tried everything you can from this distance — words, songs, memories — but it’s not enough. he needs more. he needs you.
you sit at your desk and open your laptop. your hands shake a little as you check flight schedules. the tour dates, the cities, the time zones. there it is — a flight leaving in two days that would get you to him. your heart races. you have enough savings. you can take the time off work. you’ve already quietly arranged things in your mind.
you don’t tell him. this has to be a surprise. something tangible to break through the fog he’s in. you imagine his face when you show up at his hotel door, how his tired eyes would widen, how he’d pull you into his arms and finally breathe easy.
packing is quiet and careful. you fold his favorite hoodie of yours, the one he always steals, and tuck in small gifts — his favorite snacks from home, a new pair of warm socks, printed photos of the two of you. every item feels like a promise. you’ll hold him through the nightmares. you’ll rub his back until he falls asleep. you’ll be there when he wakes up.
as you zip the suitcase, a soft smile settles on your face. the distance has been too long, the pain too heavy. soon you’ll close that gap. you check the flight confirmation one more time, heart full of love and nervous excitement.
you’re going to him.
sunghoon wakes up the next morning with puffy eyes and a heavier heart than usual. the hotel room feels sterile, the sheets too crisp, the air too cold without your warmth beside him. he drags himself through soundcheck, his body moving on autopilot while his mind replays your voice from the calls. you sounded so worried last night. he hates making you feel that way. during a short break he leans against the stage wall, scrolling through old photos of you two — your smile buried in his neck during a winter date, your hands covering his eyes as a surprise birthday cake appears. it makes the ache sharper.
the members try to cheer him up. jake slaps his back lightly and says something about powering through, but sunghoon only nods weakly. he performs that night with everything he has left, pouring the loneliness into the choreography, letting the bright lights blur his vision. the fans scream his name and it helps for those few hours, but the second he steps off stage the exhaustion crashes back down. another night of fighting sleep awaits.
meanwhile you sit on the plane, heart hammering the entire flight. the hours stretch endlessly as you clutch the armrest, imagining his tired face, his soft cries through the phone. you replay his voice in your head and it fuels you. when the plane finally lands you feel a rush of nervous energy. you text a vague hope you're resting well tonight so he doesn’t suspect anything, then grab your suitcase and head straight to the hotel where the team is staying. you had messaged their manager earlier in secret, explaining the situation, and he kindly arranged a keycard for you after confirming with the staff.
the elevator ride up feels eternal. your hands shake as you stand in front of his door. it’s late — past midnight — and you know he’s probably trying and failing to sleep again. you take a deep breath, slide the keycard, and push the door open quietly.
the room is dark except for the faint city glow through the curtains. sunghoon lies curled up on the bed, back facing the door, shoulders tense even in sleep. his breathing is uneven. you set your suitcase down gently and slip off your shoes, heart swelling at the sight of him looking so small and drained.
you approach the bed slowly and slide under the covers behind him. your arm wraps around his waist, pulling yourself flush against his back. he stirs immediately, body tensing.
“what—” he starts, voice hoarse and confused.
“shh, it’s me,” you whisper against his neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “i’m here, hoonie.”
sunghoon flips around so fast he almost knocks you off the bed. his eyes widen in the dim light, disbelief written all over his face. for a second he just stares, like you might vanish if he blinks. then his face crumples and he pulls you into his chest so tightly you can barely breathe.
“you’re… you’re really here?” his voice breaks on the words. tears soak into your shirt instantly as he buries his face in your hair. his whole body trembles against yours. “how? when? i thought i was dreaming again.”
you rub slow circles on his back, feeling the tension start to melt under your touch. “i couldn’t stand hearing you like that anymore. i booked the flight right after our last call. surprise.”
he lets out a shaky laugh mixed with a sob, hands roaming your back like he needs to confirm you’re solid and real. “you flew all the way here for me… i don’t deserve you.”
“you deserve everything,” you murmur, kissing his forehead, then his damp cheeks, then his lips softly. he tastes like salt from the tears and the faint mint of his toothpaste. the kiss deepens slowly, full of longing and relief, his fingers threading through your hair as if afraid you’ll disappear.
you spend the next hour just holding each other. sunghoon clings to you like a lifeline, head on your chest while you play with his hair exactly the way he loves. you whisper all the comforts you couldn’t give him over the phone — how proud you are, how strong he is even when it feels impossible, how much you missed his scent and his little pout when he’s tired. his breathing finally evens out, the nightmares staying away for the first time in days because your heartbeat anchors him.
“i love you,” he mumbles sleepily against your skin, already drifting off. “more than anything.”
“i love you too. sleep now. i’ve got you.”
the next morning sunghoon wakes up first. he watches you sleep for a long time, tracing your features with gentle fingers, a soft smile on his face that hasn’t appeared in weeks. when you stir he peppers your face with kisses until you giggle.
“best surprise ever,” he says, voice still raspy from sleep and crying. he looks better already — eyes less shadowed, shoulders more relaxed.
you make him stay in bed while you order room service — warm soup for his throat, his favorite fruits, and steaming tea. you feed him bites between soft conversations, making him laugh with stories from home. he eats more than he has in days, leaning into your side the entire time.
later you join him at the venue. the members light up when they see you, teasing sunghoon about how whipped he is, but their relief is obvious. during rehearsals you sit in the corner and watch him. knowing you’re there seems to unlock something — his moves become sharper, his voice steadier. every few minutes he glances over at you with that bright, lovesick smile that makes your heart flutter.
during a break he pulls you into an empty dressing room and kisses you like he’s making up for all the lost time. slow and deep at first, then playful as he lifts you onto the counter, nose brushing yours.
“you make everything feel easy again,” he admits between kisses. “i was falling apart without you.”
“you were never falling apart,” you reply, cupping his face. “you were just carrying too much alone. now we share the weight.”
that night’s concert is one of his best on the entire tour. you watch from the side stage, heart bursting with pride as he shines under the lights. during the slower songs he looks straight toward where you stand, singing with new emotion. the fans sense the shift in energy and the cheers grow louder.
after the show he finds you immediately backstage, still sweaty and buzzing with adrenaline. he picks you up and spins you around, laughing freely for the first time in weeks.
back at the hotel the two of you take a long shower together. not rushed or heated — just tender. you wash his hair while he hums happily, eyes closed in bliss. afterward you tuck him into bed and crawl in beside him, legs tangled, his head resting on your chest again.
“no nightmares tonight?” you ask softly, fingers drawing patterns on his scalp.
he shakes his head, pressing closer. “none when you’re here. you chase them all away.”
you stay with him for the rest of that tour leg. every morning you wake up wrapped in each other. you attend practices and make sure he eats properly and rests between schedules. you leave little notes in his bag — you’re my favorite person or can’t wait to cuddle later — and he finds them during the day, sending you hearts and shy selfies in return.
on off days you explore the city together hand in hand. he buys you matching keychains and insists on taking couple photos even when he’s tired.
at night he falls asleep easily now, whispering love confessions until his voice fades. the hard times still come in waves — another tough rehearsal, another wave of homesickness — but now he turns to you instead of suffering alone. you hold him through the moments when tears return, kissing them away until he smiles again.
one quiet evening in another hotel room, city lights twinkling outside, sunghoon pulls you onto his lap on the couch. his arms circle your waist as he looks at you with those deep, sincere eyes.
“i was really struggling,” he says softly. “the nightmares, the pressure, missing you… it felt endless. but you came. you always come when i need you most. i don’t know what i did to deserve someone who loves me like this.”
you lean forward and rest your forehead against his. “you deserve the world, sunghoon. and i’m going to keep reminding you every single day.”
he kisses you then — slow, grateful, full of all the emotions he couldn’t express over the phone. the kiss turns into lazy cuddles that stretch into hours of quiet conversation and gentle touches. outside the tour continues with its chaos and demands, but inside these moments, it’s just the two of you. safe. warm. together.
and sunghoon thinks, as he falls asleep with your heartbeat steady under his ear, that this kind of love is what carries — and will carry — him through anything.
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smoking in riki’s bed is the best way to relax after a stressful day… if he can find his weed.
📓pairing: dealer!riki x fem!reader
contains: weed smoking skinship fluff kissing bickering riki’s kind of rude to his mom
🗯️vaeh’s note: i guess I’m back from my short ass break. this was supposed to be a Higher drabble but ig this counts as a regular bonus part now cs I am the worst at keeping my ffs short
⊹
Everything about today had been advertised as fun. A “production day,” your lecturer had called it all week with way too much enthusiasm, promising creative freedom and relaxed schedules and exciting group work.
Instead, it had been six straight hours of irritation, passive aggressive comments, and carrying an entire project on your back while the rest of your group stared blankly at their laptops pretending to work.
By two in the afternoon, your social battery was dead.
Your group presentation was supposed to start in less than ten minutes, yet you were hiding in a bathroom stall with your phone pressed to your ear. Your knee bounced restlessly.
“Come on,” you muttered under your breath when it rings again.
Then finally—
“Hey baby—”
“Can you pick me up?”
You cut straight through his greeting, voice exhausted enough to make him pause on the other end.
“…What?”
You sigh, leaning your head back against the cold metal wall behind you. “Can you come get me?”
Riki exhales softly through his nose.
“When?”
“Right now.”
“Right now?” he repeats. “Baby, I can’t right now.”
You frown instantly.
“Why not?”
“I’m working.”
You roll your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. Working. So selling weed to junks.
“And didn’t you say you had class till four?” he adds. “What happened?”
“Yea? I don’t wanna go.”
A small laugh escapes him. “That’s not really how it works.”
“Oh my god,” you groan dramatically, rubbing your forehead. “You cannot be serious.”
“What?”
“You telling me not to skip class?” Your voice sharpened with disbelief. “Riki, you’ve attended like three classes this entire year.”
“Yeah. Don’t be like me.” Riki says.
“Please just come get me,” you try again, softer this time. “I’m so done with today.”
You heard muffled voices in the background on his side of the phone. A car door shutting. Someone calling his name.
Riki clicks his tongue quietly.
“Baby, I really can’t right now. I’ve got like 6 more clients today.”
Your face drops immediately.
“I hate everyone here.”
“I know.”
“No, like actually fucking hate them.”
“I know,” he repeats. “Just come over when your classes are finished, okay?”
You let out the most miserable whine imaginable, dragging the sound out on purpose just to irritate him.
“Rikiiii.”
“That’s not changing my answer.”
Another long sigh left you before you pull the phone away from your ear.
“Whatever.”
“Don’t be mad—”
But you already hung up.
The call ends with a sharp tap of your thumb.
You sit there for another second in irritated silence, glaring at the picture of you and Riki on your lockscreen before shoving the phone into your bag aggressively.
Then you stand up, grab your things, and push the stall door open way harder than necessary. The loud slam echoes through the bathroom.
A girl by the mirror startles and looks over.
“Jeez.” The girl mutters to herself.
You ignore her completely, storming toward the exit, already rehearsing in your head how badly you’re going to guilt trip Riki later for abandoning his poor girlfriend.
—
By the time you arrive at Riki’s house around four thirty, your irritation hasn’t faded even a little. You text him the second you reach the driveway.
You: im here
Riki: door’s open. mom’s downstairs
You shove your phone into your pocket and push the front door open without knocking.
At this point, you’re over here so much it feels like your second home. The house smells faintly like laundry detergent and food. You hear the TV playing softly somewhere in the living room before his mom notices you walking in.
“Oh, hi sweetheart.”
You look over with a smile. “Hi miss Nishimura.”
“How was your day?”
You let out a dramatic sigh immediately. “Horrible.”
She laughs knowingly from the couch. “That bad?”
“You have no idea.”
“Well,” she says, shaking her head with amusement, “Riki’s upstairs. And tell him to clean that room before it starts growing mold.”
You snort. “I’ll try.”
You laugh softly before heading upstairs, already hearing faint music through the slightly open bedroom door.
The second you push it open wider, you catch Riki mid-motion. He’s shoving an overflowing laundry basket under his bed with his foot fast.
The room still looks messy anyway. Black hoodie tossed over his desk chair. Empty water bottles near the nightstand. Chains and rings scattered around like decoration.
And him.
Black joggers hanging low on his hips, white tank top stretched over his frame, black zip-up hoodie hanging open. Silver rings glinting against his fingers. Cross necklace resting against his chest.
Your mood somehow gets worse instantly.
“There's she is,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just panic-cleaned the second he heard you coming upstairs.
You don’t even answer. You just walk over and let yourself collapse face first onto his bed dramatically, burying your face into his pillow.
It smells exactly like him. Detergent, smoke and cologne.
Riki chuckles quietly behind you.
“Aww,” he teases. “You’re having a hard life today?”
“Yeah.”
“Mhm.”
The mattress dips as he climbs beside you, one arm immediately sliding across your lower back, pulling you closer against him lazily.
“What’s up?” he asks, voice lower now.
Your response comes muffled into the pillow.
“I just wanna graduate already.”
He laughs softly at that.
You finally roll onto your back with a long sigh, staring at the ceiling dramatically. Riki looks down at you with obvious amusement before leaning down and kissing your cheek once.
Then again. Then your forehead and hen the corner of your mouth.
“Talk to me,” he says.
You narrow your eyes at him while he shifts onto his back beside you, opening one arm, inviting you. You stare at him for a second before groaning loudly.
“What?”
“You look good,” you complain miserably. “It’s pissing me off more.”
You move anyway, immediately curling into his side. One leg thrown over his while his arm settles around your waist automatically. He grins.
“That’s your problem?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.”
You sigh dramatically again before starting your rant properly.
You tell him about the presentation disaster. About your group members barely helping. About one dude showing up completely unprepared and still acting cocky anyway. About having to fix everything yourself while everybody else stood around being useless.
Riki mostly listens quietly, fingers tracing along your waist beneath your t-shirt.
Sometimes he hums. Sometimes he laughs when you mock someone. Sometimes he drops a quiet “that’s crazy” just to keep you talking.
“And then,” you continue, growing more irritated again just remembering it, “they’re all panicking asking me what to say during the presentation like I’m their fucking mother.”
“I’m jealous of you.” You say.
Riki frowns. “Why?”
“You literally just do whatever you want.”
Riki’s expression shifts slightly at that. His hand moves slowly up your back.
“That’s not really a good thing, baby.”
You shrug against him. “Still.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head lightly. “You say that now, but you’re actually doing something with your life.”
You snort. “Barely.”
“I mean it. You’re gonna graduate, get your degree, all that shit.” His fingers squeeze your side lightly. “That matters.”
You look up at him. “You sound like a dad.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“You’re lecturing me.”
“I’m trying to be a good influence.”
You stare at him for a second before sighing loudly and burying your face against his chest again.
“I still hate everybody.”
“That’s okay,” he says easily, pressing a kiss into your hair.
You’re half sprawled on top of him now, your cheek pressed against his chest while his hand keeps moving up and down your back. The late afternoon light coming through his curtains makes the room feel warm and sleepy.
Until the thought hits you.
“I wanna smoke.”
Riki reacts immediately. Like genuinely immediately.
“Okay.”
You snort softly at how fast he says it.
He shifts underneath you, rolling onto his side to reach into his nightstand drawer. You hear the cluttering sound of him moving random things around, lighter, charger, loose receipts, wrappers probably. But then it goes quiet.
“The fuck?”
You lift your head slightly.
Riki’s brows furrow as he digs around harder. “Wait.”
You watch him pull the drawer out further.
Empty.
His whole expression changes instantly. Not fully panicked yet, but close enough that it makes you start smiling already.
“No way,” he mutters.
Without warning, he slips out from underneath you and gets off the bed fast enough to make it bounce. He opens his underwear drawer next, shoving things around aggressively before pulling out a small box hidden beneath his boxers.
Empty too.
“Oh my god,” he says under his breath.
You’re fully entertained now, just laying there watching him spiral.
He checks his backpack next. Nothing.
“What the fuck?” he says again, louder this time. “Nah nah nah.”
You’re trying not to laugh.
Riki turns to look at you with genuine concern in his eyes now.
“I think my mom took my stash.”
That makes you snort. But he doesn’t laugh at all.
His jaw tightens while he runs both hands through his hair, already stressed.
“Riki,” you say between laughs, “are you serious—”
“This isn’t funny.”
“It kinda is.”
“No, it’s really not.”
He’s already leaving the room before you can answer, and he leaves the door wide open behind him. You hear his footsteps down the stairs before his voice carries faintly through the house.
“Mom?”
“In the kitchen!”
You sit up slightly on the bed, immediately listening.
Riki walks into the kitchen trying to sound casual.
“Mom… were you in my room earlier?”
“Yes,” his mom answers easily. “Why?”
“Did you… take something?”
“Your drugs?”
Riki clicks his tongue. “It’s just weed.”
“And weed is still drugs. And it still makes the entire house smell.”
“Mom.”
“No, seriously,” she continues. “I’m tired of the smell. And I don’t want you doing that stuff all day.”
“You can’t just take my stuff.”
“I absolutely can if it’s in my house.”
“It’s my money you threw away, good quality shit,” he argues back, frustration slipping into his voice now. “Do you know how much was in there?”
“Maybe if you went to school instead of selling weed—”
“Oh my god.”
“You’re twenty years old, Riki.”
“And paying for my own stuff.”
“With drug money.”
He lets out a sharp exhale through his nose, clearly realizing the conversation is going nowhere.
“This is crazy,” he mutters.
Then you hear his footsteps coming back upstairs.
The second he walks back into the room, he looks miserable. You’re already grinning.
“She threw it away,” he complains immediately, throwing himself dramatically onto the bed beside you. “Everything.”
“I heard.”
“This is fucked up.”
You laugh softly while he lays there staring at the ceiling like his life is over.
“My own mother robbing me.”
“She’s probably trying to save your future.”
“She threw away like—” He cuts himself off with another annoyed groan. “I don’t even know— a lot of fucking money.”
Still smiling, you move closer again, half laying over him comfortably while he keeps muttering complaints under his breath.
Your hand slides across his side. Then pauses. There’s something in the pocket of his hoodie.
You feel the slight crinkle of plastic underneath the fabric. Riki notices your expression immediately.
“…What?”
Instead of answering, you slip your hand into his hoodie pocket.
“Oh shit.”
You pull out the tiny plastic bag slowly between two fingers. Then your grin spreads immediately.
“Oh my god, thank—”
“We’re not smoking that.”
He snatches it from your hand before you can even finish.
You stare at him.
“Riki.”
“It’s for a client.”
You let out an actual laugh. “Be forreal.”
“I am forreal.”
“Fuck your client.”
“My client is how I make money.”
“Your client can survive one night without weed.”
“He already paid.”
You roll your eyes dramatically before settling between on top of his legs while he keeps the bag out of reach.
“So refund him.”
“Refund him?” He laughs under his breath. “That’s not how that works.”
Your fingers start moving absentmindedly over his stomach through the thin tank top while you speak, nails lightly scratching against the fabric.
“You’re acting like it’s ten kilos.”
“I’m being responsible.”
You snort loudly at that word.
“Responsible.”
“Yes.”
“You skipped like an entire month of school.”
“I’m still enrolled.”
Your hand slides lower against his waist slowly.
“C’monnnn.” you murmur. “I had the worst day.”
“You say that every day.”
“Because people test me every day.”
“Mhm.”
“And now you’re sitting here gatekeeping weed from me.”
“I’m not gatekeeping.”
“You are, though.”
His hand settles on your thigh automatically, fingers squeezing once while he watches you with narrowed eyes.
“You’re manipulative as hell, i hope you know that.”
You tilt your head innocently. “What? I’m just talking.”
“Yeah?” he says. “That’s why your hands are all over me.”
“Maybe because you look good.”
You lean closer while talking, fingers trailing underneath the hem of his tank top just slightly, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath.
Riki exhales slowly through his nose.
“Manipulative”
“And you’re still not giving me the weed.”
He shakes his head, but he’s already losing. You can tell.
“Imagine,” you continue casually, “choosing some random stoner over your sexy girlfriend after she suffered through six hours hell.”
“Hell?”
“Yes.”
“You’re insane.”
“And sober,” you remind him. “Which is your fault.”
That finally makes him laugh. You immediately take advantage of it, reaching for the bag again. He pulls it away last second.
“Riki,” you groan.
“No.”
“Why are you acting like this is life or death?”
“Because my mom already murdered my business today.”
You roll your eyes before shifting even closer into his lap until your face is right near his. Your hands slide up his chest while you talk softly, your lips hovering above his.
“You like me more than your client, right?”
Then he squints at you. “You’re so full of shit.”
“But am I wrong?”
His hand tightens on your thigh again while he stares at your lips for a second too long.
You already know you won.
“If this dude starts blowing up my phone later, I’m blaming you.”
You smile slowly. “So we’re smoking?”
“Pleaseeee. I know you want it too.”
He exhales slowly, staring at the tiny bag in his hand like he’s mourning it already.
“Fine.”
“Yesssss.”
You grin immediately and kiss his cheek fast before he can change his mind.
“Love you.”
“Yeah yeah,” he mutters. “You love my weed.”
Riki keeps muttering under his breath about loss while he rolls onto his side toward the nightstand.
You grin to yourself, while he pulls open the drawer again and starts gathering everything he needs. Grinder. Papers. Lighter.
You laugh softly and sit up against the headboard while he settles beside you cross-legged, focused now.
His rings glint under the golden sunlight while he breaks the weed apart between his fingers. You watch him quietly while he works, music humming softly in the background from his speaker.
There’s something stupidly attractive about watching him roll.
Maybe it’s the concentration on his face. The silver chain resting against his throat. The way his hoodie slips down slightly off one shoulder while he leans forward.
He finishes rolling the blunt with a small nod to himself before licking the edge closed carefully. Then he grabs the lighter, sparks it once, twice, before the tip finally glows orange.
The smell fills the room almost instantly.
Riki takes the first hit automatically, checking the burn, then passes it over to you.
You take it from him slowly, inhaling deep while he gets off the bed.
The smoke settles warm in your lungs while you watch him move around the room. He cracks the window open first, then turns the music up slightly louder.
You exhale toward the ceiling with a long satisfied sigh before letting yourself fall backward onto his bed dramatically.
“Oh my god.”
Riki laughs quietly while climbing back onto the mattress.
“That good?”
“Mhm.”
He takes the blunt back from your fingers and leans against the headboard beside you. You watch him inhale slowly before he tilts his head back slightly, doing a french inhale.
You narrow your eyes.
“Okay show off.”
He grins lazily. “You wish you could do that.”
“I literally can.”
“You can’t.”
You grab at the blunt immediately. “Give it.”
He laughs again but hands it over.
Riki’s eyes are getting red, eyelids hanging lower, his movements slower. And you can feel yourself melting into the mattress more every second.
You move closer without really thinking about it, thigh pressing against his while you take another hit.
“Does your mom know I smoke with you?” You ask quietly.
Riki immediately lets out a short laugh.
“No.”
“Why’d you laugh like that?”
“Because she’d actually kill me.”
You grin slightly. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” He takes the blunt back. “She already hates that I smoke. If she found out I got you smoking too?” He shakes his head. “I’d never survive.”
“You didn’t get me smoking.”
“You met me because I sold to you.”
“Okay.”
He points at you with the blunt. “Exactly.”
You laugh quietly while laying your head against his shoulder.
“She thinks I’m a bad influence already,” he says.
“You are a bad influence.”
“Maybe.”
Riki takes another hit before continuing, words slower now.
“One time she caught me smoking in the garage and made me deep clean the whole house for like two days.”
“No way.”
“I’m serious.” He looks genuinely offended remembering it. “She took my car keys too.”
You start laughing harder.
“She said if I wanted to ‘act grown’ then I could start doing grown people chores.”
He rolls his eyes lazily before nudging your leg with his knee.
“What about your parents? They know?”
You think for a second.
“I don’t think so.”
“Not even about me?”
“They know you’re my boyfriend,” you say vaguely.
You grin.
“I just don’t think they know you deal.”
“And the smoking?”
You shrug lightly. “My mom definitely suspects something sometimes.”
“She ever ask?”
“Once.”
“What’d you say?”
“That my eyes were red because I was tired.”
Riki immediately starts laughing.
“That’s such bullshit.”
“She believed me.”
“No she didn’t.”
“She did.”
“She chose to believe you,” he corrects.
You smile a little at that because honestly, he’s probably right.
The conversation slowly drifts after that. Neither of you talking much anymore.
The weed settles heavier into your body until everything feels warm and slow and comfortable. The music sounds better. His room feels warmer and you get clingy.
Your hands keep finding him without even thinking about it.
Resting on his chest. Sliding under his hoodie. Fingers tracing over the rings on his hands. Playing with the chain around his neck. Touching his arm, his stomach, his jaw.
Riki notices eventually.
“You’re attached to me right now.”
“Mhm.”
He smiles lazily, eyes half closed now while you curl fully against him.
“So cute.”
One of your legs thrown over his again. Your face pressed into the side of his neck.
His hand drifts slowly up and down your back while the room stays quiet except for the music and your soft occasional laughter at literally nothing.
Your entire horrible day feels far away now.
The blunt is almost done by now. Just one hit left. You take the last hit slowly, inhaling deep.
“Baby,” Riki says quietly.
You look at him. He just tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking toward your mouth.
Oh. A small grin pulls at your lips immediately.
Without a word, you shift up, swinging one leg over his lap so you’re sitting on top of him properly. His back presses against the bedframe while his hands settle automatically on your hips.
You lean down close. Then slowly exhale the smoke into his mouth.
Riki inhales instantly, eyes fixed on your lips the entire time.
You stay close after, barely pulling away.
His gaze drags over your face lazily before he turns his head slightly to the side to exhale the smoke away from you. One hand reaches toward the nightstand blindly, dropping the finished blunt into the glass of water beside the bed with a quiet sizzle.
Then he looks back at you and kisses you immediately.
His lips warm against yours while your arms slide around his neck automatically. The kiss tastes faintly like smoke, his hand moving up your side underneath your hoodie while he pulls you closer against him.
Your fingers slip into the hair at the back of his neck.
His hand is sliding up your throat gently, thumb brushing your jaw while he deepens the kiss.
You breathe out softly against his mouth when his other hand moves lower, dragging down your waist before settling on your ass with a firm squeeze.
His tongue pushes into your mouth while his grip tightens slightly, guiding your hips forward instinctively. Then back, then forward again, while softly humming into the kiss.
The movement makes heat curl low in your stomach instantly.
He has his hands all over you like he can’t decide where he wants them most.
One hand squeezing your thigh now. The other still holding your waist, moving you against him in a way that has your head getting fuzzier by the second.
Then—
A knock.
“Riki.”
You both freeze instantly.
You practically launch yourself off his lap while Riki looks down at his crotch and quickly adjusts his joggers to hide something.
You drop back onto the bed casually, grabbing your phone like you’ve been doing absolutely nothing suspicious.
Riki starts aggressively waving his hand through the air trying to clear the smoke, muttering a quiet “shit” under his breath.
“Yeah?” he calls out.
His mom opens the door. The second she steps inside, her face twists immediately.
“Oh my god.”
Riki sighs dramatically already.
“It smells disgusting in here.”
Riki shrugs. You bite the inside of your cheek hard to stop yourself from laughing.
His mom looks around the room with visible disappointment before glaring at him again.
“I just told you about this earlier.”
Riki scoffs quietly, slouching further against the headboard. “Okay.”
“Don’t ‘okay’ me.”
He stays quiet this time. Probably because arguing more would make her stay longer.
Thankfully, she moves on with another sigh.
“Anyway, I’m going out to dinner with a friend later, so you two need to figure out food yourselves.”
“Okay.”
“And clean this room.”
Riki looks around lazily at the disaster surrounding him.
“It is clean, mom.”
His mom stares at him in disbelief. She shakes her head like she’s exhausted with him. Then she turns and walks out. Leaving the door completely open behind her.
“Mom!” Riki calls after her immediately. “Close the door.”
She ignores him completely and keeps walking downstairs.
He drops his head back against the wall with an annoyed groan.
“You see how nobody respects me in this house?”
He rolls his eyes while you crawl closer again, reaching up to grab his face with both hands. You squish his cheeks together dramatically, lips pursed in fake pity.
“Awww,” you say mockingly. “Poor baby. Mommy yelled at you again?”
“Shut up,” he mumbles through squished cheeks.
“This,” he says while pulling your hands away, “is why I smoke. My mom stresses me out.”
“She just told you to clean your room.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s normal.”
“It’s already clean.”
You slowly turn your head to look around the room. Then back at him.
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
The disbelief on your face makes him scoff instantly.
“It is.”
“Riki.”
“What?”
You narrow your eyes at him before suddenly leaning over the side of the bed.
Riki reacts immediately. He grabs your waist trying to pull you back before you can look underneath, but he’s too slow.
You already see everything. The laundry basket tipped completely over, half the clothes spilled out across the floor underneath the bed. Empty water bottles. A pizza box. Random chargers. One sock hanging off something.
And… you slowly reach down with two fingers.
You hold up a pair of grey Calvin Klein boxers delicately like they’re contaminated.
“You’re disgusting.”
He clicks his tongue and snatches them from your fingers fast and throws them back underneath the bed aggressively.
“Stop looking under there.”
You ignore him completely.
Still bent over the side of the bed, you keep inspecting his mess pile while Riki flops back dramatically behind you.
“Leave my room alone.” he says, laughing under his breath.
“There’s enough water bottles under here to survive an apocalypse.”
“I was gonna throw them away.”
“When? Next year?”
He grabs your ankle, trying to drag you back up onto the bed.
“Come here.”
“No, I’m investigating.”
Your eyes catch on something small shoved further back underneath the bed.
You pull it out quietly.
A pair of pink panties. You recognize them instantly because you’ve been wondering where they disappeared to weeks ago.
But instead of saying that, you just stare at them for a second.
Then slowly sit back up onto the bed.
Riki’s still relaxed at first, watching you casually.
Until you look at him.
“Riki,” you say slowly.
“Hm?”
“Are you cheating on me?”
The change in his expression is immediate.
“What?”
You hold up the panties silently, keeping your face completely serious.
Riki stares at them for one second before scoffing.
“Baby, those are yours.”
You don’t answer. Just keep staring at him.
“You literally left those here.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
“I’ve never seen those in my life.”
He snorts. “Okay.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re lying.”
You shrug lightly. “Am I?”
Riki still looks entertained at first, completely unconcerned while he reaches for his phone beside him.
“They’re yours y/n.”
“I think I’d remember my own underwear.”
He glances over at you again.
You’re still staring at him with the exact same serious expression. No smile, no laugh.Nothing.
The amusement slowly starts fading from his face. Riki sits up a little straighter now.
“Are you being serious right now?”
You look down at the panties in your hands dramatically before looking back at him.
“I don’t know, Riki. Should I be?”
“Baby,” he says immediately, now fully paying attention. “That is literally yours.”
“But what if it’s not?”
He stares at you for another second, trying to figure out if you’re joking.
Then his phone gets tossed aside completely.
“Baby— what?.” He moves closer fast, hands immediately finding your face. “Why would I cheat on you?”
You bite the inside of your cheek trying not to laugh.
“You think I’d do that?”
You shrug again.
Riki looks genuinely stressed now.
“No, seriously.” His thumbs brush against your cheeks while he searches your face. “I would never do that to you.”
Your expression almost breaks right there.
“I promise you that.” he says softer now.
“Mhm.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“You’re the only girl that’s ever in my room.”
That one nearly makes you lose it. Especially because he sounds so sincere.
His brows are pulled together now, eyes low and worried while he keeps holding your face close.
“I’d never cheat on you,” he says again quietly. “Don’t look at me like that.”
You can’t hold it anymore.
“Hahaaaaa— gotcha.”
Riki freezes. Then realization slowly washes over his face.
“I knew it.”
You’re laughing so hard now you almost fall sideways off the bed.
“Oh my god, your face—”
“Get out of here with your fuckass pranks.”
“I got you so stressed.” you wheeze. “You got all serious—”
You keep laughing while mocking his voice.
“Baby, I’d never cheat on you.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re the only girl in my room.”
Riki shoves you hard enough to make you flop backward onto the mattress while he falls back beside you dramatically.
“You’re annoying as fuck.”
You’re still laughing.
“You looked so scared.”
“You kept staring at me like you were about to cry.”
You roll on top of him immediately, still grinning while he tries to stay annoyed.
It doesn’t work very well. Especially not when you start kissing his face repeatedly. One on his cheek. Another near his jaw. Then the corner of his mouth.
“Sorry,” you laugh against his skin.
“No you’re not.”
“I’m kinda sorry.”
“Mhm.”
You kiss him again anyway, arms wrapping around his neck. He’s still shaking his head.
“Actually can’t stand you,” he mutters.
But he’s smiling when he says it.
You’re still laughing when you lean down to kiss him again. And again and again.
Riki tries to stay annoyed, but you can literally feel him fighting a smile underneath your mouth every time you kiss the corner of his lips.
“Don’t be mad,” you mumble against his cheek.
You poke his face.
“Riki.”
He grabs your wrist immediately. “Stop poking me.”
“I’ve never seen you that stressed in my life.” you continue, grinning down at him.
“I could tell you were joking.”
“Aww,” you tease again, lightly squishing his face. “Did you?’
“I don’t like you.”
“You do.”
You kiss him again before squishing his cheek one more time.
“Don’t be mad.”
“I’m warning you right now.”
You ignore him completely.
Another poke.
“Baby—”
Another kiss.
“Don’t be—”
Suddenly his hands grab your waist hard.
You barely have time to yelp before he flips you over completely, throwing you onto the mattress with a laugh.
“Riki!”
“There,” he says while climbing over you fast. “Got you.”
You’re still laughing when he pins both your wrists above your head with one hand.
He leans down and bites lightly at your neck with a playful growl that makes you yell immediately.
Riki grins against your skin before suddenly attacking your sides with his free hand.
“You were asking for it.”
You scream instantly.
“RIKI—”
“You thought you were funny?”
“STOP—”
He keeps tickling you, fingers everywhere now while you twist underneath him laughing so hard you can barely breathe. Your legs kick against the bed uselessly while he keeps your wrists pinned easily.
“Talking all that shit,” he says through his own laughter. “Now look at you.”
“STOP—”
“No.”
“PLEASE—”
“Say sorry.”
“I— I DID!”
“Say it properly.”
You can barely get words out between laughing.
He keeps going. Tickling your stomach now, your sides, under your arms, everywhere he knows makes you lose your mind.
You’re literally crying laughing at this point.
“Okay okay— sorry!”
“What was that?”
“Sorry!!”
“Hmm?”
“I’m sorry Riki!”
Finally he stops.Both of you breathing hard now.
Riki looks down at you smugly while still pinning your wrists above your head. Then he leans down and kisses the side of your jaw once before letting go completely.
“That’s what I thought. Good girl.”
You glare at him and immediately kick his leg one last time.
He laughs while rolling off you.
You just lay there dramatically trying to recover, chest rising and falling while your face hurts from laughing.
“Oh my god,” you groan.
“You started it.”
“You almost killed me.”
You stare at the ceiling for another few quiet seconds before your stomach growls loudly.
Riki immediately snorts.
“…I’m hungry.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
He stretches lazily before sitting up, hoodie riding up slightly, giving you a peek of the tattoo on his side.
“Get up then.” He says while reaching over to tap your thigh.
You follow him downstairs.
You hop up onto the kitchen counter while Riki starts checking for food. The fridge first.
He stares inside for a few seconds. “Why do we only have ingredients?”
He starts pulling random things out dramatically.
Spinach. Eggs. Sauce. Half a cucumber.
“You could cook.”
“I’m not cooking.”
You roll your eyes.
Next he checks the cabinets. Same problem. Pasta. Rice. Random canned stuff.
“What even is this.”
You laugh softly from the counter while swinging your legs.
Then he opens the freezer.
“Oh wait.”
You sit up slightly.
“What?”
“I found some pizza.”
“Oh my god.”
Riki pulls it outThen flips it over.
His face immediately drops.
“Nevermind.”
“What?”
“This shit expired two years ago?! Jezus Christ, mom.”
You burst out laughing.
“This house has no food and no weed,” he complains dramatically while walking toward the trash. “Unbelievable.”
“You’re so spoiled.”
He opens the trash bin to throw away the pizza. Then freezes.
“…No fucking way.”
You blink at him. “What?”
“Baby.”
The tone of his voice makes you hop off the counter immediately.
“What?”
Riki slowly turns the trash bin toward you.
Your eyes widen instantly.
His stash. All of it. Still sealed up in bags, sitting right there untouched because apparently his mom had just thrown it out without opening anything.
“Oh shit.”
Riki genuinely looks emotional.
“She didn’t throw it out.”
You start laughing immediately while he grabs the bags out of the trash like he’s rescuing lost treasure.
“No way,” he keeps saying in disbelief. “No fucking way.”
Riki suddenly grabs your waist and lifts you right off the floor effortlessly, making you laugh louder while he kisses you hard.
“You don’t understand,” he says against your lips, grinning like an idiot now. “We’re about to have a goood time.”
You’re still smiling when you hop back up onto the kitchen counter, watching Riki reorganize his recovered stash on the counter.
“I want sushi.”
Riki looks over immediately.
“You want sushi?” he repeats, stepping closer until he’s standing between your legs.
“Mhm.”
You hook your ankles loosely behind him while he leans in just enough to kiss you once.
“Then we’re getting sushi.”
“Exactly.”
He pulls his phone out with one hand while the other settles around your lower back automatically, keeping you close against him while he opens a delivery app.
“What rolls do you want?”
You lean forward immediately to watch.
“That one.”
“Ooo wait,” you say, pointing at the screen. “Get California rolls.”
Riki adds it without argument.
“And spicy salmon.”
Tap.
“And those fried ones.”
“The crunchy ones?”
“Yeah.”
Still, he scrolls until you nod.
“Those.”
He adds them too.
One of your hands drifts into his hair while he orders, fingers scratching lightly at the back of his neck. You keep commenting on random things while he adds literally everything you mention without complaint.
“Get gyoza too.”
“Okay.”
“And mochi.”
“You don’t even like mochi that much.”
“Yes I do.”
“You eat like two bites.”
“I like mochi. Riki.” You say, not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.
Riki laughs quietly under his breath and adds it anyway, he glances at the total and finally looks up at you.
“I think we got enough.”
You immediately shake your head.
“No.”
“Baby.”
“We get hungry when we’re high.”
“That’s already enough food for a family of four.”
“And?”
He stares at you for a second.
Then sighs dramatically and adds another roll anyway.
“There. Happy?”
“Very.”
“You use me financially.”
“Correct.”
He snorts softly before finally placing the order.
The second the confirmation screen pops up he tosses his phone onto the counter beside you.
“There,” he says, reaching for the weed beside you, “you ready to get faded or what?”
He dangles one of the little bags of weed in front of you teasingly.
You glance at it, then shake your head.
“Not yet.”
Riki raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I don’t want it to wear off before the food gets here.”
That makes him laugh immediately.
You’re still sitting on the counter while he steps even closer between your legs again, his hands settle on either side of your thighs.
“Baby,” he says amused, “you do not gotta worry about that.”
You smile slightly at his tone already.
He leans in closer.
“This shit’s strong,” he murmurs near your lips. “It’ll have you stoned for hours.”
The way he says it makes warmth spread through you instantly.
You smile against his mouth before kissing him softly just for a few seconds. When you pull back, you’re still smiling a little.
“The other one worked pretty fast though.”
Riki chuckles quietly.
“Yeah baby, that was like less than half a blunt.”
“Mhm.”
“And my mom interrupted us halfway through.”
You laugh softly and lightly push his shoulder.
“Stop talking shit about your mom.”
By the time you both end up outside in the backyard, the sky is starting to darken just slightly.
You curl one leg underneath yourself on the gray lounge sofa in the cornerwhile Riki sits beside you, immediately pulling out the recovered stash again.
The second he opens the bag, the smell hits instantly.
“Jeez,” you say, wrinkling your nose slightly.
Riki just nods while breaking it apart between his fingers.
“Told you,” he says proudly. “This the good stuff.”
You eye the weed suspiciously.
“I don’t wanna green out again.”
That makes him laugh under his breath.
“You’re not gonna green out.”
“You said that last time too.”
“And you were fine.”
“I thought my heart stopped.”
Riki grins and reaches over to pat your head.
“You’ll be fine, baby. I promise.”
He ignores that, focused on rolling now.
His rings click softly against the lighter beside him while he works. You watch him carefully pack the joint before sealing it shut.
“Oh, by the way.”
“Mhm?”
“When the food gets here, you gotta open the door.”
You blink. “Why?”
You stare at him for a second.
“Riki.”
He just grins to himself while lighting the tip.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“…Okay?”
You shake your head at him while he hands you the finished joint.
You bring it to your lips automatically, cupping your hand around the end while you light it carefully against the slight evening breeze.
The orange glow flickers against your face for a second.
Riki watches you.
“You look sexy when you do that.”
You smile at him while inhaling. He laughs softly and lights his own.
You take another long hit confidently this time. Immediate mistake.
The smoke hits the back of your throat so harshly you start coughing instantly.
“Fuck—”
“I told you it’s strong.”
You cough harder.
His hand lands on your back, rubbing slowly between your shoulders.
“You good?”
“Mhm,” you manage weakly between coughs.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He still keeps rubbing your back though, grinning to himself while you recover.
The joints burn slowly while the conversation drifts lazily from topic to topic. Sometimes one of you talks. Sometimes neither of you does.
Your body starts feeling heavier against the couch cushions while Riki’s eyes get visibly lower every time he looks over at you.
Then the doorbell rings faintly inside the house.
Neither of you reacts.
A few seconds later it rings again. Still nothing.
By the third ring, your eyes widen slightly.
“Oh shit.”
You quickly lean forward to put your joint in the ashtray, but you just kind of drop it sideways carelessly.
Riki immediately hisses under his breath.
“Baby—”
“What?”
“You gotta put it down properly.”
He fixes it quickly before it burns unevenly, muttering to himself while adjusting it.
“Now you gotta relight it later. Wasting my shit.”
By the time you get to the front door, your eyes already feel warm and heavy.
You pull it open.
The delivery guy looks down at his phone first.
Then at you.
Then back at the phone again with visible hesitation.
“Order for…” He squints slightly. “Princess?”
You freeze.
The delivery guy looks awkward now.
“…Is that you?”
“Oh.” You smile awkwardly. “Yup... that’s me.”
He hands over the food while clearly trying not to react.
“Enjoy.”
“Thanks.”
The second you walk back outside, Riki’s smiling so hard he can barely hold it together.
“Order for princess?” you repeat flatly.
That immediately makes him laugh.
“You’re ridiculous.”
He shrugs innocently, still grinning.
“That’s what you are right? Ordering half the menu on my costs.”
“So?”
“So princess behavior.”
You shake your head while sitting back beside him with the food bags.
Riki laughs quietly while watching you unpack everything onto the outdoor table.
Containers everywhere. Soy sauce packets. Mochi. Chopsticks. You arrange everything carefully while he watches you with low amused eyes.
Then he hands your joint back to you.
“Smoke first.”
“I’m hungry.”
“It’ll taste better after.”
You look at him.
“Trust me.”
You sigh.
“Alright. But let me unpack first.”
Riki just leans back against the couch watching you continue organizing all the food until everything’s spread out perfectly across the table.
Only then do you finally put the joint back between your lips.
“Here,” you mumble.
Riki leans in with the lighter, one hand instinctively cupping near your face while he relights it for you.
Then he takes his own joint again.
Time starts getting weird after that. The world feels softer while the backyard lights blur slightly golden against your vision.
Riki’s head is tipped back slightly, eyes red and barely open anymore.
You’re not much better. Every movement feels delayed.
The sushi sitting on the table in front of you somehow looks like the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life.
And when you glance over at Riki, he’s already looking at you. Slow grin spreading across his face.
The second you take the first bite of sushi, your eyes widen dramatically.
“Oh my god.”
Riki’s already chewing on his own food beside you when you point at the tray.
“This tastes fucking amazing.”
Your words come out half muffled because you’re already stuffing another piece into your mouth.
Riki starts laughing immediately.
“You look crazy right now.”
“No seriously,” you say through another bite, “this is like… life changing.”
“Mhm,” he agrees lazily. “Told you.”
The weed is hitting hard now. Everything tastes better.
The soy sauce somehow tastes richer. The crunchy fried rolls are so good they piss you off a little. Even the stupid little ginger slices are suddenly very good.
“This is the best sushi I’ve ever had in my entire life.”
At one point you groan loud while chewing and let your head fall back dramatically against the couch.
Riki loses it.
“You sound like you’re getting fucked.”
“No. This better than getting fucked.”
Riki starts laughing so hard he nearly chokes on rice.
You laugh too immediately even though neither of you even knows what’s funny anymore.
The conversation keeps breaking apart halfway through because both of you get distracted constantly.
Riki reaches for a fried roll.
Misses the soy sauce completely. Still eats it.
You stare at him.
“You didn’t dip it, baby.”
“Huh?”
“You missed.”
He looks down slowly.
“Oh.”
Then both of you start laughing again for absolutely no reason.
At some point you try using chopsticks and completely fail because your movements feel delayed.
“You’re holding them wrong,” Riki says.
“No I’m not.”
“You look like you don’t know what planet you’re on right now.”
Eventually the table is a complete mess and both of you are completely gone.
You fall back dramatically against the couch cushions with a groan.
“I’m so full.”
Riki leans back beside you with heavy eyes.
“Same.”
The backyard feels unreal now.
The sun is setting lower, turning the sky orange and pink while the grass somehow looks very green.
You stare at it for a long moment.
“Why does the grass look like… that?”
Riki turns his head slowly. “Like what?”
“So green.”
He squints at the lawn for a few seconds.
“…Damn.”
“Right?”
“Yeah.”
You nod seriously.
“This is the best weed ever.”
“Mhm.”
“My eyelashes are tingling.”
That makes him laugh quietly.
You keep talking very slowly.
“And the sky is like…” You gesture vaguely upward. “Orange. But like… not normal orange.”
Your thoughts are drifting around faster than your mouth can keep up.
“And the clouds are so…” You trail off completely.
“So what?”
“…Nevermind.”
“You forgot?”
“Mhm.”
“You’re so stoned.”
You look over at him slowly.
“You are too.”
“I can handle it better.” he says immediately.
Riki grins lazily beside you before grabbing his phone and putting music on. The sound plays quietly through the backyard while the sky gets darker by the minute.
The weed makes both of you ridiculously affectionate.
Your hand keeps finding his automatically. Or his hoodie. Or his chain.
You’re halfway in his lap again without even realizing it.
Riki doesn’t seem any better. One arm permanently around your waist now. Fingers tracing patterns against your side. Pulling you closer every few minutes like he forgot you’re already on top of him.
At some point he just starts staring at you.
You notice eventually.
“What?”
“You’re so cute when you’re high.”
“You say that every time.”
“Cause it’s true. You get all slow.”
“You’re slow too.”
“Yeah but I’m still functioning.”
The night settles around you slowly.
The air gets colder. The backyard lights turn on automatically above you. Music still humming softly in the background.
Eventually you both end up laying down across the lounge couch together.
You’re tucked between his long legs with your head resting on his chest, arms folded underneath your chin w.
Riki’s hand moves slowly through your hair.
Everything feels warm and comfortable. Your eyes keep slipping shut.
Riki says something eventually, voice low and sleepy above you.
You don’t answer.
A few seconds pass then he nudges you lightly.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.”
Nothing.
“Princess.”
Riki lifts his head slightly to look down at you properly.
Your mouth is slightly open against his chest, breathing slow and even.
Completely asleep.
He stares for a second before quietly chuckling to himself.
His hand brushes gently through your hair one last time before his eyes close too.
A while later, the back door slides open softly.
Riki’s mom steps inside the dark kitchen first, kicking her shoes off quietly before setting her bag down on the counter.
The house is silent.
She frowns slightly.
“Riki?”
No answer.
“Y/n?”
She glances toward the backyard when she notices the faint music still playing outside. With a small sigh, she walks over and slides the door open further.
You and Riki are completely passed out.
Riki’s sprawled against the couch cushions with his head tilted to the side, one arm still wrapped around your waist in his sleep. His other hand is tangled loosely in your hair like he fell asleep petting it.
And you’re curled against his chest, tucked between his legs comfortably, breathing slow and peaceful.
Both of you look exhausted but very cute together.
For a second she just stands there quietly watching.
“Oh gosh,” she mutters under her breath, her eyes barely tearing up.
It’s kind of thing she’d probably take a picture of if she wasn’t actively trying to stay annoyed at her son.
She’s already about to leave you both alone when her eyes drift toward the table beside the couch.
The ashtray.
Two finished joints resting inside.
Her mouth flattens immediately.
“Oh my god.”
She clicks her tongue softly while looking back at the two of you asleep.
“You two…”
Riki just pulls you slightly closer unconsciously in his sleep.
His mom shakes her head slowly before heading back inside. The kitchen light flicks on and that’s when she notices the counter.
Several bags. Very recognizable bags, filled with weed.
All spread across the kitchen counter exactly where Riki had left them earlier.
She slowly closes her eyes.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
She walks over immediately, picking one up between two fingers with visible disbelief.
“So he went into the trash for it too,” she mutters to herself.
Another annoyed sigh leaves her while she grabs the box of trash bags from underneath the sink.
This time, she empties every single bag out of the packaging directly into the garbage.
No saving it now.
Just straight into old food, napkins, banana peels and whatever else is already sitting in there.
She ties the trash bag shut tightly afterward. Then looks toward the backyard again through the glass door.
Riki sleeping peacefully with you in his arms, completely unaware that his mom is throwing out his beloved weed stash… again.
