Vi

Now you're caught between two sources of heat: the pale blue glow of your monitor washing over your face, and the solid warmth of his body at your back. Your hands rested on your keyboard, fingers moving through muscle memory while you navigate whatever map, but your focus is fracturing with every passing second.

"Sniper on the roof — cover me," Jongseob warns, his voice small and tinny through your headset.

You manage a grunt of acknowledgment, something noncommittal that could pass for agreement.

Behind you, Shota shifts. The joint hanging loosely from his lips now, and you feel the expansion of his chest against your spine as he inhales, then the slow deflation as he exhales.

Smoke curls past your cheek, earthy and sweet, mixing with the faint musk of his skin and the clean cotton smell of his clothes. He's wearing a loose black t-shirt and gray sweatpants — soft and worn, the fabric grasping just enough to betray the shape of his thighs and the lines of his body beneath you.

You're supposed to be focusing… and well, you're trying… but unfortunately you were losing a PvP on-screen because you were too aware of the way his fingers had started to drift.

His hand slid from the armrest to your waist, resting there with a touch so light it could pass as accidental.. innocent, even. But then Shota’s palm flattens before his thumbs hook beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingers brushed the bare skin of your stomach in a slow, deliberate stroke that made your breath catch in your throat.

Your character stumbles on-screen, taking damage you could have easily dodged – something easily avoidable. "You good?" Jongseob asks, confusion laced in his tone. You'd never screw something like that up.

"Yeah. Just lag." You whisper, the lie tissue-thin. You clear your throat, but the sound still comes out small and unsteady.

Shota exhales another plume of smoke, angling his head so the joint doesn't burn you. His free hand slides lower, tracing the curve of your side with maddening slowness, settling over your hip with a grip that's no longer casual. Then he pulls — one firm, decisive motion that drags you back against him, grinding your ass directly onto his lap.

You felt the heat trapped beneath the soft cotton of his sweatpants and his cock immediately, already half-hard, pressing insistently against the cleft of your shorts. The realization sends a jolt straight through your core.

Your fingers tighten on your mouse, your other hand curling into a fist against the keyboard. You can hear Jongseob calling out enemy positions, but the words blur into meaningless noise.

All you can focus on is the deliberate roll of your boyfriend’s hips beneath you — his movement completely controlled as it drags your core against his clothed length, creating friction that makes you let out soft breath you didn't even know you were holding.

He takes another hit, holding the smoke in his lungs this time. The tip glows brighter, casting brief shadows across the dark room. He taps ash into the tray on your desk with practiced ease, then sets it down in the groove, now freeing both hands.

The shift in the air is immediate.

One hand slides up your ribcage, slipping beneath your shirt to sprawl against your skin. His touch is warm, and the contrast between the cool air and him alone makes you shiver. His other hand cups you through your shorts, completely straight forward, pressing against your mound and feeling the shape of you through the thin fabric.

You gasp before you can stop yourself, biting down hard on your lip to silence the sound. Your thighs clench involuntarily whilst he squeezes them in response, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with just enough pressure to make you ache.

Without another word, he starts moving you. Not so rough that it would jostle the chair or make the wheels creak, but it was a steady. His cock thickens beneath you, now growing fully hard as the stiff ridge pushed insistently against your ass, demanding friction you can't give him.

Not yet, at least.

You continue to move your own hips absentmindedly now, rolling back against him and chasing more pressure. Your head tips back, coming to rest slightly on his shoulder. You breath through your mouth, quiet and shaky and barely controlled. The game on your screen becomes a blur of colors and movement, meaningless shapes you can no longer parse.

Jongseob mentions a flanking route. You don't respond. You can't — which throws the entire round — but you don't care at this point. You're too focused on the way Shota's fingers are now rubbing slow, maddening circles over your clothed clit, and the way his other hand has found your breast, thumbing your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra until it peaks beneath his touch.

"Hey — you still with me?" Jongseob's voice cuts through the haze, suddenly sharp with concern. "You keep getting picked off. What's going on?"

"I'm—" You start, but Shota chooses that exact moment to press his palm harder against your core, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from gasping. "I'm — sorry. Yeah. I'm starting to have a headache. I might just do one…? more round?"

"Lameee," Jongseob groans, but there's amusement in his voice now. "Whatever. Maybe I'll just ask Shota to play when you're done."

"Y-yeah." You manage, still rocking against Shota's hand. "That's... that's fine. Totally fine."

The next round is still loading up, and Shota's chest vibrates against your back — a silent laugh. His fingers don't stop moving. He's still quiet as your next round loads. He hasn't made a single sound except for the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional exhale of smoke.

Somehow, that silence is the most arousing thing about this — the control it takes and the intentionality. He's orchestrating this with perfect precision, playing your body like an instrument he knows intimately.

You need to move. Stand up. Break the tension before you lose control entirely and moan into the mic for Jongseob to hear. But you can't. You're pinned by his grip and the heat pooling low in your belly, liquid and insistent.

But still, you try. You push off his thighs abruptly, your legs trembling as you rise. You turn, half-expecting annoyance on your boyfriend's face from irritation at the interruption.

But he just watches you.

His eyes are hooded, dark with want. His lips are parted, swollen from where he's been biting them to stay quiet. A slow grin spreads across his face as he takes in the sight of you — flustered, breathless, and visibly affected – then his gaze drops lower, causing you to follow it.

He's still leaning back in your chair, legs spread wide, utterly relaxed. But the light gray of his sweatpants has darkened with a wet stain — a long, narrow patch of moisture right where his cock is still visibly tented beneath the fabric. The evidence of his arousal and how much he wants you is unmistakable.

All that. Just from grinding you against him. Just from feeling you.

Your mouth goes dry. Your pulse hammers in your throat, in your wrists, and between your legs. The sight of him like this .. composed on the surface but marked by desire, makes something inside you tense with need.

He reaches out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with gentle firmness, and pulls you back down. You don't fight it, plus you probably couldn't if you wanted to.

You allow him to guide you onto his lap once more, but this time his hands were already moving — pushing at your shorts and hooking his fingers into the fabric before swiping it aside with quick, practiced movements along with your messy panties.

Your round with Jongseob finally starts, and you try, genuinely try, to focus on the screen, but it's impossible. Your head isn't even remotely in the game, especially not with the way your boyfriend's cock is now pressing against your folds, hot and hard and slick with precum. The round ends in a loss before you've even processed the opening strategy.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Jongseob's voice erupts through the headset, half-amused, half genuinely exasperated.

You mute yourself quickly, your hand shaking as you press the button. You can feel Shota's cock throbbing against you, the head nudging at your entrance, and it takes everything in you not to just sink down onto him right then and there.

You can hear Jongseob typing in the background — probably messaging someone else and complaining about his “useless” teammate. A moment later, his voice returns, casual now. "Bro, lock in.”

"I'm sorry!" You manage to say after quickly unmuting, your voice strained from the effort of staying quiet. "Just–ngh– struggling tonight." You choke your words out, hoping your friend didn't catch on.

He didn't. "Yeah, okay." Jongseob sighs, and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes. "Can we try one more time?"

"Yeah–Mhm! “Course.” You quip quickly, your words coming out too bright and sharp. You slap a hand over your mouth as you mute again, loading another round.

Shota continued not to make a sound. Instead, he just ran his fingers over your now-exposed cunt, feeling the slickness there and the evidence of how much you want this. His touch is exploratory as he traces your folds and circles your clit.

He wraps his other arm around your waist, lifting you slightly before he guides himself to your entrance, pressing slowly, the head of him now pushing past your folds and sinking into you, inch by agonizing inch.

You clutch the mouse like it's a lifeline, your other hand digging into the armrest hard enough to hurt. On-screen, you're somehow managing to win a one-on-one battle, your muscle memory carrying you through despite the way your vision is blurring at the edges. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out — just a ragged, desperate exhale.

He bottoms out, his balls pressing flush against your skin, and the fullness is overwhelming. And then he stops completely.

You're fully seated on his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, stretching you in a way that borders on too much. And he doesn't move or thrust.. he just stays, letting the heat of your cunt clench around him in involuntary pulses, letting you feel every inch of him.

His arms wrap around you as his chin drops to your shoulder, nuzzling into the curve of your neck and breathing you in. The intimacy of it, the stillness and connection makes your chest tighten with something than just arousal.

And god did he love it.

Softly, he presses a wet kiss to your neck. Then another, mouthing at the sensitive skin behind your ear. He sucks lightly, pulling a thin bruise to the surface – a silent claim that says mine.

Your hips twitch, instinct demanding movement, or any type of friction. His hands tighten on your waist, holding you still as he shakes his head once against your shoulder, his hair tickling your skin.

Shota's lips travel down your neck, marking a slow, deliberate path over your pulse point. His tongue darts out, tasting salt and sweat and the faint trace of your perfume. His breathing is steady, but you can still feel him throb inside you. He's holding back.. But barely.

Then, finally, his hips lift.

It's delicate as he shifts his cock inside you, dragging against your walls to the point it makes your vision blur and your toes curl. He fucks you lazily like he has all the time in the world. Each movement is deliberate, shallow, and hitting a spot deep inside that makes your eyes roll back and your breath catch.

You press your hand over your mouth to stifle the whimper threatening to escape. Your other hand grips the desk, as you try desperately to keep your body still and to not give away what's happening.

He fucks you like that for long, torturous minutes, causing you to struggle in your game — hiding out a majority of it. Jongseob is long gone in your headset, likely irritated with how quiet you are… little does he know.

Shota’s pace never increases. The stillness is broken only by gentle rolls of his hips and the way he pulls almost all the way out before sinking back in with agonizing slowness. He makes no sound — no grunts, sighs or any indication of effort.

Your cunt clenches around him, a telltale flutter that signals you're close. He knows it since he knows your body too well. He slows down even more, almost stopping entirely, drawing out the tension until you think you might break apart.

He picks up again — just the tiniest bit faster, – and your hand tightens over your mouth as you come in silence, your character on screen frozen in place since you could no longer focus.

He stays inside you throughout, letting you ride it out, his own cock still hard and buried. He waits until your breathing steadies, until the aftershocks fade into gentle tremors, then presses one last kiss to your neck before he slowly pulls out.

He pulls his sweatpants back up, adjusting himself with a quiet hiss, then leans back in the chair and picks up the joint. He lights it again, the flame briefly illuminating his face, and takes a long, satisfied drag.

You stand on shaking legs, pulling your shorts back into place with clumsy fingers, and sink back down into his lap. This time, there's no urgency but just the comfortable weight of his arm around you and the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The room settles back into its familiar quiet, the distant sound of Jongseob's voice still chattering through your headset that you tossed on the desk moments ago, oblivious to what just happened.

You glanced at your monitor ro realize the round had ended in another loss.. Oops.. Your headset then crackles. "Okay, that was useless. I'm just gonna play solos if you're done," Jongseob speaks. "Shota isn't answering me."

You reach for the headset, pulling it back over your ears. Your voice comes out steadier than you expect. "Oh yeah— uh, he's over at mine right now.” You speak. “He might just play off my setup."

Shota's lips brush your temple — so soft you almost miss it. He leans forward slightly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he speaks into your mic, his voice calm and easy like he hadn't just fucked you into oblivion three minutes ago.

"Yeah, I'm down. Give me a sec."

You shift in his lap, and he tightens his arm around your waist. “Stay.” He mumbles. And you were definitely not going anywhere after that.

He reaches up to grab your headset, slipping it off your head and onto his own with one hand while the other stays firmly planted on your hip.

"You good?" He murmurs. His thumb strokes small circles on your hip, a soothing gesture. You nod, leaning back into him, letting his warmth seep into your bones. "Yeah."

And you are. Because you're exactly where you want to be.

💌 mika’s message! ok guys so. sorry am i a pervert freak lmk. i can’t do this anymore i gotta take a break hhejzhxxbahbxbzhhaahH ok bye

They had barely been in the room for 10 minutes and were already being whisked into conversations with their peers, many of them offering praises and compliments on their new comeback.

The next hour passed in a similar fashion, and Keeho was already starting to feel his social battery drain, especially so because he was the leader snd had done the most talking thus far. He stood idly by his members as they conversed, choosing instead to gaze out at the crowd of celebrities he never imagined he'd be attending events with, a testament to P1harmony's hard work and success.

He was caught in a daydream as his eyes continued to flick around, head spinning slightly. What time did I last eat? He couldn't remember.

Then his eyes landed on you.

The first thing that entered his mind was a scene of you from your latest drama.

Your half lidded eyes, the tension between your character and the male leads, the way your body moved onto his and—

He hated how vivid the scene played in his head, likely due to how many times he had replayed it. But in his defense, who hadn't? It had gone viral after all due to the intensity and chemistry displayed.

Keeho swallowed hard.

He hadn’t expected to see you here. He definitely hadn’t expected the instant recognition and he had to force his eyes away from you and away from the black dress that hugged your body so perfectly it must have been custom.

He tries to rejoin the conversation being had in front of him, but his eyes couldn't help but drift back to you every few moments.

You were surrounded by people, no doubt due to your surge of popularity. You were laughing at something one of them said, and he couldn't believe how gorgeous you were.

Way too gorgeous to look at directly for more than two seconds without feeling his ears heat up.

He forced his eyes away and pretended to adjust his sleeve, but it was pointless. Within seconds, they drifted back to you.

“Keeho.”

Nothing.

“Keeho.” A little louder.

Still nothing.

Theo sighed, then nudged him with his elbow. “Helloooo.”

Keeho blinked, startled, tearing his gaze away from you as if waking from a trance. He looked at Theo, eyes unfocused. “What?”

Theo stared at him for a long second before breaking into a laugh. “What are you so distracted—” He turned his head, following the exact line of Keeho’s stare. And the moment his eyes landed on you, he snorted knowingly.

“You should go talk to her.”

“I might." Keeho said without hesitation.

Theo froze. “Huh? I was joking.”

“Why not?” Keeho murmured.

Theo stared at him like he’d just said the most diabolic thing ever. “Respectfully… you cannot handle all that.”

Keeho’s whole face twisted in offense. “What do you mean I can’t handle—”

“Just—look at her." Theo said, gesturing subtly.

He took the chance to linger a little longer on you this time.

First your hair, styled elegantly and glossy under the light. Then the graceful curve of your spine as you leaned in to respond to someone. Then, unfortunately for his sanity, lower where your gown hugged your hips and thighs so perfectly it was maddening.

The fabric strained just enough to hint at the thickness beneath it, and Keeho’s breath hitched before he snapped his gaze away as fast as humanly possible.

His cheeks were burning hot.

When he looked back at Theo, the man already had one eyebrow raised in accusation, lips pressed together like, I told you so.

Keeho glared. “Shut up.”

Theo chuckled, clapping him gently on the shoulder. “Nah, I’m praying for you actually.”

But Keeho barely heard him because his eyes were already drifting back to you again.

"Well, I'm not one to back away from intimidation." He muttered more to himself than anyone.

Theo let out a low whistle. “Okay, but you’ve been warned.” With one last amused shake of his head, he turned back to the rest of the boys, slipping effortlessly into their conversation.

Keeho didn’t follow.

He was too busy plotting different ways to approach you.

His thoughts crashed to a stop when he glanced toward you again.

Because this time, your eyes were already on him.

He froze.

Completely caught off guard, every muscle in his body locked up. His first instinct was to look away instantly, pretend he’d been staring at something else.

But somehow, through sheer willpower (and maybe panic), he forced himself to hold eye contact, taking advantage of the predicament.

Your gaze stayed on him for a moment, a little curious, a little amused. Then, slowly, you smiled.

Just a small one. Barely there. But enough to send Keeho’s heart racing.

Before he could even process it, you looked away, turning back to the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Keeho stood there, pulse pounding in his ears, trying not to visibly malfunction.

Theo glanced over his shoulder at the exact moment Keeho grabbed the nearest glass of champagne, chugging half of it quickly.

“Such an idiot.” Theo muttered under his breath.

And Keeho—face hot, hands shaky, mind spinning —could only think of one thing: you.

Gathering every scrap of courage he had, he inhaled, straightened his jacket, and took a step toward you.

Until a tall man in a dark suit suddenly approached you, murmured something in your ear, and gently steered you away from the crowd.

Probably your manager. Probably something important. Probably the universe laughing in his face.

Keeho stopped mid-stride.

His shoulders dropped. His breath left him in a long, defeated sigh.

“…Okay. Not meant to be." he muttered to himself, pretending he didn’t feel the disappointment twisting in his stomach.

He lingered with the boys for a bit longer, nodding here and there, but not really listening. His heart just wasn’t there anymore.

Eventually, he cleared his throat. “I’m gonna… grab another drink.”

He slipped away after the chorus of nods and headed back to the bar. The bartender was still mixing something complicated for another guest, so Keeho leaned against the counter, passing the time.

He turned his head to people watch some more but when he did, You were lowering yourself onto the stool right next to him. You looked at him immediately, eyes glowing, lips curled in a smile that made his pulse jump straight to his throat.

“Hi.” you said, voice smooth, and confident.

He blinked, stunned.

Before he could muster a response, you extended your hand gracefully and introduced yourself.

For a second, Keeho just stared at your hand, brain absolutely blank. Then he slid his palm into yours. Warm and soft.

“Keeho.” he breathed.

You laughed lightly. “I know,”

His heart tripped over itself.

Then you added, “I love your music.”

He almost choked on air.

“Oh wow, you listen to my music?”

Your laughter bubbled out, bright and genuine, making his ears redden even more. “Your new comeback was very impressive.” you said, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret between you and him alone.

The movement brought you just a bit closer, close enough for him to catch the soft, warm scent of your perfume. Vanilla, sweet and creamy with a hint of something woodsy. He found it very, very hard to think straight.

He exhaled slowly. “…I’m incredibly flattered. Really. It means a lot coming from you.”

You tilted your head, eyes softening at his sincerity.

“You're… an amazing actress,” he continued, voice gentler now. “Your newest drama was incredible.”

You smiled knowingly. “So is that why you kept staring at me?”

Keeho froze.

He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a mortified, “Oh—um—”

You giggled at his reaction, brushing your fingers lightly over the edge of the counter between you. “Sorry. I can be a bit forward,” you admitted. “Gets me into a lot of trouble.”

Keeho swallowed, fighting the urge to look away. He leaned in just enough for only you to hear, “What kind of trouble?”

Your breath hitched almost imperceptibly.

You met his eyes head-on, gaze simmering. It dropped briefly and unmistakably to his plush lips before you smirked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The corner of his mouth tugged up into a half-smile he couldn’t have stopped even if he tried. Something about the way you looked at him like you were so unbothered and so openly interested made confidence bloom in his chest.

He let out a quiet, warm chuckle. “Well… guilty as charged,” he said, answering your earlier question. “But you must’ve been staring too to notice.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, clearly impressed by his sudden boldness.

“Guilty as charged." you echoed, voice dipping playfully.

You stared at each other for a long, heated moment, the silence thick with tension, until Keeho broke it with a soft laugh, turning his head slightly to breathe normally again.

You chuckled too, tapping your nails lightly against the bar. The smile lingered on both your mouths, as if neither of you wanted to let that tension disappear completely.

Then you tilted your head a little.
“…Would you like to go on a walk?”

Keeho didn’t even hesitate.
“Of course,” he said, standing up almost too quickly. “Lead the way.”

You slid off the stool gracefully, smoothing your gown, and began walking toward the edge of the ballroom.

Keeho followed but not before his eyes instinctively drifted toward the group.

And they were all staring.

Theo was whispering frantically to the others, gesturing wildly like he was narrating Keeho’s downfall in real time.

Keeho rolled his eyes and shook his head firmly at them, mouthing: Stop.

Theo gave him a dramatic thumbs-up.

He hurried to follow after you.

You walked a little ahead of him, heels clicking softly against the marble. Once again, his eyes dipped down, catching the hypnotic sway of your hips, your gown displaying your butt perfectly.

He swallowed hard, immediately forcing his gaze back up.

Focus.

You led him out of the main hall and into a quieter, dimly lit corridor lined with tall windows and ornate gold molding. At the end was a set of double doors, cracked open just enough to let in the breeze.

You pushed past them with a light touch, revealing a back seating area with an elegant terrace, cushioned benches, soft garden lighting, and the faint hum of the city beyond.

You inhaled deeply, letting the cool air wash over you.

“It must’ve been exhausting for you in there.” Keeho said, stepping beside you.

You groaned dramatically, rubbing your forehead. “You have no idea. I’m sure you can relate.”

He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all night.
“Oh, definitely. I was checked out after an hour.”

You huffed a laugh, and led him to a bench tucked into a corner of the garden.

It was small, too small honestly, and when you both sat, your sides brushed together.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The garden was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves and the thrum of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Finally, you broke the silence.
“So… you got back from tour recently, right?”

He nodded, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
“Yeah. We’ve only been home for a week.”

“Wow.” You exhaled. “Can’t even catch a break.”

He laughed under his breath, the sound low and genuine. “It is what it is. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

You smiled at that. “Well, I know you don’t need to hear this from me,” you said softly, “but… I went to your Seoul show. It was incredible.”

His head whipped toward you. “Wait—really??”

You nodded with a small grin. “I told you I love your music.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, ears turning a little pink. “Honestly, I thought you were just saying that.”

You gasped dramatically, hand to your chest.
“Wow. I didn’t think you’d take me for a liar.”

“Well, you are an actress,” he teased, eyes dancing between yours.

You paused, then laughed. “…Okay, true.”

You turn to throw the question back at him, your knees bumping into his. Neither of you pulled away.

“So then,” you said, tilting your head at him, “was you saying you loved my drama just a formality?”

His answer came fast. “No. No, not at all.”
His voice lowered, sincerity replacing the playful tone. “You’re… you’re genuinely amazing. The way you capture emotions so raw and honestly? It’s incredible. You’re captivating to watch.”

Your breath caught, heat blooming across your cheeks. You opened your mouth to respond but a sudden gust of cold wind slipped through the garden, brushing over your skin and making you shiver.

Before you could even register the movement, Keeho was already shifting. He shrugged off his jacket and gently draped it over your shoulders, his hands tugging the fabric to make sure it was securely covering your skin.

You didn’t oppose it. Not even a little.

When he finally looked up, his eyes met yours and he stilled.

He was still holding the sides of the jacket and he was close enough that you could see the way his breath subtly caught in his throat. You didn’t look away. If anything, he held your gaze even harder, challenging you. “Sorry… am I too close?”

You shook your head, voice soft but sure. “No. You’re fine.”

He let go of the jacket, but he didn’t move back. Not an inch.

A compliment slipped out of you before you could stop it. “Your eyes are really pretty.”

He just stared then his mind went somewhere else entirely.

Oh Theo, if you could see me now…

His lips twitched upward before he bit down on his bottom one, turning away to hide his smile.

You mirrored his grin, leaning into him until your shoulders brushed again.
“What?” you asked, eyes narrowing playfully.

He glanced back, doing a terrible job at acting casual. “Hm?”

“That look,” you insisted. “What was that?”

“It’s nothing.” He shrugged, poorly.

“Oh really?” you tilted your head. “Then why are you blushing?”

He huffed a breathy laugh, looking down at his lap before glancing up at you again.
“It’s just what happens when a pretty girl flirt with me.”

“Who said I’m flirting?”

“Are you?”

Instead of answering, you let your gaze drop to his lips, slowly and deliberately, and you licked your own. Keeho’s eyes watched, dark and dazed, pupils blown wide.

The back-and-forth was intoxicating.

“Well,” you murmured, inching closer, “I’m just taking initiative. Since you couldn’t stop staring at me inside…”

Your hand lifted, fingers brushing down the front of his tie until you reached the bottom of it. You toyed with it lazily, tugging it just enough to make his breath hitch.

“You know,” you said, voice low, “I was waiting for you to come talk to me.”

He swallowed, his throat suddenly thick.
“I was going to… but then you were pulled away, and—”

As he spoke, your hand drifted from his tie, down, down—until it settled on his thigh.

He went silent immediately.

“Well,” you smiled softly, “good thing we’re here now. Hmm?”

He nodded, dazed and dizzy, and you couldn’t help the dreamy little laugh that slipped out of you. He laughed too, breathless and warm.

Your phone buzzed in your purse and you sighed lightly, grabbed it and answered it without breaking eye contact with him. You hummed a few quiet “yes's" and when you hung up, you frowned apologetically.

“My manager is looking for me. Unfortunately… we have to part ways. For now?"

You both rose to your feet. You slipped his jacket off your shoulders, and he stepped closer to take it back.

“Does that mean,” he asked, voice low, “I get to see you again?”

You held the jacket in your hand, meeting his gaze with raised brows. “Unless you wouldn’t like that.”

You passed it to him and he slung it over his shoulder with one hand, the other tucking into his pocket. “Oh, I’d very much like that.”

Your smile widened slightly. You stepped toward him, close enough that your chest brushed his lightly. One hand landed on his shoulder for balance and you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.

Keeho froze.

Your lips were soft, warm, and they lingered just long enough to make him go crazy. His breath stuttered, his hands flexing slightly like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you in or grab onto something to steady himself.

When you pulled back, you tried not to grin at the faint, perfect lipstick mark stamped on his cheek.

“It was nice to meet you, Keeho." you whispered.

Then without giving him a chance to recover, you turned around and strutted back into the building, head raised high.

Keeho didn’t move.

He was too hot and too stunned to even put his jacket back on. Instead, he sat down on the bench, gripping the fabric in his hands as a huge, helpless grin stretched across his face.

It took a few minutes for his heartbeat to return to normal. Eventually, the night air cooled his skin enough for him to slide his jacket back on. He checked his reflection in the camera of his phone, mostly to make sure he didn’t look as blissed-out as he felt, and the moment he saw the red kiss mark on his cheek, he froze.

“…Oh, hell.” He brushed at it until all that was left was a faint red smudge

And after a second, he grinned. Big. Stupid. Proud and a little smug.