wonton88

The first time Jungwon really started wondering if something was wrong was after one of your dates. He had walked you downstairs to your apartment building like always.

"You should go inside," you said.

"You should go inside," he countered.

You laughed.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Except...you didn't move. You just…stood there. Looking at him…then at your phone…and then back at him.

"...Did you forget something?" Jungwon asked.

"What?"

"You keep looking at me."

"I do not."

"You literally just did it again."

"I was just thinking of something."

"Mhm."

You pressed your lips together.

"...Okay, bye."

He watched you disappear into the building before pulling his mask back up and continuing down the street.

That had been…weird.

♡ 

Then it happened again…and again…and again. After dates, movie nights, late-night drives, you name it. You always hesitated as if you were waiting for something.

Only...Jungwon had no idea what it is you were waiting for.

♡ 

Eventually, he actually started noticing another pattern. Almost like a detective.

It was your goodnight texts.

“goodnight ♡”

They'd arrive at exactly the same time every night. And somehow...you'd still be online thirty minutes later. An hour later. Sometimes longer.

One night, around one in the morning, his phone buzzed.

baby 🤍🥰:

“random question”

Jungwon squinted at the message.

jungwon: 

“It's 1:07 a.m.”

baby 🤍🥰: 

“exactly”

jungwon: 

“???”

baby 🤍🥰: 

“did Jake ever give you back your charger?”

jungwon: 

“...Baby”

Three dots appeared…then disappeared…and then reappeared again.

baby 🤍🥰: 

“yes?”

jungwon: 

“Are you stalling?”

There was no response. Then-

baby 🤍🥰:

“no”

A pause.

baby 🤍🥰:

“maybe a little”

He stared at the screen.

jungwon: 

“Why?”

Nothing. Then-

baby 🤍🥰:

“nevermind goodnight ♡”

And the little green dot beside your profile picture stayed there for another forty-five minutes.

♡ 

"You know..." Jungwon started carefully one evening.

"Hm?"

"You never actually sleep after saying goodnight."

You nearly dropped the spoon you'd been holding.

"What?"

"You text me goodnight and then stay awake."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I could be doing other things."

"You ask me about Jake's charger at one in the morning."

"..."

"...Baby."

You stared very hard at your ice cream.

"...I don't know what you're talking about."

"You suck at lying."

You let out the most dramatic sigh he'd ever heard.

"I don't suck at lying."

"You do."

"..."

"You blink a lot."

"...traitor."

Jungwon laughed, the sound settled warmly hitting your ears. Slowly, his expression softened.

"...You really can't sleep?"

You picked at the edge of the wrapper in your hands.

"...Sometimes."

"How long?"

"...Forever?"

"Forever isn't a number."

"...Since I was little."

He frowned.

"You never told me."

You shrugged.

"It wasn't important."

It wasn't…right? You'd always been like this.

Restless, wide awake, staring at ceilings while everyone else drifted off.

Jungwon looked at you for a long moment before quietly asking-

"Is there something that helps? Anything?”

Your entire body froze.

"No."

"...Baby."

"Nope."

"You just did the blinking thing."

"Oh my gosh."

"You did."

"It's nothing."

"You know you can tell me anything."

"..." 

You went quiet, staring at anything but his face. After some thinking, you eventually looked him in the eyes.

“Promise…you won't laugh?"

He looked genuinely offended.

"Have I ever laughed at you?"

"...You’ve laughed when I tripped over absolutely nothing."

"You looked surprised. It was just your reaction."

"Yang Jungwon."

His smile softened immediately.

"I won't laugh."

"...Promise?"

"I promise."

You stared down at your lap…and then mumbled so quietly he almost didn't hear it.

"...I sleep better if someone tells me to sleep tight."

Silence.

"..."

"..."

"...You can laugh," you said quickly, face burning. "I know it's stupid-"

"That's it?"

You snapped your head up.

"What do you mean that's it?!"

"I thought you were going to tell me you needed IRL whale noises or something like that."

"It is weird!"

"It's not weird."

"It is!"

"Baby."

You covered your face.

"Oh my gosh. Forget I said anything."

Jungwon's shoulders started shaking.

"You promised!"

"I'm not laughing at you!"

"You literally are!"

He leaned back against the couch, smiling so hard his eyes disappeared. Then-

"...I think that's cute."

Your hands dropped.

"...What?"

"You heard me right."

"No."

He nodded.

"Really."

You stared at him.

"You don't think it's childish?"

"No."

"Embarrassing?"

"No."

"Weird?"

He reached over and took your hand.

"You know what's weird?" he asked.

"What?"

"You staying awake for hours because you were too embarrassed to tell your boyfriend one tiny thing that helps."

Your eyes widened.

"...Oh."

He squeezed your hand. Then, with absolutely no hesitation-

"Sleep tight."

Your breath caught. The words were so simple. Soft and ordinary to others, but somehow...the tightness that had settled permanently between your shoulders eased just a little.

Jungwon smiled.

"Sweet dreams, okay?"

You blinked at him.

"...Okay."

And for the first time in a very long while...you thought maybe sleep wouldn't be so difficult after all.

♡ 

It happened three weeks later. 

Which, honestly? That was impressive. Because Yang Jungwon seemed to remembered everything. Your coffee order, which side of the sidewalk you preferred walking on, that you hated the texture of bananas but loved banana milk for reasons neither of you understood, and now, every single night since your very embarrassing confession-

Sleep tight.

He'd remembered. Without fail. Sometimes over text, sometimes over FaceTime, sometimes with his cheek squished against your shoulder while the two of you were already half asleep. It had become so natural that you stopped feeling embarrassed every time he said it. You stopped waiting anxiously for it…checking your phone…lingering awkwardly by front doors…because Jungwon always remembered.

Until one night...he didn't.

♡ 

Practice had run late that morning…and then there was an interview…and then another schedule…and by the time Jungwon got back to the dorms, it was nearly midnight.

You'd been texting him throughout the day, sending pictures of a cat sleeping in a flower pot, complaining about how your coworker reheated stinky fish in the office microwave, and asking if he'd eaten. And don’t get me wrong! He'd answered every message, even if some were delayed…but by the time he finally called you that night, he looked exhausted. His hair messy, eyes heavy, and voice rough around the edges.

"Hai," you smiled softly.

"...Hai."

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

He yawned halfway through the response, and you immediately laughed.

"Oh my gosh."

"What?"

"You look like you're about to pass out."

"I can still talk to you."

"Jungwon."

"I'm serious."

"You literally just vaporized for three seconds."

His eyes widened.

"I did not."

"You did."

"...Okay, maybe a little."

You spent another fifteen minutes talking anyway, mostly you rambling while he listened. Like…the movie you wanted to watch, the weird dream you'd had last night, whether pigeons actually held grudges…but eventually, Jungwon's responses became quieter. Then slower. Then-

"...Baby."

"Hm?"

"I think..." another yawn interrupted him, "...I should sleep."

You smiled.

"I think you should too."

"...Okay."

"Goodnight, Jungwon."

"...Goodnight."

The call ended, and for a few seconds...you simply stared at your reflection in the dark phone screen. Then waited. But…nothing showed up. No notification, no text, no sleepy voice message…just silence.

Your stomach sank a little.

“…Oh.”

You rolled onto your side. 

It's okay. He forgot. Hewas exhausted, and he had a long day…and you weren't going to bother him over something so small. That would be ridiculous.

You squeezed your eyes shut, and then opened them again to check the time.

12:14 a.m.

Then 12:26.

Then 12:41.

You shifted beneath your blankets, flipped your pillow over, adjusted the comforter, tried counting backwards, tried breathing exercises, tried not to look at your phone..and you lasted!

Six minutes.

1:03 a.m.

Your thumb hovered over Jungwon's contact…but then dropped.

No. Absolutely not. You were not waking him up because you needed a comforting bedtime phrase like a five-year-old.

You pulled the blanket over your face instead. This was fine, you were going to be fine.

…totally fine.

"...Ugh."

♡ 

Across the city, Jungwon jerked awake.

His room was dark, and the only light came from the charging cable plugged into the wall.

He blinked blearily. Why was he awake?

He frowned. Something felt...wrong. For some reason.

Then he sat upright so quickly he nearly smacked his head against the bunk above him.

"...Oh no."

Sunoo made an offended scoff from somewhere across the room.

"...If you wake me up to ask if pigeons hold grudges-"

"I forgot."

"...What?" he said, pulling up his sleep mask.

Jungwon scrambled for his phone.

"I forgot."

"Bro…forgot what?"

He was already typing.

♡ 

Your phone buzzed.

You picked it up instantly and stared at it.

1:17 a.m.

For a moment, you considered ignoring it, but then you saw the caller ID.

Wonnie baby ✌️

You answered immediately.

"...Hello?"

"Baby."

"...Hai?"

His voice sounded panicked.

"You should've told me."

You blinked.

"Told you what?"

"That I forgot."

"...Jungwon-"

"I'm sorry."

Your chest squeezed.

"You were tired."

"I still forgot."

"You've remembered every single day for weeks."

"I know."

"Then one day isn't the end of the world."

"...It kind of felt like it."

Silence engulfed you both. Then softer-

"...Were you awake?"

You looked at the ceiling.

"...Maybe."

"...Baby."

"...Maybe a lot."

He sighed. Not annoyed at you, but sad. And disappointed in himself.

"I really forgot."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it.

"You sound utterly devastated."

"I am utterly devastated."

"You've had schedules since six in the morning."

"I still made you stay awake."

"You didn't make me do anything."

"...Still."

You smiled despite yourself, and the line stayed quiet for a moment. Then-

"...Can I say it now?"

Something warm settled inside your chest.

"...Okay."

His voice softened, the same way it always did when it was just the two of you. No cameras, no fans, and no expectations.

Just Jungwon.

"Sleep tight.”

You curled further beneath your blankets.

"..."

"Sweet dreams."

Your eyes stung unexpectedly.

"..."

"And..." he hesitated. Then quietly added-

"I'll be here when you wake up."

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.

"You know," you whispered, "it's not really about the phrase anymore."

"...I know."

"You do?"

"Mhm."

You could practically hear his small smile through the phone.

"It's because someone remembered."

Your breath caught as Jungwon continued softly.

"It's because someone noticed."

Another pause.

"And because someone thinks it's important even if other people don't."

You wiped quickly beneath your eyes.

"...You're really annoying sometimes."

"You say that while crying."

"I'm not crying."

"I literally just heard you sniffle."

"...Yang Jungwon."

He laughed quietly.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"You never have to be embarrassed with me."

The words settled somewhere deep inside you gently.

"I mean it," he said. "Even if it's silly. Even if you think it's childish. Even if you need me to tell you the same thing every night for the next seventy years."

Your cheeks warmed.

"...Seventy years?"

"Mhm."

"You planning that far ahead?"

"...Go to sleep."

You laughed. The sound felt lighter than it had in years.

"Goodnight, Jungwon."

There was a small pause before he answered. Then-

"Sleep tight, baby."

You smiled into your pillow.

"Sweet dreams."

And for the first time since you'd been a little girl waiting for someone to crack open your bedroom door and whisper comforting words into the dark...you closed your eyes without fear of the silence that followed. Because somewhere across the city was a boy who remembered the tiny, embarrassing pieces of your heart. The ones you'd almost kept to yourself. And somehow...

He loved them most of all.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 

The argument itself wasn't even all that important to be honest.

And quite frankly? If someone asked either of you three days later what had started it, neither of you would've been able to give a clear answer.

It had started somewhere around dinner time. Something about schedules, work, plans that kept getting pushed back…and frustration became another frustration…then another…and then somehow it wasn't about schedules anymore.

It was about feeling unheard, then feeling misunderstood, then feeling like the other person wasn't listening. The apartment had grown quieter as the night went on.

Not calmer, no. Quieter. Like eerily quiet.

Quiet like every word suddenly could blow up everything even larger.

You stood near the kitchen island with your arms folded tightly across your chest, and James stood on the opposite side. 

He was tired. You could see it in his face.

Dark circles beneath his eyes and hair slightly messy from running his hands through it all evening. Exhaustion that made every emotion feel worse than it normally did.

"You keep saying you'll make time."

His jaw tightened.

"I am making time."

"You cancelled twice."

"I had work."

"I know you had work."

"Then why are we still arguing about it?"

You stared at him.

"Because you didn't even tell me until the last minute."

"I apologized."

"That's not the point."

His eyes closed briefly. Like he was trying to stay patient. Trying to stay calm.

And honestly?

You were trying too. Neither of you wanted this, but somehow neither of you knew how to stop either.

"Then what is the point?"

The frustration in his voice made something inside your chest tighten.

"The point is that it feels like I'm always the thing that gets pushed back."

It was instantaneous the regret that crossed his face…because he knew what you meant.

He did. But he was tired…and overwhelmed…and frustrated…and for the first time all night, he snapped.

"No, that's not fair."

His voice wasn't yelling yet, but it was definitely a lot sharper than before. 

Harder too. You both heard it.

You blinked.

James rubbed at his forehead, already irritated with himself.

"I didn't mean-"

"You don't get to decide whether it feels fair."

"I know that."

"Then stop acting like I'm attacking you."

"I'm not acting like that Y/N."

"You are."

"No, I'm trying to explain-"

"James."

"No, because every time I try to explain-"

Back…and forth..and back. Neither of you were listening anymore, just reacting. The conversation getting louder, faster, and messier, until finally-

You said something, he responded, you interrupted, and suddenly-

BANG.

His palm slammed down against the kitchen island.

The sound cracked through the apartment.

Loud and sharp in an instant.

Silence followed. Complete silence.

James' chest rose once.

Twice.

Still caught in the argument, still frustrated, still-

Then he looked up…and saw you.

Everything stopped.

Your shoulders had gone rigid, eyes wide, and face completely blank.

No anger, arguing…anything…just...frozen. Like your brain had gone somewhere else. Somewhere years away.

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and James felt his stomach drop.

"Baby-"

Your lips parted as you swallowed hard.

"...I'm sorry."

The words were barely audible, and James physically recoiled.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"No."

His voice cracked immediately.

"No, baby-"

You were already standing up, reaching for your jacket, and planning on leaving.

The look on your face as it briefly flashed in front of him?

My goodness.

The look on your face…it wasn’t anger or disappointment in his sudden reaction, it was fear. Like real, authentic, true fear. And James had never wanted to beat himself up more than he did right then and there.

"Wait."

You grabbed your keys.

"I'm so…sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

The desperation in his voice came out instantly.

"Please stop saying sorry."

Your hand shook slightly.

"I just…need…some air."

"Okay."

He nodded immediately, trying his best not to make it worse.

"Okay. That's okay."

You moved toward the door, and James followed. Not crowding or blocking you by any means, but he was terrified.

"Baby."

You paused, refusing to turn around. He really didn't know what to say…or how to fix it, how to take back thirty seconds ago, or how to erase the look on your face.

"Please don't leave angry."

Your shoulders tightened…which made him hurt even worse. Because he knew. He knew you weren't angry anymore…and that was the problem.

Then the elevator doors opened promptly, and you stepped inside. Without looking back, the doors slid shut, and James felt something in his chest crumble. 

What has he done?

♡ 

The second the elevator doors closed, James was on the move. It was as if it was instinct. A step forward, then another-

"Wait."

The word left him breathless, stupidly hopeful, like somehow pressing the button enough times would magically undo what had just happened.

He hit the call button once from the outside.

Twice.

Three times.

Nothing.

The small display above the doors changed,

descending. Taking you farther away.

"Come on," he whispered.

His heart had started beating really strangely now. Like to fast and hard, but at the same time frozen. He pressed the button again. Nothing. He took a step back and raked both hands through his hair.

Think.

Think.

The elevator wasn't stopping. He could still catch you downstairs. Right?

Right.

James spun around so fast he nearly clipped his shoulder against the corner of the wall. Then, he ran. He didn't even think about taking another elevator. He threw open the heavy stairwell door and took the steps three at a time. Then two, the fluorescent lights beginning to blur overhead from his sheer speed, and his shoes slamming against concrete.

Thirty-eight floors.

Thirty-seven.

Thirty-six.

He almost lost his footing around the thirty-second floor, but he caught himself against the railing and kept going. By the twenty-fifth floor, his lungs burned. By the twentieth, his legs screamed…but he didn't stop. Because all he could see was your face, the way you'd gone still, the way you'd whispered “I'm sorry”, the tear sliding down your cheek, and…fear. Real fear. He had never wanted you to look at him like that. Never. And now-

He shoved through the final stairwell door into the lobby. The doorman startled.

"Mr. James-"

James barely heard him.

He looked outside just in time to see you climbing into the backseat of a yellow taxi, the cab door shutting. Your head turned slightly toward the window as the driver began pulling away.

"No-“

James stumbled out onto the sidewalk, the cold New York air hitting him all at once. Rain from earlier still clung to the pavement, creating a smell in the air and reflecting city lights beneath the passing traffic. The taxi quickly merged into the street as he just stood there…breathing hard and watching the red taillights disappear. Gone. 

His chest tightened painfully.

The doorman approached carefully.

"Sir?"

James blinked.

"...thank you."

His voice sounded wrong. Thin almost, as he turned back toward the building. Every step toward the elevators felt heavier than the last, because now what? You needed space.

You'd asked for space…so he couldn't exactly start calling every hospital or convenience store or shopping center in Manhattan because of one argument. 

Right?

His stomach twisted.

…Right?

♡ 

The elevator ride back upstairs felt unbearably long. 

James stood in the corner of lift, his chest still heaving from nearly running down forty flights of stairs, and his reflection stared back at him through the mirrored walls.

He looked…bad. Like…awful. His hair was sticking up from dragging his hands through it, his shirt wrinkled, face pale…but eventually, the elevator dinged and the penthouse doors slid open.

Silence greeted him. Harsh and unwelcoming. He made it three steps inside before stopping abruptly. 

The city glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows exactly the same as before. Cars were moving, lights blinking, and people continuing on with their evenings. Everything looked normal…but everything felt wrong. His eyes drifted toward the kitchen…toward the island…and toward the exact spot where his hand had struck marble.

BANG.

James physically flinched. Your face flashed through his mind instantly. Your wide eyes, rigid shoulders, and a tear slipping down your cheek.

"...I'm sorry."

"No."

The word cracked out of him. He pressed both hands over his mouth, suddenly unable to breathe properly.

No. You hadn't done anything wrong. You'd spent two years learning, very slowly and carefully, that arguments didn't have to end in fear. That frustration wasn't a build up to pain. That love…wasn't conditional. And the first thing you'd done after he lost control?

Apologize.

James squeezed his eyes shut.

"I ruined it."

The whisper sounded strangled. He'd spent two years trying to teach you that you never had to earn gentleness, especially with him. 

Then, in thirty quick seconds, he'd become exactly what he'd promised never to be.

"Okay."

He dragged a shaking hand through his hair.

"Okay."

Think. You'd asked for space…but space didn't mean disappearing. Space didn't mean pretending he wasn't terrified.

His gaze shifted toward the elevator, then back toward the apartment, and then toward the elevator again.

He lasted maybe five minutes before grabbing his coat.

♡ 

The doorman looked up in surprise when James reappeared back in the lobby.

"Mr. James?"

James slowed to a stop in front of the desk.

For a moment, he couldn't speak out properly. Then-

"When she left earlier..."

The older man immediately softened, already aware who he was talking about.

"Yes, sir?"

James swallowed.

"...was she crying?"

The hesitation nearly killed him.

"...a little.”

James looked down at the polished marble floor.

"Oh."

The sound escaped him quietly.

"...did she seem upset?"

The doorman offered him a sympathetic look.

"I think she looked…hurt.”

James closed his eyes briefly. Hurt. Not angry or furious or irritated…which he probably would’ve preferred…

…but hurt.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes before forcing himself to continue.

"Did you happen to notice where the taxi headed?"

"I'm sorry, sir," The doorman shook his head. “I didn't."

James nodded immediately.

"Right."

Of course.

"Thank you."

He turned toward the doors.

"Mr. James?"

He stopped.

"You should give her time."

James offered a weak smile that looked more painful than reassuring.

"I know,” He said, looking out through the glass doors toward the city. “I just don't know how to sit still knowing she's hurting."

♡ 

He checked the diner first. The one tucked between two big brick buildings where the two of you sometimes ended up after midnight because neither of you had wanted to cook. The minute he walked in, the waitress recognized him immediately.

"No girlfriend tonight?"

James forced a smile.

"...not tonight."

She shook her head.

"Dang…I haven't seen her in a bit."

He nodded thoughtfully and thanked her anyway.

♡ 

Next, he headed for the bookstore. It was the little independent one you'd dragged him into because, according to you, "the smell of books was lowkey sickening in the best way possible."

You weren't there.

♡ 

He arrived at the pharmacy a few blocks away minutes later. He didn’t expect to see you here, but he thought he’d check.

Nothing.

♡ 

The small park near your apartment was his next stop. It was the one with the chipped green benches where you'd sat during summer evenings eating overpriced ice cream. He always liked pushing you on the swings there.

It was empty.

♡ 

By the time James found himself standing on yet another crowded Manhattan sidewalk, the city lights had blurred together. People were brushing past him without a second glance, taxis honked, and faint laughter drifted through the air from someone or somewhere nearby. 

He stared down at the pavement longingly.

He didn't really know where you went when you were hurting. 

The realization hollowed something out inside his stomach. He knew how you took your coffee, how you liked your steak, which side of the bed you preferred, and that you'd steal fries off his plate even after insisting you weren't hungry. He also knew how you tucked your cold feet beneath his legs in the middle of the night and every version of your smile.

But he didn't know where you went when your heart hurt. Because he'd never been the reason it had before.

James swallowed hard.

"....Gosh,” His voice cracked. “I'm so sorry."

A taxi sped past…and then another. Slowly, he looked back toward the direction of home. If he kept searching, you might come back while he was gone…and you'd step into an empty apartment after finally finding the courage to return.

The thought alone made his chest tighten.

No. He couldn't control when you'd come back, he couldn't force forgiveness, and he couldn't take back what had happened…but-

He could make sure you didn't come home alone.

♡ 

The doorman looked surprised when James returned again.

"You didn't find her?"

James shook his head.

"No."

Then, after a pause-

"...I'm going to wait down here."

The older man blinked.

"It's late, sir."

"I know."

"You could go upstairs, I’ll call the room if I see her."

James glanced toward the elevators, and then back toward the front doors.

"No,” he started, voice quiet. “If she walks back in tonight...I want the first thing she sees to be someone waiting for her."

Silence stretched between them, but then the doorman nodded once. Without another word, James sat down in one of the lobby chairs facing the entrance. Every time the doors opened, his head lifted…and every time they closed again, disappointment settled a little heavier in his chest.

Hours passed, but he stayed anyway. Because if you came home at midnight, he'd be there. If you came home at one, he'd be there. If you came home at two in the morning with swollen eyes and shaking hands and uncertainty in your heart...

He'd still be there. Waiting. Ready to apologize as many times as it took. Ready to spend the rest of his life proving that thirty terrible seconds just now would never define the way he loved you.

All he had to do now…was hope you'd come home.

♡ 

The lobby had grown quieter. So quiet that even Manhattan seemed to soften in the early hours of the morning.

The stream of residents coming and going had slowed to almost nothing, the receptionist had eventually switched shifts, and the television mounted in the corner played some late-night talk show at a volume too low to understand.

James hadn't moved at all since he sat down. At some point, the doorman had even offered him coffee…and another one…but then simply stopped asking. 

Every time the doors slid open, James looked up. Every single time. A businessman carrying takeout…a woman in heels angrily taking them off before reaching the elevators…a college student giggling quietly into his phone…but none were you.

The clock behind the desk read 1:47 a.m.

Then 1:58. James rubbed both hands over his face. Maybe you were staying with someone…or maybe you just needed the night. Maybe-

The front doors opened and cold air drifted into the lobby. James looked up automatically as he always did, and forgot how to breathe. 

You stood just inside the entrance. Your jacket was wrapped tightly around yourself, your hair slightly messy from the wind outside, and exhaustion sat heavily beneath your eyes. You looked tired…and small. Like the weight of the evening had finally settled deep into your bones.

For a second, neither of you moved. But then, your eyes found him…and stopped.

James was out of his seat before he even realized it and stopped several feet away.

Not too close or reaching for you just yet…but there.

You blinked at him.

"...What are you doing down here?"

His throat tightened.

"I didn't want you coming home alone."

The answer came out immediately. No hesitation evident. Like he'd been repeating it in his head for hours.

You stared at him.

"You've been here?"

James glanced down briefly.

"I looked for you first."

Your eyebrows pulled together.

"What?"

"The diner."

His voice sounded rough.

"The bookstore you like."

You blinked.

"The pharmacy."

His gaze dropped toward the marble floor.

"The park."

Silence.

"I couldn't find you."

The confession came out quietly.

"I didn't know where you go…when you're hurting."

Something flickered across your face.

"But I knew eventually..." His voice cracked. "...eventually you'd have to decide whether you wanted to come home."

His eyes finally lifted to yours.

"So I stayed."

The lobby had never felt so quiet.

"You waited down here for me?" you whispered.

James nodded once…then twice.

"I know you asked for space."

His fingers twisted together in his palm.

"And I know I don't deserve forgiveness just because I'm sorry…but…but I needed you to know that I meant it."

His eyes were red. You hadn't noticed at first, but now? Now you could see how exhausted he looked. How his hair was sticking up in every direction, how he'd apparently changed absolutely nothing since you'd left, how he looked like he hadn't slept…or rested…or stopped worrying.

"James..."

His expression crumpled almost instantly.

"I'm so sorry."

The apology rushed out of him.

"I know sorry doesn't fix it."

His voice shook.

"But I scared you."

Your eyes immediately burned.

"I yelled."

A tear slid down his cheek before he could stop it.

"And I know it wasn't just yelling."

His breathing hitched.

"I know what that looked like to you."

"James-"

"No."

He shook his head quickly.

"Please let me say this."

His voice cracked again.

"You spent two years trusting me."

He swallowed hard.

"And for thirty seconds..."

His eyes squeezed shut.

"...I saw you look at me like I was someone else."

The tears you'd been holding back finally slipped free.

"I've never hated myself more than I did watching you apologize to me."

He laughed weakly through a broken breath.

"And…you didn't even look angry."

His lips trembled.

"You looked scared."

His voice dropped to almost nothing.

"And…I did that."

The lobby blurred around your eyes as you took a shaky breath.

"You know what I thought when I walked in?"

James looked at you.

"What?"

You let out a watery laugh.

"I thought you were going to be upstairs asleep."

His eyes widened immediately.

"What?"

"I thought..." Your voice cracked. "I thought maybe you'd decided I was overreacting."

His face fell.

"No."

The response was instant. Firm. Like it actually physically hurt him that you said it.

"No."

He took a breath…and then another.

"I couldn't even sit down."

A weak laugh escaped him.

"Both the doorman from the 6:00 shift and from the 1:00 shift thinks I've lost my mind."

Despite everything, a tiny sound almost escaped you.

"You asked him if I was crying."

James looked horrified.

"He told you that?"

"Better question. You asked if I was crying?"

His shoulders slumped.

"...Yeah."

"You searched half of Manhattan?"

"I didn't know where else to look."

He wiped quickly at his face.

"I know that's probably insane-"

"It's kind of insane."

"...Okay."

"...But also..." your voice softened. "...kind of sweet."

James blinked and then stared at you.

"...Sweet?"

"You still scared me."

His eyes immediately filled again as he looked to the ground.

"I know."

"But..."

You took one careful step closer.

"...I also know this isn't who you are."

He looked like he couldn't decide whether to cry harder into your arms or collapse on the floor from relief.

"I don't want us pretending tonight didn't happen."

You reached for his hand.

"But I don't think those thirty seconds erase two years either."

James looked down at your joined hands, and then back up at you.

"...Can I hug you?"

The question came out so quietly you almost misheard him. 

Eventually though, you softly squeezed his fingers.

"You never had to ask before."

His expression fell slightly.

"I know…but I want to now."

You nodded once.

"Okay."

The second you opened your arms, James folded into them carefully. Like he was afraid you'd disappear suddenly if you squeezed too hard. His forehead pressed against your shoulder in relief.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered again.

You wrapped your arms around him.

"I know."

"No excuses."

"I know."

"I'll never stop making this right."

You closed your eyes.

"I know."

And standing there in the middle of the lobby at two in the morning, with a sleepy doorman pretending very hard not to watch and New York still shifting beyond the glass doors, James held you like someone who understood now just how fragile trust could be. Not broken, but precious. Something to protect and something to choose. Over and over again. 

…even after the worst thirty seconds of your life.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 

Three hours later, you were prepared to personally throw down with whoever designed it. The instruction manual might as well have been written in ancient hieroglyphics because in the five languages it was provided in, none of them made sense.

You sat cross-legged on the floor holding a wooden panel while Keonho squinted at a page upside down.

"I think that's piece C."

"It's literally labeled D with a sticker."

"...oh."

You stared, and Keonho stared back…then both of you burst out laughing.

For a while, it was fine. Slightly annoying, but fine.

…Until your cramps started getting worse.

You shifted positions once.

Then again.

Then again.

Your lower back ached and your stomach hurt, but you kept trying to focus anyway. The last thing you wanted was to slow everything down for Keonho. He looked tired too. I mean, you'd both been moving furniture all day.

It happened slowly so slowly that, at first, neither of you really noticed the mood changing. It was like…a room getting darker before sunset.

"Can you hold that side?"

You adjusted your grip, but the board slipped slightly. Keonho caught it.

"No no, higher."

You tried again, but the cramp that hit your stomach made your focus disappear for half a second. 

The board tilted again, and Keonho sighed. Not a huge sigh, or an angry one, just…exhausted.

But somehow…it still stung.

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

You repositioned your hands, but accidentally grabbed the wrong piece. Again. 

He sighed another time…but this one was heavier.

Your chest tightened.

"I'm trying."

"I know."

But his voice sounded frustrated, and suddenly everything felt sharper.

The cramps, the moving, the fact you'd been carrying boxes all day, and the fact your emotions felt way closer to the surface than usual.

Keonho rubbed his face, and then finally said it.

"I'll just do it myself."

The room went quiet immediately.

You looked down.

"Oh."

The second the word left your mouth, he seemed to realize how it sounded. 

But…he was tired. And frustrated. And already turning back toward the desk.

"It's just faster."

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat already growing.

"Okay."

A moment passed between you…and then quietly-

"You're not even paying attention."

That one hurt a lot. Because you had been.

You were trying so hard to be.

Your stomach twisted. Not from cramps this time.

You stood up slowly, but Keonho was already focused on the desk again. Trying to line up screws straight, trying to just finish, and trying to get through the afternoon.

So…he didn't see your face. Didn't see your eyes getting glossy. Didn't see how small your voice sounded when you said-

"Okay."

Then you walked away.

The front door clicked shut, but Keonho didn't hear it. Not really at least. He was too busy losing a fight against furniture.

♡ 

Thirty minutes later, victory.

Well. Sort of.

The desk stood proudly in the middle of the room. One drawer felt a little suspicious, and one side wasn’t totally level….but it was standing.

And honestly?

That counted!

Keonho wiped sweat from his forehead.

"...finally."

He stepped back, admired it, crossed his arms, and nodded once.

"Yeahhhh...take that!” He said, punching his fist slightly forward. 

The desk remained silent. Probably because it knew it lost. Or…it couldn’t respond.

Keonho grabbed the instruction booklet and threw it across the room.

"Never wanna see you again."

Then headed toward the bathroom to wash up.

♡ 

The realization happened in less than ten seconds.

The wrapper sat near the top of the trash can. Pink, crumpled, and obvious.

Keonho froze. Looked at it. Then the calendar. Then the wrapper again.

And suddenly…everything clicked.

Every single thing.

Y/N rubbing her back, Y/N getting quieter, Y/N struggling to focus, Y/N shifting every five minutes, Y/N looking exhausted, and…

His stomach dropped. Hard.

"Oh."

The faucet continued running, but he barely noticed.

"Oh no."

His chest felt hollow. Like actually sick. Because suddenly he remembered her face when he'd said it.

No anger or annoyance or anything…just hurt. And she'd still been helping. Trying. Doing her best. All while feeling awful.

"Oh my goodness."

The water splashed into the sink, but Keonho shut it off immediately, hands flying into his hair.

"Oh my goodness."

The guilt hit so fast it stole his breath.

He quickly dried his hand and ran out of the bathroom.

"Y/N?"

Nothing. 

Bedroom. Empty. 

Kitchen. Empty.

Guest bathroom. Empty.

"Y/N?"

His pulse picked up. The apartment suddenly felt too quiet.

Way too quiet.

He checked the bedroom again, then the kitchen again, then the balcony, but still…nothing.

Finally, his eyes landed on the front door. The shoe rack was newly set up next to it, but one pair was missing.

His stomach dropped straight through the floor. 

"...no."

For the first time all day, genuine panic hit.

No annoyance or frustration anymore…just sheer panic.

He grabbed his jacket so quickly he nearly knocked over a lamp nearby. He stopped at the front table to get his shoes on and noticed most of it empty as well. 

Keys…wallet…phone…

All gone.

♡ 

The convenience store clerk looked exhausted. As if he'd seen every possible human experience.

Until tonight. That was going to change tonight.

Because tonight?

Keonho dumped enough snacks onto the counter to survive a natural disaster. For a years.

Chocolate, chips, gummies, ramen, cookies, juices, soda, heating patches, three different kinds of candy, a tiny plush keychain that reminded him of you, and what looked like every single level of absorbency there was offered in the types of sanitary napkins they had.

The cashier stared slowly at the mountain of snacks and goods. Then hesitantly, he looked up. His face was completely blank.

"...rough day? Or…"

Keonho looked like he hadn't slept in forty-eight hours.

"Yeah."

The cashier nodded. Like that explained everything.

Honestly?

Maybe it did…or maybe the boxes of menstrual products did.

♡ 

The park was almost completely empty with the swings moving slightly in the evening breeze.

And…there you were. Sitting alone, rocking back and forth, and just looking tired.

The second Keonho saw you, something in his chest broke. Because you looked so small sitting there by yourself.

For a moment he just stood there, regretting how he treated you early that day.

Then slowly, he approached. You noticed him immediately, but neither of you spoke.

The swing creaked softly as Keonho stopped in front of you. 

Slowly, he knelt down and the grocery bag rustled in his hands. When he was in front of you…suddenly all the words he'd rehearsed disappeared.

All he could think of was one.

"I'm sorry."

Your expression softened instantly as you played with your hands. You were still hurt, but it was softer now.

Keonho looked down.

"I shouldn't have said that."

Silence.

"I knew you were helping."

The swing moved gently.

Back. Forward. Back. Forward.

"I was frustrated at the desk."

His laugh came out weak.

"The desk can go to hell now."

A tiny smile appeared even though you were in pain.

There it is. The sight almost made him cry.

Because she'd still smiled. Even after everything.

Keonho swallowed hard.

"I wasn't frustrated with you."

His voice got quieter.

"I promise."

You looked up at him now and really stared at his eyes. Immediately, you saw how awful he felt. The guilt was written all over his face.

"When I saw the bathroom trash..."

His shoulders dropped.

"I realized."

You blinked.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

A beat passed. Then another.

Keonho lifted the bag.

"I panic-bought things."

He handed you the bag, and you peeked inside. Your eyes widened instantly.

"...baby."

"I know."

"Why are there like…forty seven different snacks?"

"I panicked."

"You bought more heating patches?"

"I PANICKED."

A small laugh escaped you…and Keonho looked so relieved you'd think he'd just been handed a million dollar check.

♡ 

The walk home felt quieter and softer at the same time.

Your hand stayed tucked inside his sleeve, his other hand carrying the groceries, and every few minutes Keonho looked down at you. 

Checking. Making sure you were okay. Making sure you were still there.

But by the fourth time, you finally laughed.

"Stop looking at me."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"...maybe."

♡ 

The apartment greeted you with cardboard boxes and chaos. Not the best sight to see, but you were just happy to be home.

…And in the middle of it, the desk.

You stopped, genuinely impressed.

"Oh."

Keonho looked up nervously.

"It looks good!"

The compliment barely registered…because the second the words left your mouth, his arms wrapped around you. Like he couldn't help himself. 

His face buried into your shoulder.

"I'm so sorry."

You laughed softly.

"Baby."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

"I'm really sorry."

You smiled, and then wrapped your arms around him too. The apartment stayed quiet around you. Half unpacked, messy, and imperfect, but you didn’t care. It was warm. 

It was safe. It was home. 

And it was yours.

Eventually you pulled back enough to look at the desk again.

"It really does look good."

Keonho glanced toward it…then back at you…and then immediately hugged you again, tighter this time.

"The desk can go to hell."

And honestly?

You couldn't stop laughing.

Because after everything that just went down, you were pretty sure he meant it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 

A/N: I feel like I’ve been writing a lot of argument based fics in the past few days…but don’t worry I plan to lighten up!! 😭 I have a James fic I want to write that I’ve had the plot line drafted out for like…a WEEK now, so after that I also will get to a few of your guys’ requests from so long ago!! Thank you all again for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed this story!! I’ll probably write more today since I have nothing better to do and then I can open up my requests again! ☺️

Silence engulfed the both of you. After a few seconds, he continued,

"...once."

"ONCE?"

"It still counts."

You started laughing immediately.

"I'm serious."

"So am I!"

He pointed at you.

"I could do that braid."

You looked back at Woonhak, and then back at Seonghyeon…and the slowly back at the braid.

"No offense, baby..."

"Already taking offense."

“…but I don't think you could."

His jaw dropped.

"Wow."

"I'm being honest."

"That's crazy."

"You literally admitted you've done it once."

"Still."

He crossed his arms.

"I could do it."

You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your drink.

And unfortunately? That was the exact moment the challenge in Seonghyeon’s head became personal.

♡ 

Three days later, Seonghyeon appeared in your apartment holding three hair ties and what looked suspiciously like confidence he hadn't earned.

"Sit."

You looked up from the couch.

"What?"

"Sit."

"Why?"

He held up the hair ties.

"I'm braiding your hair."

You immediately started laughing.

"With three hair ties?? No."

"Why not?"

"Because I like my hair."

"Baby."

"You've braided hair one time."

"I've been practicing."

"On who?"

Silence spread, and you immediately squinted.

"...Seonghyeon."

He looked away.

"Oh my gosh."

"Don't."

"Have you been practicing on yourself?"

"No."

"Who then?"

More silence…and suddenly it hit you.

"...the mannequin head."

His face immediately turned red.

You LOST it.

"The mannequin head from the practice room?!"

"STOP."

"You bought a mannequin head?!"

"I borrowed it!"

That only made you laugh harder. By the end of it, you were crying actual tears while Seonghyeon sat beside you looking deeply offended.

"You're not taking this seriously."

"Because it's funny as hell!"

"It won't be funny when my braid is amazing."

You wiped your eyes.

"Okay, braid master."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I accepted it as one."

♡ 

A week later, you finally gave in…mostly because he would not stop asking.

You were sitting in front of your vanity while Seonghyeon stood behind you armed with approximately seventeen hair ties and a higher level of confidence then before…that honestly concerned you.

For the first few minutes things seemed okay!

…but then you watched his face slowly change in the mirror.

Concentration to confusion to concern to mild panic…so you decided to check in on him.

"Everything okay back there?"

"...mhm."

Well that sounded really fake.

Five minutes later he undid the entire thing.

"Okay."

You turned slightly.

"Okay good?"

"No."

"Oh."

He started over.

Again.

And again.

And again.

By attempt number four, your braid looked less like a hairstyle and more like a toddler put a fan to your hair and let it rip.

You were trying so hard not to laugh…you really were!

…but behind you, Seonghyeon looked genuinely stressed. His brows were furrowed, his tongue was poking slightly against the inside of his cheek, and every few seconds he would squint at your hair like it was somehow getting…farther away? Did he need glasses?

"Why are you looking at it like that?"

"It won't cooperate."

"It's hair."

"It's being difficult."

"You're blaming my hair?"

"Yes."

“It’s not moving on its own?”

“Well, you might wanna get that checked out again…”

You snorted. What was he talking about??

A few more minutes passed…and then suddenly-

Nothing. No movement, no hair pulling…nothing.

You looked up at the mirror and Seonghyeon was just staring.

"...baby?"

A long sigh. Then…his forehead dropped onto your shoulder.

Bonk.

You froze…then immediately started laughing.

"Oh no."

"Don't."

His voice came out muffled against your shoulder.

"It's bad."

"It can't be that bad."

"It is."

"You sound devastated."

"I am devastated."

Now you were laughing harder at that…but something made you stop. Because he really…did look upset.

Not angry…but embarrassed. Frustrated. Cute, honestly, but definitely frustrated.

You turned carefully in the chair, and Seonghyeon immediately avoided eye contact while wiping his eyes. 

Which…was suspicious.

"Hey."

Nothing.

"Seonghyeon."

Still nothing. A little smile tugged at your lips.

"Why do you care so much?"

His ears immediately turned pink.

Aha.

There it is.

"You've been trying to learn this for a week."

No response.

"You literally borrowed a mannequin head."

"Don't bring him into this."

You laughed, then reached over and poked his arm.

"Seriously."

A moment passed…and then another.

Eventually, he muttered,

"You looked impressed."

"What?"

"The braid."

You blinked.

"The braid from last week?"

He nodded slowly.

"I don't know."

His voice got quieter.

"You looked at it and thought it was cool."

Your heart melted instantly.

Oh…

That was actually so adorable.

"And I wanted you to think I was cool."

You stared at him for a second as Seonghyeon stared firmly at the floor. After a while, he groaned and covered his face.

"Forget I said that."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

He looked mortified.

"I mean it."

"But that's so cute."

"It wasn't supposed to be cute."

"It was extremely cute."

"It wasn't."

You grabbed his face with both hands.

"It was."

Seonghyeon looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Then…you kissed his cheek.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

And immediately, he started smiling.

"You don't have to be good at braiding."

Another kiss.

"I already think you're cool."

One more.

"I already think you're funny."

Another.

"I already think you're cute."

"Okay."

"And you're my favorite person."

At that, his smile softened. Soft in the way that only showed up when he forgot to hide it. You pressed one last kiss to the tip of his nose before continuing.

"And for the record?"

"Hm?"

"I would've dated you even if you couldn't braid hair."

He laughed. Finally, a real laugh. Then after a second he pointed toward your hair.

"Can I try one more time?"

You looked at the disaster hanging over your shoulder, then at him.

"...sure."

Twenty minutes later the braid was still terrible, and Seonghyeon hated it so much. But, before he could take it out, you immediately took a picture.

"Delete that."

"No."

"It looks awful."

"It's my favorite hairstyle."

He stared at you as you smiled, and unfortunately for him, that was enough to make his face red all over again.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Your breath caught.

The room was dark except for the faint glow of a bedside lamp. And there, against the wall beside the bed, sat Juhoon.

Your stomach dropped.

Oh. Oh no.

For a second your brain couldn't process what you were seeing.

Because he looked...destroyed.

Not dramatic or theatrical or fake.

Destroyed. 

His head rested against the wall, his hoodie was wrinkled, his dark hair was completely disheveled, and his eyes-

Your heart physically clenched.

His eyes were red. Swollen.

His breathing still uneven like he'd been crying…for a long time. And in his hands, clutched tightly against his chest, was the tiny Baymax plush. The one from Tokyo Disney.

The one you'd won together.

Your throat tightened instantly.

"Juhoon..."

His head snapped upward.

The second he saw you, everything changed.

Relief, then shock, then disbelief, and then…hope. It all crashed across his face at once.

And for one terrifying second, he looked like he might cry again. Neither of you moved.

The room stayed completely still.

Then suddenly-

Juhoon turned his face away. Fast. Almost desperately.

One hand immediately lifting toward his eyes.

Your chest cracked.

"Don't."

His voice came out rough. Broken.

Almost unrecognizable.

"Don't look at me."

Your eyes widened.

"What?"

He swallowed hard, still facing away. Still hiding.

"Please."

The word shattered you.

"Juhoon-“

"Please don't."

His shoulders trembled slightly, and suddenly you understood.

Oh. Oh no.

He was embarrassed. Embarrassed that you'd caught him like this.

Crying. 

Falling apart.

The same boy who struggled to cry in front of anyone. The same boy who hid every difficult emotion behind silence. The same boy who spent years convincing everyone he was okay.

And now…

You'd found him completely unraveled.

Your eyes burned immediately.

Slowly, carefully…you crossed the room.

Juhoon didn't move. Didn't look up. Didn't say anything. He just sat there clutching Baymax like it was the only thing keeping him together.

Your heart ached so badly.

When you finally reached him, you lowered yourself onto the floor right beside him. Neither of you spoke. Not immediately at least. The silence felt fragile now. Tender.

Then softly, you reached for him. Just once.

A hand against his arm.

The reaction was immediate.

Juhoon broke, a shaky breath escaped him.

Then another. Then suddenly his face dropped into your shoulder, like gravity itself had pulled him there. His arms wrapped around you instantly. Tight. Desperate. The Baymax plush still trapped awkwardly between you both. And then-

A sob.

Your eyes immediately filled. Because it wasn't loud. It sounded devastated. Like someone who'd been holding themselves together for far too long.

"Hey."

Your voice cracked.

"Hey..."

Another shaky breath. Then another. His entire body trembled.

And all at once you realized, he'd been suffering this entire time. 

For hours.

Completely alone.

Your arms wrapped around him immediately. One hand sliding into his hair, and the other rubbing slow circles across his back.

"It's okay."

The second you said it, Juhoon buried himself closer. Like he'd been waiting to hear those words. Like he'd needed permission to finally stop pretending.

And your heart broke all over again. Because through his uneven breathing, you heard him whisper something.

Small. Shaky. Almost impossible to hear.

"I thought you left."

And suddenly, everything hurt.

Juhoon's voice barely sounded like his own.

It was rough. Raw. Worn down by hours of panic and crying and overthinking every possible outcome until his mind had nearly destroyed itself.

Still pressed against your shoulder, he whispered it again.

"I thought you left."

The confession settled heavily between you.

Your chest tightened instantly…because suddenly all the missing pieces clicked into place. The red eyes, the shaking, the way he'd hidden his face when you walked in, the fact he'd been sitting on the floor at two in the morning clutching a Baymax plush like it was a lifeline.

He genuinely thought you weren't coming back.

Your fingers slowed in his hair.

"Oh, Juhoon..."

A shaky laugh escaped him. The kind that wasn't actually laughter.

"I couldn't call you."

Your brows furrowed.

"What?"

"My phone."

His voice cracked.

"You left your phone."

Oh. Your stomach dropped immediately.

"And your watch."

You closed your eyes.

Right. You had.

"I checked both."

Another shaky breath.

"I thought maybe you had your watch."

Your chest physically hurt now…because you could picture it.

Juhoon running through the apartment, looking for some way to contact you. Any way.

"I couldn't reach you."

The sentence came out broken. Almost childlike in its honesty. 

You felt your throat tighten…and suddenly the image of him sitting here alone for hours became almost unbearable.

You tightened your arms around him.

"I'm sorry."

Immediately his head lifted.

"No."

The word came out fast. Firm. For the first time since you'd arrived.

"No."

His eyes were glossy again. Red-rimmed.

Exhausted.

"You don't get to apologize first."

The pain in his voice made your chest ache.

"Juhoon-"

"No."

His hand came up quickly, wiping at his face…but failing completely.

"Don't do that."

His voice shook.

"I said those things."

The room went quiet. Juhoon looked away.

Ashamed. Like he physically couldn't stand remembering it.

"I knew that was your biggest insecurity."

Your heart squeezed. His jaw tightened.

"And I said it anyway."

The guilt in his expression was devastating.

"You were angry."

"I don't care."

The answer came immediately. 

He looked back at you, eyes shining.

"I don't care if I was angry."

Your breath caught.

"That doesn't excuse it."

His voice cracked.

"Nothing excuses it."

The room fell silent again, and for the first time all night, Juhoon finally said everything he'd been keeping trapped inside.

"I was jealous."

You blinked.

He then laughed weakly. Embarrassed. Humiliated, honestly, but too exhausted to hide anymore.

"I hated it."

His fingers tightened slightly around the Baymax plush.

"I hated how easy it was."

Your brows furrowed.

"What was?"

"You and Soobin."

The confession finally escaped him and immediately his face reddened. 

Not from anger. Embarrassment. Because hearing it out loud made it sound ridiculous.

You stared at him. Then stared some more.

And suddenly-

"Oh my gosh."

Juhoon covered his face.

"I know."

Your jaw literally dropped.

"THAT'S what this was about?"

He groaned immediately. Loudly. And somehow the sound was so miserable that despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped you. Which made him groan harder.

"Oh my gosh."

Your shoulders shook slightly.

"Juhoon."

"I know."

"You were jealous."

"I KNOW."

The words bounced off the bedroom walls…and for the first time all night, the tension cracked. Just slightly. A tiny fracture. A tiny bit of light.

You stared at him in disbelief.

"He's literally Soobin."

"I am aware."

"He was being nice."

"I am aware."

"He bought me a coffee."

"I REMEMBER."

You physically laughed, and immediately Juhoon's expression softened. Because he'd missed that sound.

God. He'd missed it so much.

The room quieted again. This time gentler.

And after a moment, you reached for his hand.

And he let you. Immediately. Like he'd been waiting for permission.

"Juhoon."

His eyes lifted.

"You know I love you, right?"

The question shattered him. Actually shattered him. Because after everything, after all the panic, after all the fear, after convincing himself he'd ruined everything-

You were still looking at him like that. Still reaching for him. Still here.

His eyes filled again.

"Yeah."

Your heart squeezed.

"No."

You shifted closer, taking both his hands now.

"Really."

His breathing hitched.

"You."

You pointed gently at his chest.

"Only you."

The tears returned instantly…because suddenly all the stupid insecurity he'd spent weeks building inside himself felt ridiculous…and yet so real.

"I know."

His voice cracked. Then quieter-

"I just forgot."

The honesty nearly broke you.

Because that was it. Not a lack of trust. Not a lack of love. 

Fear. Simple fear. Fear that one day someone brighter would come along. Someone easier, someone more expressive, someone who wasn't constantly struggling to communicate what lived inside his heart.

Your hand moved to his cheek, and immediately he leaned into it. Instinctively.

The way he always did when he needed comfort.

"You are not hard to love."

The tears finally spilled. You watched his face crumple. Because somehow, that was exactly what he'd needed to hear. Not just you. Him too. 

Your thumb brushed beneath his eye.

"And for the record?"

A weak breath escaped him.

"Hm?"

"I don't want someone else."

His eyes closed. Like hearing it physically hurt…in the best way. And after a second, you noticed something.

The Baymax plush. Still trapped between his arms. Still being held with the intensity of someone protecting national secrets.

Your lips twitched immediately.

"Oh."

Juhoon froze.

Slowly, very slowly, your eyes dropped toward it. 

Then back up.

Then down again.

His face turned red instantly.

"Don't."

A laugh escaped you.

"Juhoon."

"Don't."

You pointed.

"Why are you hiding him?"

His shoulders dropped. Completely defeated. A pathetic little puff of air escaped him. Half sigh, half embarrassment.

You immediately lost it, laughing through the leftover tears.

And that?

That finally did it.

Because the second you laughed, Juhoon laughed too. 

Small, weak, but real. The first real laugh of the night.

You gently poked Baymax's little head.

Once.

Then again.

"Did he survive?"

Juhoon buried his face in your shoulder.

"No."

"He suffered greatly?"

"He knows too much."

You laughed harder.

And finally…the darkness lifted. Just enough.

Your hand slid into his hair…and then gently, you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

Juhoon froze. The way he always did. That tiny pause. That tiny moment where he absorbed affection like sunlight.

Then slowly, his arms tightened around your waist. And this time when he hugged you, there was no hesitation. No restraint.

Just relief.

♡ 

The next morning arrived quietly.

The apartment felt different. Softer, honestly. Like a storm had finally passed.

Sunlight spilled lazily across the living room windows, and you'd ended up asleep on the couch after sharing tea and talking until nearly dawn. Not because you planned too, but you'd simply curled beneath a blanket together and eventually drifted off.

When you woke, the apartment was silent.

For a moment you thought Juhoon was still asleep.

Then-

You noticed him.

Standing near the hallway. Watching you.

Your heart immediately melted. Because his eyes were still puffy. Still slightly red. Evidence of yesterday lingering behind.

The second you noticed him, he hesitated.

Just slightly. 

Then slowly walked over.

No words, no warning, nothing.

He simply climbed onto the couch carefully, and then settled directly on top of you.

You laughed immediately.

"Good morning to you too."

No response. Just Juhoon wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face against your chest, and refusing to move.

Your heart nearly exploded.

"Oh."

He just held you tighter like a koala. A very emotional koala at that.

You slid your fingers through his hair, and after a long moment, his voice finally appeared muffled against your shirt.

"I'm sorry."

Your chest tightened.

"Juhoon-"

"No."

His grip tightened slightly.

"I mean it."

The words came slowly, carefully. Like he'd been thinking about them all night.

"I was jealous."

You smiled faintly.

"I know."

"I was insecure."

"I know."

"I was scared."

Your fingers paused…and then softer-

"I know."

The room stayed quiet. Sunlight warming the couch, the blanket tangled around both of you.

His voice dropped even lower.

"But none of that was an excuse."

Your throat tightened.

"I hurt you."

His arms tightened again.

"And I hate that I did."

The sincerity nearly made you cry. Because this wasn't someone apologizing to end an argument.

This was Juhoon. Fully vulnerable. Fully honest. The version of himself almost nobody saw.

You leaned down, and pressed a kiss into his hair. Then another…and another…until finally he huffed softly.

A tiny sound, almost amused. Almost…embarrassed.

And when he finally lifted his head, his eyes were softer than you'd ever seen them.

"I love you."

The words came quietly without fear this time.

Just whole truth.

Your heart melted instantly.

"I love you too."

And this time when he smiled, it wasn't hidden. It wasn't restrained either. It was small, sleepy, and completely real. The kind of smile that only belonged to you.

And for the first time since the argument, everything felt okay again. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 

"Do you know what the problem is?"

His eyes closed briefly…because he knew he wasn't going to like whatever came next.

"You always do this."

There it was.

"Do what?"

"Disappear."

His stomach dropped.

You folded your arms tighter.

"When something's wrong, you just disappear into yourself."

"I'm right here."

"Physically."

The word hit like a slap.

Your eyes were shiny now. Not crying, no. You were still holding it together.

But barely.

"You're sitting in front of me and somehow I haven't felt close to you in weeks."

Something painful twisted inside Juhoon's chest…because he knew. Hell, he knew.

But hearing it out loud made it real.

You swallowed.

"I miss you."

The confession came out so quietly it almost hurt more. And for a second, Juhoon almost broke.

Almost reached for you. Almost told you everything.

Then your phone buzzed.

On the counter.

Both of your eyes flicked toward it automatically.

The screen lit up.

A message.

From Soobin.

Juhoon's entire body went still.

The room suddenly felt too warm.

Too small.

Too loud.

You grabbed the phone without thinking.

Glanced down, smiled slightly, and that was it. That tiny smile.

The one that would've meant nothing any other day.

But right now?

Right now it felt like gasoline on a fire he'd been trying to smother for weeks.

Your fingers moved quickly across the screen.

Typing back.

Still completely unaware. Because why would you be aware? You had no idea what was happening inside his head. No idea how many nights he'd spent staring at the ceiling feeling sick over something he couldn't even explain properly.

The message sent.

You looked back up, and froze.

Because something in Juhoon's face had changed.

Not anger.

Worse.

Hurt. Raw hurt.

Your stomach dropped.

"...Juhoon?"

His laugh was quiet, humorless. And your heart immediately started racing. Because Juhoon almost never laughed when he was upset.

"Was that Soobin?"

The question caught you off guard.

"...yeah?"

Silence. Then another tiny laugh.

You suddenly hated that sound. 

Because it didn't sound like him.

"What?"

Juhoon stared at the countertop, at his hands, anywhere except you.

And finally, after weeks of swallowing it,

the truth slipped out.

"Nothing."

Your eyes narrowed.

"Juhoon."

He exhaled sharply.

Then stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor, and suddenly your pulse jumped.

Because now something was definitely wrong.

"Forget it."

"No."

The word came out immediately.

Too quickly.

Because after weeks of feeling him pull away, you weren't letting him run from the conversation now.

"No, tell me."

His shoulders stiffened. You stood too.

"Tell me."

Another silence.

Long. Painful. 

Until finally, very quietly, he said-

"...I feel like a third wheel."

The room went still. Completely still.

Your mouth parted.

"What?"

The words sounded genuinely confused.

Which somehow made him feel worse. Like maybe he'd built this entire thing up in his head alone.

Juhoon laughed softly again.

That awful sound.

"Forget it."

"No."

You stepped closer.

"What are you talking about?"

His eyes finally lifted…and the vulnerability there almost knocked the breath from your lungs.

Because he looked embarrassed. Actually embarrassed.

"I feel like a third wheel."

This time he forced himself to say it fully.

"With you and Soobin."

Silence. Your brain physically stopped.

For a solid two seconds.

Then three.

Then-

"What?"

Not dismissive. Genuinely shocked. Like the idea had never crossed your mind.

And somehow that hurt too. Because of course it hadn't.

You weren't the one lying awake at night over it.

"Juhoon."

You stared at him.

"...Soobin?"

His jaw tightened. 

There it was. That reaction. Like he already regretted saying anything. Like he knew how ridiculous it sounded.

And maybe that was why it came out harsher than intended.

"Forget it."

"No."

You shook your head immediately.

"No, because where is this coming from?"

Weeks. Months. Everything he'd swallowed finally pressed against his ribs at once.

"The way you two act."

Your eyebrows shot up.

"The way we-"

"You text constantly."

"Because he's our friend."

"You laugh at everything he says."

"What?"

"You always sit together."

"Because he sits next to me!"

The conversation was accelerating now, neither of you realizing it yet. Nor did you guys notice how quickly emotions were starting to spiral.

You stared at him. Actually stunned.

The room felt smaller suddenly. Like the walls had shifted inward while neither of you were paying attention.

You stared at Juhoon across the kitchen island, still trying to process what he'd just said.

A third wheel? With Soobin?

The thought felt so absurd that for a moment you genuinely didn't know how to respond.

Because Soobin wasn't...he wasn't anything.

He was a friend. 

A sweet friend.

A mutual friend.

Someone you joked with…and someone you happened to text often.

That was it.

Nothing more. Nothing remotely close to what Juhoon seemed to think.

And the fact that he'd apparently been carrying this alone for weeks made your chest hurt.

"Juhoon."

Your voice softened immediately.

"He's just nice."

The second the sentence left your mouth, you saw it.

The shift. Tiny, almost invisible.

But there.

His expression closed slightly. Like a door quietly clicking shut.

And immediately you wanted to take it back.

Because you knew that look. You knew it well.

It meant:

“You don't understand.”

The silence stretched.

Then Juhoon laughed softly.

Again.

That awful laugh. The one that never sounded like him.

"Right."

Your stomach dropped.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That."

You gestured helplessly.

"That thing where you pretend you're fine but you're obviously upset."

His jaw tightened.

"I'm not pretending."

"Juhoon."

"He is nice."

The agreement surprised you…for half a second.

Until he continued.

"He's funny."

Your pulse jumped.

"Juhoon-"

"Everyone likes him."

"That's not what this is."

"He remembers everything you say."

The words came quieter now, more vulnerable. Which somehow hurt worse.

"He texts you all the time."

Your chest tightened.

Because suddenly, for the first time, you could actually hear the insecurity underneath everything.

Not anger.

Fear.

And that made your frustration falter.

You stepped closer.

"Baby."

His eyes squeezed shut briefly…because that wasn't fair either.

You using the voice. The soft one. The one that always made him want to fold instantly.

"Look at me."

Slowly, he did. And the hurt sitting there made your heart ache.

"Oh, Juhoon."

You moved forward instinctively. Wanting to hug him, wanting to fix it, wanting to erase the expression on his face…but he stepped back.

Just once.

And it felt like being punched.

The movement wasn't aggressive, nor was angry.

Just reflexive.

And somehow that made it worse.

Your arms dropped.

Slowly.

The realization hurt more than you expected.

Because when had he started pulling away from you?

When had that become normal?

"Do you really think I like Soobin?"

The question escaped before you could stop it.

Juhoon's eyes dropped to the floor.

"I don't know."

The answer shattered something.

Not completely. Just enough.

Because after everything, all this time, he still wasn't sure?

Your voice came out smaller.

"You don't know?"

Silence.

Then-

"I know you love me."

Your shoulders relaxed slightly…until he continued.

"But lately it doesn't feel like enough."

The words landed heavily between you.

And suddenly your own hurt started rising again.

Because now it felt like no matter what you did, it wasn't being seen.

"Juhoon."

You laughed softly. Disbelieving.

"Are you serious?"

His eyebrows furrowed.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I've spent the last two weeks wondering why my boyfriend won't even hug me back."

The room went silent immediately.

Because that one landed. Hard.

You could see it.

See the guilt flash across his face.

But now that you'd started, you couldn't stop. The words had been building too long.

"I'm always the one reaching for you."

His stomach dropped.

"I'm always the one initiating things."

"That's not-"

"It is."

Your voice cracked.

And suddenly all the sadness underneath your frustration surfaced at once.

"I hug you first."

You swallowed.

"I kiss you first."

Your eyes were shining now.

"I sit beside you first."

Juhoon couldn't look at you…because every word was true. Every single one.

"I've been trying for weeks."

The sentence came out barely above a whisper.

"And you just keep getting farther away."

Guilt crashed into him so hard it almost made him dizzy. Because he'd never wanted you to feel that way.

Never.

But before he could say it, before he could explain, another sentence slipped out.

Quiet.

Broken.

"...you never seemed to have trouble talking to him."

Your head snapped up…and suddenly, your frustration surged right back.

Because there it was.

The thing you'd been trying to explain.

The thing he wasn't hearing.

"Because he talks back."

The second the words left your mouth everything stopped.

Your eyes widened slightly.

Juhoon's face went completely still.

"Oh."

The single syllable hurt. A lot.

Because he knew what you meant…and because part of him believed it.

You immediately tried to fix it.

"That's not-"

"No."

His voice was firmer now. Too firm. The hurt finally beginning to crack through.

"I get it."

"Juhoon."

"No, I get it."

His chest felt tight, his breathing felt wrong, and everything suddenly hurt.

Because all he heard was:

Soobin is easier.

Soobin talks more.

Soobin is better.

And the next words left his mouth before he could stop them. Before he could think. 

Before he could save himself.

"Maybe you'd be happier with someone like him then."

Silence. Complete.

The second the sentence landed, Juhoon knew. Immediately.

Because your face changed.

Not anger, not frustration, something more painful.

Heartbreak.

And all at once, every ounce of anger left him.

Gone. Instantly.

Your mouth parted slightly.

Like you'd physically forgotten how to speak.

"Wow."

The word came out in a tiny whisper. Almost inaudible.

And suddenly Juhoon couldn't breathe.

Because he didn't mean it. 

God, he didn't mean it. Not even a little.

But it was too late. Because he'd watched it hit you.

Watched it land.

Watched it hurt.

And now, for the first time all night, he was scared. Actually scared.

"Baby-"

But your eyes had already dropped.

And that terrified him more than if you'd screamed.

The silence after his words felt endless.

"Maybe you'd be happier with someone like him then."

The sentence seemed to linger in the apartment long after he'd said it.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

And suddenly Juhoon wished he could grab the words out of the air and shove them back into his mouth.

Because he didn't mean them. Not even a little.

The second they'd left him he'd known.

Known it was cruel.

Known it wasn't fair.

Known it had nothing to do with what he was actually feeling.

But now, it was too late. Your eyes had dropped to the floor…and somehow that scared him more than anything else.

Because you always looked at him. Even when you were angry, and even when you were frustrated. You always looked at him.

Always joked that his eyes were the most “expressive boba pearls ever”.

But now?

You weren't.

"Baby."

The nickname came out softer this time.

Careful.

Like he was approaching a wounded animal.

Your laugh was tiny. Broken.

Not happy, not amused,…hurt.

"Wow."

Juhoon's stomach twisted violently.

"That's not what I meant."

Still you didn't look up.

And suddenly he felt panic beginning to creep into his chest. The conversation wasn't going the way arguments usually did.

Usually you pushed back. 

Usually you argued.

Usually you fought for understanding.

But now, you were getting quieter.

And that was worse. Much worse.

Your voice came out almost calm. Too calm.

"Is that really what you think of me?"

His head snapped up.

"What?"

"Do you really think I'd throw away everything we have because somebody was nice to me?"

The question hurt. 

Because obviously not. Obviously. That sounds stupid.

But now…it sounded like that was exactly what he'd implied.

And maybe it was. Even if he hadn't meant to.

"No."

The answer came immediately.

Firm. Desperate.

"No."

For the first time all night he stepped toward you instead of away.

"You know I don't think that."

Your eyes finally lifted…and the sadness there nearly took him out at the knees.

"Then why would you say it?"

No answer came…because he didn't have one. Not a good one at least. Not one that would undo the damage.

Your shoulders sagged slightly. Like something inside you had gotten tired.

Really tired.

"I've spent weeks trying to figure out what happened."

Juhoon swallowed.

"I kept wondering if I did something wrong."

Every word felt like a weight settling onto his chest.

"I kept wondering why you wouldn't talk to me."

Your eyes glistened.

"I kept wondering why it suddenly felt like you didn't want me around."

"Baby-"

"And now you're telling me you thought I was replacing you?"

The disbelief in your voice hurt. Not because it was mean, but because it wasn't.

Because it sounded genuinely impossible to you.

Like the idea itself was absurd.

And maybe that should've made him feel better.

Instead it somehow made him feel smaller.

Because he'd spent weeks spiraling over something you apparently never even considered.

You rubbed tiredly at your face.

Then quietly said-

"You know what the worst part is?"

Juhoon's stomach dropped…because those words never led anywhere good.

"What?"

You laughed softly. Humorless.

"The whole time I've been blaming myself."

His chest tightened.

"What?"

Your eyes met his. And suddenly, there were tears sitting there.

Not falling. Just there. Waiting.

"I thought maybe you were getting tired of me."

The confession punched straight through him immediately. Completely.

"What?"

His voice cracked slightly…because that wasn't possible. Not even remotely possible.

You swallowed.

"Because what else was I supposed to think?"

The question hit hard. Really hard.

"I try to hug you and you barely react."

Guilt. Sharp.

"I kiss you and half the time it feels like you're somewhere else."

More guilt.

"I spend all day trying to get your attention."

His chest physically hurt now.

"And then I come home and you're still miles away."

Juhoon looked away, because hearing it out loud made him realize how bad it had gotten. 

How much he'd accidentally pulled away.

How much you'd been carrying alone.

The silence stretched.

Then, without thinking, you said it. The thing that had been sitting in your chest for weeks. The thing you hadn't wanted to say.

The thing you knew would hurt.

"You've been so cold lately."

The second the word left your mouth, Juhoon froze. Completely.

Cold.

The apartment went quiet.

Your stomach dropped instantly, because you saw it. Saw the way something in his expression crumpled.

Not dramatically, but enough. Like you'd found a bruise and pressed directly on it.

"Cold?"

His voice sounded smaller.

You immediately wanted to take it back…because that wasn't what you meant either.

Not really. 

You meant distant. Closed off. Lost.

But the damage was already done.

Because all Juhoon heard was…

Cold. Unloving. Uncaring.

The exact thing he'd spent years terrified of becoming.

His jaw tightened, the hurt rapidly twisting into something sharper. 

Something defensive.

Because now he was bleeding too.

And wounded people don't always choose their words carefully.

"Sorry I'm not constantly attached to your side."

Your eyebrows furrowed.

"That's not what I-"

"Sorry I don't know how to perform every emotion perfectly."

"Juhoon."

"No."

The word came out firmer, and immediately you knew things were slipping again.

Fast.

Because now he looked hurt. Really hurt.

And hurt Juhoon was dangerous in a completely different way.

Not loud or explosive or intimidating.

Just brutally honest in the worst moments.

His eyes dropped to the floor.

Then he said quietly-

"Maybe if you didn't need constant reassurance all the time, we wouldn't keep ending up here."

Silence. Immediate. Absolute.

The second the sentence left his mouth, everything stopped.

Juhoon's heart, his breathing, the entire room.

Because he knew.

Instantly.

He knew.

That one had landed.

And judging by the way your face changed, he'd hit exactly where it hurt most.

Your eyes widened slightly.

Then slowly, very slowly, went blank.

And suddenly Juhoon was terrified.

Because he'd seen you cry, seen you yell, seen you angry, seen you frustrated.

But this?

This was different. This looked like heartbreak.

And the regret hit him so violently it almost made him sick.

"Baby-"

But your eyes had already dropped.

And the even worst part?

You weren't crying. Not yet.

♡ 

The apartment went painfully quiet.

Not the comfortable kind either. Not the kind you and Juhoon usually shared while working in the same room or eating dinner side by side.

This silence felt sharp.

Dangerous.

Like right before something broke.

Juhoon looked frozen across from you.

Like he couldn't believe he'd said it.

Like he wanted to, again, grab the words back and force them down his own throat before they ever reached you.

But it was already too late.

Because the second those words left him, your face changed.

Not anger.

Honestly, he would've preferred anger.

Instead your expression simply...fell away.

Every emotion disappeared so quickly it scared him. 

Your eyes dropped from his, your shoulders lowered slightly, and suddenly you looked exhausted.

Not annoyed or frustrated. Tired.

"Oh."

The word came out barely above a whisper.

Immediately Juhoon's stomach dropped.

"Baby-"

"No."

You shook your head once. Small. Quiet.

And somehow that hurt worse than if you'd screamed.

His chest tightened.

"You know I didn't mean-"

"You did."

Your voice wasn't loud. 

That was the problem.

You sounded heartbreakingly calm now.

The calm people got right before they stopped fighting altogether.

And Juhoon hated it.

Because he knew. He knew exactly which insecurity he'd hit.

You'd told him once, late at night, curled together beneath blankets while the rest of the dorm slept.

You'd admitted it quietly against his shoulder.

That your biggest fear wasn't being disliked.

It wasn't failure.

It wasn't even heartbreak.

It was being too much.

Too emotional.

Too needy.

Too difficult.

Too hard to love.

And now he'd just thrown that fear directly back at you.

His stomach twisted violently.

"That's not what I meant."

You laughed softly. A terrible sound. Because there was no amusement in it at all.

"You know," you said quietly, "I actually spent months defending you."

Juhoon felt dread crawl up his spine.

Your eyes finally lifted toward him, glossy now.

"Every time somebody told me you were hard to read."

His chest tightened.

"Every time somebody asked if you actually liked me."

"Baby-"

"I always defended you."

The hurt in your voice nearly made him flinch.

"I said you loved differently."

You swallowed.

"I said you weren't cold."

There it was. The word again. Cold.

And Juhoon hated it. Not because you were wrong, but because he'd spent years trying not to be.

Trying.

Failing.

Trying again.

And now somehow he was hurting the one person he'd wanted to protect from that part of himself.

You laughed again. Small. Broken.

"I told everyone they just didn't understand you."

The room felt suffocating. 

Juhoon stepped forward instinctively…but you stepped back this time.

And the movement hit him so hard his heart physically stuttered. Because you never stepped away from him.

Never.

Not like that.

Not like he was something painful.

"Don't."

Your voice cracked slightly.

"I just..."

You looked away, then rubbed quickly at your eyes.

"I'm really tired, Juhoon."

The second he heard the tremor in your voice panic began flooding his chest.

"No."

You moved toward the couch. Toward your jacket.

His panic worsened immediately.

"Where are you going?"

You grabbed it.

"I need air."

"It's raining."

"I don't care."

Your hand found the doorknob, and suddenly every atom of anger disappeared from Juhoon's body.

Gone.

Vanished.

Poof. 

Nothing remained except fear.

"Baby."

You paused just for a second.

Hope exploded briefly inside his chest.

Then died again when you still didn't look at him.

His voice dropped. Soft and desperate.

"I'm sorry."

Your shoulders tightened, but you still didn't turn around.

The silence stretched.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Then quietly-

"So am I."

And somehow that stung worse than anything else had during the whole conversation. 

Because you sounded defeated.

Not angry.

Defeated.

The door opened.

Juhoon's chest seized.

"Please don't leave."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Raw and unfiltered.

But you just stood there for another second.

Looking at the rain outside the window.

Then finally-

"If I stay right now..."

Your voice shook.

"...I'm gonna say something I'll regret."

His stomach dropped.

You pulled the door open wider, and for the first time all night…Juhoon genuinely felt afraid.

Not nervous. Not anxious.

Afraid.

Because suddenly it felt possible.

Possible that he'd pushed too hard, possible that he'd hurt you too deeply, possible that-

The door closed.

And the apartment fell silent. Completely silent.

For several seconds Juhoon didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Didn't think.

He just stared.

At the door.

Waiting.

Waiting for it to open again. Waiting for you to walk back in. Waiting for you to decide you'd forgotten something. Waiting for anything.

Nothing happened.

The rain continued outside.

Steady, cold. Endless.

And then reality finally crashed into him.

You were gone.

♡ 

The first thing Juhoon did was grab his phone immediately.

His hands were already shaking.

Call.

The line rang.

Once.

Twice.

Then…a ringtone from inside the apartment.

His blood ran cold.

Slowly he looked toward the coffee table.

Your phone sat there, exactly where you'd left it. Still charging, but now lit up with a picture of you guys at an award show. 

“Baby Ju 🥰🤍”

Juhoon froze.

Read the name again.

No.

No no no.

His stomach dropped so violently he thought he might be sick.

Because that meant, you had no phone. 

No way to contact him, no GPS, no messages, nothing.

Panic sparked instantly in his chest.

He grabbed the device.

Opened it.

Wait. 

Maybe- maybe your watch. You had your watch sometimes.

Right?

Right?

He practically ran toward your bedroom.

The charger stand sat beside the bed.

And there, still charging, your watch.

Juhoon stopped so abruptly he nearly stumbled.

For a second everything went completely silent. Then his heart started racing. Hard.

Too hard.

He couldn't breathe properly, couldn't think properly.

His chest felt tight. Painfully tight.

No phone, no watch, no way to reach you, no way to know where you were, no way to know if you were okay.

"Fuck."

His voice came out shaky.

He paced.

Once.

Twice.

Then again.

Living room. Bedroom. Kitchen. Living room.

Bedroom.

Again.

Again.

Again.

His breathing got worse every lap.

Faster. Shallower.

The apartment felt too small. Too quiet. Too empty. Every room screamed your absence.

Your shoes by the door, your mug beside the sink, your hoodie draped over the couch-everything reminded him of you. And everything reminded him that you weren't here.

Hours seemed to crawl by.

6:45.

7:20.

8:03.

9:12.

Every minute felt longer than the last.

And with every passing hour, the guilt grew.

Because now he could hear it. Every word he'd said. Every stupid sentence. Every insecurity he'd weaponized.

God.

What had he done?

Eventually his legs gave out.

Not dramatically. Slowly.

He wandered into the bedroom, sat on the floor, and then slid down the wall. His breathing still wouldn't steady. 

The room felt blurry, his eyes burned, and when he looked beside the bed…something caught his attention.

The little Baymax plush. The one you'd won for him at Tokyo Disney. The one you'd practically forced him to carry through the airport because-

"He's your son now."

The memory nearly destroyed him. 

His hand closed around it automatically.

Then suddenly-

Everything broke. And for the first time that night - and for a while - Juhoon cried.

Not quietly. Not the controlled tears he usually hid.

Actual crying.

Alone. Curled against the wall. Clutching the tiny Baymax plush so tightly his knuckles hurt.

Because all he could think was-

What if you didn't come back?

What if this was it?

What if the thing he'd feared most had finally happened?

What if he'd hurt you enough that you stopped choosing him?

And that thought…that single thought, made him bury his face into his arms and cry harder.

Hours passed.

And still, you didn't come home.

♡ 

The convenience store had become strangely familiar by now.

Not because you came here often, but because you'd been sitting in the same corner booth for nearly four hours. 

The cashier had stopped looking at you after the first hour. The iced soda you'd bought was long melted, the noodles you'd eaten sat abandoned beside you, and outside, rain continued falling steadily against the windows. You stared through it blankly. Watching headlights pass, watching people come and go, watching time move while your thoughts refused to.

You'd spent the first hour angry.

The second hurt.

The third confused.

And now? 

Now you were just tired. So unbelievably tired.

Your head rested against the cool glass beside you, the argument replaying over and over again. Every sentence. Every expression. Every look on Juhoon's face.

And the stupid thing was, even now, you missed him. Which felt ridiculous because he was the reason you were sitting here in the first place. The reason your chest still hurt. The reason your eyes felt swollen from crying in a gas station bathroom an hour ago.

Yet somehow...you still missed him.

Pathetic.

You groaned softly and covered your face.

"Get a grip."

The words sounded weak even to you. Because the truth was, you knew Juhoon.

You knew him better than anyone. You knew he didn't actually think you were too much.

You knew he didn't actually want you to stop needing reassurance. 

You knew he'd spoken from hurt. From jealousy. From insecurity. The same way you had.

But knowing that didn't magically erase what he'd said. Because some words landed deeper than others.

And he'd found the deepest one.

Your eyes drifted toward the rain again.

The city clock across the street glowed softly.

1:43 AM.

You blinked.

Wait.

Your brows furrowed…and then your eyes immediately widened.

"Oh my gosh."

You sat upright.

Had it seriously gotten that late?

Panic fluttered briefly in your stomach.

You'd left around six-thirty.

That meant...over seven hours.

Seven.

Hours.

A small knot formed in your chest…because suddenly you could picture Juhoon alone in the apartment. And despite everything, despite the argument, despite the hurt…you knew him.

He was probably miserable.

Probably pacing, probably overthinking himself into oblivion, and probably convinced you'd never come back.

The thought made something ache.

You sighed, long and slow. Then…you stood.

Maybe...

Maybe it was time to go home.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 

The coordinator finally left after another minute, and Juhoon exhaled softly before leaning farther back into the couch cushions.

“Tired?” you asked immediately.

His eyes flicked toward you.

“A little.”

Your expression softened instantly. Without hesitation, you shifted closer and pressed a quick kiss against the side of his jaw.

“There. Better.”

The corner of Juhoon’s mouth twitched faintly.

“Magic.”

“Obviously.”

He hummed softly, fingers squeezing your ankle once before his gaze drifted toward the hallway again.

Then suddenly-

“Juhoon-ah!”

A familiar voice echoed from outside the room moments before someone appeared in the doorway. And immediately, the entire atmosphere shifted brighter somehow.

Soobin walked into the waiting room with easy warmth radiating from him, oversized hoodie sleeves pushed halfway over his hands while he smiled the second he spotted Juhoon.

“There you are.”

Juhoon straightened slightly.

“Hey.”

Soobin’s eyes flickered toward you curiously almost immediately.

“Oh?”

You sat up quickly while Juhoon’s hand slid absentmindedly from your ankle to your knee instead.

“This is-”

“My partner,” you finished for him teasingly when he paused too long.

Juhoon glanced at you briefly, the tiniest bit embarrassed already.

Cute.

Soobin immediately broke into a grin.

“Finally! I was starting to think he made you up.”

You laughed instantly.

“Oh my gosh.”

Juhoon sighed quietly beside you.

“You’re dramatic. Do you not watch our promotions.”

“Not often…we just had a huge comeback,” Soobin defended while walking farther into the room. “Besides, every time I asked about dating you acted like I was interrogating you.”

Juhoon looked deeply unamused.

“You were.”

“He’s lying,” Soobin informed you solemnly before extending his hand. “I’m Soobin.”

You shook it warmly.

“I know.”

“Oh no,” Soobin gasped dramatically. “He talks about me?”

“Unfortunately.”

Juhoon physically rolled his eyes this time, but you caught the way his fingers slid lightly against your knee again beneath the conversation.

Still there. Still touching you.

Something soft settled in your chest automatically.

The conversation flowed strangely easily after that. Almost too easily. Soobin had one of those personalities that naturally filled silence without overwhelming it. Sweet without trying too hard. Funny in a soft, effortless way that kept making you laugh before you even realized it.

And honestly?

It felt comfortable immediately.

The three of you stayed in the waiting room talking for almost forty minutes while schedules delayed things repeatedly outside. Mostly you and Soobin talking.

Juhoon noticed that first. Not in a jealous way initially. Just observationally. You asked Soobin questions easily. Reacted quickly to his jokes. Interrupted him halfway through stories because you got excited and already knew what he meant.

And Soobin responded just as naturally.

“WAIT,” you laughed at one point, sitting up straighter. “You were the one who spilled ramen inside your manager’s suitcase?”

Soobin immediately pointed across the room.

“HE TOLD YOU THAT?”

Juhoon looked up from his phone calmly.

“You deserved it.”

“That was private information.”

“You smelled like broth for two days.”

You dissolved into laughter again, leaning sideways automatically until your shoulder bumped against Juhoon’s.

Instinct.

His eyes lifted toward you briefly at the contact. Softening instantly.

There you are.

But then Soobin continued the story animatedly, and your attention drifted back toward him again just as quickly.

Juhoon’s expression remained neutral.

Mostly.

Still, something unfamiliar pressed quietly beneath his ribs while he watched the interaction continue around him.

Not because anything inappropriate was happening. Nothing remotely close.

It was just…

Easy. 

You laughed differently around Soobin. Freer somehow. Conversation moved effortlessly between you both while Juhoon found himself mostly listening instead of speaking. 

Which normally…wouldn’t bother him. Juhoon had never been the loudest person in a room. He preferred listening. Preferred observing quietly while other people filled space around him.

But sitting there now, watching you beam brightly at another man while talking faster and more openly than you sometimes even talked with him, made something uncomfortable curled slowly inside his chest.

Small, but there.

“So then he tells me-”

Your hand landed briefly against Soobin’s arm while laughing again, and Juhoon’s gaze dropped automatically toward the touch before immediately lifting away.

The feeling worsened.

Not anger.

Something sadder.

By the time Soobin finally got called away by staff nearly twenty minutes later, you were both still smiling.

“I’m stealing you next time too,” Soobin informed you jokingly while backing toward the hallway.

“You absolutely should.”

“Traitor,” Juhoon muttered quietly beside you.

Soobin pointed dramatically.

“See? Possessive.”

Then he disappeared laughing down the hallway before either of you could respond.

Silence settled briefly afterward.

You leaned comfortably against Juhoon’s shoulder again almost immediately.

“That was fun.”

“Mhm.”

You tilted your head slightly.

“You okay?”

Juhoon looked down at you…and there it was again.

That immediate softening. Always immediate with you.

“Yeah.”

Then quietly, after a second-

“You like him.”

The statement sounded neutral enough that you didn’t think twice about it.

“Obviously,” you smiled, nodding your head a bit. “He’s really sweet.”

Juhoon nodded once.

Sweet.

Right.

Your fingers found his free hand automatically, intertwining with his while resting against his lap. 

And Juhoon squeezed back instantly.

Automatic. Because no matter what uncomfortable feeling had settled quietly beneath his ribs over the last hour, you were still here. Still reaching for him first. Still choosing him.

So why did he suddenly feel so strangely left behind anyway?

♡ 

It started small after that. So small neither of you noticed immediately.

The first few times Soobin came around afterward, everything still felt normal.

Comfortable.

The four of you occasionally grabbed food together after schedules, sometimes met backstage during overlapping promotions, and once ended up wandering around a convenience store at nearly midnight because Soobin wanted ice cream and somehow convinced everyone else to come too.

And every single time, you and Soobin clicked together effortlessly.

“Wait no because listen-” you started one evening while sitting across from him in a restaurant booth. “If you had to survive a zombie apocalypse with one Cortis member who would it be?”

Soobin nearly spit out his drink laughing.

“That’s evil.”

“Answer.”

Juhoon sat beside you quietly pulling apart chopsticks and rubbing them together while listening automatically.

Soobin pointed across the table immediately.

“Not James.”

James looked offended.

“I’m intelligent.”

“You’d sacrifice me immediately for survival.”

“Correct.”

You physically folded over laughing.

Juhoon smiled faintly without meaning to.

There it is again. That sound. He loved your laugh. Loved it enough that hearing it usually softened every sharp edge inside him almost instantly.

But lately…lately there had been strange moments where hearing you laugh with someone else only made his chest ache instead.

And he hated himself a little for it.

Because Soobin was genuinely kind. Gentle. Easy to be around. There was nothing to dislike.

…which meant the problem had nowhere to land except back onto himself.

“You know who I’d choose?” you asked suddenly.

Soobin perked up.

“Who?”

You turned immediately toward Juhoon without hesitation.

“Him.”

Juhoon blinked once. Your hand slid absentmindedly onto his thigh beneath the table while smiling softly.

“He’d survive anything.”

Something warm flickered through his chest instantly.

There you are.

Soobin pointed dramatically.

“That’s because you’re in love.”

“I am in love.”

The words came easily. Casually.

Like they always did with you.

Juhoon glanced toward you again quietly, and suddenly guilt hit him hard enough to make his stomach twist. 

Because you looked at him so openly. So honestly.

Meanwhile he’d spent the last week silently wondering why talking to someone else seemed easier for you than talking to him sometimes.

The thought made him feel sick immediately.

So instead of sitting farther inside that ugly feeling, Juhoon did what he always did.

Buried it. Deep.

Until even he couldn’t separate insecurity from silence anymore.

♡ 

The problem was, you noticed changes in Juhoon the way other people noticed weather.

Slowly at first. Then all at once.

It happened one night nearly three weeks later while the two of you were curled together in bed after another long schedule day. 

Or…mostly curled together.

Usually, nighttime with Juhoon looked the same. You climbing into his space first, your legs tangled together beneath blankets, face pressed into his chest while his arms automatically wrapped around you afterward. Even if he was tired. Even if he was quiet. He always responded. Always melted eventually.

But tonight, something felt different.

You’d tucked yourself against his side almost ten minutes ago now, one arm draped loosely across his waist while soft rain tapped quietly against the apartment windows, and Juhoon still felt strangely still beside you. Not rejecting you, just…not reaching back.

Your brows furrowed slightly against his shoulder.

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“You’re quiet.”

A beat of silence.

Then-

“Tired.”

Normally that answer wouldn’t bother you.

Except lately? Lately it was always tired.

Always fine. Always nothing.

You tilted your head slightly to look at him in the dim bedroom light. His eyes stayed fixed upward toward the ceiling, expression unreadable and distant in the dark.

Your chest tightened a little.

“You sure?”

This time his gaze finally shifted toward you.

And immediately softened. Because it always did.

“Mhm.”

But still-

His arm never tightened around you afterward.

And for the first time in months, falling asleep beside Juhoon felt strangely lonely.

♡ 

The feeling should have disappeared after that night. Honestly, you expected it to.

Everyone had off weeks sometimes. Busy schedules. Exhaustion. Stress. Juhoon had never been overly expressive to begin with…so you tried not to overthink it.

For a few days, you convinced yourself everything was normal.

Then little things started stacking. Tiny things. The kind that looked harmless individually but somehow felt heavier together. 

Like the fact that you were almost always the one reaching for his hand first lately.

Or how he still smiled when you kissed him, but rarely leaned down first anymore.

Or how conversations seemed to end quicker than they used to.

Not cold, but shorter. Like Juhoon was always standing one step farther away than before.

♡ 

“Hold still.”

Juhoon glanced up from the couch.

You stood in front of him holding your arms out dramatically.

He blinked once.

“What?”

“Hold still.”

“…why?”

Instead of answering, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss directly onto his forehead.

Then another.

Then one on the tip of his nose.

Juhoon physically froze.

You grinned.

“There.”

His ears turned slightly pink immediately.

“Ridiculous.”

“You smiled.”

“No I didn't.”

“You absolutely did.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Evidence.

You pointed immediately.

“AHA.”

Juhoon reached out without warning and caught your wrist before you could continue celebrating. Gently, he tugged down, and you stumbled directly into his lap with a startled squeak.

“Juhoon.”

“Quiet.”

Your heart immediately betrayed you.

Because even now, even after weeks of weird distance, moments like this still existed.

His arm rested loosely around your waist while the television played forgotten in the background. Comfortable. Warm.

Normal.

For a second you thought maybe you'd imagined everything.

Then your phone buzzed.

You glanced down.

SOOBEAN 🫘: “did james actually put hot sauce in his coffee or was that a lie”

You laughed instantly.

“No way.”

Juhoon's gaze dropped automatically.

“What's funny?”

You showed him the message.

“Oh.”

Something flashed briefly across his face.

Gone so quickly you couldn't catch it.

Then he looked away.

“James probably did.”

You typed back immediately.

SOOBEAN 🫘: “HE DID???”

YOU: “apparently 😭”

SOOBEAN 🫘: “that man is terrifying”

You laughed again.

And beside you, Juhoon went quiet.

♡ 

The problem wasn't Soobin. Juhoon knew that. He knew it every single day.

Soobin wasn't flirting, wasn't crossing boundaries, wasn't trying to steal anything.

If anything, Soobin seemed completely oblivious. 

Which somehow made everything worse…because if there had been something concrete to point at…or something inappropriate…Juhoon could've justified the feeling. Instead he was left sitting alone with an ugly realization.

The problem was himself.

One evening, nearly a month after the first meeting, Juhoon found himself standing in the kitchen pouring water while your voice floated from the living room.

You were on speakerphone.

Laughing.

Again.

"So then he actually did it?" you gasped.

Soobin's voice crackled through the phone.

"I'm serious."

"No he didn't."

"He absolutely did."

Your laughter echoed through the apartment.

Bright, easy…effortless.

Juhoon's grip tightened slightly around the glass in his hand.

The thing was…you laughed with him too.

Every day.

So why did hearing it now feel different?

Why did it sound easier?

Why did it sound like the version of yourself he loved most seemed to come out naturally around somebody else?

The thought made him feel awful immediately…because it wasn't fair.

Not to you.

Not to Soobin.

Not even to himself.

Still, the feeling stayed.

♡ 

A few nights later, the four of you ended up meeting for dinner after schedules.

It should have been fun.

And honestly?

For everyone else, it was.

You sat across from Soobin sharing fries while arguing about movies, James looked one comment away from starting a fight, and Martin had somehow convinced the waiter to bring extra sauce.

The table buzzed with conversation.

Meanwhile Juhoon mostly listened. Which wasn't unusual.

Except tonight he noticed something.

Every time something funny happened, you looked at Soobin first.

Not intentionally.

Not consciously.

Just naturally.

The realization hit harder than it should have. Because there had been a time when you always looked for him first.

To share reactions. To exchange little glances. To silently communicate entire conversations with one expression.

Now…sometimes you still did. But not always.

And suddenly Juhoon couldn't stop noticing it. Couldn't stop noticing every laugh. Every conversation. Every easy interaction.

The insecurity grew teeth.

♡ 

"Baby?"

Juhoon looked up.

You stood in the bedroom doorway holding two shirts.

"Red or black?"

"...black."

"Thank you."

You disappeared again.

Three seconds later-

"Actually maybe red."

Juhoon sighed.

"Then wear red."

You immediately reappeared.

"You're so smart."

He snorted softly.

And despite everything, despite all the stupid feelings clawing around inside his chest lately, his gaze softened automatically. Because there you were.

Hair messy.

Half dressed.

Looking at him like he hung the stars.

The exact same way you always had.

The realization made guilt settle heavily in his stomach again. Because if you still looked at him like that...

Why couldn't he stop feeling so insecure?

♡ 

The breaking point came quietly. Like most things with Juhoon.

Not dramatically…or all at once. Just one small moment too many.

It happened on a Sunday afternoon. Rain tapped softly against the apartment windows while the two of you lounged around doing absolutely nothing. One of those rare schedule-free days.

You sat curled beside him on the couch scrolling through your phone while your legs rested across his lap.

Comfortable, lazy, and peaceful.

Then your screen lit up.

A message.

Your face immediately brightened.

Juhoon's stomach dropped before he even knew why.

"Soobin sent me pictures."

"Hm."

You laughed softly.

"Oh my gosh."

"What?"

"He found that giant capybara café."

Another laugh.

Then another.

And another.

Your attention remained completely glued to the phone.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then fifteen.

At some point, Juhoon's hand had stopped absentmindedly resting against your ankle.

You didn't notice.

At some point, he'd stopped listening to the television entirely.

You didn't notice that either. Because you were still smiling down at the screen.

Still typing.

Still laughing.

And suddenly something painful twisted deep inside his chest.

Not jealousy…not really. Something lonelier.

Something sadder.

Like he was sitting directly beside you and somehow still couldn't reach you.

The feeling lingered long after the conversation ended. Long after your phone got tossed aside. Long after your head found his shoulder again.

Because now he couldn't stop hearing a thought that made him feel sick.

Why does talking to him seem easier than talking to me?

And for the first time, Juhoon didn't know how to make the feeling go away.

♡ 

The thing was… Juhoon wasn't imagining it.

At first he'd genuinely tried to convince himself he was.

…Because Soobin was nice. Ridiculously nice, actually. The kind of person who remembered everyone's coffee orders after hearing them once…and the kind of person who held doors open without thinking and somehow always ended up carrying three people's bags despite nobody asking him to.

Which meant every interaction felt impossible to be annoyed about.

Because what was Juhoon supposed to say?

"Stop being kind to my girlfriend?"

That sounded insane.

So instead he kept it to himself.

And kept it to himself.

And kept it to himself.

Until it started becoming impossible to ignore.

♡ 

A week later, practice had ended late.

Everyone was exhausted. The studio lights felt too bright after six straight hours of rehearsal while half-finished water bottles and abandoned hoodies littered every available surface.

Martin was lying face-down on the floor, James was attempting to convince everyone he could survive solely on protein bars, and Keonho was threatening violence.

Normal things.

You were sitting cross-legged against the mirrored wall scrolling through your phone while waiting for everyone to finish packing up.

And beside you, Soobin.

Again. He came in to visit and brought that said pack of protein bars.

Juhoon's eyes drifted toward the two of you automatically.

You were laughing.

Not dramatically.

Just smiling, head tilted slightly.

Shoulders shaking once.

Then twice.

Soobin said something else.

You immediately covered your face.

"Oh my gosh, stop."

He looked far too pleased with himself.

"No, because you should've seen it."

"You're exaggerating."

"I'm literally not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

You pointed at him.

"There."

"That wasn't proof."

"It was proof."

Juhoon looked away immediately before anyone noticed. Before anyone could see the ugly feeling settling somewhere deep inside his chest.

Because it wasn't just this.

It was everything. The accumulated weight of hundreds of little moments.

Soobin texting you memes, Soobin sending you photos from schedules, Soobin asking your opinion on things, Soobin sitting beside you at award shows, Soobin showing up at the studio.

Soobin.

Soobin.

Soobin.

And every time Juhoon told himself he was being stupid. Because nothing inappropriate was happening.

Nothing.

You weren't flirting, and neither was Soobin.

You still kissed Juhoon every morning, still stole his hoodies, still crawled into his lap during movie nights, still reached for his hand automatically. 

But somehow, it still hurt. And Juhoon hated that.

Because it felt childish.

Insecure.

Embarrassing.

"Juhoon."

His head lifted.

You were smiling at him immediately. The second you smiled, his chest squeezed.

Every single time.

"Yeah?"

You held up your phone.

"Look."

He walked over automatically, and you shifted closer to make room beside you.

And for a second the horrible feeling eased.

Because this was familiar.

This was yours.

You.

Beside him.

Your shoulder touching his, the scent of your shampoo, the warmth of your arm. His.

Then Soobin leaned over too.

Looking at the phone.

Close enough that his shoulder bumped yours.

And suddenly Juhoon felt ridiculous all over again.

"What am I looking at?" he asked quietly.

You grinned.

"The comments."

Juhoon glanced down, then immediately regretted it. Because apparently someone had uploaded a behind-the-scenes clip from an interview earlier…and the comments were full of people losing their minds.

"Soobin and Y/N are actually siblings."

"Their energy is identical."

"I need them on a variety show together."

"Best friendship ever."

"Juhoon third wheeling again 😭"

That one.

That one hurt.

His stomach dropped.

You laughed.

"Oh my gosh I do not want you as my brother."

Soobin laughed too.

"Not the third wheel allegations."

Martin looked up from the floor.

"Those have been happening for weeks."

"Martin."

"What?"

"You are not helping."

"I'm just saying."

Juhoon smiled. A small one. Convincing enough apparently because nobody noticed.

Not even you.

But the comment sat in his chest for the rest of the night.

Juhoon third wheeling again.

Stupid. So unbelievably stupid.

And yet, by the time everyone headed home later that evening, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

♡ 

The apartment was quiet. Comfortably quiet. The quiet that usually helped after a long day.

Usually.

You were brushing your teeth, and Juhoon was changing into sweatpants.

Normal, ordinary…domestic. Everything he loved.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Baymax was already sitting on the bed. The tiny plush slightly squished from years of affection.

Its little white body looked ridiculous next to the black bedding.

You smiled immediately.

"There he is."

The Baymax plush had become something of a mascot at this point. 

The two of you had won it together years ago at Tokyo Disney after an embarrassingly intense carnival game battle. Since then it had survived tours, moves, schedules, arguments. Everything.

You picked him up, poked his head, then crawled beneath the blankets.

"Come here."

Juhoon followed a moment later, sliding into bed beside you. 

Normally this was the part where you immediately attached yourself to him. Like a koala. Every night without fail.

And tonight was no different. You rolled closer automatically, arms wrapping around his waist, and your face pressing lightly against his shoulder.

"Hi."

A tiny smile tugged at his mouth.

"Hi."

Then silence. Comfortable. Warm.

Except tonight,  Juhoon couldn't stop thinking.

Couldn't stop comparing.

Couldn't stop replaying things.

Couldn't stop wondering.

Did you laugh harder with Soobin now?

Did you text him more?

Were you happier around him?

The thoughts were awful and irrational.

…And he knew that.

But they stayed anyway.

Your fingers lightly hooked into his shirt.

Waiting, without realizing it.

Usually, Juhoon would pull you closer. Wrap an arm around you, press a kiss into your hair, something. Always something.

Tonight he just...stayed still.

Not intentionally, or to punish you, or because he was angry.

But because suddenly every movement felt strange. Like he wasn't sure if he deserved them anymore.

You noticed almost immediately.

Your brows furrowed slightly against his shoulder.

"...you okay?"

Juhoon's eyes closed immediately.

Because there it was.

The question he'd been avoiding.

And he wasn't ready. Not yet.

So quietly, very quietly, he answered,

"Yeah."

You didn't look convinced. Not even a little.

And unfortunately for Juhoon, you knew him far too well.

♡ 

The next few days passed strangely.

Not bad, or enough for anyone else to notice. Just...

Different.

Because Juhoon really was trying. That was the frustrating part.

He wasn't trying to be distant, wasn't trying to punish you, wasn't trying to make some dramatic statement.

He just couldn't seem to stop retreating into himself.

Every time the ugly feeling surfaced, he swallowed it. 

Every time jealousy twisted somewhere in his chest, he buried it.

Every time he wanted to ask,

"Do you even notice?"

he forced himself not to.

Because the question sounded ridiculous.

So instead he got quieter.

And unfortunately...quiet was where Juhoon lived best.

Which made it difficult to spot at first.

Until eventually you started noticing the little things.

Like how he stopped reaching for your hand first. Not completely, no. Just...less.

How his responses got shorter.

How he'd smile when you spoke but somehow still seem miles away.

How he kept staring at nothing whenever he thought nobody was looking.

And most importantly, how he stopped responding the way he normally did when you initiated affection.

That one hurt. Because affection had always worked a little differently between the two of you.

You were sunshine. Movement. Warmth.

Juhoon was quieter. Softer. Less obvious.

So naturally you were usually the one throwing yourself at him. Wrapping around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, stealing hugs, curling into his lap.

And Juhoon always responded. Always.

Maybe not dramatically, but he responded.

A hand on your waist, a kiss to your temple, his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer.

Little things.

Important things.

Which was why the change became impossible to ignore. Because now...you were the only one moving.

♡ 

The realization hit hardest one evening after practice.

Everyone had finally escaped the studio, the sun had already disappeared outside, and the city glittered through the windows.

You were exhausted. The good kind actually.

The kind that came after a really productive day.

Juhoon sat beside you on the couch in the shared dorm lounge while everyone else wandered around doing their own thing.

Martin was arguing with James about ramen and Keonho was trying to steal snacks. Normal chaos.

You smiled softly and leaned against Juhoon's shoulder. Then, you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Usually, without even thinking, his arm would've immediately settled around you.

Tonight...nothing happened.

Not rejection. Just...nothing.

Your smile faded slightly. Maybe he didn't notice? So you squeezed him gently.

Still nothing.

A tiny ache settled in your chest.

Across the room Martin paused mid-conversation. 

His eyes flicked over.

Then immediately away again.

Because even he noticed.

You slowly released Juhoon, trying not to think about it. 

Maybe he was tired? Maybe that was all.

Except, this kept happening. 

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until eventually it stopped feeling accidental, and started feeling personal.

The breaking point arrived five nights later.

You were home, finally.

No schedules, no rehearsals, and no cameras.

Just the apartment.

Rain tapped softly against the windows again as the television played quietly in the background. 

Juhoon sat at the kitchen island scrolling through something on his phone as you stood nearby making tea…and for almost ten minutes you found yourself watching him.

Waiting. For something. Anything.

A smile.

A glance.

A touch.

Nothing came.

Your chest tightened…because you missed him. And the stupid thing was, he was sitting right there. Five feet away. Yet somehow he felt farther than ever.

The kettle clicked off.

You set down two mugs, walked over, and then carefully placed one beside him.

Juhoon looked up immediately.

"Thanks."

That was it. Just thanks.

Something finally snapped. Not dramatically.

Just enough.

"Okay."

Juhoon blinked.

"What?"

You folded your arms.

"What is going on with you?"

Immediately, his stomach dropped. Because he'd known this conversation was coming eventually.

He just hadn't been ready for it.

"...nothing."

Your eyebrows rose.

Nothing.

Of course.

Always nothing.

"Juhoon."

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

He looked away…which unfortunately only proved your point. The frustration building inside you for nearly two weeks finally started spilling over.

"Can you stop saying that?"

His jaw tightened.

"Saying what?"

"'I'm fine.'"

Silence.

"Because you're obviously not."

Juhoon stared at the countertop…and you hated that. 

Hated that he wouldn't look at you.

Hated that every difficult conversation felt like dragging words out of someone determined to keep them buried.

"Talk to me."

"I'm trying."

"No you're not."

The response came too quickly. Too honestly.

Juhoon's expression shifted immediately.

There.

A tiny crack.

"You think I'm not trying?"

"I think you've been shutting me out for weeks."

His chest tightened.

Weeks.

So you noticed. Of course you noticed. You always noticed.

"Juhoon."

Your voice softened slightly.

"What happened?"

For one horrible second, he almost told you.

Almost.

The jealousy, the insecurity, the fear. All of it.

But then embarrassment surged up again.

Because how was he supposed to explain this?

"I'm jealous of my friend because you laugh with him."

It sounded insanely pathetic. So instead, he shook his head.

"Nothing happened."

Your patience finally started wearing thin.

"Then why won't you hold me anymore?"

The question landed like a grenade.

Juhoon's head snapped up. Your eyes were already shining slightly.

Not crying. Not yet.

Just hurt.

And somehow, that hurt worse.

Because suddenly he realized this wasn't just affecting him.

It was affecting you too.

But instead of making him speak, it made him retreat further.

"...that's not true."

"It is."

"It isn't."

You laughed softly. 

Not happy. The kind of laugh people make when they're trying not to cry.

"Juhoon."

Your voice cracked slightly.

"You barely hug me back anymore."

His chest physically hurt…because he knew.

He knew.

And still, he couldn't explain why.

The silence stretched. Long enough that your expression slowly changed. From confusion…to realization…and then to

something else.

Something that made Juhoon's stomach sink.

"...is it me?"

Immediately, his head lifted.

"What?"

"Did I do something?"

"No."

The answer came instantly. Too instantly.

Because despite everything, that wasn't true.

You hadn't done anything. Not really.

And yet...the conversation was finally moving toward the thing he'd been trying to avoid.

Toward Soobin. Toward the jealousy. Toward the ugly feelings he'd been carrying alone.

And unfortunately…once the door cracked open, it was becoming harder and harder to keep it closed.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“You want taro or brown sugar?” he asked while stopping outside the café.

You thought for a second.

“Brown sugar.”

“Good choice.”

“You literally got that last time.”

“Because I have elite taste.”

You smiled despite yourself while Martin squeezed your hand once before stepping backward toward the counter.

“Wait here, pretty girl. Don’t disappear.”

Your face warmed instantly.

“Okay.”

He shot you one last grin before disappearing into the line.

And you know what?

You were smiling like an idiot for a solid thirty seconds afterward. 

Embarrassing.

Very embarrassing.

You leaned against the railing nearby while pulling your phone from your pocket, absentmindedly scrolling through social media to distract yourself from the fact that your boyfriend was unfairly attractive.

A few videos passed. Outfits, makeup tutorials, somebody burning garlic bread.

And then-

A prank video popped up.

Your thumb paused instantly.

The caption read:

“filling my bf’s motorcycle with diesel instead of unleaded to see his reaction 😭”

You blinked once, then immediately sat up straighter.

Oh.

Oh this was evil.

The video played quickly. A girl standing at a gas station trying not to laugh while her boyfriend completely panicked over his motorcycle. And the second the guy started stressfully running his hands through his hair-

You lost it. Actually laughing quietly to yourself right there against the railing.

Because suddenly you remembered something.

Earlier today Martin mentioning he needed gas later.

Your eyes widened slightly.

No. No wait. This would be SO funny.

You bit the inside of your cheek immediately trying to contain your smile as your brain started connecting pieces together way too fast. Because the thing was…

You were insanely good at keeping a straight face. Dangerously good.

And Martin?

Martin loved his motorcycle.

Not in an obnoxious way. Just in the deeply emotionally attached way men somehow got about vehicles.

Which meant…this prank had potential. 

Terrible potential.

Your shoulders started shaking slightly from holding back laughter just as Martin returned balancing two drinks carefully in his hands.

He stopped immediately.

“…why do you look suspicious?”

Your expression snapped innocent instantly.

“What?”

Martin narrowed his eyes.

“That smile.”

“What smile?”

“The one that says you’re plotting.”

You accepted your drink calmly.

“I would never.”

“Liar.”

But he was smiling while saying it, already turning toward the mall exit with your hand slipping naturally back into his free one again.

And the entire walk out to the parking garage-

You kept thinking about diesel.

♡ 

The motorcycle ride afterward felt almost unfairly cinematic.

The sky had shifted into soft evening gold now, sunlight stretching across the roads in warm streaks while cool wind rushed around you both every time Martin accelerated. Your arms stayed wrapped tightly around his waist from behind, helmet pressed lightly against his shoulder while the city blurred past.

Martin loved driving like this with you.

Not fast in a reckless way, but smooth. Controlled.

One hand steady on the handlebars while the other occasionally tapped lightly against your knee where your legs rested beside his.

Checking. Making sure you were still comfortable.

Every red light turned into him leaning back slightly just enough to ask things like-

“You cold?”

“You good back there?”

“You falling asleep on me?”

And every single time, your chest squeezed a little harder because gosh.

He was sweet. Like genuinely sweet underneath all the teasing and dramatic behavior.

The bike slowed eventually as a familiar gas station appeared ahead.

Martin sighed softly through the helmet speaker.

“Finally.”

You perked up immediately.

Oh my gosh.

The opportunity.

He pulled smoothly beside a pump before shutting the engine off and removing his helmet, dark hair falling messily over his forehead afterward.

Your heart betrayed you a little. Again.

“You okay if I run inside?” he asked while unzipping his jacket slightly. “Wanna grab snacks before our movie night.”

You nodded quickly.

“Okay!”

Martin paused mid-motion.

“…why are you so excited.”

You blinked innocently.

“I’m not?”

“You are.”

“I just want snacks.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously for another long second before finally sighing dramatically.

“If my bike explodes while I’m gone, I’m haunting you.”

Your lips twitched.

“Okay.”

Martin pointed once at you while slowly walking away.

“That smile again.”

Then finally he headed toward the convenience store.

And the SECOND those doors shut behind him-

You moved. Fast. Trying not to laugh already while pulling out your card and starting the gas pump exactly like normal.

Unleaded. Completely normal unleaded.

Because unlike the prank video girl, you actually loved Martin and did not want him stranded on the side of the road crying over engine damage.

The pump clicked steadily while your shoulders shook from suppressed laughter.

Oh this was going to be so good.

The tank filled normally before finally stopping. Perfect.

Step one complete.

Now-

You carefully returned the nozzle.

Then grabbed the diesel one. Empty obviously…but still.

You stared at it for a second before absolutely losing composure again.

“This is so evil,” you whispered to yourself.

Still giggling quietly, you lowered the diesel nozzle briefly near the side of the bike, then secretly poured some water from your own bottle onto the pavement underneath.

A fake spill. Visual evidence.

You nearly applauded yourself honestly.

And then?

The universe handed you the final ingredient.

A receipt.

An actual diesel receipt lying crumpled near the trash can beside the pump.

Your eyes widened immediately. 

No way.

You snatched it up so fast.

“Oh my gosh.”

♡ 

The convenience store doors slid open again a few seconds later…and there he was.

Martin stepped back outside carrying a plastic bag in one hand and another canned drink tucked beneath his arm, expression relaxed at first while he scanned the parking lot for you.

Then his eyes landed on the receipt in your hand.

And the diesel pump beside the motorcycle.

And the puddle beneath the bike.

Everything changed instantly.

Not anger.

Panic. Real panic.

“Wait-”

The plastic bag nearly slipped from his hand as he hurried toward you, boots hitting the pavement faster and faster while his brows pulled together hard.

“Baby.”

Your stomach twisted immediately because oh no…he looked genuinely stressed.

Not mad. Just horrified.

His gaze snapped between the diesel nozzle and your face again.

“…why are you holding that?”

You did your absolute best to keep your expression bright and proud despite already feeling guilt nibbling at your ribs.

“I filled your bike up for you.”

Martin physically stopped walking for half a second.

“What?”

“You said you needed gas,” you explained softly, holding up the receipt. “So I wanted to do something nice…!”

The second he saw the word diesel printed across the paper…his entire face fell.

Not dramatically…but slowly. Like his soul left his body in stages.

“Oh no.”

Your chest squeezed immediately. This suddenly felt way meaner than expected.

Martin reached you quickly now, taking the receipt carefully from your hand while staring at it in disbelief.

“…did you really?”

You nodded slowly.

And honestly?

Your acting was incredible right now. Oscar-worthy even. Especially because your excitement from earlier had shifted into genuine nervousness after seeing how stressed he looked.

Martin exhaled sharply through his nose before dragging one hand back through his hair.

Not angry. Never angry. Just…trying to think.

Trying to stay calm.

“Oh sweetheart…”

The nickname came out automatically. Softly. His eyes lifted toward you immediately after like he was checking whether you realized what happened yet.

You blinked up at him.

“…was that bad?”

Martin’s expression changed instantly. Completely instantly. All the stress still stayed in his face, yes, but the SECOND your voice got smaller-

His focus shifted to you instead of the motorcycle.

“Hey no no.”

He stepped closer immediately.

“You didn’t know.”

Your heart squeezed painfully. Why was he being so nice about this??

Martin rubbed lightly at the side of his forehead before crouching slightly to your eye level.

“So basically…” he started carefully, “diesel and unleaded are different fuel types.”

You stared at him quietly…and gosh, your sad face was devastating him right now.

“The engine won’t run properly now,” he explained gently. “It’ll probably need to get drained before I can drive it again.”

Your shoulders dropped immediately.

“Oh my gosh.”

Martin’s face softened so fast.

“Baby.”

“I broke your motorcycle.”

“No you didn’t.”

“But I did.”

“You didn’t mean to.”

You looked down hard at the ground now, gripping your sleeves slightly while guilt started flooding your chest for real this time.

Because the thing was…

You knew it was fake.

…but Martin didn’t.

And instead of yelling or getting irritated or making you feel stupid, he was comforting you while internally mourning his bike. And that…made this worse.

His fingers brushed carefully beneath your chin.

“Hey.”

Your eyes lifted reluctantly.

“It’s okay.”

“You loved this motorcycle.”

Martin almost laughed at how devastated you sounded.

“I still love it.”

“It’s literally dying.”

“It’s not dying,” he snorted softly. “It’s just…temporarily stupid.”

A weak laugh escaped you despite yourself.

There it is again. That tiny little sound.

Martin’s chest loosened slightly hearing it.

He stood fully again before pulling you gently against him without hesitation, one arm wrapping securely around your shoulders while the other rested at the back of your head.

And the second you melted into the hug…his entire protective instinct kicked in instead.

Because now you just felt sad. Small too.

Your voice muffled slightly against his jacket.

“I’m sorry.”

Martin immediately pressed a kiss against the top of your helmet-messed hair.

“Stop apologizing.”

“But your bike-”

“We’ll tow it.”

“You sound heartbroken.”

“I am heartbroken,” he admitted dramatically. “But I’m more worried about you looking like somebody kicked your puppy.”

Your face burned against his chest. How he was acting made it worse.

…because he kept being sweet.

Martin’s hand moved slowly through your hair while he exhaled softly above you.

“We can still do movie night.”

Your brows furrowed slightly against him.

“…really?”

“Of course really.”

“But your motorcycle’s dead.”

“It’s not dead,” he repeated with a tired laugh. “It just needs therapy.”

You physically almost cracked right there…because gosh. He was trying so hard not to make you feel bad.

Your guilt finally won.

You pulled back slowly from the hug, face scrunched with remorse now while Martin immediately tilted his head slightly in concern.

“What?”

You stared at him for a second, and then looked down.

Then very quietly-

“…I have something to tell you.”

Martin blinked once.

“What is it?”

Your fingers twisted nervously around the hem of your shirt. 

Suddenly…you felt terrible.

Because now he looked worried about you again.

You took a breath. Then after a while finally whispered-

“…it was a prank.”

Silence. Martin stared at you.

You rushed immediately afterward.

“I filled it with unleaded I promise and the receipt was on the floor and I’m sorry I thought it’d be funny but then you looked actually stressed and then I felt bad and-”

Martin just stood there for a solid three seconds.

Processing.

Then another.

And another.

“…what.”

You winced.

“I’m very sorry.”

Martin looked toward the motorcycle. 

Then the pump. 

Then the puddle.

Then you.

And suddenly…

He laughed. Not loudly at first. Just one stunned breath of relief before both hands flew up into his hair again.

“Oh my gosh.”

You stared nervously.

“I’m really sorry.”

“No because-” he physically bent forward laughing now, “I thought my engine was cooked.”

You covered part of your face immediately.

“I know...”

Martin looked back at you again completely incredulous.

“You evil little genius.”

“I felt bad!”

“You should’ve!”

“I did!”

Martin laughed harder, relief pouring out of him now in waves while your shoulders finally relaxed seeing he wasn’t actually upset.

“Oh my goodness,” he muttered, still grinning. “You fully committed too. And the receipt?? That was method acting…?”

You pointed weakly at the pavement.

“I needed realism.”

Martin stared at you another second before suddenly pulling you back into him again.

This time laughing directly into your shoulder.

“You are ridiculous.”

Your face buried against his chest immediately from embarrassment and relief mixed together.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

Martin pulled back just enough to look at you properly again, grin softer now.

“Baby, I was already planning the funeral.”

You snorted loudly.

He shook his head once in disbelief before leaning down slightly.

“I cannot believe I fell for that.”

“You really did.”

“You looked so sad!”

“Because YOU looked sad!”

Martin groaned dramatically.

“That’s manipulation.”

“You called me sweetheart.”

“That’s because I thought you were about to cry.”

Your cheeks warmed instantly…and Martin noticed immediately.

And oh.

There it is.

That shy expression he liked too much.

His grin softened into something smaller now.

Fond. Dangerously fond.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered.

Then after a beat

“…wait.”

You blinked innocently.

“What?”

Martin pointed suddenly toward the ground.

“Then what was the puddle again?”

You physically started laughing before answering.

“…water.”

Martin dropped his head back toward the sky in disbelief.

“I’m dating a supervillain.”

♡ 

By the time you both finally left the gas station, the entire mood had shifted.

Not ruined. If anything, it was softer now.

Martin kept randomly laughing to himself every few minutes while driving, like the prank would suddenly replay in his head again and emotionally hit him all over.

The first time it happened, you felt him shaking slightly beneath your arms while stopped at a red light.

“…are you laughing at me again?”

Martin tilted his helmeted head slightly.

“You forged emotional warfare.”

“I did not forge anything.”

“You made fake fuel evidence.”

You giggled immediately, tightening your arms around his waist slightly from behind while the traffic light reflected warm reds and yellows across the pavement around you. Martin’s hand briefly left the handlebar just long enough to squeeze your knee.

“Thought my motorcycle was entering its final moments.”

“You were so calm though.”

“I was trying not to make you cry.”

That made your chest ache a little…because he really had been. Even while stressed, even while internally watching his beloved bike flash before his eyes, his first instinct had still been making sure you didn’t feel bad.

The light turned green and the motorcycle surged forward smoothly beneath you both again. This time when your helmet rested lightly against his back, Martin’s hand reached down again briefly just to tap your thigh twice.

There.

Still laughing.

Still okay.

♡ 

The apartment smelled like popcorn and ramen within twenty minutes of getting home. Martin had immediately kicked his shoes off by the door before dramatically announcing-

“I survived attempted vehicular manslaughter and deserve snacks.”

You rolled your eyes while setting drinks onto the coffee table.

“It was unleaded!”

“Emotionally, it was diesel.”

“Be serious.”

“I almost saw my ancestors.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Martin looked over instantly from the kitchen counter where he was shoving popcorn into the microwave.

And gosh.

That smile again.

The one that always softened automatically when he looked at you too long.

Warm and sleepy around the edges now after a long day out together.

His dark hair was still messy from the helmet, hoodie sleeves pushed up slightly while silver rings flashed against the microwave buttons. Dangerous visual honestly.

You settled onto the couch while pulling a blanket over your legs, watching him quietly while he moved around the kitchen.

Comfortable.

That was the word for this.

Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just comfortable in the nicest way possible. Like spending time with Martin naturally turned ordinary things softer somehow.

The microwave beeped loudly.

Martin immediately pointed at it.

“Dinner.”

“That is not dinner.”

“It’s cinema cuisine.”

“You bought actual ramen too.”

“That’s appetizer ramen.”

You physically laughed again while Martin carried everything over dramatically balancing bowls, snacks, and drinks in both arms.

“Move.”

“You move.”

“I’m holding soup.”

That made you shift immediately.

Martin snorted softly before dropping onto the couch beside you with exaggerated exhaustion, one arm instantly stretching across the back cushions behind you like second nature.

You handed him the remote.

“Pick something.”

“Dangerous responsibility.”

“Please don’t choose another Japanese zombie shark movie.”

“That shark had emotional depth.”

“It ate a zombie…and became one.”

“Exactly.”

You hid your face laughing while Martin finally settled on some random action movie neither of you were really going to pay attention to anyway.

Because honestly?

The movie stopped mattering after maybe fifteen minutes. At some point during the opening scenes, you’d shifted closer beneath the blanket.

Then closer again.

Until eventually your legs tangled lightly with Martin’s and your head rested against his shoulder while he lazily played with your fingers during dialogue neither of you were following anymore.

The apartment stayed dim except for the television glow flickering softly across the room.

Martin smelled faintly like laundry detergent and night air.

Comfort.

Your eyes drifted toward him quietly.

“…you really weren’t mad?”

Martin looked down immediately.

“Hm?”

“The prank.”

He blinked once before snorting softly.

“Baby, I was relieved.”

“Still…”

Your fingers twisted slightly with his, eyes drooping slightly at the sides. 

“I made you panic.”

Martin’s expression softened instantly. Without even thinking about it, his hand slid from yours to your cheek instead, thumb brushing lightly beneath your eye.

“You know why I wasn’t upset?”

You looked at him quietly.

“Because the second you thought I was genuinely stressed,” he murmured, “you felt bad too.”

Your face warmed slightly, and Martin smiled faintly.

“You care a lot.”

The words settled softly somewhere in your chest. Before you could respond, Martin leaned down slightly until his forehead bumped lightly against yours.

“And for the record,” he added quietly, “that was the best prank anybody’s ever pulled on me.”

You laughed softly.

“You’re lying.”