T✨

There’s plenty of fish in the sea, but you know what else is there? Trash. There is a lot of trash in the sea. You even switched out your plastic straws for one-hundred per cent plant-based, edible rice straws made from rice, tapioca, and cornstarch. They’re designed to be sustainable, turtle-friendly, and technically safe to eat. It was often described as having a neutral, pasta-like texture. They were a popular eco-friendly alternative to plastic, even though some people complained that they got soggy in drinks.

You like to think that you have saved the turtles. Maybe even the ocean.

Unfortunately, that still doesn’t stop people especially at family gatherings from bringing up marriage every chance they get. You were perfectly fine living like this. You run your own cafe. You’ve got a side hustle as a web novel writer and webcomic creator though of course they don’t know that.

Your single life has been nothing but peaceful. In this century, it’s a choice. But that doesn’t matter when your relatives keep asking when it’ll be your turn, especially at someone else’s wedding. God forbid a woman enjoys her life without a partner.

They love to hint, no—insist that you’ll end up lonely, growing old like some miserable hag.

Puh-lease. You’ll never be intimidated by people with no class. What are they going to do? Gossip about you with their equally insecure, trashy little circle?

You don’t care. You’d rather die than get married. At least you won’t end up as some miserable wife stuck with a douchebag husband and his broken ass.

The only thing that kept you alive and sane was none other than your beloved nephew, your very first one. Oh, the things you would do for him. You still remember the first time you held him, just a newborn, tiny in your arms. That was the moment you became an aunt at the age of seventeen.

Now, he’s all grown up, living like a proper young adult. Still, you can’t help but see him as a kid. Not that you mind, considering you once gaslit eight-year-old Sunoo into believing he was six just so he could get freebies at a diner when you first babysat him.

“You look like you’re about to cry,” you said, wiping a glass as you watched your twenty three-years-old nephew clutch his head, face buried against the counter.

“Give my regards to the devil,” he sighed, rolling his eyes in exhaustion.

“I will.”

Sunoo groaned again, downing another shot of espresso you had made earlier. That was probably his third cup. You gently took it away from him, earning a frown.

“Oh, come on. I didn’t raise you to be a quitter,” you said, sliding a glass of water toward him instead. “I raised a burnt-out perfectionist who occasionally gets bludgeoned into settling for mediocrity.”

Your nephew stared at you incredulously. Sometimes he wondered if he was even related to you. But in the end, he’d take you over his nosy, borderline-stranger aunties who wanted a full autobiography of his achievements. He still didn’t understand why his mom, your sister had trusted you to raise him all these years, well into adulthood.

“Okay, I’ve experienced academic validation, and I’ve experienced academic downfall, and I highly recommend being born into generational wealth—”

“It’s not about that,” he cut you off. “It’s my superior. He’s… I don’t know. Everything about him is just so cranky.”

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed as you continued stacking cups. “Is he a bully or something?”

“Not exactly. He’s just… kind of mean. Well—he’s just that good at his job.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“That is the problem,” he confirmed.

He continued, “He’s so good at what he does that it stresses everyone out on the planning team. If something goes wrong, he gets intensely serious about it—like, terrifyingly committed.”

There was a brief silence as you listened to your nephew ramble. This was probably just a moment of weakness. He likely just needed to vent.

“No one likes him,” he scoffed, taking a sip of water. “In fact, I don’t think he likes people at all. He probably hates himself too.”

He sighed again. “I made it through the day without throwing a chair at anyone, but this coffee tastes more bitter than usual.” He clicked his tongue. “Probably because I carried his bitterness all the way here.”

After a moment, you looked up at him. 

“Feeling better now?

“Yeah,” he finally exhaled. 

You’d think his toxic trait was believing another cup of coffee could solve literally anything. Honestly, you couldn’t tell if he was just being dramatic, but considering this was his second week complaining about his “toxic” workdays, you hoped it was only one insufferable person making him miserable, and not HR tearing him apart. Senior colleagues could be worse. You just hoped he wasn’t being bullied.

You, on the other hand, could drink three cups of coffee and go straight to sleep, one of many things fundamentally wrong with you as a person. In your defense, you buried those bad habits back in university. You’re a changed woman now. At your age, you just wish people would stop asking about your likes and dislikes. It gets old—those endless, generic questions on dates. 

You like money and food. You dislike not having money and being hungry.

Please. Don’t add more stress to your life.

Adulting is hard, but it’s okay. At least you don’t need to prove and explain why a triangle is a triangle anymore.

Nobody is busier than someone who isn’t interested in you. And when you say, “I’ll figure it out,” it usually just means you’ll adapt to whatever new level of hell is coming next. You either juggle five tasks at once or stare at a wall, wondering what scene to write for your next update, there is no in-between.

You know you’re hot, but you’re also aware you’re not a full-time hot person. You’re hot when you want to be, depending on the mood. You choose your own hours, make your own schedule. Honestly, it’s freelance hotness.

Just because you live like this doesn’t mean your life is boring. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of hookups—but they’re rare.

Today, however, is different. You went to your usual bar—Velvet Ruby. Mostly because the owner, Jihoon (as you’ve come to learn), is annoyingly attractive. You’re not even utterly shameless at that, the first time you met him (that time you haven’t yet to know he was the owner), throwing flirts here and there, you were tipsy, okay? Still, he finds it amusing despite himself. You usually prefer someone taller than you, but somehow, he still caught your attention.

Tonight, though, you were determined. You wanted a distraction. A release.

The only problem? You’d been sitting there for almost an hour. You were practically waiting for a main character’s entrance, but it seemed the owner had better things to do. Swirling your glass, you watched the wine move lazily inside it, your fingers brushing through your hair as you leaned your cheek against your palm, and then you noticed him.

Sitting right beside you.

You didn’t even try to hide the way your gaze lingered on his side profile. The sharp nose, the way his lips brushed against the rim of his glass as he took a sip of whiskey. His sweater was pushed just enough to reveal his forearms, the fabric stretching slightly. You could tell he was well-built underneath. His veiny hands, steady as he held the glass with ease, a watch sitting perfectly on his wrist.

God.

You really wanted him so bad.

As a matter of fact, you even dressed up for tonight—something chic, something that worked both at your cafe and for this. Chan, one of your employees, kept staring earlier. You didn’t say anything out loud, but you did threaten to cut his pay if he kept slacking off.

You feel sexy today, feel good and confident. There was no way you were wasting this night.

As if sensing your stare, the man suddenly turned toward you. His eyes narrowed slightly, not threatening, just… observant. His gaze lingered, taking you in without shame.

Jackpot.

Honestly, you don’t care. You were convinced you could hold your liquor pretty well, but you only lived once. You didn’t look away. Instead, you offered a soft smile, teasing as you leaned your chin on your palm, crossing your legs.

“Do you know what bees make?” you asked casually.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly making sure you were talking to him. There was a pause before he answered, humoring you.

“Honey?”

You smiled wider. “Yes, dear?”

A soft chuckle left your lips, you were definitely tipsy now. He looked amused, the corner of his mouth lifting as he took another sip, his gaze still on you appreciatively, unhidden.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.

Your lips curved in quiet victory.

Got him.

...

It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall into easy conversation. The small talk here and there, laughter slipping in between. One thing led to another. You have learned that his name is Wonwoo. He mentioned something about work, some company but you barely processed it, too distracted by his deep voice and the way his cologne lingered in the air.

By the time you reached the hotel, neither of you had the patience to pretend otherwise. The door barely closed before he pulled you close again, lips finding yours in a kiss that was far from hesitant. His coat was gone in seconds, yours not long after as you were guided back with your breath catching and thoughts slipping.

His touch was warm, firm, leaving a trail that made it harder to think straight. Your head tilted instinctively, giving him more space, more access, your fingers gripping onto him as the moment blurred into something hazy and overwhelming.

A quiet sound escaped you, your mind already spinning, senses dulled except for him.

You stumbled toward the bed, everything felt so messy and impatient. Both of your clothes were scattered somewhere on the floor. It was clear that you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and you never felt so turned on right now. Maybe it’s been a while since you have felt this good.

Straddling him, you leaned down, kissing him again with intense neediness. Wonwoo grunts into the kiss, chuckling softly against your lips at how impatient you are, clumsily pressing on him. He kisses you back fiercely, his tongue delving into your mouth to stroke along yours, gripping your hips tightly. He grinds up against your core, large hands sliding up your bare back, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pulls you flush against his muscular chest. He didn’t forget to lavish your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, teeth grazing your pulse point as he bucks his hips up sharply.

You let out a soft sigh and moan at how intense it feels, catching your breath as your hands come up to grip his soft locks. Your hips instinctively grind on him, rolling your hips down as you feel the thick length of his cock rubbing against your slick folds through the thin fabric of your panties.

A low groan tore from his throat at the feeling, his grip on your hips tightening. He slides his hands down to grip your ass, squeezing the plush globes roughly as he grinds up against you—meeting your slow, sensual movements. “You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” He murmurs, leaning up to capture your lips in a deep sensual kiss. Drowning in his own needs, he tore your panties away and didn’t hesitate to put the tip of his cock inside your bare cunt.

The sensation itself had left your mouth hanging open, trying to catch yourself at how amazing it feels like. Your grip on him tightened as you slowly sinked yourself down on his dick, mewling at the way he’s stretching you out. “F-fuck—Wonwoo…” you whimper out softly as you started to move your hips.

Wonwoo let out a low guttural moan as your tight walls clenched down around him like vice, gripping his throbbing shaft so deliciously. He literally needed to pause for a moment, savouring the incredible feeling of being fully sheathed inside you before he started to move. “Fuck, baby… so fucking tight.” He murmurs, looking up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. You start to roll your hips, working yourself on his thick length. “That’s it—just like that… nice and slow.” Hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds and kneading the flesh as he watches your face intently. Taking in every little flicker of emotion and pleasure that crosses your features. 

He growls, feeling your pussy clench and squeeze around his pistoning length. God, even his voice is so damn hot, your mind was too drowned by how sexy he was until you felt a sharp slap on your ass, making you squeal. “Ride me harder, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.” Wonwoo leans up to bite at your neck, sucking a dark hickey into your skin as he feels your movements turning more desperate and needy.

You started to bounce on his cock with increasing fervour, your ass smacking against his balls with each downward grind. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes obscenely in the room, spurring him on to fuck into you even harder and deeper.

Your knees tremble on either side of him, digging the sheet for support. Nails digging further into his shoulders to keep yourself upright. You knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not with the way you’re writhing and mewling so sweetly above him. Your cunt milking his cock for all it’s worth.

And it’s so fucking hot.

Wonwoo slams up into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses and throbs inside your spasming cunt, throwing his head back with a loud groan rumbling from his chest at his release. You moaned out loud too, mouth hanging as you held him tight. The feeling of his release seems to trigger your own, and you feel your body stiffening beneath him as your climax crashes over you.

With one last shuddering breath, he finally pulled back, taking in your blissed-out expression with a satisfied smirk. He peppered soft kisses across your face, his touch unexpectedly tender after everything that had just happened. You could feel your heartbeat racing, matching his.

“More?” you murmured against his lips, a playful smile tugging at yours.

“Thought so.”

Without warning, he flipped you onto your back against the mattress, earning a small yelp from you followed by breathy laughter as he settled himself between your legs. Your little escapade with him continued into the night. After all, the night was still young.

How to say “I hate you" in a nice way? It’s simple. “You are the Monday of my life.” Seungkwan always bristled whenever you said that, usually while you were asking him to clean the grease. It wasn’t even his turn, which would inevitably lead to him bickering with Chan about whose turn it actually was. At this point, you might as well be your own employee at your own cafe.

But hey, you like to think you’re a good boss.

The older you get, the more you understand why roosters just scream to start the day. Back in college, you used to wake up and sit there, contemplating whether to skip class. Maybe cry a little. Your greatest joy was waking up without the crushing sense of responsibility.

Now? You’ve never felt so good. You were actually… happy.

Even your nephew had asked Chan and Seungkwan why you were in such a good mood today. You were practically glowing.

There was no denying it, that one-night stand with that ridiculously attractive man had put you in an excellent mood. It was a shame you didn’t get his contact, though. When you woke up, tangled in the soft comforter, he was already getting ready to leave. He seemed in a rush. You were far too sore and far too comfortable to chase after him. Too much hassle, you thought.

Like some kind of Cinderella, he disappeared just like that. And honestly? You didn’t think you’d ever experience sex the same way again. Not that you were mad or anything. You hate being mad. It takes you almost two and a half years to calm down. 

So for now, it was just you and your coffee beans, trying to figure out whether today was even necessary. According to the weather, though—it was bright and sunny. You greeted your customers with a warm smile (which you rarely did), and for once, everything felt… light.

Sunoo stared at you with concern as he blended the coffee beans beside you. “Did she win the lottery or something?” he whispered, leaning toward Seungkwan.

“I don’t know, kid,” Seungkwan shrugged, not even looking up as he handled the pre-orders. “She’s having one of her episodes. I’m not getting involved.” He paused, then added dryly, “It’s either her inner peace is sponsored by caffeine… or sarcasm.”

Your nephew just shrugged it off, continuing to help with the brewing. “By the way, remember when I told you I’d be having a meeting at your cafe? It’s going to be tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, packing cookies as you glanced up slightly. “Yeah, I remember. The place is spacious enough—you can come by around noon.”

“Great. Then I’ll get going… with my daily intake of coffee, as usual.” He smiled, picking up the book he had tucked under his arm.

You paused briefly. Because that cover looked painfully familiar. That was your work, your webcomic. The one that went viral back when you were in college.

“Where did you get that?” you asked, eyeing the cover before looking up at him, suspicion clear in your expression.

You were pretty sure it was old. There shouldn’t even be active copies of it anymore. You had buried that part of your life a long time ago.

“Oh, this?” he gestured casually. “My team’s working on a big project right now. It’s for a campaign we’re handling.” He took a sip from his drink, completely oblivious to your reaction.

It wasn’t like you were sweating, or panicking. 

Or internally screaming.

It was just your own damn book—the one your nephew had no idea existed. You wrote it back in college. It was stupid, honestly, and you weren’t proud of it. You literally wrote about two dudes who were roommates and… well, got very close.

Unfortunately, it went viral back then. You had no idea how it resurfaced now, and frankly, you wanted nothing to do with it.

Sunoo glanced at his phone as he headed for the door. “I’ve gotta go now. Don’t forget about tomorrow! My team and that mean senior will be there too.”

And just like that, he left. Leaving you standing there, wondering what kind of disaster was about to unfold.

...

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Collaboration Inquiry with Carrot Publication. Hi Belububbles, I hope this message finds you well. On behalf of my team, our company has previously reached out to your agency regarding a potential collaboration. We were advised to contact you directly; however, we have yet to receive a response to our emails or direct messages. As this matter is time-sensitive, I would like to request a face-to-face meeting tomorrow at our office, should you be available. Please let us know your availability by today. If we do not hear back from you we will proceed with further steps to move this discussion forward. Looking forward to hearing from you. Best regards, Going Company PR team + 82 013-xxx-xxx

You bristled the moment you read the email in your inbox. Just when you were having a perfectly good day, which is ruined. That tone alone was enough to irritate you. Sure, you did ignore unknown callers and random emails. Most of them were spam or obvious scams, and you never bothered checking unless they came through your publication agency.

Still… the audacity.

Come to think of it, Sunoo did mention that his team was dealing with a particulary demanding client. Which probably meant his “superior” had grown a second set of horns by now. You could already imagine someone breathing down his neck, especially with how much he’d been fumbling lately. Not that you could blame him, the expectations sounded ridiculous and apparently, his superior had decided to take it on anyway.

Good thing none of that had anything to do with you.

Honestly, you wouldn’t even be surprised if one day Sunoo quit his job and showed up at your cafe asking for a position. You were short-staffed anyway, it might actually work out.

And now here you are. Standing in front of the Going Company. You had replied to their email yesterday, and they wasted no time contacting you again today. Still, you didn’t appreciate the tone—less of a request, more of a thinly veiled demand. 

You rarely made any public appearances for your work. That’s what aliases were for. Working behind the scenes, under your publication agency was exactly how you liked it. You just hoped, really hoped that you wouldn’t run into Sunoo here.

It was a big building after all. Surely, you wouldn’t. Now seated in a waiting room, you crossed your legs

Now seated in a waiting room, you crossed your legs, fingers tapping lightly against your arm. One of the staff had already ushered you in, leaving you alone as you waited for the so-called “representative.” Something about this felt off. And you had a feeling that this meeting was about to get a lot more complicated.

Did you burn your toast today? Nah. That couldn’t be it. But you did burn the cookies. Which meant Seungkwan ended up cleaning the mess after you told him you had an appointment to get to. This is exactly why you have employees. Even if you treat them more like your nieces and nephews despite being around the same age.

The door then opened. Someone had arrived, but of all people you didn’t expect him. You lifted your head lazily, bored and later froze at the sight.

Jeon Wonwoo.

He also stopped mid-step too, one hand still on the chair he was about to pull out, eyes locked on you. Then, slowly he sat down with his hands clasped and composed. Professional. Like nothing had happened. For a second, neither of you moved. 

He was dressed in a black turtleneck, lanyard hanging neatly around his neck and glasses. You almost didn’t recognise him at first. He hadn’t worn them the night you met. The two of you just stared for a moment.

Silence filled the air. Awkward and heavy.

Later, you both looked away at the same time, and he cleared his throat. God, you hoped this was just someone who looked like him.

“Belububbles, right?” he began, voice painfully familiar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. As you’ve probably realized, I’m the one who emailed you.”

Your brows furrowed. So he was the one behind that email.

“I’m Jeon Wonwoo, part of the PR team. I look forward to working with you. Let’s get started.”

Well. Fuck me.

Just your luck. Your one-night stand, your very recent one-night stand was now sitting across from you, acting like a corporate robot.

You offered him a polite smile. Too polite. It didn’t reach your eyes. “Of course. Now, what is it that you’d like to discuss?”

Wonwoo clasped his hands again, diving straight into the explanation, laying out the project, the campaign, the planning. Every detail, every step. Thirty minutes later, he finally finished. He slid a contract across the table toward you. You raised a brow at that. It was all the NDA, policies and terms whatever it was. You hadn’t even agreed yet and they already prepared all this? 

Persistent. Just like his email. What kind of passive-aggressive person was this?

“I’m not going to agree to this,” you said with a sigh, placing the document back on the table. “I don’t do public appearances. I thought you already knew that. My agency always consults me first.”

“I’m aware,” he replied smoothly. “That’s why we’re only proposing pre-recorded interviews. No face reveal—just voice, with filters if necessary.”

You were listening. It is intriguing but you need a lot more convincing to do.

“We just want you to participate in our campaign event,” he continued, confidence steady. “We’re gathering artists and writers involved in the project. You’d have your own merchandise, a chance to expand your audience—”

“I don’t really care about that,” you cut in lightly. “But I do like money.”

He blinked. Clearly not expecting that.

“…Right.” He adjusted his glasses. “Then would you reconsider? I’ve read your current work—the one you’re still updating. Wouldn’t you want more people to see it?”

You leaned back slightly, thinking. “I’ve considered it. But I don’t want the kind of exposure that comes with it. People dig. I value my privacy. And I have a real-life job too. A big one.”

He exhaled slooowly, clearly trying to stay patient. “What about physical sales?” he pressed. “Printed copies. You mentioned profit—this is an opportunity to maximize that.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I’ve had enough of that. My agency handles most of it anyway.”

Honestly, you didn’t need them. You had your own ways, holding out your own event, your own marketing. You knew what you were doing.

Wonwoo momentarily paused. Finally, he tried again. “What do you want?”

You met his gaze. He was stubborn as hell. You hadn’t even planned to negotiate. You just came here to make one thing clear. You weren’t interested at all. With a quiet exhale, you stood up. “Mr. Jeon,” you said, already reaching for your bag, “I came all the way here to inform you that I’m not interested. Also, your email? That sounded more like a threat than a request.” You turned toward the door. “Have a great day.”

“I’m trying to be nice here,” his voice cut in, sharper now, “but you’re making my job difficult.” His voice made you pause as he stood up. “You don’t want fame, money—whatever it is. People like you are always so demanding, and yet here you are—”

You turned your back slowly. His gaze locked onto yours. 

“…Though I didn’t expect it to be you,” he added, voice dropping slightly. “Not only are you a brat in bed, but apparently in general too.”

Ah.

There it was.

You smiled sweetly, stepping dangerously closer. “Why?” you tilted your head. “Was audacity on sale this year?” He scoffed quietly at that.

“Listen,” you added, voice light, “acting like a dick doesn’t make yours bigger.” you paused. “…Though, unfortunately, in your case—”

Except that he is.

His eyes narrowed, a low, sardonic chuckle slipping out. “You already know what I’m like,” he said. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

You glared at him. He didn’t back down either. The silence stretched, until you broke it with a frustrated groan.

“Yeah. I’m leaving,” you muttered, turning back to the door. Then you stopped mid-step, glancing over your shoulder. “For the record?” you added flatly, “It was good dick.” A beat.  “But it was a one-time thing. I wouldn’t survive with a dickhead personality like yours.”

You pulled the door open. “It was terrible to meet you, by the way.” 

And then you left. Leaving him standing there, rendered speechless, and completely thrown off. You refused to let anyone ruin your day. So, you naturally decided that you did it yourself.

…

Your mood stayed soured the entire day after that meeting with your stupidly, insufferable, annoying, dickhead one-night stand. Chan and Seungkwan exchanged a look the moment you walked in. They were very aware of your mood swing, and very determined not to become your next victims. It was fine, though. They were used to it.

Chan tried first. “You look extra pretty today.”

“I’m not raising your pay. Go to work.” you said flatly, not even looking up as you handled the cashier. 

“Alright,” he nodded, but lingered for a second. “I mean it, though. You’re really pretty today.”

You hummed, then lifted your head slightly. “…You know what? Hell yeah. I am pretty. Being frowny doesn’t make me ugly—it makes me extra hot pretty.”

Seungkwan and Chan exchanged another look again. Seungkwan shook his head and went back to restocking the pastries.

Ah.

Very normal. 

A little while later, Sunoo walked in with his planning team. Just like he mentioned yesterday. You flashed them a bright smile as they approached the counter. 

“These are my colleagues,” Sunoo introduced casually. “And this is my aunt. No weird comments.”

“Hello, it’s lovely to meet you all.” you greeted warmly, slipping into your customer-service persona. “Thank you for taking care of my nephew.”

They greeted you back, placing their orders before heading off to their reserved table. Then, two guys lingered. Both are a couple inches taller than Sunoo, one with a sharp jawline, the other with pale skin and mischievous grin.

The pale one  smiled a little too confidently. “Hi. You’re really beautiful. Are you single?”

You blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. “Oh—I mean… depends on the day, and fortunately today is a yes.”

Sunghoon and Jongseong  snickered, nudging each other, while Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard it was practically audible. He hated when people did this, especially his own friends.

“Yeaahhh, we’re done here,” Sunoo cut in quickly. “Three iced americanos.” He dragged them away before they could say anything else.

You just watched them go, already ringing up the order. Just as you were about to take the next customer, a deep voice spoke.

“I’d like to pay for their order, and one iced cafe latte.” You didn’t even look up at the person.

“Okay, that would be—” as your eyes finally met with the face, and about to take his card. You immediately screamed. Like you had just seen a cockroach. Hands flew to your mouth, eyes wide in pure horror.

The entire cafe went silent. Heads turned at the scene. Seungkwan and Chan snapped their attention toward you. Wonwoo, just stood there—card still in hand, eyes slightly widened in confusion.

Meanwhile, from across the cafe, Jongseong leaned toward Sunoo and whispered. “Man, I knew Mr. Jeon could be intimidating, but I didn’t think he was that scary. Your aunt looks traumatised.”

You still didn’t move. Didn’t even blink or breathe. Seungkwan slowly walked over, glanced between you and Wonwoo. He immediately took over, seeing that you remained unmoved. “Thank you,” he said smoothly, taking the card and finishing the transaction.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at you oddly, and suspiciously. He finally turned and walked straight towards Sunoo. Your eyes followed him. And landed right on your nephew’s table. On his team. He was sitting at the centre like he owned the place. 

Oh no.

What the hell.

That was the “mean” superior he’d been talking about?

Sunoo cannot know. He absolutely cannot know about your side hustle. And definitely not about that night. Your nephew had no idea that you and his senior had met not just this morning, but very, very personally before that. He had no idea you and his senior had jumped each other like a trampoline in a hotel room.

You only stood there, frozen. Completely mortified at how insanely small the world was. You could’ve slept with anyone, but certainly not this. Not only did you sleep with him, you also argued with him like cats and dogs this morning.

Great. How amazing.

You wanted nothing more than to dig yourself a grave and lie in it. You could scream or maybe cry a little. You know that feeling when you meet someone and your heart skips a beat? Yeah. That’s arrhythmia. You could literally die from that. From the very first moment you laid your eyes upon him, you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life AVOIDING him.

Seungkwan calmly stacked cups while you crouched behind the counter like a fugitive. “You know,” he started casually, “when I used to work at a corporation, I learned a very professional way to say things.” You didn’t even look up. “I’m assuming something bad happened between you and that mean-looking guy over there,” he added, jerking his chin toward Wonwoo’s table.

“I wasn’t.” you sneered.

“It is,” he corrected immediately, like he already knew, and annoyingly, he did. “This was identified early on as a likely outcome.”

“What does that even mean?” Chan popped his head out from the back.

Seungkwan didn’t miss a beat. “It means ‘I told you’ but professionally.”

You abruptly stood up, pretending to busy yourself while sneaking a glance at their table. Wonwoo was speaking behind his laptop, the rest of the team listening intently. Right on fucking cue, his eyes met yours and stayed there. Your gaze hardened,  sending him a very clear message, close to a warning or threat. What the fuck are you doing here? Wonwoo merely tilted his head slightly toward his team and mouthed a simple, “Work.”

Oh, he was hilarious. Strangely calm too. Like he was used to handling crises like this. Before your silent rentless fuck you exchanged could continue, you saw Sunoo heading toward you. Instantly, you plastered on a smile. A little too wide.

Your nephew grabbed your arm. “What was that?” he hissed, glancing between you and his table. “Did you really have to scream in his face? I already feel like my soul leaves my body every time he looks at me—if he asks why my aunt is acting like a lunatic, I’m done for.”

You frowned, whisper-yelling back like you were negotiating something illegal. “That was a reflex. He looked too much like my ex.” You blatantly lied, as if you never do that with your nephew through the years of babysitting him.

Sunoo scoffed, grabbing a couple of water bottles. “Yeah, right. You’ve been saying that since I was six. Please don’t embarrass me. For the love of God.” And just like that, he walked back to his meeting.

You exhaled sharply. So much for easy-peasy lemon squeezy. This was more like stressy, depressy, lemon fucking zesty. Life didn’t hand you lemons. It handed you a caffeine addiction, trust issues and zero patience for dickheads like Wonwoo.

So when you noticed him heading toward the restroom, you followed after him. A moment later, he was at the sink, rinsing his hands. He turned around until he was immediately met with you slamming your hand against the tiled wall beside him. He paused, slightly caught off guard. Despite being taller than you, it seems like your anger towards him was taller.

“Did it hurt,” you said sweetly, a sharp smile on your lips, “when you fell out of someone’s asshole and into toilet water, you piece of shit?”

Wonwoo didn’t even flinch. By now, he seemed immune to it. “Not really,” he replied calmly, crossing his arms, “but I know shit when I see one.”

You groaned under your breath, pacing slightly. God, he was insufferable. “Did it have to be my cafe?” you snapped. “Seeing you this morning was already bad enough, and now you just show up here too?”

“I didn’t choose the location,” he said simply. Then, after a beat, “Though now that I think about it… I didn’t know that ray of sunshine was your nephew.” He let out a dry chuckle, stepping a little closer. “It’s ironic, really.”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet the devil everyone’s been talking about,” you shot back. “Didn’t realise it was someone that I used to suck his dick—”

You stopped yourself. Barely.

Wonwoo stiffened slightly, adjusting his glasses. Yeah, that landed. You were not sure if he was taken aback by being a worse senior colleague, or that part when you mentioned of sucking his stupid dick.

He clicked his tongue, gaze steady. “Do I look like someone who goes around flaunting his sex life? Exactly. No way in hell.” You didn’t answer. He stepped closer again, voice lowering. “If you agree to the proposal from this morning, I’ll agree to keep things… civil between us.” Then he stepped back, giving you space.

Silence fell. You studied him for a moment. However, he didn’t look like he was hiding anything. Just a straightforward goal. He gives off that impression of a guy that has no time for relationships, probably terrible at it. A stubborn, workaholic guy with a nasty temper. Possibly hates himself a little.

Not that you were one to judge. You weren’t exactly easy either. Honestly, you didn’t care about him but your nephew? That was a different story. If Sunoo found out—if he ever found out there was no doubt he’d snitch to your sister. You’ll be dead for sure. 

You exhaled slowly, reluctantly even. “...Fine,” you muttered.

Life is like a helicopter sometimes. To begin with, you don’t even know how to operate one. One could argue that you're one step closer to death than to having a stable relationship. Some people belong to the streets, but you’d like to think that you belong to the ponds because you’re just a silly goose.

At this point, you don’t think coffee even wakes you up anymore. You just like the idea of having coffee. That is, until someone had abused your apartment doorbell. At this rate, they might as well have broken it and got arrested for it. This place isn’t cheap, you paid a ridiculous amount of money to live here.

Grudgingly, you swing the door open and there he is. Wonwoo, looking completely unimpressed as he casually steps inside like he owns the place. Meanwhile, you’re standing there in your tousled hair and beluga-pattern pajamas.

“I called you multiple times. You didn’t answer,” he said, crossing his arms, eyeing your outfit. “Did you get my text and throw your phone into the Pacific Ocean?”

You let out a scoff, already walking back to your bedroom, which of course he followed. “I was busy. Why are you even here?” you muttered, flopping back onto your bed.

“Busy doing what?” he shot back dryly. “Sleeping at noon?”

“I can be in bed and still be busy,” you mumbled into your blanket. “Busy gathering my strength.”

Wonwoo stared at you incredulously. For a second, it genuinely looked like he was trying not to slam his head into the nearest wall.

“How’s the progress?” he asked instead.

You didn’t answer immediately. Just hummed in against the comforter. 

He rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply then pulled— no, he freaking suddenly yanked the blanket off you. The cold air hit instantly.

“Okay—what is wrong with you, you psycho?” you snapped, sitting up and glaring at him. “First of all, get out of my room. Second, get out of my house.”

Before he could lunge forward at you, ready to claw his paw at you. Your phone buzzed, signing as you answered without even checking the caller ID.

“I’m heading to your place now,” Sunoo’s voice came through. “I don’t feel like eating cafeteria food—”

Your eyes snapped wide open. “Right now?” you blurted, panic immediately setting in. Wonwoo watched you as you scrambled out of bed, suddenly moving like a hurricane.

Oh, hell no.

Sunoo cannot see him here. Not in your apartment, your room. Just anywhere to be honest. You tried to grab clothes, then froze because this jerk was still here. “Shit—okay, you can’t be here,” you grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. “My nephew is on his way.”

“What—” Before he could finish, you shoved him out of your room, but the front door unlocked.

Without thinking, you pushed Wonwoo right back into your room and slammed the door shut. Perfect timing. You turned around just as Sunoo walked in and flawlessly smiled.

“Why are you still wearing that at your age?” he said immediately, eyeing your pyjamas.

You ignored that. He walked straight to the kitchen, already opening the fridge, while you trailed behind him. Your eyes dart back toward your bedroom door every two seconds.

“You could’ve asked Seungkwan or Chan to bring you food,” you said, leaning against the counter. “Didn’t your mom give you side dishes?”

“She did,” he replied, rummaging through your fridge. “But my roommate ate everything.”

You scoffed. “Just take what you need and go.”

“Why? Do you have a special somebody over?”

Rolling your eyes, you agreed anyway, “Yes, me. I’m amazing and I enjoy my own company.”

Sunoo stared at you for a second. “...Then explain why there are men’s leather shoes at the entrance.”

You momentarily froze at that. How did you fucking forget about it?

Before he could say anything else, you snatched the container from his hands, shoved food into a bag, and pushed it into his chest.

“Okay—out,” you said, dragging him to the door.

“What about—" The door shut in his face. You exhaled in relief, leaning your forehead against the door and turned to see Wonwoo was already out of your room.

“Is he gone?” he asked, peeking out.

“Yeah. Thank God he didn’t ask more questions,” you muttered, rubbing your face. “How did you even get my address?”

“Your agency.”

You groaned, pacing around again.

“Look, I don’t hate you,” he said after a pause, “I’m just not particularly excited about your existence in my life.”

Turning to shoot another nasty glare, you start. “Put yourself in my shoes, idiot. I wouldn’t care if you got hit with—”

“I wouldn’t wear those shoes if I were you.”

You were utterly speechless at the sheer amount of cockiness this guy had. Whenever he was around, you had the overwhelming urge to claw at him like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.

“I know, why not ask yourself,” you snapped. “Is my dick big enough to match your attitude?" His brows furrowed at that. “Exactly!” You clapped once.

Aaaand just like that, you were arguing again with him. Neither of you noticed the door opening. Sunoo stepped inside and froze. His gaze moved from you then to Wonwoo. 

Back to you, then to Wonwoo again.

Wonwoo was the first to notice. You followed his gaze and stopped. There was a thick, almost heavy silence that filled the atmosphere.

“…Hate that you had to find out like this,” you said slowly.

Sunoo blinked, stepping back slowly. “…Okay,” he said carefully, already putting his shoes back on. “I didn’t know you two were… dating.”

Dating.

Dating???

He gave a small, polite bow. Probably directed to Wonwoo. “Goodbye, Mr. Jeon. I’ll see you after lunch.”

The door closed later. And you just stood there, still processing everything that happened. Your nephew now thinks you’re dating the biggest man of shit in your life. You might actually need to fake your death this time.

...

“I think I’m forgetting something.”

“Morals, probably?” Wonwoo said without even looking up from his tablet.

“No, it’s something important,” you insisted, about to rise from your seat. “I think I need to go back to the cafe before Chan sets the place on fire.”

Wonwoo’s head snapped up. “Wait—no. Sit down. We just got here… oh my God.” He dragged a hand down his face beneath his glasses. “For the love of God, can you sit still for one moment? It took almost two hours to get you here, and I already helped drop your twins off at school.”

You sat back down reluctantly. “How long is this interview going to take?”

“Depends,” he replied dryly. “If you decide to be difficult, probably more than thirty minutes, and I’ll have to work overtime.”

“I can’t do that,” you shot back. “I have to attend the twin’s family day. Their dad bailed at the last minute.”

He sighed again, looking seconds away from tearing his hair out. Mostly because you had completely missed the sarcasm.

“Nevermind. Let’s just start.”

He set the voice recorder on his phone and straightened in his chair. “First of all, thank you very much for agreeing to work with us. We’re very delighted.”

“Thank you. It’s my pleasure too,” you answered flawlessly.

“How did you decide to create such interesting characters in most of your stories?”

You thought for a moment. “I honestly didn’t think too deeply about it. I started writing back in college. I met a lot of different people, so I borrowed certain traits here and there.”

“What made you shift from writing novels to illustrating them?”

“I had a lot of free time back then, and writing gave me plenty of ideas. I knew readers enjoyed the stories too. I didn’t want to stop writing, so instead I adapted them into manhwa so readers could visualize them.”

Wonwoo typed something down before continuing. “On a different note—do you wish to publish another novel one day?”

You crossed your arms, considering it. “I don’t think so. I already have too much on my plate, and illustrating takes time. Maybe after I finish my current project, I’ll think about writing again.”

“How did you feel when you learned your first work, And They Were Roommates, rose in sales again?”

You stiffened slightly. “Uh… well, I didn’t expect it to go viral again this year. I guess I was delighted? It was unexpected, but I received a lot of positive feedback too.”

Wonwoo nodded and flipped to the next page. “This is a special question from your readers. How did you come up with so many hilarious dialogues? They found the comedy really engaging.”

“Ah.” You visibly relaxed. “At first, I never meant for it to become a comedy. I just like writing characters who are witty, so I guess readers found that funny.”

“I can see that,” he said, then continued. “Another fan question: did you base your character’s personalities on real people?”

You made a face. “Well… they’re not wrong. I’ve met my fair share of terrible people and let too many assholes into my life. Real-life suffering became entertainment.”

His eyes narrowed. “Language.”

“What? I speak nothing but the truth.”

He only shook his head. “We’re getting nowhere if you keep doing this. I’ve done some self-reflection—if you cooperate, this can end faster.”

“Oh, so you did have a talk with your dick last night?”

Wonwoo immediately paused the recording and stared at you with a long, exhausted sigh. “Can we put that aside? And no, I did not talk to my dick.”

You crossed your arms. “Fine. Next question.”

He resumed recording. “Another fan question: how did you come up with such funny dialogue and plots?”

“Actually,” you said, “I’m not that funny. I think I’m just an asshole, and people assume I’m joking. That’s how I ended up making rude characters everyone somehow loves.”

He paused the recording again. “Would it kill you to give me one normal answer?”

“What? That is my honest answer.”

“It’s not appropriate for the media.”

“Then make it appropriate. That’s literally your job.”

Yeah. The two of you were getting absolutely nowhere. 

After the interview, Wonwoo somehow found himself babysitting your niece and nephew, the twins, who were now sprinting around his office. He needed a bucket of caffeine, a fever patch, and divine intervention. Not because of the kids, because you had very clearly dumped them on him like he was a free daycare service. 

“What’chu doin’?” Wonhee asked, propping her chin on his forearm while he typed.

“Work,” he answered flatly.

“Oooo. About what?”

“Work.”

“What kind of work?” Wonjun asked this time.

“Work,” he repeated.

“I want Auntie’s cheesecake after this!” Wonhee cheered, bouncing excitedly before both twins ran circles around his desk.

God, just kill me. He was screaming internally. 

A knock came at the door. It opened to reveal Sunoo, holding finalized planning documents. Wonwoo nearly saw heaven. 

“Sunoo!” the twins yelled in unison, rushing him immediately. 

“Sorry, guys, I’m at work right now, so I can’t play,” he said, patting their head before looking back at his superior. “Yeahhhh… I actually have plans with the team after this,” Sunoo added awkwardly, already stepping backward. 

Even Sunoo knew better than to get involved. He quickly shut the door. Wonwoo turned back to his computer and resumed typing aggressively.

“Uncle Won. Uncle Won. Uncle Won,” Wonjun repeated, tugging at his sleeve.

“What?” he replied flatly, eyes still on the screen.

“I need to go potty.”

Wonwoo finally looked down. 

“Now?” The boy nodded desperately.

“If you don’t take him now, he’ll tinkle in his pants,” Wonhee informed him with complete sincerity.

Wonwoo muttered something under his breath, then immediately scooped the boy up and marched out of the office.

The entire team watched in stunned silence. From across the room, Jongseong leaned toward Sunoo. “I think you’re getting another playmate soon, dude.” 

Sunoo scoffed, scowling as he scrolled through his laptop. “Stop that. It’s not funny. I don’t care. Even if they break up, I still lose.” He pointed dramatically in each direction. “They break up—I still have to see his face at work. They stay together—I still have to see his face at work.” He slumped in defeat, “My life has no winning route.”

...

“Baby.”

Wonwoo looked at you as the twins zoomed around your cafe, clearly bothering your two staff members.

“What?” you shrugged. “You want me to call you fellow associate instead?”

He was one step away from crashing out. First, you made his work life hell. Second, you had dropped the twins off at his office not once, not twice, but three times. Wonwoo was good at his job. Great, even. Then when you walked into his life. The tragedy followed.

“Aunty! Aunty!” Wonhee bounced on her feet, reaching up. You picked her up easily. “Tomorrow I have a soccer match! Teacher Yoon said we can bring our parents!”

“But Papa said he can’t come,” Wonjun huffed, stomping lightly. “Something about work.”

Your heart softened instantly. Your brother was busy running his law firm, and even though he and his ex-wife were divorced, they were still co-parenting well. With their busy lives, complicated timing—that was all.

“Oh, alright then. I’ll go,” you said, giving in easily.

“That’s unfair—I wanna see them play!” Seungkwan popped up from behind the counter.

“Wait—count me in!” Chan added.

You rolled your eyes, setting Wonhee down and placing your hands on your hips.

“No. I need both of you to take care of the café while I’m gone. And Chan, I know you’re just using that as an excuse to slack off.”

Chan dropped the cloth dramatically onto the counter. “Aw, man.”

“Will Uncle Won come too?” Wonjun asked, clinging to Wonwoo’s leg and staring up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

Wonwoo stiffened, his gaze flicked to you. You smiled in return, a little crooked and suspiciously sweet.

“Umm… he’s kinda busy,” you said, brushing imaginary dust off your shoulder. “He has a big adult job. He might not make it.”

Both twins immediately started whining loudly. For a second, you remembered just how insufferable they could be. The last time you babysat them, they threw a full-blown tantrum over Haribo marshmallow chocolate.

“Okay, stop,” you deadpanned, staring at Wonjun, who had dramatically sprawled onto the floor. “You don’t demand things from someone you barely know. Show some respect to your elders. And get off the floor—it’s dirty.”

“I just mopped that,” Chan added.

You ignored him.

“You and Papa always say the same thing!” Wonjun protested, sitting up. “He says, ‘respect your elders,’ but he never comes to my singing or storytelling!”

…Ouch.

“Yeah!” Wonhee chimed in. “Papa says stuff like that because he’s old and forgetful. Aunty, you’re becoming like Grandpa too.”

“Hey now,” you crossed your arms. “If anything, I’m better.”

Wonwoo nearly rolled his eyes. Wonhee suddenly turned to him, already halfway climbing into his arms. “Uncle Won, please come! I want to show you my super cool kick!”

He froze completely. He looked at her, then at you and then back at her. He said nothing. Mostly because he knew what would happen if he refused. Flashback from his office with all the screaming, he was sure people from the outside could heard that loud and clear.

You caught his eye and subtly shook your head.

Don’t. Encourage. Them.

“Aunty,” Wonjun said suddenly, frowning, “why don’t you want Uncle Won around? It’s like Mama and Papa.”

Your expression faltered. “…Hey. I’m nothing like them,” you said, quieter this time.

That one hit a little too close. You sighed, then reached out and ruffled his hair.

“Fine. We’ll see tomorrow. If we can make it.”

That was enough to make the twins lit up instantly.

From across the cafe, three figures watched the entire scene unfold like a live drama. Seungkwan leaned on the counter. Chan mirrored him. Sunoo stood between them, looking deeply troubled.

“I don’t like where this is going,” Sunoo muttered.

Seungkwan shook his head. “No, no—let them keep going. This is good.”

Sunoo turned to him slowly. “…Good?”

“Would you rather they take their frustration out on us?” Seungkwan pointed out.

Chan nodded immediately. “Fair. Also, there’s a chance our boss might raise our pay if she’s in a good mood.”

He clasped his hands together dramatically. “I will pray for that. I refuse to suffer in a cafe with emotional damage and no bonus.”

Sunoo stared at both of them. “…Yeah. That checks out.”

The exhibition was going well so far. Wonwoo liked to think all his hard work had finally paid off. Unfortunately, he had forgotten one thing.

You.

Your mere presence alone was enough to test the last thread of his patience. He just needed to keep his shit together for one day. Just this once.

“You didn’t wear your glasses today,” you remarked, openly scanning him from head to toe, and annoyingly enough, he looked devastatingly handsome. If only he kept his mouth shut. “You’ve stared enough, perhaps?” 

His head snapped toward you, brows knitting together. “It’s nine in the morning,” he hissed. “Stop fucking testing me.”

“Ah, ah,” you interrupted, waving your VIP lanyard around obnoxiously. “I’m the important guest here.”

“I should’ve thrown fertilizer at you so you could grow the hell up,” he muttered, trying very hard to remain professional.

“Oh yeah?” You scoffed. “Sometimes I wish I were an octopus so I could slap you with all eight tentacles at once.”

He already looked tired. You continued anyway.

“Actually, maybe I’d use them to peg you down so you’d finally learn how to bow your head.”

Wonwoo blinked, once then twice. He genuinely didn’t know how to respond to that. So he just stared at you in silence, expression unreadable, wondering how you always managed to hit new levels of insanity before ten in the morning.

Right on cue, another familiar figure approached.

“Hey, Wonwoo—oh.”

The man halted when his eyes landed on you. “I didn’t know you were here,” he grinned brightly. “It’s been forever.”

It was Mingyu.

You froze.

Oh, for the love of God.

“O-oh… yeah. Haha.” Your laugh sounded faker than the fake Chanel bag you once bought online. “What an… unexpected reunion.”

Mingyu had been your junior back in college. And unfortunately, very unfortunately—your old BL series was heavily inspired by him. Mostly because he never shut up about his roommate constantly invading his personal space. At the time, you were just a broke college student trying to survive. You never expected And They Were Roommates to blow up the way it did. 

People would read shit anything.

Mingyu casually slung an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo, meanwhile, looked between the two of you suspiciously. He did not like where this was going.

“I work here,” Mingyu explained cheerfully. “Different department though. Remember that roommate I used to complain about all the time?”

He pointed directly at Wonwoo. “Yeah. It’s this guy.”

Your smile twitched violently.

Oh.

Oh, this was bad.

Out of all people, the world really was disgustingly small.

“Real question is,” Mingyu continued, narrowing his eyes playfully at you, “why are you here?”

You absolutely could not tell him you were the main guest of the entire event. So instead, you smoothly covered your VIP pass with your hand and flashed a dazzling smile.

“Oh, you know…”

Before your brain could stop you, you looped your arm through Wonwoo’s.

“Just supporting my boyfriend at work.”

Mingyu’s smile dropped instantly. Wonwoo stiffened beside you.

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately,” you sighed dramatically, “for someone who treats life like a joke, I’m being serious this time.”

Mingyu looked unconvinced, very unconvinced. He glanced between the two of you like he was trying to solve a math equation with missing numbers. To him, this pairing made absolutely no sense. You, whose personality is like a hurricane, and Wonwoo—who somehow managed to be equally unbearable in a completely different flavor.

Birds of a feather really did flock together.

“…Good for you guys?” Mingyu finally said slowly. “I mean… wow. Match made in heaven.”

The way he said it sounded less like support and more like disbelief.

Before he could ask more questions, you immediately cut in.

“I’d love to continue this questionnaire, Gyu, but Wonwoo and I have somewhere to be.”

You tugged Wonwoo’s arm tighter. “Right, baby?”

“No? What are you—”

“Oh yes, you do, baby,” you cut him off sweetly, already dragging him away. “I know you can’t wait to see the twins.”

With that, you escaped while Mingyu simply stood there, watching the two of you disappear into the crowd. Hands shoved into his pockets, head tilted slightly, he frowned to himself.

How the hell did that happen? Because as far as he knew, both of you were disasters individually.

...

Here you were, sitting beside Wonwoo while watching the twins’ soccer match. Honestly, he didn’t know how he ended up tangled in all of this. Not once or twice, but somehow—every single time he crossed paths with you, his life became increasingly complicated.

At first, he told himself it was only because of the contract, mainly because of work.That staying close to you made things easier professionally. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred.

Your routines somehow became his problems too, and the worst part? He could’ve said no at any point. So why the hell was he still here?

You nudged his arm excitedly while cheering for the twins. “Take pictures,” you whispered. “They’re gonna ask for them later.”

Wonwoo blinked before adjusting the camera lens in his hands and taking several shots without complaint.

At this point, he was more involved than the twins’ actual parents.

“You could at least smile or look excited,” you sighed, finally turning to face him.

The lively noise of families and cheering echoed around the field.

“You look like a robot. What if the twins notice?”

He lowered the camera slowly and looked at you instead. He stared at you with silence, and blank-faced as always.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you need smiling lessons?”

You turned toward him properly, using your fingers to demonstrate. “Okay, look. Make your eyes curve like little shrimp—then lift your cheeks up like this—and…”

Grinning brightly, you continued, “S.M.I.L.E.”

For a moment, Wonwoo just stared at you, quietly. The noise around him faded into the background. The wind brushed past gently, making strands of your hair sway under the sunlight in a way that almost looked unreal.

His chest flutters at the sight. It felt oddly similar to the tiny happiness of a stray cat approaching him first, or when his favorite buldak noodles were finally restocked after disappearing for weeks.

It was small and unexpected, but enough to steal his breath away. Wonwoo immediately buried the feeling before it could settle deeper. He cleared his throat, looking away quickly and lifting the camera back toward the field.

You, completely oblivious, muttered under your breath.

“Jerk.”

Then immediately went back to loudly cheering for the twins.

...

By the time all of you arrived back at your place, Wonwoo was carrying your niece while you carried your nephew, both twins completely passed out after dinner with your parents.

At this point, he was involved way too deeply in your family functions.

What made it worse was the fact that your parents didn’t even seem surprised by his presence anymore. It was almost like they had already accepted him and had simply been waiting for the day you finally brought a man home.

Honestly, they probably saw him more often than some actual relatives. He still remembered how your mother kept asking when you were going to get married. And knowing you, of course you only gave half-assed answers.

It reminded him of Mingyu’s grandfather, whose dementia was apparently so bad that he kept asking whether his cousins had jobs.

Ten times.

And ten times, they had to admit they were still unemployed. Honestly, Wonwoo didn’t even think it was dementia anymore. The old man was probably just in disbelief that they were still jobless.

The twins were quickly settled into their room, exhausted after burning through all their energy earlier. You let out a long sigh, stretching your limbs—only to find Wonwoo sprawled across your sofa like a man who had already given up on life.

“Go sleep at your own place, dude.”

“I’m too tired to drive anymore.”

“Not on my sofa.”

His eyes cracked open immediately. 

“Let a man rest, would you?” he groaned dramatically, sinking deeper into the cushions.

“Ooookay,” you dragged out teasingly, already walking toward your room. “I was just wondering if you wanted to join me.”

You paused by the doorway and peeked back at him.

“…In my bed.”

Wonwoo sat up instantly. His interest was fully restored.

“You’re messing with me.”

“Yeah,” you answered easily. “I’m fucking with you.”

You casually started unbuttoning your blouse, shrugging it off your shoulders and letting it fall carelessly onto the floor.

Wonwoo’s gaze lingered on your bare shoulders. The loose strap of your camisole slipping against your skin. The atmosphere shifted almost immediately. You disappeared into your attached bathroom, beginning to remove your makeup.

“Don’t joke around like that,” he muttered from behind you.

Before you could react, his arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against your neck, breathing you in.

“I survived your family all day. I deserve proper compensation.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you tossed the makeup wipe into the bin.

“Sleep outside. I’m keeping the bed to myself.”

Wonwoo groaned against your skin, lips brushing along your neck before trailing to your shoulder.

“Seducing me like this isn’t going to work,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your hip while watching him through the mirror.

“Then I’ll make it work,” he murmured.

He nipped lightly at your ear while kicking the bathroom door shut behind him.

You found yourself kissing him again. The kiss was warm and messy, arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer as both of you melted into each other like you had been waiting all day for this exact moment.

The bathroom filled with nothing but mingled breaths and quiet laughter between kisses. His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your skirt, rough palms gliding over your thighs as he pulled you impossibly closer. Like he wanted to press himself into every part of your life. 

Then, a sudden knock came.

“Aunty…”

Both of you froze instantly.

Wonjun’s sleepy voice came muffled through the door.

“I need to potty.”

You blinked, slowly turning toward Wonwoo. He stared back with the exact same exhausted disbelief.

“Just…” you struggled, trying not to laugh as his hands remained stubbornly on your waist. “Just use the guest bathroom, baby.”

“But I don’t know how.”

You nearly rolled your eyes.

Of course this was happening.

“Wonjun,” you sighed, “you’re five. You absolutely know how.”

Then came soft sniffles. Apparently being woken up from sleep was enough to trigger a minor emotional crisis.

You groaned quietly, resting your forehead against Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Wonwoo,” you hissed under your breath, “remove your dick from the situation for one second.”

He actually laughed at that before finally stepping away.

The moment you opened the bathroom door, a sleepy-looking Wonjun stood there with watery eyes and messy hair.

You sighed immediately. There went the mood.

After helping him and reminding him to wash his hands properly, you finally walked back into your room—only to find Wonwoo was already under the duvet. He was shirtless, with his eyes closed. Looking entirely too comfortable in your bed.

“Aunty,” Wonjun asked innocently, “why was Uncle Won in the bathroom with you?”

You swore you heard Wonwoo choke back a laugh.

Keeping a perfectly straight face, you gently patted Wonjun’s head.

“Uncle Won has potty problems too,” you replied smoothly. “I was helping him. Just like you.”

A muffled snort came from the bed.

“Now go back to sleep,” you added. “Aunty needs beauty sleep before she turns into a beast.”

Wonjun nodded seriously and shuffled away.

The moment the door shut, Wonwoo opened one eye.

“Potty problems?”

“Shut up.”

You changed into your pajama pants before climbing onto the bed.

Wonwoo’s hands immediately found your waist as you settled onto his lap, his thumbs tracing slowly against your sides while he looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

He kissed you again, slower this time. Somehow even worse for your sanity. His palms are kneading your ass, almost tender with his touch. You melted into him instantly, fingers tangling into his hair while he pulled you closer—

right before the bedroom door burst open again.

“AUNTY!”

You yelped in shock, shoving Wonwoo away so hard he smacked against the headboard.

Wonhee stood at the door clutching her teddy bear dramatically.

“She won’t stop crying,” Wonjun complained from beside her. “And I can’t sleep.”

You and Wonwoo stared at the twins in complete silence. Then at each other. Just like that, the rest of the night ended with all four of you cramped together in one bed.

...

The next morning came far too quickly. The entire night had left both you and Wonwoo restless and unsatisfied, but at least everyone had slept peacefully. That was until Wonwoo’s snores woke everyone up, and your nephew loudly declared that he sounded like a car engine.

After throwing together something quick for breakfast before dropping the twins off at your brother’s place, you set the plates down on the table while Wonjun sat comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap, inhaling an entire cup of instant ramen. You genuinely wondered if he even chewed those.

“Thank you for the food!” the twins chorused in unison.

Wonhee sat beside Wonwoo, already picking up her food so she could eat in front of the TV in the living room. You shook your head at the sight.

Then your eyes landed on the little boy sitting comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap.

For once, you had never been jealous of children—except maybe that one time you realised you couldn’t order a Happy Meal in your mid-thirties anymore, which you now used as an excuse to buy them for the twins.

“Wonjun, can you go eat somewhere else? There are plenty of seats around here.”

Your nephew looked up curiously, pancake stuffed halfway into his mouth. “Nope.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re five. You don’t need to be babied anymore. Yesterday was one thing.”

Wonwoo didn’t seem bothered at all, still securing the boy comfortably in his arms. “Let him be. Why are you so worked up?”

“Of course I’m worked up. That was my spot before they took it over.”

Both Wonwoo and your nephew stared at you. The silence only broke when Wonhee suddenly ran over holding a handmade card.

“Look! Look!” she squealed excitedly. “I made this yesterday at school. Happy Mother’s Day!”

Your heart melted instantly as you accepted the card with a soft smile, patting her head affectionately. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you, darling.”

Wonjun immediately scrambled off Wonwoo’s lap and ran toward their room to grab his own version.

You took the opportunity immediately, settling yourself onto Wonwoo’s lap instead. A small “oof” escaped him at the sudden weight.

“Thank you, sweetheart, but I think you should give this to your mom.”

Wonhee leaned against both you and Wonwoo, shaking her head. “I made two! One for mama and one for you because teacher Yoon said Mother’s Day isn’t strictly for biological mothers. You took care of me when I was little, so you have a motherhood role too. You’re basically my mom!”

Then Wonjun returned, proudly handing over his own handmade card filled with messy scribbles and barely readable words.

The twins kissed both your cheeks before running back to the living room.

“They sure love you a lot for someone like you,” Wonwoo muttered.

“It’s a shame I can’t officially be called a mother.”

His palm slid gently against your lower abdomen as he leaned closer, voice dropping lower.

“I can change that.”

You immediately slapped his hand away. “Wow, look at you. I’m surprised kids are drawn to an asshole like you,” you replied nonchalantly while taking a bite of your pancake.

“The genes never lied then,” he murmured while squeezing your waist. “There’s a reason you ended up with me in the first place.”

You nearly choked at that, refusing to acknowledge how true it sounded.

“Did you know belugas don’t chew their food? Yeah, it reminds me of you inhaling those noodles. Who the hell eats like that?”

Wonwoo shrugged as he continued inhaling the noodles. “It tastes better this way.”

“Only a psychopath would eat like that.”

“Then tell me who the hell gets jealous over a kid sitting on my lap?”

You stared at him, and he stared right back just the same.

“I’m not jealous,” you replied a little too quickly.

“Who said it was you?” A shit-eating grin spread across his face, and you immediately wanted to slap the hell out of him.

“Anyway,” you quickly changed the topic while sipping your tea, “did I know you from somewhere? How did you and Mingyu know each other aside from being roommates?”

He thought for a moment, adjusting himself while you still sat comfortably on his lap. “We went to the same school and university. He doesn’t like sharing spaces with strangers.”

You mused at the information. “You went to the same school as me? Why did I never see you around?”

“I was in the Faculty of Business and Management. Maybe that’s why. Mingyu took architecture before changing to finance and accounting.”

You paused mid-bite and turned toward him. “Oh, I was in the Faculty of Applied Science… something like that. I guess that’s probably why I never saw you.”

“What did you major in?”

“Food science,” you answered simply.

After a brief silence, you spoke again.

“I’m surprised you and Mingyu haven’t kissed each other’s asses yet.”

“I know I’m an asshole, not an assfucker.”

You burst out laughing at that while reaching for his wallet and flipping through his ID picture and cards.

“What do you call a baby whale? A little squirt!”

“You’re not funny,” he deadpanned. “Give me that. Don’t go checking what’s inside.”

Did you listen? Of course not. When have you ever listened to anyone anyway? You barely listened to your parents, so why would you start with him?

“Knock knock,” he suddenly said.

You raised a brow but played along anyway. “Who’s there?”

“Whale,” he answered simply.

“Whale who?”

“Whale…” He paused before immediately snatching the wallet away from your hands. “That’s enough of that.”

You rolled your eyes before shamelessly eating half of the ramen that clearly belonged to him.

“I hope your entire generation experiences bad luck in every possible streak.”

He narrowed his eyes on you. “I’ll just marry you then. We’re going down together whether you like it or not.”

“Give me your card.”

“No. Use your own, you have money.”

“You said you’d marry me. I want to be spoiled,” you whined dramatically while leaning against him like an oversized cat. “I’ve had enough of being the alpha woman all year long.”

“I don’t want you using my money to buy your own diamond ring. I want to buy it for you.”

You turned your head toward him properly this time.

He looked completely serious.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I’m not being sarcastic today. Maybe tomorrow, though.”

Before you could even process that, the twins suddenly came running over excitedly. Wonhee repeatedly called your name as if you weren’t literally sitting right there.

“When can I see you become a princess one day?” she asked excitedly, twirling around while showing you a picture of a bride on her tablet.

You hated admitting it, but every year you were reminded that maybe you would never become one—though you were certainly close to becoming a witch.

Still, you smiled softly.

“Oh, maybe soon.”

The little girl gasped excitedly, eyes sparkling. “Does that mean Uncle will be your prince? And I want to stay with you the whole time when you become a princess!”

“I think he’d be more like the villain who stole the princess away rather than Prince Charming.”

“Villains are way cooler,” Wonjun added confidently.

Wonwoo merely rolled his eyes at your comments.

“Besides…” you trailed off, leaning closer until your lips brushed against his. “The evil ones are always hotter…”

You chuckled softly before kissing him, earning a smirk from Wonwoo almost immediately.

The twins loudly made gagging noises before scurrying away to continue playing around the living room. You and Wonwoo watched them go before falling back into your own little world together, spending the rest of the morning tangled up in each other before the weekend truly began.

Unfortunately, your love life never unfolded like those Prince Charming fairytales. Instead, it felt more like a ridiculous romcom sitcom filled with stupidity, arguments, and way too many unfortunate coincidences.

Unfortunately, you never met him sooner back in school. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have spent so long giving up on love.

Fortunately, though, you loved the way invisible strings worked.

It was beautiful that way. And fortunately, this piece of shit was yours forever to keep.

FIN.

a/n: omg, i'm finally free!! now i can focus on cheol's fic. it wasn't supposed to be so long, i spent the entire time writing shit in here. i tried eating noodles without chewing btw, almost left me choking to death and never again. it's always the shitty fic that everyone enjoyed, goodday apples! comments, reblogged are appreciated :)

taglist: @coupsarchive @weirdcatlover1 @gyublues @charlieshelves @joongtime @jaja-salute @tstosir @scoupscious @delusionalforjunghoseok  @neotannies @drunk-on-lemonade @chisskaa @flvr4ane @unlikelysublimekryptonite @vwintershire @ashlinxloves @choppedballoondetective @junnhuisworld @mellow-wishes @authorscurse @gyuhao365 @peachywonus @iarayara @scoupcherry94 @enchantingbarbariansublime @wonwoosleftiddie @snowywinterbear @stillthesame-me @mintletters

When you were together in person, that invisible tether only tightened. It was in the way you naturally gravitated toward each other in a crowded room, or how, during movie nights at the dorm, you’d end up sharing a single throw blanket on the floor. You would lean your head on his shoulder, and he would respond by shifting his weight to make you more comfortable, his arm draped casually behind your back. To you, it felt like the ultimate safety a platonic sanctuary where you could be yourself.

But to anyone watching, the physical gravity between you was undeniable. He would touch your arm to get your attention, or rest his hand on the nape of your neck while explaining something, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin that sent quiet jolts through your system.

The reality of your "closeness" usually came crashing down the moment the other members entered the frame. The following afternoon, when you stopped by the Pledis practice room with a tray of iced Americanos, the atmosphere shifted instantly from professional focus to relentless mischief.

As you handed Wonwoo his drink, your fingers lingered against his a habit you hadn't even realized you’d formed. He didn't pull away; instead, he stepped into your space, his tall frame shielding you slightly from the rest of the room. It was a domestic, quiet moment that lasted all of five seconds before the peanut gallery opened fire.

"Oh, look, everyone," Soonyoung announced, his voice echoing off the mirrors as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "The 'Best Friend' has arrived with the life-giving caffeine. Though, judging by the dark circles under Wonwoo’s eyes, maybe she should have brought him a pillow instead. How long was the call last night? Three hours? Four?"

Wonwoo’s ears immediately flushed a deep, tell-tale crimson, a stark contrast to his cool demeanor. He took a slow sip of his coffee, trying to ignore the way Mingyu was now leaning over his shoulder with a predatory grin. "We had things to discuss," Wonwoo muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite. Mingyu let out a loud, dramatic scoff, looping an arm around Wonwoo’s neck. "Things to discuss? At 3:00 AM? I tried to call him to ask about a game level, and I got the busy signal for two hours. I’m starting to think I need to schedule an appointment just to talk to my own teammate."

The teasing was relentless a chorus of "oohs" and fake heart signs from Seungkwan and Chan but through it all, Wonwoo never moved away from you. Even as he told them to shut up and go back to practice, he kept his hand hovering near the small of your back, a silent, grounding presence. He treated the teasing like background noise, but as he caught your eye and gave you a private, tired smile, you couldn't help but wonder if the "friends" label was a shield you were both using to hide from a truth that everyone else could already see.

Does the constant commentary from the guys make you want to pull back to keep things "normal," or does it make you more curious about why Wonwoo never actually denies what they're implying?

The atmosphere in the practice room was thick with the scent of floor wax and the lingering energy of a grueling dance session, but for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. Despite the chaotic energy of thirteen other men buzzing around, Wonwoo stayed anchored right where he was. He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours, even as Seungkwan began a theatrical reenactment of what he imagined your late-night conversations sounded like. The members’ laughter bounced off the high ceilings, but Wonwoo’s focus acted like a silencer, turning their jokes into nothing more than white noise.

"Don't listen to them," he said softly, his voice cutting through the din. He reached out, his long fingers brushing a stray thread off the shoulder of your sweater. The gesture was so casual, so inherently domestic, that it drew another round of whistles from the corner where Hoshi and Dino were stretching. "They’re just bored because the choreography is giving them a headache."

"Is that why your phone bill is probably higher than the national debt?" Mingyu chimed in, passing by to grab a towel. He gave Wonwoo a pointed look, one that said he wasn't buying the 'boredom' excuse for a second. "I’m just saying, Y/N, the guy sleeps through his alarms every morning now, but he never seems to miss a notification from you. It’s a medical mystery, really."

You felt the heat rising in your own cheeks, a frantic fluttering in your chest that you tried to suppress with a nervous laugh. "We just lose track of time," you offered, though even to your own ears, the explanation sounded thin. You looked up at Wonwoo, expecting him to finally jump in and set the record straight to tell them they were overstepping or that it wasn't like that but he didn't. Instead, he just hummed in agreement, his thumb absentmindedly grazing the side of your hand where he still held the coffee cup. It was a silent admission, a refusal to deny the tether that pulled the two of you together when the rest of the world went to sleep.

As the leader called for them to get back into formation, the members began to disperse, still throwing parting shots over their shoulders. The sudden quiet left a strange, heavy tension between you. Wonwoo stepped even closer, his shadow falling over you, shielding you from the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescent lights. For a second, his cool, composed mask slipped, and you saw the same vulnerability that usually only emerged at 3:00 AM over a grainy video feed. He looked like he wanted to say something something that had nothing to do with being "just friends" and everything to do with the way he reached for his phone the moment he woke up.

"I'll call you later?" he asked, his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to the others. It wasn't a question of if, but when.

"Always," you whispered back.

He gave you one last look a lingering, searching gaze that felt like a physical touch before turning to join his team. As you walked toward the exit, you could hear the distant sound of the music starting back up, but your mind was already miles ahead, counting down the hours until the sun went down and the blue light of the digital clock signaled the only time of day that truly mattered. The teasing might have been a joke to the guys, but as you felt the ghost of his touch on your hand, you realized the punchline was starting to feel a lot like the truth.

The transition from the practice room to the real world felt like stepping into a dream that was finally gaining clarity. A few nights after the teasing in the studio, the two of you found yourselves walking through a secluded park near his dorm. The air was crisp, smelling of damp earth and late-blooming jasmine, and the moonlight turned the paved path into a silver ribbon. You were walking so close that your sleeves brushed with every step, a rhythmic friction that made your heart hammer against your ribs.

Suddenly, Wonwoo stopped. Without a word, he reached out and pulled you into a hug that felt different from any of the casual leans or "friend" embraces you’d shared before. This was a grounding, heavy embrace; he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist as if he were trying to memorize the exact shape of you. You stood there for a long time, the silence of the park wrapping around you, both of you realizing that the "safety net" had finally snapped.

That hug set a fire that culminated a few nights later. The call started at 6:00 PM, just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, and it didn't end until 3:00 AM. There were no games, no videos to watch together, and no distractions. It was just a raw, nine-hour conversation that stripped away every defense you both had. The words "I like you" finally spilled out, whispered into the receivers of your phones like a shared secret that had been kept for too long. He told you he had felt this way for months; you told him he was the only thing you thought about. When you finally hung up to sleep, your heart felt lighter than it ever had. You fell asleep with a smile, convinced that everything was about to change.

Then, the silence began.

The "morning after" text you expected never came. By 12:00 PM, you figured he was just sleeping in after the marathon call. By 6:00 PM, you assumed practice was running over. But by the next morning, the pit in your stomach began to grow. Your "Good morning" text sat unread. Your call that evening went straight to voicemail. One day turned into three, and three days turned into a week.

Wonwoo went completely M.I.A.

The silence was deafening. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart leaped, only to shatter when you saw it was just a weather alert or a group chat notification. You went from being confused to being hurt, and finally, to feeling a soul-crushing sense of regret. You replayed that nine-hour call in your head a thousand times, dissecting every word you said. Did I say too much? Did I scare him off? Was the confession just a lapse in judgment for him?

The weight of being "played" began to settle in your chest like lead. You felt like a fool for believing the late-night whispers and the way he had held you in the park. You felt exposed, having laid your heart bare to someone who could suddenly treat you like a stranger. The teasing from his friends, which used to feel cute, now felt like a cruel irony. You felt like shit discarded and ghosted by the person you trusted most.

For two agonizing weeks, Wonwoo became a ghost. You saw him on social media updates for the group looking tired, looking busy, but looking fine while you were falling apart in the quiet of your room. The space where your nightly calls used to be was now filled with a hollow ache, and you found yourself staring at the digital clock at 2:14 AM, regretting the day you ever let yourself believe that a "best friend" could be something more.

The tears didn't come all at once; they arrived in waves, crashing over you the moment the reality of the silence finally broke your spirit. For the first few days, you had been numb, staring at your phone screen until the light burned your retinas, waiting for a dot to turn green or a typing bubble to appear. But by the fourth night, the dam broke. You were sitting on the edge of your bed at 3:00 AM the hour that used to belong to him and the sheer, suffocating weight of his absence became physical. You curled into a ball, clutching your pillow to your chest, and sobbed until your throat felt raw and your eyes were swollen shut.

The pain wasn't just about the silence; it was the humiliation that followed it. Every sob was punctuated by a memory of that nine-hour call. You felt sick to your stomach remembering how you had whispered your deepest insecurities to him, how you had let your guard down so completely because he had made you feel safe. Now, that safety felt like a trap. You felt played, like a temporary distraction he had used to fill his lonely hours until he decided he didn't need you anymore. The thought that you were just a "phase" or a "mistake" he was now trying to erase made you let out a broken, jagged cry into the dark.

Days bled into one another, marked only by the stains of salt on your cheeks. You stopped checking your phone because the sight of his name still sitting there at the top of your recent contacts was like a knife twisting in your gut. You felt like a fool. You remembered the way he had held you in the park, the way his heartbeat had thudded against your ear, and you hated him for it. You hated him for making you feel loved only to leave you gasping for air in the vacuum he left behind. You went to sleep crying and woke up with the heavy, leaden realization that he still hadn't called, his ghost haunting every corner of your room.

By the second week, the sadness had turned into a hollow, aching exhaustion. You looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the person staring back someone with hollowed-out eyes and a spirit that felt permanently bruised. You regretted everything. You regretted the first time you stayed up late to talk to him; you regretted the coffee runs and the shared blankets. Most of all, you regretted the confession. You felt like you had handed him the weapon to destroy you, and he had used it without a second thought. The silence wasn't just a lack of communication; it was a loud, clear message that you didn't matter as much to him as he mattered to you, and that realization was a grief so profound it felt like it would never end.

The second week drew to a close, and the grief had shifted from a sharp, screaming pain to a dull, constant throb. You moved through your apartment like a ghost, your movements sluggish and mechanical. The silence of your phone had become a permanent resident in your life, a cold companion that sat on the nightstand reminding you of your own foolishness. You had reached the stage of heartbreak where you weren't even angry anymore; you were just empty. You felt as though you had been hollowed out, leaving nothing but the echoes of his promises and the lingering scent of his laundry detergent on a hoodie you couldn't bring yourself to throw away, but couldn't bear to look at.

One evening, you found yourself sitting on the floor of your kitchen, the cold tile pressing against your legs. You hadn't turned the lights on, letting the blue twilight of the city seep through the windows. You thought about the park how the moonlight had caught the bridge of his nose, how his hands had felt so steady on your waist. You realized with a fresh burst of tears that you weren't just mourning a crush; you were mourning your best friend. He was the person you went to when the world felt too heavy, and now, he was the reason it felt impossible to breathe. By cutting you off, he hadn't just taken away a potential future; he had reached back and poisoned every memory of the past three years.

Every "I love you" you had whispered into the phone during that nine-hour marathon now felt like a debt you had paid to a person who never intended to pay you back. You felt cheapened, as if your vulnerability was something he had collected like a trophy before moving on to the next thing.

Then, on the fourteenth night, the silence finally broke.

You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, your eyes dry and burning from days of crying, when your phone vibrated on the mattress next to you. The sound was so foreign, so sudden, that you nearly jumped out of your skin. Your heart, which had felt like a lead weight for two weeks, gave a violent, painful kick against your ribs. You didn't want to look. You told yourself it was a wrong number, a spam call, or Mingyu checking in to see if you were still alive. But when you reached out with a trembling hand and turned the screen over, the name staring back at you was the one that had been etched into your brain for a fortnight.

Wonwoo.

The screen glowed with his contact photo a candid shot you’d taken of him laughing over a bowl of ramen. For a moment, you couldn't move. You just watched the phone vibrate, the "Accept" and "Decline" buttons blurred by the sudden, hot arrival of new tears. Two weeks of agony, two weeks of feeling like garbage, two weeks of wondering if you ever mattered at all and now he was calling at 1:15 AM as if the world hadn't ended in his absence.

Your thumb hovered over the red button. You wanted to reject him, to let him feel even a fraction of the coldness he had shown you. You wanted to scream at him for what he had done to your sanity. But as the call reached its final rings, the desperate, pathetic part of your heart the part that still loved him despite the wreckage won out. With a shaky swipe, you answered, but you didn't say a word. You couldn't.

The silence on the other end lasted for a long, agonizing minute. All you could hear was his heavy, ragged breathing, sounding as though he had been running.

I.

I looked at him, and I thought, “If I was very brave or very honest, I would tell him.” I would say it, so he would know it and I would know it, and I could never take it back. But I wasn’t that brave or honest, so all I did was look at him. And I think he knew anyway. –JENNY HAN

April 22, 2017

You always woke up before your alarm, but something was different this time. Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the pile of clothes strewn underneath the bed. The dorm walls were bare and that ugly yellow color, instead of being covered in your favorite movie posters. A fan was whirring in the corner of the room. The TV was still on, projecting the title screen of the game you and Wonwoo had been playing last night.

That was when you realized this wasn’t your room. This was Wonwoo’s.

And all your clothes weren’t on.

Creeping your hand up from the sheets, you turned the alarm off on your defective Android that your dad bought you for the cheapest price possible. Sometimes the alarm didn’t work, but you didn’t want to chance it this morning. You carefully moved off the mattress, almost falling when you noticed that this twin sized bed was higher up than the one in your dorm, and began to put on your discarded clothes.

The frame creaked.

Your body froze, unsure what to do, before you continued to step into your leggings and turned around. 

Wonwoo was sitting up, the bedsheets falling carelessly down and exposing his bare torso. His was skinnier than you assumed. The oversized shirts he wore concealed his lanky form, but it was intentional. His hair was sticking up in every other direction as he put on his glasses, his eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight. His frames were broken on one side, the arm being held together with shitty tape.

When he finally noticed you standing and putting your legs into the tight spandex of your leggings, he remembered everything that happened the night before. You asking to come over past visiting hours. The video game. The kiss. Needing relaxation before a grueling set of final exams next week. “Maybe we should try,” you had said. “Just once,” he had agreed. And now, there was a used condom in his trash can and he was trying not to gawk at it.

You were both just sophomores in college, but you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. Especially when it meant crossing the lines of friendship.

Tugging on your shoes, you said, “Maybe I should –”

“Coffee?” He suggested, voice rough from sleep. It affected you, somewhat, and you realized how much you liked him like this: unpolished and disheveled. “Avalon dining hall has free coffee and pastries on Saturday mornings.”

You nodded, all awkward. “Sure.”

Following slightly behind him, you walked to the dining hall, trying not to make eye contact with any classmate that passed by. You wondered if they could see it written all over your face: not exactly shame, but something deeper. Maybe self-consciousness, like you’d been caught in the act. Wonwoo was wearing the same t-shirt from the day you met in class – the one with a small hole on the sleeve, a faded graphic of Godzilla on the front – as the morning sun beat down on you two, promising a hot summer ahead.

You picked out a table in the dining hall as Wonwoo went up to get your coffees. He put them in paper cups rather than mugs. Avalon food was good, but the dishware tended to be sticky, even when they cleaned it. He found you at the small table in the corner, somehow holding two coffees while balancing a plastic plate of chocolate croissants on top of one. You accepted your coffee with a tense smile, immediately taking a sip and forgetting how hot it would be. Wincing, you pulled apart one of the croissants, hand pulling back quickly when your fingers almost touched his.

You two had been friends since freshman year, and you had never shied away from him like this. But after last night … it was like his fingertip had the ability to electrocute.

Silence echoed. The dining hall was only partially filled – it was the weekend, after all – and you had said hi to your friend, Seungkwan, when he passed. Neither of you were looking at each other, eyes focused on something else. For Wonwoo, it was the bee buzzing just outside the window next to your table.

You cleared your throat as you traced the rim of your coffee cup. “Well, I guess this awkwardness proves that we’d be terrible at casual.”

Finally, he relented. Your playful comment making a snort escape from his lips. You couldn’t help but smile, still staring at your cup. “Yeah. Imagine what it would be like if we actually tried,” he quipped.

Your eyes lifted to his, stunned for a moment. Just a moment. Because you couldn’t dwell on what “actually tried” meant. Dating? Wanting? Choosing each other on purpose? You were both just shy of 21. You couldn’t possibly know what you wanted.

But then the night was coming back in flashes. You remembered the way he kissed you slow at first, before deepening it and how you couldn’t hold back the moan when his tongue explored your mouth. He had taken his glasses off, making sure to cautiously place them on his bedside table, or else they would break again, and he was so … handsome. Well, of course, Wonwoo was handsome. You weren’t blind. But it was different up close, without his glasses.  When he was staring at you not just like a friend, but as something more. Like you were everything he had ever dreamed of. It was just you and him breathing heavily against each other’s mouths while taking in your appearances, and then going in for the kiss again. Last night had been his first time going down on a girl, but it had been the best experience of your life. Granted, you only had one person go down on you before him. His talent was truly unmatched though. And the way it felt when he finally pushed into you –

Only a second passed. It had felt like hours.

You laughed too fast, shaking your head. “We’d have ruined everything.”

Wonwoo paused, a mere breath. “Or –”

You watched him. Even your finger on the rim of your cup hesitated, as if your entire world depended on the next words that came out of his mouth.

He closed his mouth, smiling, and then shrugged. “Yeah,” he agreed, “ruined everything.”

In freshman year psychology, your professor had briefly touched on origin wounds – deep, emotional scars that shape core beliefs about self-worth, safety, and especially, trust, making you repeat patterns in adulthood. You didn’t realize it at the time, and Wonwoo surely didn’t mean for it, but this was one of your origin wounds: the point where everything went wrong by dishonesty, by being too reasonable.

Maybe it was an origin wound for both of you.

Your expression was perfectly schooled, lips curving up as you reached across the table with your hand. “Just friends?”

He hesitated, biting his lip for the longest minute of your life. Until eventually … his large palm closed over yours.

“Just friends,” he promised. “Hopefully, for many years to come.”

February 12, 2026

Dusting snow flurries off his black beanie, Wonwoo was grateful that you gave the second key to your building to him rather than someone else. Not that you wanted anyone besides him in your personal space, anyway. You weren’t answering your phone when he arrived, so he let himself in, setting his wet hat and gloves on the antique space heater you still kept in your kitchen. It was so old; you were pretty sure it came from your grandmother that died before you were born. But it worked like a champ, and he was able to shed off his coat just before the pizza box almost fell from his hands.

Ever since you both moved to the city 3 years ago, you established a ritual for him to come over to your apartment on Thursday nights and watch a movie you both never saw before while dining on some of the worst reviewed takeout spots. You both begged to differ. Thursday movie night just made sense, seeing as the two of you bonded in a college course on the history of cinema. 

He turned his head to catch the apologetic smile you were throwing his way. That’s why you hadn’t answered his text. Despite the late hour, despite the fact that you left the office three hours ago … you were on the phone with your boss about a change in his flight. You weren’t his assistant; you were actually far above that in the company. But you always agreed to help. If you didn’t answer his call, no one would.

Plopping down on the couch beside you, Wonwoo scrolled through his phone and listened as you talked your anxiety-ridden boss down from the ledge. It reminded him of last week when he came over and you quickly told him to set down the pizza in the kitchen while you sat on your bathroom floor and smoothed over a conflict your work friend, Jennifer, had texted you about. Something about a boyfriend. You didn’t sweat it, never missing a moment to give practical advice. 

He had been watching you fix everyone else’s problems your entire friendship – half amused, half exhausted by how you never did the same for yourself. It’s always been something you never had a problem doing, but he saw how much it weighed on you. You never complained though. He wondered sometimes if it was tearing you up inside to complain. Just once. 

When you finally got off the phone, you let out the heaviest sigh and fell back, resting your head on his thigh. Physical contact like this had never meant much to the both of you, but still, his finger did stop scrolling. His breathing paused, too focused on himself to notice that maybe yours had faltered too.

“Sorry about that,” you muttered. “Sal put extra cheese on the pizza, right?”

Wonwoo clicked off his phone and let it collapse on the couch cushion. Instead of answering your question, he said, “You’re always doing that – fixing people. I’m sure your boss could’ve figured that out on his own.” He looked down, meeting your eyes as they tilted up to his. “I know you’ve insisted it’s not a big deal, but –”

“Trust me, he wouldn’t have been able to figure that out. He’s never struggled with anything in his life.” You played with your fingers on your lap. “Besides, being praised at work after I help someone feels better than anything, even an orgasm.”

Your latter comment made him bite the inside of his cheek, just for a second, and he ignored it before adding, “It’s not just at work. It happens all the time. You know I’m right.”

You exhaled even louder, more dramatic, and sat up. Your hair was slightly messed up in the back, but you felt his eyes on you. Felt them burning into your cheek as if he had powers. Wonwoo always looked at you that way: like he cared a little too much, kind of like the way he stared at you when you were young and stupid in that godforsaken dorm room. You couldn’t deny that you were guilty of doing the same sometimes, whether it be in a dark movie theater where he was far too focused on the screen, or when he took the liberty ordering for you at a bar because he knew the bartender liked him. And maybe you did care a little too much, but that didn’t matter. Because it couldn’t matter.

Wonwoo would always just be … Wonwoo.

Shifting your gaze to his, you sent him a small smile and asked, “So which movie did you pick out for us tonight?”

After scrolling through multiple streaming apps, Wonwoo finally found the one hosting this horror movie that was recommended to him – Swiped. It was a modern day nightmare about a woman using an app to get back into dating and accidentally wound up on a date with a serial killer. Definitely an indie film, so they didn’t hold back on the gory scenes, which you watched with your hands over your eyes, peaking out slightly between your fingers. Wonwoo, on the other hand, didn’t shy away, but still watched the bloody scene of the killer’s past with his top lip curled in disgust. He set down the pizza slice in his hand onto a paper plate and leaned back into the couch.

“This is the exact reason why dating apps don’t work. You don’t know if you could end up with a serial killer,” he commented, crossing his arms over his chest.

You turned your head, desperate not to look at the TV. “Have you ever actually been on a date from an app? I can’t remember the last time you even told me you went on a date.”

He sent you a glare. “You’re one to talk. The last time you dated was that older guy who you stopping talking to after he wanted to be exclusive.”

“Sean was asking too much of me. He wanted to see me every weekend and I love my friends too much.” You glanced at the scene to see the killer’s particularly creepy face and cringed, looking back to your friend. “Now, answer the question.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I … okay, never. What’s your point?”

Good question. Your nose wrinkled as you thought about the last time Wonwoo dated. It had to be years ago, even longer than you. Just after college and you were both already hyper fixating on a quarter-life crisis. It was before you both moved, and you remembered him casually dating this girl. What was her name? Sally? Seoyun? Selena? Too different, but you thought he introduced you to her once. He broke it off before it got too serious, when you both got opportunities of a lifetime to work in the heart of the city.

He wasn’t dating. Hadn’t been for years. Not seriously. Not casually. He was always “busy,” always “just fine.”

You noticed. Of course, you did.

“Soooo …” You murmured, dragging out the word as you slowly met his eyes. Your tone was smooth, almost blasé. “Are you ever going to date again?”

Wonwoo arched an eyebrow. “You’re full of questions tonight. Why do you care?”

Your gaze narrowed. “Oh, I don’t know, Wonwoo. Maybe it’s because you’re my best friend.” You tossed a throw pillow at him and it hit him right in the face. He had never been good with dexterity, even though he was great at video games.

His glasses were knocked onto the floor and he laughed, picking them up before settling against the cushions once more. He fixed them back onto his face, but the frames – no matter how new – were still crooked on him. 

When his laughter died down, he shrugged, lacing his fingers together on his chest as he watched the movie. “Haven’t met anyone worth the effort.”

There was nothing dramatic about his tone. He wasn’t bitter. He said it like a fact.

The words stuck, lodging themselves somewhere deep. Not in your head, not in your chest. Even deeper. In your ribs, nestled in a cage of your own making. 

Because his answer wasn’t “anyone interesting” or “anyone I like.” He mentioned effort, no matter how indifferent he sounded. You had known Wonwoo for almost a decade. You knew what he was like when something was worth the effort.

So you laughed it off – albeit awkwardly – because you couldn’t stand the silence. “Well, that’s fixable.”

“Here you go again.” But then he finally glanced at you, curiosity peaked. “Is … is it?”

You nodded, body completely facing him now, as you rested your elbow on the back of the couch. Grinning at him, you replied, “Mmhmm. You’re just not meeting the right people. I know, like …” You lifted a few fingers. “… Five women off the top of my head for you.”

A corner of his mouth tugged up. “One of those isn’t your cousin that tried kissing me at your graduation party, right?”

“Don’t make me throw another pillow at you.” You playfully hit his arm. “I’m being serious. I think it all comes down to that.” 

He turned back to the screen, just when the main character gasped at the killer’s monologue. Wonwoo was usually quiet, but this silence was different. He wasn’t arguing at your response, but he clearly wasn’t excited either. It was as if he was resigning himself to whatever fate you bestowed upon him.

And then he gently mumbled, “If you think so.”

Haven’t met anyone worth the effort.

You thought about his answer longer than you should. What was meant to be an uninterested string of words to shrug you off struck you somewhere that you hadn’t felt before. They were heavy; you could practically feel them rolling around in your brain like marbles. You pondered them, even at the office, when you should be focusing on work. Even at night, when sleep just wouldn’t come to you. As you took the train to work, when all you could hear was the singing of some elderly man at the back of the car. 

Despite the way you laughed off awkward situations, you always listened to Wonwoo, always took in every word he said. One time, after drinking a single margarita because he was a lightweight when it came to tequila, he drunkenly told you that no one had ever listened to him like you did. But last night’s conversation hit … different, in a way that had you picking at your cuticles again. Maybe you cared too much. But was it really that bad to care too much for someone that had become your rock? 

You couldn’t harp on it, too afraid of the real answer.

You had just gotten home, still wearing the cardigan you wore to the office even after changing into a pair of worn out pajama bottoms. The kind that you probably got as a teenager, but the fabric had stretched out so much that they still fit. You were chopping up some veggies for whatever haphazard rice bowl you were throwing together for dinner. Sometimes you would eat a pepper slice, other times you’d throw it in the pan. Your mind wandered though: on emails, reminding yourself that you needed to text back your dad, and – oh, the thing that Wonwoo said last week that simply wouldn’t leave your brain.

He deserves someone great, you thought to yourself. Clearly, you weren’t an option, not that you were expecting to be. If he fell for someone else, maybe you’d finally stop looking at him like –

You let the thought die before it could finish.

On lonely nights, when it was only you and your vibrator, some audio porn blasting through your AirPods, you wondered if you both had tried after that hookup before finals … what would’ve happened? Would you still be as close as you are now? Would you still be this much of a fixer and would he still be too “busy” to date anyone else? 

Even worse: would you have been worth the effort?

You set down the knife on the cutting board, closing your eyes as you gripped the counter. Your head shook, as if pushing the question out before it could take root. But that’s when the feelings you pushed down for so long bubbled up all over again. Calling it a “crush” felt trivial, like you were two kids at recess. It was more like … a feeling that lingered. A curse. A spirit that haunted you.

Because, at your heart of hearts, you knew it shouldn’t ever happened. You and Wonwoo had the chance years ago, but it wasn’t in the cards. You were meant to be friends and that was fine. (Truly, it was.) Your curse would go away soon enough, even if it took another 8 years of friendship.

Rewinding back to your conversation last week absolutely wasn’t helping. You turned, pressing your back against the kitchen counter as the peppers started to sizzle in the hot pan. Taking your phone out of your pocket, you began scrolling through the contacts in your phone. It was in this moment that you reverted back to your old ways, doing what you always did when you were the least bit hurt: you were going to fix.

II.

I think I’ve loved you since I met you. I just mistook it for curiosity. –ALICE OSEMAN

September 16, 2015

Maybe Wonwoo had been right; maybe this was a problem for you. But no case ever started as “I’m going to fix this person.”

The first inkling happened after you read Jane Austen’s Emma in senior year of high school. You weren’t a matchmaker by any means, and you certainly weren’t wealthy, nor all that clever, but you related to Emma Woodhouse in ways that were beyond you. And once you got to college, where you could start off with a clean state and become your own person, you found your purpose beginning to sprout. 

There was a girl in your ENG 101 class named Kat – loner type, the kind to always sit in the back and mind her own business. You observed her from your spot in the corner, watched the way she stayed silent and twirled the same piece of dark hair around her finger. She didn’t talk in class. Didn’t talk to anyone, really. Freshman year of college was hard enough as it was, but it was even worse when you were extremely introverted. Not that you had made many friends yet; you just knew how to make conversation. Always had. If you needed a friend and so did Kat, what harm would it be to help each other?

You approached her once class ended, hugging your notebook to you chest as you flashed the most endearing, pearly-white smile at her. You told her your name as she cautiously stood from her seat, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Do you want to grab lunch with me?” You asked brightly. “I think we also have the same first year seminar next. Maybe we could walk together to it after lunch!”

Surprisingly, Kat accepted your offer. Maybe she felt like she couldn’t exactly say no, but that wasn’t for you to assume. You showed her your current favorite dining area – Lincoln Hall – where they made the best burritos on campus. “They can sometimes make your stomach turn if you haven’t had any breakfast,” you explained, “but they’re worth it. Don’t let the chef intimidate you. Just ignore him.”

You quickly realized just how shy Kat was. She had a habit of keeping to herself and only spoke when spoken to. It took almost the whole lunch to get something out of her, as if she was trying to make it impossible to peel back her layers. But when she finally broke a moment of silence with, “These burritos are that good,” you knew that you were getting somewhere.

“Aren’t they? I love that they actually use fresh veggies,” you replied, wiping sauce from your top lip.

“They remind me of these ones I used to get back home.” She shrugged, pensive. “I miss it sometimes.”

Your interest peaked. “Home? Where are you from?”

She was a couple states south of here, while you were more north. Two opposite ends that somehow met on the same campus. Once she crumped up the empty wrapper, she mused, “You must’ve had a lot of friends back home.”

Your brow knitted together. “Not exactly. Just a small group that I had known since middle school, but I’ve always just been social. When I enrolled here, I really wanted to find new people. My parents always said that the people you meet in college are with you for life.” You traced the edge of the table. “Have … you met anyone else on campus?”

She looked a little caught off guard for a minute, and then shrunk into her jacket. “Besides you? Well … no.”

You tilted your head to the side. Kat stuffed her hands into her pockets and let the silence envelope her until it became too awkward. You realized that in order to get her to open up, you needed to beat her at her own game. It was a lot more difficult than you thought.

“I know it’s only the third week of classes, but I’m just …” She sighed, getting to her feet and grabbing her backpack. “… Nervous about making friends. And getting close to other people. I’ve always been kind of an introvert, but now …”

You followed her move, walking with her outside the dining hall and heading to the  Roosevelt building across campus, where your seminar was. “Is there a reason for that?” You asked, and then bumped her elbow with yours, a smile on your lips. “You can tell me. I think we’re friends now.”

Kat chewed on her bottom lip, debating her answer, until eventually, she cracked. “My friends from high school were … not very nice. My mom used to think they were toxic. Whatever you want to call them, they didn’t make me feel good.” She only looked at her feet as you walked together. “High school was hard and I was so scared about being without friends. But they always made me feel like I was a bother. Sometimes they wouldn’t even invite me over. I just let it happen though because I was afraid of being alone. I told myself that college would different.”

“Kat,” you murmured, grabbing her arm so her eyes met yours. You both stopped midstep in the center of the campus courtyard, blooming with life. “I don’t get the vibe that you could ever be a bother. College is the time to make friends, not shy away from them.”

You made due on your words, always making time to have lunch with her after ENG 101, but also introducing her to a few of your classmates from your History of Cinema course. Kasey and Jun were also on the quieter side, but they had way more in common with Kat than you did. Bringing them all together meant you saw Kat less, but she still made the effort to speak to you in class. 

By the time fall semester ended, you and Kat were merely acquaintances, but you didn’t really mind all that much. You had become close with your classmate, Wonwoo, also from History of Cinema, as well as a few other girls that lived in the same building as you. Wonwoo was shy like Kat, but he knew when to exactly open himself up, and he always did around you. Sometimes you wondered if you were merely attracted to introverted people, but you didn’t want to be friends with Wonwoo to help him. There was a warmth to his friendship that you hadn’t experienced before, something that you told that he would be in your life for a long time. 

When you and Wonwoo were in line for dinner, you noticed Kat leaving the dining hall with not just Kat and Jun, but a few others as well. She had clearly blossomed over the last couple of months, and you felt a sense of accomplishment that tingled throughout your body, from your head to your toes. This was the type of feeling you wanted all the time: purpose, connection, serotonin. 

You looked on her fondly, knowing that you helped give her a little push, and your self-esteem seemed to skyrocket. Kat glanced over her shoulder, meeting your eyes then, and waved. Matching her wave with a smile, you then felt Wonwoo’s breath at your ear as he asked, “Who’s that?”

You shrugged. “An old friend.”

February 18, 2026

The coffee at the office was tasting particularly burnt this morning. To be fair, you saw the technician that fixed the machine every couple of months stride through the double doors just after you sat down with your cup. A couple of your coworkers were already fawning over him from the doorway of the kitchenette. You watched them, just over the edge of your cubicle, with a raised brow. The local technician, Seokmin, was definitely handsome and had the kind of biceps you only saw on a bodice ripper romance book, but you had too many emails to waste time on watching him repair the coffee machine.

No matter how much you wanted to.

You took another sip from your cup and winced. Still burnt.

Resting your chin on your fist, you scrolled through the piles of emails that you were copied on but didn’t actually involve your position. You played music softly from the speakers of your monitor, not exactly caring who heard. This was what would happen until you were rewarded with your own office space. Despite your Marketing Director role, the building in general was “far too small” to grant you an office, so you’d make your coworkers’ life a living hell in your cubicle until your boss grew tired of it. He would eventually. Men, especially in positions of power, always caved.

As your fingers began dancing across the keyboard, you heard the doors swing open and the loud scuffle of your coworker, Jennifer’s, ballet flats. You looked up, noting the red in her eyes, the way her cheeks flushed and her mouth was in a flat line. She smoothed back the curls in her perfectly styled pixie cut, huffed, and then dropped her lunch bag onto her desk all the way at the end of the row from yours. 

Now that was perplexing. Jennifer was always in a good mood.

Your fingers paused on the keys, and just when you were about to get up and talk with her, she stormed in the direction of the bathroom. You heard her start to sniffle, but the sound was eventually muffled by the door to the women’s bathroom closing behind her. When one of your desk mates sent you a look, you took that as a sign to go check on her.

Getting to your feet, you smoothed down the wrinkles in your blouse and quickly made your way to the bathroom, sneaking a glance at Seokmin working his magic on the coffee machine in the process. (He really was handsome. Maybe you could help fix him up with someone here if he was single.) You pushed on the door and immediately found Jennifer at the sinks, sniffling as she wiped her eyes. She met your gaze in the mirror and already began stuttering, “Oh, I – I’m – let me j-just –”

You saddled up next to her and put a hand on her arm. “Don’t be silly, Jen,” you whispered, grabbing more paper towels from behind you and handing it to her. “Here, take these. What’s going on?”

Jennifer blew her nose into the paper towels, and the sound was so loud that it startled you. You blinked rapidly and she grumbled, “Sorry,” but it was muffled by the makeshift tissue.

“It’s okay,” you replied, trying to hide your chuckle. But soon enough, you were both sharing a laugh, giggling over the absolute absurdity of it all at 9 AM. You squeezed her arm as she blew her nose again.

“I hoped no one would see me like this, but …” She exhaled hard, tossing her snotty paper towel in the trash before checking her appearance in the mirror. Grimacing, she fixed the strands that had fallen out of her gelled hairstyle. 

Your grip slipped away as you arched a brow. “Do you … want to talk about it?”

She straightened her back, smoothing out the wrinkle in her shirt, before asking, “Do you remember the guy I had texted you about week ago? We hadn’t been dating long, but I asked for your advice –”

“Matty?”

Jennifer rolled her eyes instantly, the name striking a sense of irritation in her that even she was unable to hide. “Yes,” she admitted, and then rubbed at her nose. “The day after I texted you for advice … we actually broke up, but I was too embarrassed to tell you or make you think your advice didn’t work.”

Your brow relaxed. “Jen, it doesn’t offend me that my advice didn’t work. I just care that you’re okay.” And it was the truth, but you couldn’t help but be a little miffed that she didn’t follow your guidance after you made time out of your movie night with Wonwoo to prioritize her problem. That was neither here nor there. Jennifer was your friend after all.

“I just …” She wrung out her hands in front of her, looking down at the dent in her favorite flats. “I saw him at a coffee shop today and it brought back a lot of emotions that I thought were starting to go away. We had only been together for, like, five months, but it still feels so … icky to think that it could’ve worked out and it didn’t.”

“Icky?” You repeated, and then let the word turn over in your brain. “That does feel quite icky, doesn’t it?”

“Very!” She huffed, her palms slapping against her sides. “Because here I am crying over a guy that clearly doesn’t like me anymore, and I can’t stop wondering if I’ll ever be good enough. Like … what is it about me that made our relationship not work?”

Sensing that this was going to be a longer conversation, you leaned against the faucet and leveled a look at her. “Jen, you can’t think like that. You’ll just make yourself go crazy, and I can guarantee that it wasn’t you in the first place.”

She sent you a soft smile. With the amount of times she came to you for advice, it almost felt weird to continuously thank you. “You know, when you turn – let’s say … 20 – you think that you have it all figured out by now. I thought this stuff would get easier, but I can’t help but feel like I’m in college all over again.”

A tingle ran through you, the kind that started at your hairline and trickled all the way down to your legs. Her words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, because you – the person who always had her life together, who pretended like she had it all figured out – constantly felt that way. Sometimes you wondered if you were that transparent, if everyone could tell that you liked fixing so you wouldn’t have to mend any of the problems in your own life. You weren’t just a body anymore. You were merely a piece of cling wrap, translucent and waiting to mold yourself to the next thing that needed you. 

But maybe that was just you being too in your head, because no matter what, everyone came to you. And you’d drop everything. It was easier than having to face the fact that you still felt so small, so 20-something, insecure and overworked in a body that was pushing 30. 

“No matter what age you are, you’re never gonna have your life completely together,” you mused, a small passing comment that you were hoping would end the conversation before it got too deep. Jennifer reached over you and grabbed another paper towel to wipe her nose. You took the opportunity to ask, “Are you … open to dating again? Seeing someone else can be the perfect way to get over Matty.”

Jennifer shrugged. “If the man is nice enough, sure.”

Wonwoo’s smile appeared in your head then, all the kind things he did for you over the years flashing through like a movie montage. You remembered the time he spent a whole week studying with you just so you would pass your Physics exam. The time he brought you a new pair of slacks when you split coffee all over yourself before a job interview. The time he picked you up from a Renaissance faire when it got flooded out. Or all the times he was there for you when he didn’t have to be.

He was nice enough. More than that. And yet, he hadn’t met anyone worth the effort.

You pushed off the edge of the sink. “You know, my friend, Wonwoo, wants to try dating again –”

Her eyes immediately flickered to yours. “The Wonwoo? As in your friend? I didn’t think he was single.”

“Why?” You cocked your head.

“Well, it’s just … the way you talk about him …” She was avoiding eye contact now. “And the way he was hanging off you when you brought him to last year’s company holiday party …”

You rolled your eyes. “To be fair, he got way more intoxicated than intended. Anyway, he’s very single, and actually … you two might get along.”

“How so?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind. In that moment, you couldn’t think of one thing – not even a lie – to convince Jennifer to go out with your best friend. They didn’t have anything in common, but that wasn’t typically a requirement for Wonwoo. He liked different.

“Well, I … haven’t exactly thought that far yet,” you admitted, sending her an awkward smile. “But he’s nice. Extremely nice. And you’re good with conversation. He can be difficult to come out of his shell, but I think you could do it.”

She sighed, turning to look at her reflection in the mirror. The redness in her eyes had faded, and she admired the natural flush of her cheeks as she fidgeted with her hair again. Eventually, she looked at you again with a shy smile, and then whispered, “I did think he was pretty cute at the holiday party.”

The game development company Wonwoo worked for was nowhere close to your job, but when you asked him to go to lunch, he always came. He would say that it wasn’t a big deal, but the few times you went to go see him during lunch, it took you two trains to get to him, leaving you with only 20 mins to sit with him before you had to leave. It was a big deal, and yet, he didn’t complain.

He moved around one of his meetings just to come see you, texting you that the deadline for the prototype of their next game was due soon, so finding free time nowadays was scarce. But he still did it. For you. Because he knew you would do the same. He hopped on the two trains to get to you, walking the short block to the cafe you found that was close to the station. Opening the door for the elderly women leaving, Wonwoo squeezed in past them and found you sitting at a small table in the corner. He watched you for a moment, noticing the way your fingers tapped across your phone screen, most likely writing an urgent email to someone on your team. Even with your brow scrunched together like this, you were calm. The idea of being burdened with work settling you better than the green tea on the table. 

Wonwoo pushed past the line forming at the register, and your eyes immediately lifted, like you could sense his presence somehow. Your lips curled and you waved him over. His own smile was quick, afraid of looking too eager, although any time he got to see you made him excited. Slipping his backpack off his shoulders, he sat down in the seat opposite of you and saw the hot mug of black coffee already waiting for him.

“I just got you the dark roast because I know you’ve always liked it,” you said, turning your phone facedown. Wonwoo wrapped his hands around the mug as he tried warding off the winter chill outside. “Were the trains bad?”

“Not really, but they’ll probably get worse later when I’m on my way home.” He took a sip of the rich, warm beverage. “I don’t have long though. What was so urgent?”

You laced your hands on the table, and you had this look in your eye that always scared him. The kind that excited you, but whatever you had planned would be hell for everyone else. Judging by the way your gaze was focused on only him, he had a feeling that he alone was going to become your next project.

“What if I told you that I gave your number to Jennifer at work?” You grinned big.

The mug was at his mouth when he paused. He considered pinching himself to make sure that this was real. “Jennifer?” He asked, arching a brow. “The one that brought homemade jello shots to your holiday party last year?”

“Well,” you scoffed and laid out your hand, “they were good, weren’t they?”

He finally took a sip. “I guess so. Actually … I don’t know if I’ve ever understood the appeal of jello shots. Too messy.”

“You’re no fun, and off topic.” You let your finger trace the rim of your cup, filled halfway with lukewarm green tea. “I gave Jennifer your number because she’s interested in going on a date with you. Exciting, right?”

He blinked in your direction. Jennifer sounded familiar; when was the last time he heard about her? Maybe it was … “Wasn’t Jennifer the coworker you were helping a few weeks ago on movie night? You went into the bathroom to give her advice because her boyfriend was being weird.”

“The weird boyfriend is out of the picture now. Has been for weeks,” you shrugged. “And she admitted that she thought you were cute at the holiday party.”

His nose wrinkled a little. “You sure she isn’t just remembering me through the haze of the jello shots?”

Your eyes narrowed into a glare.

He flashed a smile. “Kidding.”

“Listen,” you said, clearing your throat. He raised his fingers – just slightly – but you were already tucking that stray hair behind your ear. “She’ll probably text you tonight to set up a date. Don’t give me that look, Wonwoo. No pressure. It’s just dinner.”

Wonwoo hesitated, leaning back in his chair. This didn’t surprise you; he was always hesitant. He made sure to think through all his choices, not impulsively like you preferred. That was why you two worked so well –

You shut down the thought before it could go further. You shouldn’t be reminiscing on your compatibility with your best friend. This was about you helping him.

He tilted his head slightly, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, like he did when he was anxious. His eyes crinkled. “Mingyu said once that you micromanage me sometimes.”

Your expression twisted at the mention of his roommate. “Says the president of micromanaging. He needs to mind his own business – literally. That’s what his restaurant is for.”

Wonwoo was silent again, taking small sips from the mug that was almost empty. Tapping his phone, he checked the time. He had maybe 10 minutes before he had to run back to the train station. Was he going to keep you on the edge of your seat this whole time? This was so dumb.

And you told him once over a bottle of soju that you hated edging anyway.

“You can say no,” you eventually muttered, leaning more into the table. “I just thought … maybe she could be worth the effort.”

His gaze met yours again, quick and intense. He opened his mouth once like he was about to refuse, and then closed it. One late night at your apartment, he told you that saying no to you felt like refusing care, which is why you wanted to remind him that he could. But at the end of the day … this was you. Out of everyone, you knew that flicker of change in his eyes, relenting.

For a moment, you wondered if he was going to ask something curious: 

“Does she actually like me?”

“Is she really open to a date?”

“Do you think I’ll like her?”

But he didn’t. Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “Alright.”

A single word. Loaded. Like a bullet.

You blinked once, then twice, surprised. You expected a joke or his typical resistance. This … this couldn’t be his real answer.

Or maybe you were just overthinking things again.

“Okay, great. I think you’ll like her.” Your smile was quick, and then you were turning over your phone again. To text Jennifer, he assumed. The cafe was loud, but all he could hear in that moment was the sound of keyboard clicks. A message being sent. “She’ll probably choose a casual place. She always does when her and I go out. You don’t have to dress up. She’s funny and super easy to talk to.”

And then, you looked up, afraid you were coming off as inconsiderate. That wasn’t what you wanted in the slightest. You cared about him, maybe even a little more than you should.

You reached out, fingers finding his wrist. “And, hey, listen – no expectations.”

He glanced down, watching your thumb glide over his pulse point. You tried to ignore the quickening of it, but it was unavoidable. Horrifically loud and matching your own. And you were now wondering why you told him there were no expectations in the first place. It was ironic, wasn’t it? The whole date was an expectation.

This was a game of charades, and neither of you were going to win.

He nodded, and you retracted your hand onto your lap once again. “Got it,” Wonwoo agreed, committing to his role. He finished the last of his coffee and stood to his full height, making you tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “I gotta go. I’ll watch out for an unknown number. Text me when you get home after work.”

You bobbed your head, staring at his back as he exited the cafe. When it was just you then, sitting on the booth side of your small table, your cup of green tea cold and abandoned in your hands, it was easy to let the mask slip. Confusion ebbed into your subconscious. Because you thought this was supposed to make you feel good – it always did. But you were suddenly filled with a bottomless pit of regret.

That night, with your sheets tucked up to your chin and your restless brain keeping you up, you thought, If he dates someone else, I’ll get over this. Whatever this is that I’ve been feeling forever.

Wonwoo – poor, sleepless Wonwoo, who was too tired of this act already but the thought of denying you felt like a wound – in his apartment across the city, pondered to himself, If I date someone else, maybe I’ll stop wanting her. She can still be in my life and I won’t lie awake wondering what it would be like if she was here with me.

As you both turned over to a cold pillow, you liked to believe it was all figured out. Inside, though, the two of you knew that life would never be that easy. 

Endless emails, unread texts, boring meetings made the week fly by, and soon enough, it was next Friday. The night of Wonwoo’s date with Jennifer. You saw her at the office earlier and she seemed … in good spirits, at the very least. “He really hadn’t texted me this week,” she complained to you at lunch. “But maybe he’s just one of those guys that doesn’t like to text before a first date.”

You smiled nervously. “He’s just … shy.” Your fingers tapped against her arm. “But hey! What are you planning on wearing tonight?”

Deflection had always been one of your super powers.

You had done your best this week to help him. Told him to text her to get to know her better. Got on FaceTime with him as he picked out the best “casual” outfit, whatever that meant. He was tired already, exhausted by the idea of something you didn’t want to pinpoint. So you tried getting him excited: you hyped up Jennifer as much as you possibly could. Tried to find similarities between them. They had the same taste in books – which was an absolute fighting start – and also … well, that might be it. But this was about chemistry, two people getting to know each other and feeling a pull so deep it rivaled magnets.

You had felt it once. Maybe twice, but you couldn’t identify exactly who was the second. You knew that you felt it with Sean; that’s why he wanted to see you so often back then, when things had gotten too much. They were good at first though, when you met him at a wine bar after you’d been stood up from a blind date. As soon as he looked at you from his bar stool, you felt the pull immediately. And his smile … he looked at you like you were something special, not like a sad excuse for a date. You chocked it up to him being older and more experienced, but someone else had looked at you like that. (Someone you just didn’t want to focus on.) 

Sean had gotten too exclusive too fast. It had been a lot for you to handle, but at his age, he knew what he wanted. “I want someone like you,” he had explained once. “Driven. Independent. But also soft, even when she doesn’t want to show it. If that’s asking for too much, I don’t know what to tell you.” 

His words were cutting, but you guessed you couldn’t blame him. What else was there to say when you told him the relationship was becoming a lot for you? He was a decade older than you. His time was running out while yours was just starting. Your chemistry was off the charts, but something wasn’t aligning. You just weren’t sure what yet.

This was the exact opposite outcome that you wanted for Wonwoo.

You had to become a coach, similar to the one you had for basketball in high school. Over FaceTime was the best chance to catch him, allowing you to teach him about body language and the best questions to ask. You taught him how to make the questions deeper but not too invasive, especially when one glass of wine turned into two. He took in all your information, nodding, but not saying anything. He knew not to question you. Although you hadn’t dated in a while, you knew exactly how women wanted to be talked to – something he typically had trouble with.

Wonwoo wasn’t good with talking to just about everybody. Besides you. Never with you.

You were pacing in your tiny living room as an episode of some reality show played quietly. You supposed that you should go take a shower, do your skincare, and put on your pajamas before settling in on the couch with your takeout. The perfect Friday night. But you were anxiously waiting on Jennifer’s text that she was arriving to the bar that her and Wonwoo agreed to meet at. It was kind of a dive, but the food was incredible, specializing in multiple macaroni and cheese dishes.

There was no way that this wouldn’t work. Jennifer had such a huge personality, one that invited you in and made you feel warm. You were sure that she would charm him.

Your phone dinged.

Jennifer: Just got here! He met me outside, even though it was snowing. Points!!!

You jumped on the balls of your feet, excitement flowing through you. Forcing yourself to finally hop in the shower, you couldn’t help but wonder why you had so much regret about this in the first place. You were grinning; this was good. Maybe the satisfaction of setting up this date wouldn’t be instant, but it was still there.

This was for Wonwoo, after all.

You were buzzing, waiting patiently for his text that he was on his way over. He promised you he’d stop by after the date and rehash all the details. This felt like college again. Your roommate for the first two years, Liz, had been far more popular with boys than you, and although you two weren’t the closest, you longed for the days when you stayed up past midnight, waiting for her to come back to your dorm and share all the juicy moments.

Wonwoo wasn’t similar to the average female freshman, but you knew you could pry some things out of him. At the end of the day, all you wanted was for him to be happy.

That’s what you told yourself.

When your phone finally went off, you were sitting on your couch in pajamas and your wet hair wrapped in a towel. You changed channels from before, but the reality show stayed the same. Texting him back, you scooped one last lo mein noodle in your mouth before getting up to brush back your wet strands. The door lock clicked open once you were back on the couch, the takeout carton lukewarm and abandoned on your coffee table, next to the vanilla cashmere candle you almost always had lit. 

Wonwoo shook the chill out of his body as soon as he stepped through the door, and you sat up, an immediate smile appearing on your face. It was amazing how just the arrival of someone could make you happy, but that had always been Wonwoo for you. He was dusting the snowflakes off his jacket as your feet – clad in your favorite fuzzy socks – padded over to him. “That didn’t take you long,” you chuckled, taking his winter gloves and placing them on the old space heater to get warm.

He hung up his coat on the door hang. “Well, I was halfway here when I realized I hadn’t texted earlier,” he explained, instantly gunning for the couch and plopping down in his usual spot. Plucking the carton from the coffee table, he leaned all the way back into the couch cushions and slurped a cold noodle into his mouth. He was silent, watching whatever fight was ensuing on the TV.

You head tilted, perplexed. Maybe it was strange for you to assume, but you thought he would be more … open about details. I mean, you did set him up in the first place. You hummed under your breath, grabbing the leftover chicken fingers and scallion pancakes on the kitchen counter before setting them on the coffee table.

“Soooooooooo …” You dragged the word as you fell into the cushion opposite of him, tucking one leg underneath you. His eyes slid to yours, unenthusiastic. You scoffed and hit his arm. “Why are you being so coy?”

He snorted. “I’m always coy. That’s part of my charm.”

“Just tell me how the date was.”

He shrugged, gaze back on the screen as he set down the takeout container. “It was fine,” he said politely before reaching for the remote. “Can we watch a movie instead?”

You intentionally moved the remote away from him and his eyes narrowed. “You have no right to glare at me when you’re being so secretive. It was just ‘fine?’”

“I guess … I –” His head fell back against the cushions, and then he glanced at you again. “Just fine. The food at the restaurant was good. We had a good time.”

You sat there, observing him, almost dumbfounded. Somehow, he was being even more vague than usual. Distracted. Usually, you could read him like a book, but there was something about his tone that you couldn’t detect.

So you tested his limits, got up in his space, despite the fact that your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest the closer you got. Lacing your hands on top of his right shoulder, you rested your chin on top of them and blinked up at him innocently. He slowly turned to face you, and you both tried to ignore how close your faces truly were, warm breath mingling with the other. His fingers twitched on his thigh, and you wondered if he could feel your heart thudding against his bicep.

“Can I help you?” He raised a brow.

“Tell me specifics,” you said, voice as sweet as honey. 

Wonwoo looked back in front of him – anything but your eyes – rubbing two fingers over his left temple. “Why do you want to know so bad?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sue me for wanting to know how the date I set my best friend on went,” you quipped, not moving one inch from your position. Your eyes narrowed. “Are you gatekeeping some kind of pertinent information? Or – oh, my God. Did you guys kiss?”

“No,” he answered immediately, meeting your eyes. His tone made your back straighten instantly, and he tried to recover by clearing his throat. “I mean – well … no. We didn’t kiss. She’s very pretty and has a great personality, but I don’t think her and I are … compatible.”

You nodded slowly. “What made you realize that?”

He sighed heavily, letting his hand fall back on his thigh. You noticed that his hands were still red from the cold, even though he had his best gloves on. So you grabbed your heating pad from the other side of the couch before he began to speak, plugging it in behind him and wrapping it around his hands, before plopping back down beside him.

Wonwoo was silent as he looked down, the feeling gradually returning back to his hands. He was used to you doing this sometimes: taking care of him, micromanaging him, like he had been your project since college. He couldn’t deny that he liked it, but there was some moments that still left him stunned. It was as if taking care of him came as second nature to you.

When were you going to let him reciprocate?

You poked his arm, interrupting the thought before it could take root. “What were you gonna say?”

He exhaled again and got comfortable in the old cushions. “We talked about our interests – and it didn’t bother me that we didn’t have a lot in common. It was just … I don’t think I’m what she’s looking for. Or what she needs. And then, we started talking about work and that really cemented it for me. We actually talked more about you than anything –”

He stopped himself, eyes flickering to you before he realized you were blowing out the flame on the dying candle. Collecting himself, he added, “I just don’t think we’re going to work. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t a great person. She was really nice.” He shrugged and finally met your eyes again. His smile was bored, almost cat-like. “Done with your investigation?”

“I guess so,” you relented, turning back to face the TV beside him. Your hips were brushed against each other, pinkies so close to intertwining, but neither of you moved. “Unless you want me to ask more?”

He cut you a look. “Absolutely not.” Reaching out, his fingers plucked a scallion pancake from the container on the coffee table, and his smile got even bigger in your direction. “Want to finally watch In the Mood for Love? C’mon, you know you want to.”

III.

Locked down my by side even when I’m borderline, I don’t even know why I push you away. –CHARLI XCX

Bringing yourself to work on Monday was more of a chore than usual. You hadn’t been sleeping right. Your back hurt. And you just ran out of your favorite shampoo. Cementing yourself into adulthood was harder than you imagined in your early twenties. Now you actually had to care about making time before work to stop off at the store to grab essentials. 

But maybe today would be good. The crew repainting the office garage smiled at you. The barista at the small coffee shop in the lobby told you that your latte was on the house. You were wearing a new pair of kitten heels and dare I say, you at least looked good. The boatneck sweater your mom gifted you two Christmases ago magically fit and paired well with the jeans you were sporting. It almost made you forget how badly your spine ached. Almost.

After getting a significant amount of emails answered that morning, you headed to the kitchen where your hummus snack that you bought earlier was stored. You noticed Jennifer leaving through the other door just as you were entering, making you pause to wave. “Oh, hey, J–”

Jennifer scrambled away before you could even finish your greeting. Quickly grabbing your snack, you followed her out the same door and attempted to catch up to her. “Hey!” You exclaimed, placing a light hand on her shoulder. “Jen, what are you –”

She turned, attempting to act casual, but you knew Jennifer was incapable of pretending. “Oh, h–hi. Sorry, must’ve not seen you back there.”

You let your hand fall as your brow knitted together. “Must have,” you replied suspiciously. “I meant to text you all weekend, but time got away from me. Did you have fun on the date? Wonwoo hardly shared any details.”

Her lips sealed for a moment, until she eventually muttered, “Oh.”

Tilting your head, you remarked, “Oh?”

“That came out wrong.” She held a hand up, collecting herself. A couple of your coworkers squeezed past and you both waved. Lowering her voice slightly, she continued, “He was nice. Dry sense of humor, but still funny. Gentleman enough to walk me back to my car. But …”

You blinked, hanging off the edge of your invisible seat. You felt like a cat right now and she was dangling a treat right in front of you, teasing you with more to come.

Jennifer scoffed and finally gave in. “But I thought you said he had a personality. At least, that’s how you always made him seem.”

Her answer made your head jerk back in surprise. “Wait –”

“I was basically carrying the whole conversation,” she added. “It really didn’t seem like he wanted to be there. When you brought him to that holiday party, he was pretty engaged in conversation, but when it’s just him … I don’t know.”

You thought back to your conversation with Wonwoo after the date. It was fine, he had said in that bored fucking tone of his. Of course, he was bored. Because he had been the boring one in the first place. Now you were pissed – and confused at the same time. You wasted all that time setting up this date, and yet …

A sigh escaped you. He probably let his nerves get the best of him. Your mother used to say that you shouldn’t cry over spilt milk – or in this case – a bad date. There was no need to get worked up over it, but you just wished he had been honest in the first place. 

Maybe you could start with being honest about how you f–

You stopped that thought right in its tracks.

“Truthfully,” Jennifer said, bringing your eyes back to hers, “the most he talked during the date was … well –” She scratched her temple. “– Was about you.” 

Your body went rigid, back straightening as if it hadn’t been tense since you woke up. Fingers lacing together in front of you, your lips pursed, trying to think of a suitable response, but … nothing was coming to you. Not one word.

Jennifer tested the waters and prodded further. Leaning into your space, she asked, “Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two –”

“Absolutely not,” you cut in immediately, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “We’re just friends. Have been for years. We just … have a lot of history that he likes to talk about.”

She stared at you, not fully convinced.

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Listen,” you huffed, “I’m sorry the date didn’t go well. I know I set you up on it, so I don’t want you to think I had … I don’t know. Ill intent, or something. I really did think you two would get along and he’d come out of his shell.”

A slow smile appeared on her lips. “It’s not your fault. Compatibility is a fickle thing. It only happens, like, maybe twice in everyone’s life.” She shrugged. “Shit happens, and hey, I got a free dinner. Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

You laughed, felt her squeeze back on your hand, before you walked back together to your respective desks. Slamming down into your creaky seat, you lifted your head over your cubicle wall and sent another smile, before bending back in your chair and sighing. Your eyes scanned your desk, lingering on the Polaroid of you and Wonwoo from a few years ago, crookedly taped to your monitor. You narrowed your eyes at his face, as if you could burn him.

Whipping your phone out, you opened up your text thread with your best friend.

You: I thought you said the date was fine

Wonwoo: ? Hello to you too

You: just answer the question

Wonwoo: Where is the question exactly?

You: did the date with Jennifer not go okay??

Wonwoo: It was fine. I told you that

You: I just talked to Jennifer at the office and she told me you barely talked. I understand that maybe I got your compatibility wrong, but I think you neglected to tell me some things

Wonwoo: I’m sorry. In my defense, I’ve never been much of a talker. She was doing just fine

You: omfg You: you’re literally impossible. I’m just trying to help you

You watched the text bubble appear and disappear for a straight minute. Originally, you saw no problem with the text you sent, but then you started overthinking. Was what you said too harsh? Maybe you should’ve added a playful emoji at the end. He had been typing and retyping for two minutes now, causing you to start biting at the skin around your nails. He could’ve simply been caught up with something at work and not able to multitask. It wasn’t that deep – at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Wonwoo: I’m not trying to be impossible. [UNSENT] Wonwoo: I didn’t meant to be dishonest. [UNSENT] Wonwoo: I didn’t ask for your help. [UNSENT]

Finally, the text bubble stopped. Your phone pinged with a new message. You quickly glanced at the text thread to see one single line from your best friend.

Wonwoo: I’ll try harder next time.

Another coincidental situation. Another setup emerged. As your old friend, Holly, lamented to you about missing her ex-boyfriend from two years ago over the phone, you wondered if maybe – just maybe – she would do well on a date with Wonwoo. You supposed that listening better while she complained about Derek was probably a better idea, but your mind still wandered.

You were laying on your bed after a shower, legs bent up on the headboard while your head was near the end of the mattress, wet hair wrapped in a towel. Your phone rested beside your right ear and you were picking at the hangnail that just wouldn’t come off your thumb. Mind elsewhere, you thought about what a date with Holly and Wonwoo would look like. Maybe a diner. Maybe a pub with live music. She loved a “Dad rock” cover band every now and then. 

It might’ve been more wise to deliberate on what your best friend’s last text meant rather than picture what his next date would look like. But this was easier. More simpler than revisiting the implications of seeing Wonwoo on dates with beautiful and uncomplicated women you set him up with. Women that he might be uninterested in, and for what reason? Could it explain why he looked at you like that sometimes, like he was taking you apart piece by piece before putting you back together again?

You rubbed at your eyes. Yeah, definitely not thinking about that again.

“I shouldn’t even be talking about Derek right now,” Holly huffed through the speaker. “We broke up because he was an ass sometimes, but when he wasn’t … these are the times I miss him.”

You let your hands fall onto your stomach. You both tried to call and catch up every other month, so how did almost all of them loop around to Derek? He was still on her mind, even two years after the breakup. “You deserve a better love, Holl,” you muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

All her dates over the past couple of years were duds. She only went on them every so often, but you wondered if the problem was that she was going out with people she met at clubs. Holly was so cool – not many people could juggle the corporate world while going to see their favorite DJs at clubs and make it to a community theater audition the next morning. But not many men understood her, liked her quirks, or they were just meatheads she met at clubs and eventually revealed that they had no personality. 

She was a catch. Always had been, since the day you met her in the women’s restroom at a concert. The best kind of friendships always formed when you were drunk in the bathroom. Holly didn’t live near you, but you both tried to catch up when you could. Her life fascinated you to no end, and she had to be one of the most charismatic people you ever met, constantly endearing people in every room she entered.

You had no doubt that she’d charm Wonwoo. Of course, you assumed the same about Jennifer, but Holly was … different. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it. If anyone could get him to talk, she could.

“I’ve been buggin’ because I want to go out to this place that he introduced me to. A Mexican restaurant in the city. The most bomb guacamole you’ll ever have, and made fresh in front of you,” she continued.

Your brow furrowed. “So why don’t you go?”

“I run the risk of Derek being there. He did show it to me. I just don’t want an awkward conversation.”

It was like a light bulb appeared above your head. “What if you went there with a date? Derek probably wouldn’t come up to you if he saw you with another guy. And if he is there, would it be so bad to piss off your ex the slightest bit?”

“Well, duh,” she snickered. “But where is this date you speak of? All my current flings have ghosted. I’m a free woman.”

You rolled over onto your stomach, smirking down at your phone screen, even though she couldn’t see you. “I’ve been trying to get my friend, Wonwoo, out on some dates. Have I introduced you guys before?”

“Hmm … Wonwoo …” She paused. “That’s your friend with the big glasses, right? The one in most of your Instagram pics? Truthfully, I …” A soft laugh escaped. “I thought you guys were together.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Well –”

“It doesn’t matter.” You huffed, looking through your contacts to share his number with her. “I can set it up, if you want. And send you his number, vice versa. He’s shy, but he’s talkative around the right people. The date could be fun for both of you.”

She took a moment to mull it over, and then said, “Okay. Yeah. I’m down.”

You grinned, already texting his contact info to her. “Excellent.”

“So you’re doing the set up thing again?”

Your tongue clicked, and you paused, debating her question. “Just for Wonwoo. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just …” That laugh again, trying to simmer the sudden tension fizzling down the line.   “You told me once that you like doing stuff like this to distract yourself from whatever you’re currently feeling. Or if something tough is going on. You just … like to make someone else’s life better so you can forget what’s going on in yours. Is everything okay?”

“Okay, I told you that over one too many glasses of wine at an Olive Garden,” you replied instantly. “And I’m fine. Promise. I gotta go.”

You ended the call after you both said your goodbyes, and then laced your fingers together before resting your chin on top of them. Did you really tell her that once? How messy. It wasn’t exactly … untrue, but you’d never admit that. Everyone needed a good distraction sometimes, and if this was yours, then so be it. You liked seeing others happy. It was the kind of serotonin that money couldn’t buy.

If Wonwoo really didn’t want this … he would’ve told you.

At least, that’s what you hoped.

Speak of the devil, you should probably tell him that you gave a random woman his number. Again. You sat up in bed, took your wet hair out of the towel, and wrung it out while opening up your texts with your free hand. Your slipper-clad feet hung off the edge, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your fingers began to swipe across the keyboard.

You: hi You: I got you another date You: so if you get a random message, it’s my friend, holly. she’s really nice and funny

You locked your phone. It dinged instantly. 

Wonwoo: Oh? Wonwoo: Her text came just as I was about to log off of League. Thought it was spam lol

You bit down on one of your fingernails, right knee curling towards your chest. His playful tone always made you feel warm like this, and you were suddenly questioning how normal that should be.

You: not spam lol You: just text her and feel it out, but I think she’d 100% be down for a date. she wants someone to take her out to this mexican restaurant 

Wonwoo: Alright. Sounds good to me.

His mood switch made your brow furrow. Each word sounded like a pause, like he was struggling to type two measly sentences. You should leave it there, not let it get too far, but then you were typing –

You: I won’t coach you again before this date lol. I think it made you a wee bit nervous on the last one

Wonwoo: Maybe a little

A minute passed. You assumed the conversation was over for now. Standing from your bed, you padded over to your bathroom and threw your damp towel in the laundry basket. Your phone sat on your bed as you brushed through your wet hair, completely unaware that the screen had lit up again with another text.

 Wonwoo: I’ll be better this time.

IV.

In the dream I don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap. –RICHARD SIKEN

Friday rolled around faster than you thought. Holly had been texting you all day about her excitement for this date, but truthfully, you weren’t sure if she was more excited to meet Wonwoo or go back to his restaurant without worrying about Derek. Wasn’t any of your business. 

At some point, you had to slide your phone into your pocket to get off at a different stop on the subway. Trudging through the rain, you managed to snag some of the greasiest Japanese takeout imaginable: vegetable tempura, karaage (your favorite), kushikatsu, and of course, some yakisoba. This was another one of your favorite spots that was poorly reviewed. Even the owner apologized for the mess as he handed the bag over to you, but you already couldn’t wait to dig in. You practically sprinted the couple of blocks back to your apartment, narrowly missing every puddle that came into your path, before you were hurdling through the door.

You went through your routine, regimented as always. After washing your face and putting on your comfiest pajamas, you sat on the floor and pulled out some sweet potato tempura. You practically had a feast laid out on your coffee table, paired with paper plates that were soaked through with oil and your favorite pair of chopsticks from the cabinet. You only wished, selfishly, that your takeout buddy was here to share it with you. And he would be. Later on. Once the food turned cold.

Scrolling through your phone, you found it strange that Holly didn’t keep up with you when she was on her way to the date. You guess that – again – wasn’t your business, but you were curious. You did set them up though. Wasn’t it normal to be this curious? Or maybe you were simply –

You paused, sticking your chopsticks in the yakisoba carton before your thoughts got too serious. You were an over thinker, could debate on topics for hours that truly did not matter, constantly wishing that you weren’t stuck in the deep chasm that was your own head. Sometimes it seemed that the only person who could pull you out was … Wonwoo.

Wonwoo.

His name echoed before you could stop it. Like you always do. And the grieving reality settled in from the mess of your own making. A pang of regret. This wasn’t the usual dopamine you got from fixing, and maybe that was because nothing needed to be fixed in the first place –

Your phone pinged. And there it was – that pause. When the thoughts got too loud and you finally focused on your best friend’s name lighting up your phone screen. 

Wonwoo: On my way to your place. Might be a bit. The bus is taking its time

You were grounded again, worries vanishing like a speck of dust in the wind. Instead of taking a day like with Jennifer, you were going to be proactive this time. After answering Wonwoo, you scrolled down to your texts with Holly and quickly tapped your fingers across the screen.

You: how was the date ?!

You started crunching on multiple pieces of karaage when her reply came through.

Holly: man, the food is just as great as I remembered. we didn’t even see Derek, so I guess I didn’t have much to worry about lmao. but I’m glad we went and I think he also enjoyed it! he said something about showing you the restaurant sometime too!

Your brow raised. She was dodging the real question.

You: that sounds great! I was more so asking what you thought of wonwoo lol, but I’m glad it went well <3!!!

Holly: he’s great. a total gentleman. I just don’t think we have much in common Holly: he picked out the most delicious spicy margaritas for us though

You: really??? I set you guys up because I thought you two had more in common

That was somewhat a lie and you knew it. They played a couple of the same video games, when Holly had time to turn on her Playstation, and you thought Wonwoo enjoyed theater. Somewhat. At least, he pretended to really well that one time you got free tickets to Les Misérables and brought him. 

Holly: yeah, we do somewhat. we read the same books and a few video games. I just don’t think he was into it. or maybe he just wasn’t into me idk

You: I’m sorry it didn’t work out. thank you for being honest and letting me know!

Holly: of course! he’s not a bad guy at all, but we just aren’t compatible. our worlds don’t align just yet, which is okay <3 he was also shy like you said and did talk a lot more as the date went on. he talks about you in a way I’ve never seen before. I can tell he cares a lot about you

You: I care a lot about him too [UNSENT]

Your head whipped to the left when you heard Wonwoo turning your spare key in the lock. Finishing off the piece of karaage in your mouth, you fired back one last reply.

You: he always keeps me on my toes. talk to you soon!

His ears were pink from the last of the winter cold. It was the middle of March and spring would soon be upon them. Stepping into your apartment, he released a gruff sigh and let the warmth of the place seep through him. He was staring at you before you even looked up to meet his eyes. Your outfit spoke to how comfortable you were around him: the oldest pair of plaid pajama pants, your fluffy robe with a coffee stain on the front that just never came out, and a large t-shirt. Thin. White. Robe untied and allowing him to see everything. He swallowed and placed his gloves on the space heater like usual, then hung up his jacket. You were carrying multiple takeout cartons to the kitchen island as he stood in the front doorway, not bothering to greet as he helped you place them on the surface before they all fell out of your arms. 

He didn’t need to always say, “Hello.” This apartment was just as much his home as it was yours.

Kicking his shoes off near the door, you watched him peel open the flimsy lid of one carton. “Thank God. I was having a craving,” he said, plucking a piece of carrot tempura and taking a large bite.

You retied your robe carelessly and crossed your arms over your chest. “So …” You fought the urge to flick his arm as he grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the cabinet. “How was it?”

“Good,” he answered quickly, as if the word was already on the tip of his tongue. Gathering a pile of yakisoba in his chopsticks, he slurped it all before adding, “She’s really nice.”

Silence. The kind that made you feel prickly, anxious from head to toe. You arched a brow. “Was it, though?”

Wonwoo crunched on another tempura piece and sent you a wary look. He always knew when you were trying to get something out of him, but you had never been the one to be coy. “I said that, didn’t I?”

“Were you into her?” You inquired further, eyes narrowed. You couldn’t blame him for his attitude, especially when your questions were a bit aggressive, but after texting with Holly, you just wanted to see if he’d have the same reaction as her.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, walking over to the sink to wash the grease off his hands. “I guess.”

Rounding the kitchen island, you let your hip press into the counter as you studied him: the way he wasn’t looking at you, the nervous tick of washing around the ring on his pinky. He was running his hands under the warm water now, longer than he had to be. “You don’t sound like you’re into her though,” you said over the loud faucet.

He turned it off with the squeaky lever and wrung his hands over the side. His frustration that he kept inside so diligently was tipping over the surface, like boiling water. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally replied, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. “You’re interrogating me. Why?”

Your mouth fell open slightly. “I … I’m not interrogating.” You tried to prove your point, how casual you were being about this, by reaching over to grab a skewer of pork kushikatsu. Biting into it, you shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

His hand was still damp and he pressed it to his forehead, feeling the warm droplets trickle down his temple, grounding him. “Maybe I’m just … this is a lot harder than it looks. I’m not used to talking to so many new people.” When he opened his eyes, they were practically pleading. For what, you didn’t know. Yet. 

You licked at the corners of your lips, relenting, your shoulders ablaze from the burden of  carrying all the tension since sophomore year on your back. The tension you were desperately trying to smoke out. You relaxed and carefully curled your hands around his wrists. His body was frozen as you positioned him in front of you. Wonwoo realized what you were doing, providing a visual like you were both sitting across from each other on a date, but with you leaning against the stained counter like this, robe undone again, his mind wandered to a place he shouldn’t. Back in his dorm room. Your legs around his head. Your fingers tugging at his hair as he buried his face further between your thighs.

And while you couldn’t get what he was thinking, you could see in his eyes that it was something too dangerous to describe.

You cleared your throat, watching him blink. “Maybe … it would help for you to go into these dates as if they were a job interview,” you explained, your tone sounding suspiciously recognizable. Work-like. Professional who sits in a cubicle.

His eyes narrowed.

“Don’t give me that look. What I mean is … not stiff. Not nervous. Just … open body language. That’s what people are attracted to.” You took a moment, originally trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, but for the purpose of your point … you placed your foot in front of you. Just one step. But it still made both your pulses jump. “And it’ll make them move closer to you.”

He physically felt his pupils dilate as he looked down at you. Wringing his hands again, he shook your grip off his wrists, noticing how fast his heart was beating. “You sound ridiculous,” he deflected. “You’re talking like how you do on the phone with your boss. This isn’t a performance review.”

Your face fell, brows pulling together. “This isn’t ridiculous, Wonwoo. You know that. I’m just trying to help.”

Something flickered in his expression then. Your words triggered his foot: one step closer, and then another. The gap between you so small that you felt the heat of his body. The small of your back was biting into the edge of the counter, head tilting up to meet his dark eyes behind his glasses. His gaze traveled, lingering on your pursed lips, moving down to where he could practically see the thump of your heart. The fabric of your white t-shirt, hiding your skin from his, and how he longed to push it up to see all of you. You hadn’t even let him see your chest when you hooked up all those years ago: too shy, too afraid of vulnerability to take off even your shirt. But now you both were nearing 30 and the only thing separating you two was this thin t-shirt that was becoming his biggest fucking enemy. 

His stare flickered up before it could go too long, but he saw it. The way your nipples pebbled beneath the shirt. The tension between you two seeping from your shoulders to his like a tug of war.

“I think …” Wonwoo’s voice was low, intimate, like two fingers between your thighs. Simmering through the most private parts of you that so little people had seen.

The heel of his palms pressed into the lip of the counter, caging you. Your eyes closed, almost in surrender, easing under the warmth of his hot breath fanning your face. “I think what would help me is if –”

He immediately stopped. Your eyes opened and met his. There was something so familiar about his expression. He looked … you couldn’t put your finger on it. But your mind was flashing back to a memory: his dark eyes burning into yours, glasses slightly askew, a halo headband that was cutting into the sides of your ears, the damp autumn leaves at your feet and the buzz of tequila in your system. A memorable Halloween night from a few years back. All of that reflecting in the face of the man in front of you. Your best friend. Who was now looking at you like he was hearing something from the past in his head.

Your brow raised. He took a step back.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. 

Just three words, shutting down an entire conversation before it could even start.

You shook your head, brows drawing together and voice suddenly desperate. “It does matter. You can tell me. You’re … you’re my best friend.”

He winced. Just for a second, but you saw it. 

“No, it’s … it’s fine. Seriously,” he added, even as the tips of his fingers were lightly grazing your knuckles, making every hair on your body stand up. Your toes curled inside your socks. “We – I can try again. I promise, I’ll have more open body language.”

His smile was so sweet, agreeing to your every whim because he knew that was the best way to get you off of something. But not tonight, because you both knew why he was doing this. It was that push and pull again – when feelings began to rise over that structured wall you both built brick by back, one of you had to push it down. 

And the realization of that – of what almost could have been – was making you panic and want him closer all at the same time.

Wonwoo rounded the island and grabbed the carton of yakisoba before crossing the short distance to the couch. He kicked back, digging into the greasy noodles that would surely do a number on his stomach later. Without looking back at you, he asked, “Wanna rewatch Clueless again?”

You stood in the kitchen and gripped the edge of the counter, attempting to calm your racing heart. Like clockwork, his voice from the living room centered you, reminded you that everything was going to be okay. Things were still good. It was just you and Wonwoo. Friends.

Mustering the best smile you could offer, you grabbed the lukewarm karaage and quipped, “As long as you promise not to insult my girl, Cher, ever again.”

Wonwoo left your apartment a little over halfway into the movie, falling asleep with stray yakisoba noodles on the collar of his sweater. You couldn’t blame him: it was midnight and his body naturally got tired at 11, no matter how much sleep he got. He made sure to help you clean up all the takeout, even in his tired state, and slipped a twenty underneath the candle on your coffee table for always feeding him, knowing you wouldn’t except it unless forced. You walked him to the door, and he lingered – just for a moment – his sleepy gaze on yours while his fingers jerked slightly on the doorframe. Something between you two ached, but not enough to grasp.

So he left with a faint, “Goodnight,” and headed down the stairs for the subway.

The door shut softly, leaving you alone again in your apartment, and the silence was … overwhelming. The kind where you could actually hear a pin drop. Not even your upstairs neighbors were fighting. It was just you, and your own thoughts, as you stood in your kitchen, replaying the conversation that happened earlier.

I think what would help me is if –

An unsettling shiver rolled through you. Back pressed against the door, you sank down until your ass hit the floor and your knees were drawn to your chest. You buried your face in the collar of your coffee-stained robe. I can try again, he had said. I promise. You rubbed at your eyes, wishing the words would leave your head. But they were on loop like a merry-go-round.

You pressed your chin into your palm. Sighing, you realized that you should’ve taken a shower earlier. Your hair was so dirty and you didn’t want to go to bed smelling like takeout. But you suddenly couldn’t move, too consumed by his responses – or lack thereof. 

Your brain was like a remote. You hit pause, then rewind, over and over again until all you could see was Wonwoo in your head. You replayed his hesitation, the way his mouth shut immediately. When his upper lip twitched. His jaw tightening with restraint. And his eyes – the way they softened before he let himself get too close. It was the kind of affection you didn’t show to just a friend, but for someone more. 

Maybe he was just frustrated, you told yourself. Because what other explanation could there be?

You were too complicated for him. Not worth the effort. And the fear of ruining your friendship was too risky to bear.

But then your skin prickled and you realized … this bothered you. Not in the funny way. This bothered you because you hated that you didn’t know what he wanted to say. You hated the not knowing, the waiting on the edge of your seat. The suspicion. Because he shouldn’t have looked at you like … like that. Better yet: you shouldn’t want him to look at you like that. 

You thought, just for a mere second, What if he – 

And stopped yourself. 

This wasn’t about you. It couldn’t. Wonwoo was discouraged and tired after the bad dates. Anyone would be. That was the reason for his hesitation, the jaw setting, his fingers grazing your knuckles as if he was begging to hold your hand.

Placing your palm against your forehead now, you closed your eyes and mulled over every scenario. Swiping through solutions in your head like a Powerpoint presentation: simple, sensical, because this would always be easier than being truthful with yourself. You were strong; you could always carry more weight added to your burden.  

“I can fix this,” you muttered to yourself, and instantly got to your feet. You practically ran to where your phone was laying idly on the side of the couch and threw yourself onto the cushions. Opening your Notes app faster than ever before, you began typing up all of Wonwoo’s interests. Completely focused. Before you could let any more thoughts get the better of you.

Perhaps it was time you found someone similar to him.

V.

If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets. –HARUKI MURAKAMI

You wished you could be one of those people who read a book to wind down before bed. Or someone that drank tea and meditated. Someone that experienced true relaxation. But, unfortunately, your brain was always wired, and the only way you found a little sense of peace was from the mere swipe of your thumb on your phone screen.

It wasn’t all play though – scrolling through whatever social media that was your poison for the night allowed you to gather intel for Wonwoo’s next date. Despite him not asking about it. Despite the sting you felt in your chest each time you wrote a name down in your Notes app. You persevered, scrolling until the light made your eyes burn and you knew it was time to finally sleep. In just a few hours, your eyes would be back on a screen again. Your life revolved around light and screens, ignoring the tension that yanked at your heartstrings every day.

Eventually, you felt a shift when your Instagram feed refreshed to show a new post: Harin, one of your old friends from college. The first person to make you pause and sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. The fairy lights above your head flickered, needing new batteries, but your attention remained focused on swiping through the set of pictures she posted. 

Harin, you realized, had gotten much more attractive since senior year of undergrad, when you both lived in the same building. She was dying her hair darker, gotten Invisalign to straighten her teeth, even cleared up her acne. It had been years since you last saw her – maybe even since graduation – but Harin had always been … easy going. Helpful. Popular, but also a little nerdy. The kind of girl who didn’t overcomplicate things. Nothing like you.

You picked at the edge of the pimple patch on your chin, because you hadn’t been so lucky with your hormonal acne that came back once in a blue moon. She posted a picture with an abnormally tall glass of beer, then some with people in costume, with the final photo of her in front of brightly-lit booth. She went to some video game convention out of state, the same one Wonwoo had talked to you about for 40 minutes a couple weeks back. Your teeth sank down into your lip, concentrating, as you clicked on her profile and began looking through all her old posts. 

Mutual connections. (You both had several.) Tagged posts. (Did she have any bad angle?) Her story highlight that documented her Letterboxd reviews. (You dreamed of watching this many movies in a year.) There was something here. Maybe there wasn’t chemistry – only time would tell – but there was alignment, something everyone needed in their lives. A sense of symmetry. Two pieces that fit so perfectly that it was shocking they never crossed paths before.

You sat back more, playing with a strand of damp hair while zooming in on a picture of her from a concert she went to a year ago – some niche band you might’ve heard Wonwoo also mention. Her smile was effortless. Her hair was shorter and she had star earrings that dangled from her lobes. And suddenly, a thought hit you, cutting, like a blade: He wouldn’t have to explain himself to her. They would just click.

Biting the end of your fingernail, you processed the future before it even had seeds to take root. A bad habit that you weren’t willing to break now, because this could work. Harin made sense. Wonwoo and Harin made better sense.

No more weird looks. No more charged pauses. The dust would settle between you and the man that had been your best friend for nearly a decade.

You swiped to DM her before you could stop yourself.

You drafted a message. It was long, too personal, so you deleted it.

Redrafted, and still, too much. Frustration poured out of you. Why did every message feel like too much pressure? You needed to keep this simple.

You: hey, harin! you seem like you’re doing really well. weird question – are you single? I think you would really get along with my friend. you both like the same things!

The message was perfect, so why was your thumb hesitating over the send button? There was no reason to hesitate; you never did. You were impulsive, almost to a fault sometimes. You could stop this. Close the app and be honest with yourself for once. Quit pushing your feelings down and drowning yourself with work. You could – 

Sent.

Your lips pursed. You set your phone down and hugged your knees to your chest, the clean sheets pooling over your bare feet. The room was still, colder than before. Maybe even quieter, although you didn’t quite understand how that was possible. You hadn’t breathed properly in more than a minute. Then, somewhere deep, past your ribs where your greatest desires roamed free, a tiny voice escaped to ask, What if he doesn’t want someone else? What if he wants you?

But you didn’t let yourself process the words, because your phone dinged and – shit, Harin had answered you. She was thrilled to hear from you, congratulated you on your accomplishments. Conveniently, she was now living just outside of the same city, but she seemed uncertain. I don’t typically do blind dates, she wrote. So you made it easy for her by sending a picture of Wonwoo – the one you took of him last winter, when he was carrying both large buckets of popcorn before you went to go see an anniversary screening of Twilight – and she immediately agreed to meet him for a date in the city.

You shared his Instagram profile with her, telling her to message him on there. Maybe texting was too much pressure on him. Maybe her taking the initiative and messaging him on a safe place like Instagram would give him less anxiety. That seemed to be the source of his issues. At least, that was what you were telling yourself.

She was so kind, so excited to reach out that she was asking for advice on the perfect message. And you thought, for once, this might be the date that actually worked out, but you’d been let down by Wonwoo time and time again. No one seemed to be worth the effort. But Harin could be.

You didn’t tell Wonwoo that you sent his profile to Harin, but he kind of figured you were behind the sudden DM he got from a woman totally and completely out of his league. You weren’t exactly hiding your involvement; you were simply … letting Harin do the work. And maybe your assumptions had been right after all, because when Wonwoo texted to let you know that he knew you set him up with Harin, he seemed … more inclined to go on the date than usual.

You weren’t sure how it was possible, but you felt both the satisfaction of being right and stab of something sharp in your heart all at once. Neglecting the latter was easier said than done.

He told you their date was on Thursday night, and conveniently, you were stuck at the office for longer than usual, making sure the latest marketing project with in tip-top shape before you submitted it to the VP tomorrow. Even your subordinates stayed well past their time, wanting to make sure you didn’t have to be at the office alone. It was 7 PM when you all finally left, and you sprinted fast enough to make the 7:15 train, which – of course – was packed to the brim. You were squished like sardines next to an old man who smelled of cigarettes, and you found yourself pushing through the crowd as soon as your stop arrived.

It was strange that you hadn’t heard from Wonwoo yet about the date, but you tried not to think about it that much as you got through the doorway of your apartment. Too tired to even call for takeout, you toed off your office heels near the door and settled on a frozen dinner. There weren’t even any leftovers in the fridge. As you placed the hard brick of lasagna in the preheated oven, you phone pinged and you retrieved it faster than you liked to admit, heart hammering in your chest.

Wonwoo: On my way over :)

Your brow arched. Since when the hell did he text smiley faces? You set the phone back down, and irritatingly threw your hair up into the most unkempt ponytail imaginable, loose strands hanging from the backside of your head. Why were you so frustrated? An emoji didn’t mean anything. And there was nothing to be angry about. Your mind was still lingering on work, projecting your exhaustion onto such a non-issue –

The door opened just as you were pulling the now bubbling lasagna from the oven, setting it on the kitchen island before looking up at your best friend. Spring had definitely come, because Wonwoo was wearing a striped button up that was halfway tucked into his jeans and a light jacket. His hair was messy, as if someone had ran their hands through it, and he had a smile on his lips that was … real. Not tired or forced. Genuine.

The room shifted and neither of you had even said anything yet.

“Hi,” you addressed immediately, realizing his gaze had drifted down. Too caught up in your own thoughts, you didn’t even noticed that he had been taking in your disheveled blouse, the pencil skirt that hugged your hips too perfectly, the sheer black tights that made him jealous of any man at work who got to see you in them.

But then his stare was instantly on yours as soon as you spoke. His smile reached his eyes and he replied, “Hey.” It was casual, sure, but there was … energy behind it. The kind of energy you never heard from him before.

You stuck your fork in the lasagna, and before you could even place it in your mouth, he dipped his pinky in the red sauce. Your chin tilted up, watching his expression sour. “It’s tastes …”

You leveled a look at him.

“– Better than anything I could’ve made,” he recovered, and you noticed the pep in his step as he headed for the living room, tossing his jacket on the coat rack.

You paused, eyeing him with suspicion from the kitchen, before looking back down at your sad excuse for a dinner. It was late. You were tired. And instead of eating the greasy goodness of takeout, you were left here with a shitty lasagna and your best friend who looked like he had far too much fun on the date you set him up on.

This wasn’t time for a pity party.

Rounding the corner, you carried your foil tin of lukewarm lasagna to the couch and  sat down beside him. You crossed your legs and anxiously pulled at the hem of your pencil skirt before asking, “Did the date go well?”

His smile got bigger and you had to fight the urge to throw up the huge bite of shitty pasta in your mouth. Usually, his debriefs were short and flat. Lacking any kind of emotion because clearly all he wanted to do was watch a movie with you. But he was speaking a little louder this time, gesturing with his hands as he said, “It was … really good actually.”

He went on to talk about the arcade bar they went to, one she knew about before him. He eagerly told you about how she laughed at all of his jokes, especially the bad ones, and how they were into almost the same things. Video games, music, even the same soju flavor. How the fuck had you set something up so perfect? You had to stuff forkfuls of lasagna in your mouth just to stop your teeth from grinding down.

But … wasn’t this your plan after all?

“She’s also really funny,” Wonwoo continued, breaking you out of your thoughts. He ran a hand down his face, as if remembering something she said. “You were right about the game thing. I don’t know many people that have played Arctic Warfare, and she’s apparently good at it. She told me her rank. Crazy. We kept arguing about this mechanic in the game that always makes my brain go –” He shook his hands in the air, laughing at the memory.

Your tone remained normal, despite the war inside your head. “Yeah? What’d you guys play at the arcade?”

This set him off on another tangent, explaining the hour long foosball game they played that ended in him paying for another round of beers. Harin had felt bad, insisted that she was kidding and let them split it, but he wanted to. And then let her pick out her favorite game at the arcade to play next. (It was pinball. You hated pinball.)

“She went to that convention I told you about recently,” he continued as you set the half-eaten tin on the coffee table, suddenly queasy from eating too fast. “And – oh, wait. She showed me this cosplay she did last year. Check it out.”

Wonwoo pulled out his phone and unlocked it, her Instagram profile already pulled up. He found the picture immediately – like muscle memory – tilting his phone towards you to show you the Animal Crossing cosplay she made. Her smile was so bright, cute, in the photo, pink cheeks and yellow eyeshadow on her eyes.

You cleared your throat. “Oh, that’s –”

“Cool, right?”

“Yeah, cool.”

He grinned big, placing his phone right side up on his thigh. Something he never did while at your apartment.

“She understood every reference I made. You know how sometimes I make those references to Portal and you kinda stare at me like I have three heads?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that –”

“She completely got all of them. It was … seriously funny.” He was laughing again, the kind he only did when he was drunk or when you reminded him of the time in junior year of undergrad when you puked in a punch bowl at a frat party. It was sacred and intimate, and right now, it was because of … Harin.

He met your eyes with a soft, authentic smile. “The date was fun. It was … easy.”

You felt your eye twitch.

Easy.

One word had never caused so much devastation to run through your entire body, the type you couldn’t will away with the armor you built for years. To compare yourself to another woman was cheap and not like you whatsoever. You would never think that way because you would never pit women against each other. It was wrong. Distasteful.

But Harin was easy. And you, certainly, had never been that.

As he continued – and you were keenly aware that this was probably the longest he spoke in all the years you knew him – you thought back to his previous girlfriends. The ones from college, the girl he dated three years ago … All those women he’d been attracted to were nothing like him. Opposites attract, after all. But Harin was the farthest from opposite. Your goal for this date had been symmetry, someone that aligned with Wonwoo, which meant this was a success. She changed something in him. 

You felt the soft drop in your stomach.

Oh, you thought, he might actually fall for her.

That was the reason why you started this whole thing. It shouldn’t be a shock, right?

Right?

“So …” You played with a loose thread on your skirt, asking the question you always did. The one where you got the same answer. “Would you see her again?”

You were used to his hesitation, the way he would ponder exactly how to say, No, in the nicest way possible. But he didn’t do that this time. Wonwoo’s lips tugged up again as he replied, “Yeah. Yes, I think I would.”

There wasn’t much excitement this time, but his tone was unquestionable. Certain.

Good, you told yourself, this is good.

The silence between you two felt heavy. A constant, wavering cloud of gray.

This was what you wanted.

That knife in your heart dug in deeper, twisting, and you felt the invisible gush of feelings pour out of you. So much that you didn’t know how to push them back inside.

Then why does it feel like this?

His phone buzzed, breaking the tension completely. You sat up a little, peering to see who was on his lock screen, but you already knew the answer. Wonwoo smiled shyly and opened up his texts with Harin. Like clockwork, she was asking if he’d like to go on a second date. He was giddy; you could tell because he was making that face that he only made around you. But he didn’t want to show it, because he was getting to his feet and muttering, “Let me answer this and then we can watch a movie.”

You were completely frozen, hands laced on your lap as you grappled with reality. Every other date didn’t sting like this, because he didn’t like them. Not like this. Those bad dates kept him as yours, but this one might not. And – god, it was wrong of you to ever think he could stay yours because he was his own person and your best friend, but this hurt and your brain felt like it was imploding.

“Hey.”

You turned, seeing Wonwoo lingering by the doorway of the living room. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Thanks for setting this up,” he said. “I mean it this time.”

You forced a smile. “Of course. I’d do anything for you.”

As he disappeared into the bathroom, you licked your lips and told yourself that everything was going to plan, that was a good thing. You repeated it like a mantra, hoping it would stick. And you believed it … for about ten minutes.

Wonwoo, rather unconsciously, tortured you with information on every date he had with Harin. If he couldn’t come over to talk, he simply texted you. And you feigned interest because – maybe, just maybe – you were terrified that he was going to forget about you. He was just so excited about her, and you could tell. This was your doing and all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be happy. But now he was happy and it wasn’t just with you anymore. What if, sooner or later, it wasn’t with you at all?

You had bitten your nails down to nubs because of it.

He had gone on more dates with Harin, almost every week for the entire month of April. Spring was quite literally in full bloom. He had even taken her to see the cherry blossoms – something you both typically did together. (But it was fine. It had to be.) He wasn’t coming over as often anymore and the takeout you got on Thursdays and Fridays started to taste a lot worse when you were alone. You thought you had gotten used to being alone all these years, but not like this. Not when the thoughts got too loud and you missed him so much that you debated on downloading a dating app. But then you thought back to that horror movie and decided you didn’t want to go on a date with a possible serial killer.

The bed you had made for yourself was cold and not in the good way. The kind that reminded you how lonely the armor around your heart had become. How yearning felt worse when your best friend wasn’t by your side.

You tried to busy yourself with work like always, but not even the late night phone calls from your worried boss were a good enough distraction. (Although, they did keep you up on the customer service hotline with whatever billboard company he decided not to do business with anymore.) For a second, you considered calling up your ex – the older one, Sean – even just for a one night stand. But Sean had never been one for casual. And you couldn’t remember the last time you were intimate with someone.

The fear struck you like lightning. You stirred in bed, flipping onto your back to stare at the ceiling. After attempting to go to sleep early, it was clear that your racing thoughts were going to keep you up, making dread pulse in your chest.

What if no one ever wanted you again? Not even just intimately, but physically. Your presence.

Worse – what if Wonwoo didn’t want you anymore?

The sound of the oscillating fan at your bedside drowned out, leaving you with the echo of the words that just came into your subconscious. Somehow, the world got so quiet, and you were clutching at the stretched out collar of your pajama shirt, breathing suddenly becoming difficult. What the fuck – this couldn’t be anxiety, could it? No way, you hadn’t felt that in year. You were being dramatic, ridiculous, and –

Your phone vibrated and you had never swung so fast to grab it.

Wonwoo: Sorry for the late text but I miss you Wonwoo: It’s starting to get warm at night and my fan here sucks compared to yours Wonwoo: Do you have plans Saturday night? Maybe we could get some drinks at the dive we like

And suddenly, breathing didn’t feel so hard to do. You accepted, of course, because the opportunity to see him after so long was more important than anything else in the world right now. He had never been one to initiate plans, so the fact that he was – let alone, asking to meet you at a bar – was progress. He missed you. Of course, he did. You were best friends, but it was clear that the distance truly made the heart grow fonder. 

You prepared what you were going to say, how casual your tone was going to be, and the exact beer you planned to order – Stella Artois, of course – but your entire plan seemed to be interrupted when you turned your head to the side that Saturday night. The bar was getting more full, and you could see from the space you cleared out for him at the bar top that Wonwoo wasn’t alone. His hand was on a woman’s back as he ushered her forward and – oh my god, he brought Harin.

Your body froze mid sip as the cold bottle of Stella was at your lips. Wonwoo pushed his wonky glasses up on his nose and waved to you, helping Harin get through the growing crowd, and it took everything in you to force that smile. Once they were in front of you, your eyes raked down and took in the pretty sundress she was wearing: purple flowers scattered in a pattern over white polyester. She looked beautiful and still so casual with her hair undone like this. Your hand smoothed over the off-shoulder top you picked up on the Express clearance rack and your jeans that were a trusted pair since college, suddenly self conscious. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this way, but then you noticed how she was the perfect height next to him and now you were picturing yourself as a fucking Amazon woman next to her and –

You needed to stop this, but you were already upset, eyes getting the tiniest bit pink as you went in to hug Harin. She slipped past you after to order her drink of choice – a rum and Coke – at the bar, and that was when you felt Wonwoo pull you into his broad chest, and you realized just how well you fit here, his nose pressed against your hairline. Your fingers notched into the short sleeve t-shirt he was wearing, and then he muttered, “Missed you,” making you tug on that cotton a little more than a friend should.

“You too,” you replied, voice muffled by his shirt. “You’ve been busy though.”

He laughed under his breath before whispering in your ear. “She wanted to come see you after all these years. This okay?”

“Of course,” you replied, but there was no vigor behind it.

He hummed as you leaned back from him, and he absentmindedly lifted your hand to notice how badly you’d bitten down your nails. His brow furrowed, but you pulled away before he could comment. 

Taking out his wallet, he handed Harin his credit card so she could get them both drinks. “You should’ve waited for me,” he said, nodding towards the Stella in your hands. “I wanted to buy your first drink.”

“I’m very capable of paying for my own beer, Wonwoo,” you remarked, and then realized how bitter you sounded, how the frustration that you pummeled down for weeks came up to the surface so easily. Your expression softened as you added, “You can pay for my second.”

He smiled, all goofy and kind. “Sounds good.” Noticing the strand of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, he reached up to push it behind your ear at the same time Harin was turning around with the drinks. Wonwoo’s hand instantly retracted, but came back out to take his card that she handed to him.

“Oh,” she beamed while handing Wonwoo his Stella, “you guys like the same beer.”

Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to you with his chin. “She turned me on to it. I was into Guinness for a bit.”

Harin stuck out her tongue in disgust and you suggested to move over to a high top table, desperate to let this conversation die before it could even begin. You didn’t want Harin thinking that you were one of those weird girl best friends, that you and Wonwoo had secretly hooked up on the side – even though that … definitely did happen in college. Nevertheless, you didn’t want her to have any assumptions of you. This night had already gone off the rails and you were desperate to get it back on track.

So you asked how they were doing, which was another mistake on your part because then Harin glanced at him and he was doing that goofy smile all over again. But not at you. Especially  not now. She sipped at her drink through a tiny straw, nudged him with her elbow, before mumbling, “C’mon, you tell her. Don’t be so nervous, Nunu.” 

Nunu? 

You blinked.

When the hell did he start liking that nickname?

Without meeting your eyes, his hand found Harin’s wrist on the tabletop as he muttered, “I asked her to be my girlfriend last week.”

“Oh,” you blurted, and his gaze instantly lifted to yours. Your lips sealed for a moment, and then you added, “I meant … oh! That’s great news. I just never …” You should stop yourself, because Wonwoo’s eyes looked like he was pleading with you to be silent and Harin was staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in this sea of drunk people. “You’ve always taken so long to be exclusive. I never expected it. But I … I’m happy for you two.”

Harin’s face shifted into a huge grin, her eyes closing and her laughter hard to control. Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief that he thought no one noticed, but you did. You took a long swig of your beer as Harin looked to Wonwoo to exclaim, “And you were nervous to tell her! I told you that it wasn’t a big deal.”

That made you both pause. Your eyes flickered to his, the beer bottle frozen to his lips, and you set your own down on the table. Your hands were sweating as much as the cold glass. “You were nervous to tell me?”

He took a sip and shrugged. “Well, I –”

“I think he just …” Harin’s voice trailed off as she looked at him, her own hand coming up to lock around his wrist now. “He values your opinion more than anyone else’s. I’ve noticed it when he talks about you. Besides his parents, I took you as one of the most important people in his life.” 

She was speaking in his direction, but once she finished, her head turned to you and she gave you the kind of smile that made you utterly hate yourself. Not out of jealousy, but because she was kind and perfectly perfect for him. Unchallenging and effortless. 

For a moment, you were stunned, not sure what to say. But then you were setting down your beer again and suddenly replying, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

You spun on your heel, shoving yourself through the crowd of people that had assimilated around the bar, before finally propelling inside the two-stall bathroom. Walking up to the sink, you clutched the edge and let yourself breathe for a minute, inhaling the heavy scent of Febreze. You debated on splashing your face with cold water before you remembered that you decided to not wear waterproof mascara tonight. 

He values your opinion more than anyone else’s.

Bile started to rise in your throat, making you cough and finally turn on the sink to cup water into your mouth. Your eyes got pink again, but you held back the tears that were damn near burning to be let out. If you cried now, you wouldn’t be able to stop, and you’d be damned if you let yourself cry over this. Over something so … nonsensical. What were you even upset about anyway?

The soft sounds of Maroon 5 only got louder when the door opened and you were greeted with the sight of Harin’s flushed cheeks. She smiled at you and you immediately sucked in whatever boogers were trying to leak out, grabbing a paper towel to dry your hands. “I didn’t get to tell you yet,” she said, walking forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, bringing you into her orbit, “but you look even better since college. I’m in love with this top.”

And to think you were second-guessing it an hour ago. 

She leaned back to grin back up at you, and looking at her now … you could see how she was able to charm just about anyone. People said that about you sometimes, but Harin was different. Something about her aura made you instantly want to let your guard down, feel more at ease, realize how silly you’d been feeling about all of this. 

Until you remembered she was now your best friend’s girlfriend and something about that deeply unsettled you.

“Thanks,” you smiled as she detached herself from you. “I really like your dress too.”

“My mom got it for me! Target find, I think.” She shrugged, quickly washing her hands and looking over her shoulder at you. “I stalked you on LinkedIn a little bit. Not sure if you got the notification. You’re a Marketing Director now? That’s so cool!”

“It’s fun sometimes,” you waved off, unsure how to take compliments, even at this age. “You must be doing something cool now.”

She shook her head and dried off her hands. “Nah, I’ve been at the same software developer position for years. But I want to get into game development at some point.”

God, you thought, I really did find him his match.

You nodded, unsure what to say next, but then she was approaching you and reaching out to squeeze one of your hands. She looked up at you like you were important, like you hung the stars one by one. “I just wanted to thank you privately,” she whispered, “for introducing me to Wonwoo. I don’t think I’ve ever caught feelings this fast or got along with anyone so well, and I just … thank you. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

Your heart broke, and you needed to mend it in an instant. But this stung more than you could’ve prepared and it wasn’t fair that you were hurt when this was your doing. The bed you made. The music you had to face. Etcetera, etcetera. 

“It was no biggie,” you muttered, wondering how you could make a break for it. Even if that meant going into one of the stalls that had more litter on the floor than a dumpster.

“It is a biggie. It just feels like …” She trailed off, looking off to the side as she mulled over her next words. “You know how I knew it was a big deal when he asked to be exclusive? He wanted to watch a movie – In the Mood for Love – and I learned only later that was one of his favorites. Did you know that?”

Of course, you did. It was only a couple months ago that you two watched it together and he never added anything to his Letterboxd Top 4 so fast. 

But you shook your head, eager to get this over with. Maybe you could pretend to be nauseous and go home early.

“It was during a really pivotal scene that he insisted I pay attention to,” she continued, “but then … I felt his hand in mine. And it was like … the way you can feel someone looking at you. Then, he asked me, and something about it felt so right. The moment, his hand … everything. Which I know sounds super corny, but I just … I know this is good for me and I have you to thank. So again – thank you.”

You took the opportunity to carefully slip your hand out of hers. “You’re … you’re welcome,” you forced the words out. “I’m really glad it’s working out and you’re good for him too. This is … the best news.”

You sent her one last quick smile before your shoulder brushed hers. “If you’ll excuse me. My beer must be getting warm,” you added with a chuckle.

In that moment, as your palm pushed against the door and you felt the humidity of the packed bar all over again, seeing your best friend wave and keep watch over the high top table … you realized that getting over him might not have been what you wanted in the first place.

VI.

I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you. I don’t wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you. I’ve been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night. And now I see daylight. –TAYLOR SWIFT

October 31, 2023

It was a particularly warm Halloween. A slight breeze had settled over the brightly lit city, but humidity lingered from the constant on-and-off rain all day. The weather just made the local dive that much hotter: bodies packed like sardines in a small bar that still smelled like cigarettes with a tinge of men’s deodorant. You and Wonwoo had moved downtown a few months ago and were lucky enough to find this place so close to your building. And the best part was – no cover charge.

Not that they could with how bad it smelled in here, but beggars couldn’t be choosers sometimes.

You were wearing a cheap angel halo from Dollar Tree that was far too tight on your head with a pair of light wash jeans and a top that fell off one shoulder a bit too far, enough to make a few men turn their heads and Wonwoo stand close. He had no costume – of course – but maybe he had the right idea when it felt like this headband was compressing your actual skull. However, when a pirate woman that was far too inebriated from multiple Dirty Shirleys asked what his costume was, he replied, “Game developer,” with a cheeky smile. 

After twenty minutes, you were finally greeted with the sight of your friends from your new job pushing through the crowd to get to your free corner of the bar. You handed Wonwoo your beer without thinking – and he had to make a mental note which one was yours since you drank the same beer – as you tugged Jennifer into a hug. She was flagged by your other coworkers, Felix and Hunter, who he only recognized because he heard those names come from your mouth more often than not these days.

He introduced himself when you brought them over, but still kept to himself, practically sinking into the corner of the dark bar as you rambled on about something ridiculous happening with your new boss, who seemed like an anxiety-ridden mess. But you already knew that. You were distracted, yet you could still feel Wonwoo’s awkward presence near you. He had always been quiet, since the day you sat next to him in that History of Cinema class, but something was different tonight. Although he didn’t say it out loud, you knew he was still thinking about the girl he broke up with so he could move around the same time as you. He always said that she was nothing more than casual and the career opportunity he got here meant so much more, but … his demeanor tonight spoke to more than that.

Sometimes you wondered if Wonwoo just wanted to belong to somebody.

You wanted to tell him that he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him, but something about that felt too intimate.

Leaving the bar with a fresh buzz, your arm hooked around his and you allowed him to take the lead for once. Wonwoo might’ve been a tiny bit tipsy, but his broad shoulders and height made it easier for him gain the upper hand when your footsteps got a little too fast. You had one too many tequila shots more than him and it was enough to make you feel tingly, to make you a little overconfident when you tried to walk without his help. It almost ended with you face-first on the sidewalk.

Wonwoo grabbed your hand as you tripped over the tip of your shoe, and then simply … never let go. His palm was so warm in yours, albeit a bit sweaty, but you assumed that was from the fluctuating weather. And totally not because of anything else, even as he avoided eye contact.

He kept you close, bringing you into his side when someone else walked past. Your hand was in his sweaty one for a solid three blocks until you reached the door to your building. Feet slowing, his hand slipped out of yours, and it was supposed to look casual but when you turned to him, he was clumsily punching said hand into his jean pocket and trying to hide his pink cheeks.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, feeling the lip gloss you put on earlier crust at the corners of your mouth. It felt like your brain was swimming, drowning in whatever cataclysm of feelings you were trying to flush, but it was impossible. Wonwoo was impossible.

“You can stay over if you need to,” you offered. “I don’t want you walking back to your place all alone.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “It won’t be that bad. I might just have my roommate pick me up. I think Mingyu’s hanging out with someone just a few blocks away.”

He was staring at your hand, and you noticed, enough for the heat of your gaze to make his chin finally lift like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

Nodding, you replied, “Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

His smile was effortless, so incredibly easy. “I know you hate spending Halloween alone.”

You chuckled, spinning slightly to hide your grin and purposefully whacking his shoulder with your purse. “It’s too spooky,” you argued, turning back to him and realizing now that his body was suddenly within reach. Your lips pursed and you met his dark eyes, the tequila in your system suddenly making your guard slip, as if it was made by mere paper and not bricks. 

“Sometimes I think you’re the only person who actually knows me.”

His body went still, taking in your response, and then he asked quietly, “Is that … okay with you?”

Words failed you, dying on your tongue like ash, but you still allowed gravity to pull you in his direction. You were closer now – close enough that your chests brushed, feeling his warm breath on your face. It made a cold sweat appear on your hairline that mingled with the vaguely cool air around you, a reminder of the bitter winter ahead. But at that moment, it was just you and him, and the fallen leaves collecting in puddles around you, and the humidity that made your hair frizz a little. The alcohol running through you had your cheeks flushed and when your head tilted down, you realized your pinky was hooking with his. 

You never wanted anything more than this: his warmth, his presence, Wonwoo. The only person that you trusted with your life. Your closest friend. You wanted him everywhere and nowhere. Wanting him was a blessing, but it was also too much, suffocating you from the inside out.

Your gaze lifted to his again, and your lips parted to say something that might ruin everything: “I think … I think I’d be okay with –”

But then, you hiccuped. And again, and again. Enough that you had to hold your breath for a couple seconds to calm down. Your finger was still looped around his and you didn’t look down to make sure it was real, but you felt his thumb running over your knuckles in a way that screamed want. Desire. 

The tingles from alcohol started to fade, remnants of tequila ebbing away, and you reframed instantly. Your pinky carefully slipped out of his and you chuckled, “Obviously. You’re my best friend. I mean – that’s kind of the point, right?”

Wonwoo hesitated, brow quirking up for a less than a second. “That’s … that’s good.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped back from you. Your fingers twitched, already missing his warmth.

“I should get going.” He crooked his thumb over his shoulder, feigning a smile. “See you next Thursday for movie night.”

May 7, 2026

He hadn’t been coming to movie nights.

Out of all things, Wonwoo typically didn’t skip a movie night. Not even when he had a date. Hell, he was frequently trying to watch one with you after the dates you put him on. But once turned into twice, and then it was May and the peonies were sprouting in the soil by your apartment and Thursday had become their date nights. 

It’s the best day for both of us, he told you in text once. I don’t usually work past 5 and her meetings end around 4:30. It just worked out that way. Which you couldn’t blame him, because Harin was his girlfriend and making time with her mattered. But there was this thing called a weekend – that they were using for dates too (you’d know; you saw the cute photos Harin posted on her Instagram story) – but of course, Thursdays were date night too. Convenient for them. Lonely for you.

You typically embraced loneliness like an old friend. It was never cold – actually, it was rather comfortable – but you regarded it with indifference. You had been alone for so long that you were used to it. It didn’t matter, as long as you had your friend. But your friend was preoccupied with someone else now – someone you set him up with. And this was supposed to make you feel good, but for the first time, you felt yourself grimacing when the shroud of loneliness appeared at your bedside and you flipped over, curling a blanket around yourself despite the heat. 

So you called him.

You shouldn’t have. You should’ve let the feelings fester and eventually, they would pass. They always did. But it was another Thursday night alone and the mindless arguing from the reality show on your TV was doing little to silence your loud thoughts. Your glass of homemade sweet tea was left abandoned on the coffee table, water dripping down the sides, as warm air filtered from the open window. Summer was near and yet the spot next to you on the couch felt cold as ice, like someone had deserted it for longer than normal.

You flipped your phone over before you could stop yourself, scrolling down to his name. It was late and he was probably just getting into his apartment after seeing Harin, but you didn’t care. You didn’t really care about anything anymore, truthfully. The line only rang for two seconds before you heard a click and he was saying your name. So faint, like a prayer.

For a moment, you were sure you heard Harin’s muffled laughter leave the speaker.

“Are you just never going to come to movie night again?”

Wonwoo paused, and then said, “Hello to you too.”

“It’s late and I have to go to bed soon because I have a 9 AM meeting tomorrow. I don’t exactly have time for ‘hellos.’” It was a lie, and you both knew it. You’d been staying up way longer than you should’ve most nights and going to work exhausted. It could probably be heard in your voice.

He exhaled heavily, and you could almost hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for skipping. It’s just … you know why. But I feel terrible. You have to know that too. You know I wouldn’t skip plans with you if there wasn’t a legitimate reason.”

You picked at the corner of the pimple patch on your jaw, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been skipping a lot of things recently.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

There was an indistinct woman’s voice on the other end, and then a door closed. He was alone now.

“Wonwoo,” you chastised, “you don’t need me to spell it out for you.”

“Is this still about movie night? I’m not a mind reader.”

You took a moment, swallowing down your pride and sitting up. If you didn’t say it, you feared you never would. The festering wouldn’t cease until you let the word vomit out.

“I feel like you’ve just forgotten me since you started dating,” you said, and then clarified, “since Harin.”

Silence echoed. The minute began to draw out, enough for you to ask, “You there?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “just thinking.”

“About what?”

Wonwoo clicked his tongue then. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

Your head jerked back, the grip on your phone tightening. “It is. I’m happy for you. Don’t I sound happy?”

The sound of his lips opening came muffled through the speaker, but you kept going on.

“I just –” You let your head fall into one hand as you rubbed at your temples. “I’m frustrated. I know people grow apart as they get older, but … I don’t see you anymore and it’s like you don’t give a fuck.”

“Now you’re putting words into my mouth.”

“So? Who cares?”

“Well, it seems like you do.” His words made your heart sink into your stomach, like you’d been caught in the biggest lie of your life. Maybe you had. “Why do you care so much?”

You blinked. “I …” Every nerve in your body died. Even if you wanted to speak, you couldn’t. There was nothing to say anyway. How could you possibly explain the truth when you had buried it in the deepest cavern imaginable for so long? 

Finally, your mouth began moving for you: “I just think you’ve forgotten about your friends.”

Wonwoo sighed, frustration evident in his tone. “Listen,” he started, “You’re my longest friend. I know this is what you like to do. You like to fix people because it feels good –”

“It’s not just that, Wonwoo –”

“– But you don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” he added. “I do.”

Any response you had ready seemed to burn in your throat. It was like he took your whole vocabulary, leaving you mute and helpless as static buzzed from your line to his. Your mouth hung open slightly, and you prayed something would come out, but … nothing. You were nothing in a sea of nothingness and Wonwoo wasn’t yours anymore.

Eventually, you heard him exhale with a tinge of regret. “You there?”

You moved your phone away from your ear, staring down at his contact name. The text began to blur when you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself; this hurt but you would survive. You always did, and he’d come back to you and you’d accept him with open arms because this was you and Wonwoo after all. Every friendship – or whatever this was now – went through a rough patch.

But instead of replying, you immediately ended the call.

Wonwoo didn’t come back like you thought.

Silence stretched, thinner than a bed sheet. The distance was colder than you imagined, almost arctic, and you felt it settle deep in your bones, but it did nothing to cool you at night when the humid breeze blew through your open window. No communication was harder than it looked, but in your defense, you really hadn’t expected this. And now, you were too embarrassed to even text him, the fear of rejection still clawing at you just like in college. (Let’s be real: it never really went away anyway.)

You had never been broken up with in the twenty-something years you’d been alive. Typically, it was you who broke things off, and sure, you were sad afterwards, although nothing ever lingered because it was you who ended it in the first place. Maybe you were heartless; maybe no relationship really mattered like Wonwoo’s friendship – but no breakup really hurt. This, however, felt worse than you could ever imagine. Your entire world seemed like it was falling apart and you couldn’t even go to him. 

You missed him – more than you ever thought you could, more than that time he went away to Italy during summer break junior year – but you were getting by as much as you could. Jennifer took you out for drinks, and the sugary margaritas made your head swim for a solid night before you were right back to sulking in your chair at work. You got a promotion – one you had been gunning for for a year, one that you deserved. That felt good, and finally, your mood was turning around. Even your parents were going to visit for your birthday in September, something they hadn’t done in a few years. Your mother’s usual saying, “It’s always so busy around your birthday,” graduated to, “I think this year calls for celebration. The last year of  your twenties is a big one.” There was a possibility of them cancelling, but you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So many things to be excited over, and you were trying to focus on them, especially on those dreaded Thursday nights. Instead of popping a movie on your TV and watching it in silence like a lonely 50s housewife, you were taking matters into your own hands. Matters that involved a leak you tended to ignore every time it came back. You were blasting the loudest heavy metal music possible though your AirPods, the kind of stuff you hadn’t listened to since high school, as you tried fixing your bathroom faucet on your own. The sink was older than the apartment, it seemed, and would leak at the most inopportune times. You had been paying a technician to come fix it almost every year, but after the last time when he stared at your chest a little too long, you decided maybe it was time to get up off your ass and try.

In a loose pair of sweatpants and a tank top that was doing nothing to hide your genetically lopsided boobs, you hunched forward and inspected the pipe below the basin. You watched a tutorial online, then watched it again, and settled that this should be easy enough. Gone were the days of you paying a pervy technician far too much money to stop a leak that kept happening. You were a new woman now: independent, self-sufficient, definitely not lonely.

You followed the instructions to a T, but something was just wrong. Maybe it was the day or some form of karma that just wouldn’t get off your back – you would never know. Using all the strength in your body, you tried turning the shut-off valves clockwise, but it was hardly budging. It was like there was something preventing them from moving and condensation was already creating a puddle on your tiled floor. You even tried turning the water on and all the way off to see if something was just clogged, and yet … nothing. Were you really that weak that you could figure out how to fix a fucking sink?

There had to be a solution you didn’t know about. Connecting the drain to the stopper was a washer where the leak was dripping from. You picked up your wrench, the tip of your tongue meeting the corner of your lips, like you did when you really concentrated. The music blaring in your ears was reaching a peak, the bridge so loud that your could feel your neurons kissing – or whatever it was that neurons did. Maybe if you yank the wrench this way around the washer that would stop the leak –

Water erupted from the pipe, spraying all over your face to the point you felt like you were being fucking waterboarded. You reached out with fumbling, desperate hands, trying to tighten the washer again with your eyes closed, realizing you’d been stupid enough to leave one handle turned. After a couple more seconds of what you could only describe as a horrific form of torture, the washer went taut and the water stopped, albeit still leaking, but at least it wasn’t blasting into your nose. 

You slumped back against the wall, coughing up the water that had entered your nose, before resting your head back against the peeling wallpaper. Your body was soaked, the thin cotton of your tank top completely ruined and your sweatpants looking like you pissed yourself, and – oh, now you were crying.

Tears welled up before you could stop them, rolling down your cheeks and clogging up your throat. The current song in your ears faded, replaced with an equally louder one that you simply had to turn off at this point. You couldn’t prevent the sobs from absolutely wracking through your body, like it was relieving tension from your system. But still, something about it almost felt violent: your face was turning red and you could already feel a headache coming on as tears practically stung at your eyes. You looked at the sink like it killed someone in your family and it was in that moment that everything became clear. Well, somewhat – warm, wet globs were still falling and it almost hurt to breathe.

You couldn’t believe you’d met your match and it was a sink. 

The realization hit you and it felt like you were wearing an invisible dunce cap. You couldn’t fix everything. You could try and do everything in your power, but there was always going to be something that couldn’t be fixed on your own. And it wouldn’t feel good – actually, it made you feel like utter shit – but you had to get over it. You couldn’t do it all and not everything – not even a faucet – could be fixed.

As your eyes followed the water trickling from the pipe, you knew then that you’d been treating Wonwoo like this, like a sink. A project instead of a choice. Perhaps it should’ve been clear when you told him to go into his dates like a job interview, or when he told you that his dates weren’t a performance review. There were a multitude of times when you should’ve realized, but you didn’t,and now you were paying the consequences with this leak in your bathroom and no Wonwoo by your side.

You got to your feet and padded to your room for a fresh set of clothes. It wouldn’t help sitting there and sulking at the stupid leak you couldn’t fix. 

On the rare occasion that your absent-minded mother called you to check in, she’d ask you the same things – “Are you still working at that company? How’s Wonwoo? Did you get a cat yet?” – but one always stuck with you, to the point her voice would echo in your head before you went to sleep. Sometimes she’d prod about why you weren’t dating anyone, why you hadn’t experienced love yet when you were pushing thirty. And it stumped you, because surely, you should’ve experienced love at least once. But you never wanted to think too deeply about it out of fear, and then came up with a quip like, “I’m waiting for a love like I’ve seen in the movies. Find me my own Harry Burns from When Harry Met Sally, then we’ll talk, Ma.”

It was all farce though.

And as you sat down on the edge of your bed, clean clothes abandoned in a neatly folded pile at your hip, you knew the reason why now. You’d always known, deep inside yourself, but you pushed it down for so long that these feelings had no choice but to come up when a leaky faucet made you the most defenseless. Like your armor of sturdy bricks had finally crumbled from a mere gust of wind.

You were in love with Jeon Wonwoo.

Maybe you always had been.

VII.

Orpheus: How will you remember? Eurydice: That I love you? Orpheus: Yes. Eurydice: That’s easy. I can’t help it. –SARAH RUHL

You attempted to text him for an entire week, an abundance of words spilling from your subconscious, the same ones you buried since the day you shook his hand while saying, “Just friends?” That one sentence seemed to haunt you for life, repeating over and over in your head when not even audio porn could dull the ache in your chest. You poured your heart out into your phone all week: ranging from essays you drafted in the Notes app to actually opening up your texts with him and letting the bright light blur into your retinas until sleep finally took over.

Nothing was right though.

Maybe it was all you. The ideal words just weren’t coming and it was all too embarrassing. You weren’t 28 anymore; it felt like you were 11 logging onto AIM with trembling fingers before messaging the boy you liked. The same boy that you shared Social Studies with, that you didn’t give a Valentine’s Day Fun Dip to because you thought that would make him like you – but I digress. You were shriveling into your past shelf and you didn’t know how to make it all stop.

The next blow hit before you were able to expect it.

While you’re on your lunch break eating the saddest salad known to man, you open up Instagram and see a story update from Harin. Instinctively, you know you shouldn’t. It could be nothing and it would still make you upset. The last thing you needed was to drench this limp salad with your tears. Your finger hovered over her icon, and you almost stopped yourself but the temptation was too much.

A video started playing, making your hands fumble as you struggled to turn the audio down and grab your AirPods at the same time. Once they were in, you replayed the first video: she was showing off a new apartment with a big smile. She was so beautiful and graceful as she moved around the new place, presenting the big kitchen and best indoor heating system for the winter. (You wondered how she’d fair with your tiny space heater in the kitchen, and you chuckled to yourself.) She opened the door to the bedroom, rambling on about the size and how it was made for two people.

You held your finger down to pause. Made for two. As in … a couple. Moving in together.

Lifting the pad of your finger, her voice came though your headphones automatically: “This move all came up pretty fast,” she sighed, plopping down on the clean carpet. “But it’s a new opportunity and I’m so excited to start this new journey, as corny as it sounds. I’ve been a little bit of a cornball recently. If you know, you know. Trying to romanticize my life and all that.” She slid down to lay on the carpet then. “Here’s to new beginnings!”

It was wrong to jump to conclusions. You knew that; you preached it. But when your heart was beating a little too fast like this, it was hard to not make your imagination run wild. Because obviously, Wonwoo was moving in with her. After only a few months of dating. You knew it shouldn’t come as much as a shock because she was his girlfriend after all, but also you thought maybe – just maybe – this was something he could’ve told you. Even when you both weren’t speaking.

You stood from your desk, smiling politely to each coworker you passed until you got to the bathroom. It was only when you locked yourself in a stall that you felt the devastation hit you. Like an avalanche. Your palms laid flat on both sides of the stall as you stared at your feet, waiting for something to change. But it was just you: calm on the surface with your feelings eating you up inside, swallowing you whole until you were nothing left.

If you didn’t confess, then you’d become a shell. A walking set of bones and muscles. But what if he completely cut you off? What if he was disgusted, absolutely horrified that someone who was supposed to be his friend had been hiding their feelings for ten years? You couldn’t blame him, but you didn’t want to imagine losing him. Not yet.

Friendship without honesty was still a loss. It was time for both of you to be honest with each other.

After a debilitating train ride, you almost reconsidered your plan. But as you stepped onto the platform for the stop closest to Wonwoo’s apartment, looking around at the crowd of people swarming around you, the only way out was in. You couldn’t postpone this to another day; not when you’d been repeating this cycle since college. So you pushed through – past the tired women in blazers that were looking forward to their Friday night glass of wine, past the men on the phone with their partners and assuring them they’d pick up whatever they wanted for dinner – until you got to the stairs and climbed up. You were out of breath by the time you got to the top, lungs burning, and a drizzle was starting to fall, but you sprinted forward into the crowd. Your dying courage would lead you to where you needed to go.

Once you were standing outside his building – newly refurbished a few years ago with a huge garden planted in the front – you began to dig in your work tote for your keys, which still had his fob attached to it. You didn’t use it very often since he was almost always at your place, but it was instances like this that you were grateful to still have it in your possession. Swiping it at the door, you tugged at the handle and stepped inside, pulling off your wet hood as your shoes squeaked all the way to elevator.

Sometimes you wished you had the strength to just move into a nicer building like Wonwoo’s. It wasn’t like you didn’t have the money, but you had just gotten … accustomed to your old place. The heating system was shit and the lack of proper AC sucked in the summer, however … there were a sense peace there that you never experienced anywhere else. That was where you built a home and memories. With Wonwoo.

As the doors opened and you stepped inside, it started to settle in what you were doing. Your heart rate kicked up like a drum, and your nails were pinching tiny crescents in your palms. This was really happening. Why the fuck were you doing this again? Could you really not get through another few years of pushing down these feelings and postpone this all over again? You wanted to, desperately, and you were half tempted to turn around. But your feet had a mind of their own, walking out of the elevator that stopped on the third floor, halting at his door and rapping your fist against it.

You still had time to back out. He might still be on the way home from work. Maybe it was just Mingyu there right now, and he’d keep your secret if you left. If you spun on your heel and already started for the elevator, he wouldn't be able to see you –

The door opened, and there was Wonwoo, blinking at you in surprise. He was running a hand through his combed wet hair, fresh from a shower, with a black t-shirt that was clinging to his slightly damp body and – oh. No matter how old you got, a pair of grey sweatpants would always get to you, especially on him. 

Meeting his eyes again, you asked, “Are you busy? Can I come in?”

His lips pursed for a moment, and as much as you knew he wanted to be mad at you, his face softened. “Yeah,” he nodded, holding the door more open, “of course.”

You stepped through the threshold, noticing that his living room was as clean as it would get, something he had gotten sick of you chastising him for so you fought to always keep your mouth shut. Bills and junk mail were scattered on the coffee table, but you noticed – right near the TV – a candle was lit, almost burnt to the bottom. It was the candle you gave him for Christmas last year. The one he said reminded him of you.

Placing your work tote near the door, you didn’t bother sitting down, didn’t even take off your rain jacket. It was just you and him, standing in his living room that was lit with just one candle and an artsy lamp that his roommate had bought. You didn’t hear any rustling anywhere else; Mingyu must not be home.

A smart person – someone wanting forgiveness – would say something simple, like hello. But you didn’t, because clearly this was the stupidest decision of your life.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You blurted, making his brow furrow.

“What are you talking about?”

You gawked at him, and then replied, “Don’t play stupid, Wonwoo.”

He was blinking again, confusion wracking his brain. “I wish I was. I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I saw Harin’s Instagram story.” You paused, suddenly so aware about how childish you sounded. Getting upset over something as silly as Instagram. Your mouth went dry, and when you met his eyes again, you realized he was waiting for you to say more. “About the new apartment.”

“Oh,” he nodded, then thought for a moment. “Wait, she got the apartment?”

Your lips opened for a moment, processing his words. Something was off; were you both talking about the same thing right now? Why would he not know if his girlfriend got the apartment, presumably for the both of them?

“Are you intentionally acting dumb?” You asked, a little more irritable than you should be. He tilted his head and your hands balled into fists, standing up straighter. “Because if you keep doing this, I’m going to start crying again and I’m already so high strung and I haven’t slept and I’m confused –”

Wonwoo stepped closer then, his face losing every hint of anger towards you. He wasn’t really angry; he could never be that angry at you. His large hand circled around your arm, and you could feel the caress of his thumb running up and down even though the thin layer of your rain jacket. “Hey, take a breath,” he insisted in a soft voice. “Everything is okay.”

You inhaled sharply, and then let it out. Your gaze was practically glued to his as you felt every wall that was ever created inside you crumble. Originally, you assumed there was just one, tall as the eye could see, made of bricks. But there were actually several walls, and when your eyes connected with his, you could practically feel them collapsing in your stomach, one after the other.

“It’s not though,” you finally said. “And it pisses me off that you’re still so calm about this.”

His hand slowly left your arm. “About what?”

“About you and Harin moving in together!”

Wonwoo went silent, brows drawn together, and then he muttered, “Oh, that’s what this is about?”

“What else would it be about?!”

“Harin and I aren’t moving in together.”

You blanked. “Excuse me.”

“We actually aren’t …” He looked off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. Your brow shot up to your hairline. “We’re not together anymore.”

“Oh, I …” You shook your head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been in my head for days. I shouldn’t have assumed –”

He mimicked your movements, and now you were both shaking your heads at each other like bobble heads in a toy shop. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s just –” He exhaled heavily, and now it was your turn to grab his arm. You watched his body physically relax under the heat of your palm, his eyes fluttering down to burn into yours. “I broke up with her two weeks ago. She wanted to me to partially move in with her to see if our lives were compatible. We’d only been together a little under two months and I wasn’t ready. Obviously,” he added, gesturing to the state of his shared apartment.

You squeezed his forearm, and maybe you were just imagining it, but you swore you could feel his pulse quicken.

“I don’t think I would ever be ready. Because I’ve never …” He paused, and if he didn’t continue, you were sure that your courage would vanish. “I’ve never gotten over you.”

The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Your voice so small when you replied, “What? Ever since –”

“Sophomore year.” 

Your grip slipped from his arm. “But I thought you … you had never met anyone worth the effort?”

Wonwoo leveled a look at you, like he’d been completely obvious all along. “You have never been just anyone. I thought you knew that.”

You scoffed, acting so nonchalant as if you both weren’t confessing to every feeling you ever had for each other. “Of course, I didn’t know. I’ve been setting you up on dates because I thought if I fixed your love life …” You feigned a laugh as your hand came up to your mouth. “Maybe it wouldn’t blindside me. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much when you really fell in love with someone. And of course, I was very wrong about that one.” Swallowing hard, your fingers were now lacing with his, placing your heart in his careful hands. “You deserve someone great, Wonwoo. Someone who doesn’t push her friend away because she’s in love with him.”

And just like that, they were out of your system. The words flowed off your tongue so easily too, like he was always supposed to know. Like you were meant to tell him all those years ago. 

His voice was so low that it almost sounded like a breath: “You’re in love with me?”

“You’ve never been just anyone either, Wonwoo,” you sighed.

He shook his head. “But I thought … I thought you said … you said we would ruin everything if we tried.”

“I was terrified. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship when it just started, and then years went on and … nothing ever went away. I thought about you all the time.”

Wonwoo took a moment, relishing in the feel of your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. He finally brought your laced fingers up, his nose brushing against your wrist as he breathed in your scent. You smelled like that perfume he loved, and paper, and rainwater – everything he loved about you and more. Because he loved you. Of course, he loved you, and you could see it in his eyes, and now you were wondering how you survived being this blind for so long.

“I thought I lost my chance years ago,” he murmured, his naturally long lashes sweeping against your skin. “I thought you truly wanted me with someone else.”

You realized then that your face had moved closer to his without knowing, wanting to be more in his orbit. You couldn’t remember the last time you both were this close. “I thought I did, but …” Your top teeth sunk into your bottom lip. “I don’t think that’s true anymore. And I’ve been sick to my fucking stomach because all I’ve wanted to do is be honest, but there was never a good moment or the right words.”

His chest was pressing against yours now and your fingers unlaced, only so he could hold your face in his warm palms. He shushed you, already seeing the tears prick at your eyes when you got too worked up, wiping them away with his thumbs. “Come on now. You’ve always known the right words to say,” he smiled, and you felt your mouth wobble at just how good he was. You had been an ass to him, you had hid these feelings for years, and yet … he always let you in. “I’m sorry it took me so long to be honest too. Every time I had a bad date, I thought it was proof that wanting you was useless. So I opened myself up, because I thought Harin might just be it. But she wasn’t you.”

His thumb traced your lip, making you release it from in between your teeth. “No one’s like you.”

You did your best not to cry again. All those years of blocking the tears were catching up to you. “I’m sorry for the way I went about this,” you muttered. “I should’ve been honest. I should’ve told you. But I guess you can still be a coward even at our age.”

“You’re not a coward,” he laughed. His finger swiped down the slope of your nose, as if he was committing every bit to memory. “I’m sorry for what I said on the phone. You were right – I did get caught up in the relationship, but I was trying to so I would forget about my feelings for you. I didn’t mean any of it. I like that you fix people.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Okay, maybe I don’t,” he confessed, and then his lips pulled into a smug grin, leaning in so close to your face that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. “Sometimes I like when you micromanage me though.”

The shock that this was all happening hit you, practically struck you like lightening. You stuttered out a series of incomprehensible words, until you finally asked, “Really?” All the confidence, bitterness, it seeped out of you when Wonwoo’s lips were this close to yours. “Well, I … maybe I could –”

“Finally let me kiss you?”

“Oh.” The tension in your body faded, and your hands were curling around his neck because this was happening and he was oh, so yours. “I mean … I guess that’s fine.”

He sneered, “Always needing the last word –”

Your mouth crashed onto his and it felt – god, nothing was more right than this. Your first kiss in college had been messy, almost clumsy, two young adults trying to figure out what the other liked, but Wonwoo had been a quick learner. And oh, did he remember. He didn’t forget the way you liked your bottom lip being sucked on, or how your breath hitched when he licked inside your mouth. His hand slipped from your cheeks, down your torso, before resting on your hips and pulling you even closer by your belt loops. Your fingers were tracing his shoulder blades through the fabric of his tee, an area you didn’t realize until now made him kiss you harder.

“Mingyu’s not home,” he breathed against your lips, shucking your rain jacket off your shoulders.

“I don’t care either way,” you quipped, more desperate than you realized, because you had already started shoving him to the right, where his room was located. Your mouths a hairsbreadth  apart, you asked, “Do you still know how to do that thing with your tongue?”

He pulled back with confusion when his spine hit the door of his bedroom, and then realization crossed his features. “Oh, that. I might be out of practice. You were the first person I ever went down on and –”

You raised a brow, causing him to smirk. “It would be an honor,” he replied.

Once his bedroom door closed, the goofiness cleared out of him and his hands were tight, all over you like this was your first time all over again. He had your back pressed against the door, your wrists in his firm grip and pinned over your head. You chased his lips as he went from kissing you soft to hard, making you huff because – Jesus, you really were starved for his attention. Tugging on your bottom lip, he released it and let his mouth trail near your jaw, breathing in that deadly perfume again. The same one that didn’t cease to make him hard.

And you felt it. Right against your leg, heat seeping into your slacks. Was he not wearing any underwear? 

“In case I didn’t say it already,” he muttered, his nose now connecting with yours, one palm sliding down to thumb at your nipple over your blouse. “I’m in love with you too.” His teeth skimmed your jaw again, then your collarbone, sucking hard on a particular spot and you felt like you could maybe cum untouched. This was pathetic, being reduced to nothing at your big age from just a hickey. 

“I’ve been dreaming of the day you’d let me in,” he hummed, squeezing your breast and feeling the weight in his palm, “when you’d let me touch you again.”

Your knee nudged in between your bodies, smoothing over the growing bulge in his sweatpants. “Wonwoo, please,” you whimpered, already feeling the warmth pool in your stomach, panties drenched and desperate for anything.

“Are you gonna let me micromanage you now?”

Your eyes snapped open, lips pursing as you processed his dirty talk. A snort escape you, and he lifted his head to look at you from underneath his messy, wet hair. His cheeks were tinged a pale pink. “Sorry,” you giggled.

“It sounded sexier in my head,” he muttered, releasing your wrists so he could use that hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want to … right? I think I have condoms somewhere. If not, I’ll steal one from Mingyu. I’ve seen his dick once. Accidentally. We’re kind of similar –”

You placed a hand over his mouth to get him to quiet. “This is the most you’ve talked about your roommate and I’d rather not think about him before you fuck me.” Letting your hand fall, you played with the hem of his t-shirt, fingers now splaying on his lower abdomen. His skin was hot to the touch, still a little damp from his shower. “Don’t worry about it – I’m still on the pill. Hormonal acne and all that.”

Now your cheeks were pink, embarrassment creeping through your entire body. But Wonwoo was quick, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip again, and you relaxed by pulling him closer with the ties of his sweatpants. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your mouth, “always have been.”

Before you could catch your breath, he was picking you up and laying you down on his bed. You landed on top of the remote, making the TV flicker to life, and the soft sounds of When Harry Met Sally filled the room. But Wonwoo was too distracted to notice, one knee between your legs and nudging them apart as his mouth descended upon yours again. He kissed you breathless, like you were the only thing that mattered, like he’d be content if you were the only person he could kiss forever. And when he lifted his head, half-lidded eyes burning into yours – you knew it was true. He didn’t even half to say it.

Sitting up slightly, his deft fingers slowly started unbuttoning the puffy-sleeved blouse you wore to work today. (Which you definitely didn’t expect him to be taking off when you dressed yourself this morning.) When all the buttons were free, he paused, simply admiring the view of your exposed stomach, the curve of your breasts nestled in your bra. You almost wished you wore something cuter, but how the hell were you supposed to know this was going to happen? You grabbed his hand, calling out his name in a voice that he had only heard in his deepest fantasies.

“Sorry, I just …” He finally pushed the fabric to the side, revealing more of you to his hungry gaze. As his hand came around to unhook your bra, he continued, “I’ve wanted to see you like this for so long. It doesn’t seem real.”

You realized then … that night in his dorm – you hadn’t taken your t-shirt off. Anxiety had riddled your head, too scared of him seeing all of you. Although you had let him between your legs, being fully nude was different. That was true vulnerability, and you hadn’t been ready for that.

Until now. You shrugged off the bra, letting it fall onto his floor, and laid back.

He was looking at you like he’d seen God.

So you took his hand in yours and placed it on one of your breasts. “Fucking Christ,” he muttered, leaning down and wrapping his lips around one nipple. Your back arched off the sheets – purple, the same ones you bought him when he moved here – moaning softly while he played with the other nipple in his right hand. The weight of them was out of this world; all his perverted fantasies when he saw you in low-cut tops coming to life in this very moment. Every time he felt guilty for staring at you too long – they didn’t matter anymore. Because you had wanted this just as much as him.

“God,” he huffed, mouth dragging over to the other nipple, laving his tongue over it. “You’re a dream come true.”

Maybe he was just in love but the sounds you made were practically pornographic. Your hips bucked against his knee in between your legs, begging for friction. You could already feel your own arousal through your slacks – a mortifying cleanup you’d fret on tomorrow morning. As much as he wanted to play here forever, he knew how much you wanted his tongue inside you, so he relented. 

His gaze on yours, Wonwoo peppered kisses down your stomach, making sure to nip at that beauty mark near your belly button, before he stood tall again. Pulling his t-shirt over his head, you were reminded just how toned he had gotten since college. You had never like a hulking, strong man, but Wonwoo had definition, hidden muscles in his biceps that had gotten bigger than you thought. He hid all this underneath those oversized tees, the sweaters he wore to work everyday. It was like he crafted in a lab specifically for you, nerdy interests and all.

Setting his glasses on his desk, he finally pulled down on the zipper of your trousers, and you both worked together to shimmy yourself out of them. But you almost wished you didn’t, because underneath those slacks was the evidence of just how much you wanted this, how utterly wet you were for him. 

Wonwoo leaned over you again, so close to your face that you could see the lines underneath his eyes. “You’re completely soaked,” he murmured, snaking a hand between your bodies to graze two fingers down your clothed slit. The material of your panties was practically translucent, and your hips bucked immediately. “Needed me that bad, huh?”

“Don’t act so smug –” You barked, until you felt it: one finger pushing the fabric to the side while the other just barely prodded at your entrance. Breath hitched, you whimpered, “Yes.”

He smirked, going back down and kneeling at the foot of his bed. Pulling your panties off slowly, you expected him to take his time, even though you had both been waiting for this longer than you could remember. A yelp escaped your lips when he hauled you forward, and you felt his hot breath there, making you clench around nothing. One ankle rested on his left shoulder, opening yourself up to him, and you were pushing back hair from his forehead when you realized he was inhaling your scent. Your breathing stuttered, barely able to get out, “I’m sorry, I didn’t shave –”

His face was already buried between your legs, sucking your clit into his mouth like candy. Your head thrashed to the side, fingers digging into his hair and you yanked at him – hard. He groaned into you, teasing your wet hole with the tip of his tongue, devouring you whole. Everything about you was intoxicating: your taste, your sounds, even the way you pulled at his hair. It felt like you were actually trying to rip it out, and truthfully, that was a fate he’d risk if it meant he could stay here forever. Between your thighs, lapping at you until you were overstimulated and begging him to stop. 

Your hips were now bucking against his face, free hand clenched at your side, as you lost yourself in the magic of Wonwoo’s tongue. The memory of how good this was in college diminished to nothing in that moment. He was out of practice and yet, this was the best you had felt in a long time. Wonwoo had this way of sucking on your clit before tongue-fucking you like it was out of style, and then repeating those steps all over again, sometimes using his nose to play with your clit in between. You yanked on his hair again, bringing him that much closer as you moaned, “Wonwoo.”

“Harder.”

“What?” Your head lifted.

His eyes met yours from the end of the bed. Mouth just barely leaving your pussy, he demanded, “Pull my hair harder.”

He didn’t give you a second to respond, already diving back into you. His mouth wrapped around your clit and you yanked on his hair as hard as you could and – the groan he let out reverberated through your entire body, making your nipples hard all over again. You felt that tip of his finger again – no, it was two – sliding into you and nestled in that place only he would remember. Because Wonwoo was attentive. Wonwoo remembered. He knew that the best way to get you there was tugging your clit between his teeth while he crooked those two fingers against a spot that made your thighs shake. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, pumping his fingers into you. “You’re so tight.”

You pulled on his hair, making him press his erection against the bed frame. “It’s been a while.”

He was looking up at you again, noticing the way your jaw clenched, and he clarified, “That doesn’t matter to me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. A name you never thought you’d hear from his lips. You clenched around his fingers, sucking them more in.

“You close?” He asked, going in to drag his tongue through you. “Want me to edge you?”

You scoffed. “You know I don’t like that.”

He chuckled, slipping his fingers out to lick them clean. “Maybe next time.”

A snarky reply was on the tip of your tongue until his tongue was circling that swollen bundle of nerves. Three fingers were now stuffed inside you, sliding in and out while curling against that – “Yes, right there” – spot. If you felt this full with his fingers … you couldn’t even remember what his cock felt like. Your breathing was already uneven and he was moaning while sucking on your clit and – oh. Your orgasm crested and you were pulling on his hair so much that you were sure there’d be a funny, little bald patch after. His name fell from your lips and he kept licking you through it, grinding his achingly hard cock against the bed. 

Despite his own greed, Wonwoo pulled away when your ankle relaxed on his shoulder once again. You already looked so fucked out on his bed: chest heaving, sweat dotting your hairline. This was something out of a dream, one that he had many times, leaving him waking up hard until he fisted his cock to completion. Your arousal dripped down his chin and he hardly made an effort to clean it up, instead crawling up on the bed and kissing you breathless, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands had other plans though. One tugged on the ties at his waistband, while the other slipped under it, finding his erection so easily. No underwear, just like you assumed.He was throbbing, precum staining the thick fabric of his sweatpants, and you trailed a digit along the base. “Since when do you not wear underwear, you pervert?” You laughed against his mouth.

You felt him smile against yours. “In my defense,” he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I didn’t exactly expect anyone would be coming over.”

“What about Mingyu?” You squeezed at the middle of his shaft, earning a grunt from him.

“I thought we were done talking about my roommate before I fuck you.”

Your nose wrinkled. “Touché.”

He sat up on his knees between your legs, allowing you to help him pull his cock out. Wait. Was he always this big? That night in college was clearly a blur because this was not what you expected. The trail of dark hair that led to his groin didn’t surprise you – he had always been on the hairier side, too lazy to shave even his fingers – it was the whole package. His cock was long, thicker than you remembered, that dark hair trailing all the way down to the base and scattered around his balls. He had just two veins etched towards a flared pink tip, dripping more precum onto his sweats that were hanging just under his ass. 

You didn’t even bother having him kick them off, wrapping your hand around his shaft again and slowly dragging it up, his whole body tense as he held himself back. He almost fell forward, but then braced one of his long arms by his hip to steady himself. “This is – fuck –” He muttered when you squeezed him at the tip. “This is evil.”

“I’m micromanaging.” You grinned, your finger leisurely tracing the vein on the right side of his shaft, making his knees buckle.

He laughed under his breath. “You have no idea –” His jaw shifted when you started pumping him a little faster. “– How many times I thought about this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he choked out. “Felt so guilty after I jerked off – fuck – but nothing got me hard like the thought of you. And then, there were the dreams –”

Your hand paused at the base. “Wait, you’re being serious?” You asked, and his eyes flashed open, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Then, you confessed, “I had dreams about you too. Touched myself and imagined it was you. For years.”

“Oh, my god.” His head fell into your shoulder, as if this revelation was physically painful. Or maybe it was because your grip was squeezing him a little too well. “If we don’t finally have sex, I think I might cum.”

You chuckled, louder than you expected, placing your free hand over your mouth. But he removed it as your other palm slipped from his cock, muttering something about how much he loved the way you laughed, but your heart was pounding too much to hear it. Hooking one of your legs around his waist, he gripped his cock and guided it forward, nudging your entrance. His eyes lifted to yours, darker than you’ve ever seen.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he muttered, but his tone suggested that it was more of a demand. “How much you want me inside you.”

Your brow lifted. “Don’t be silly. I thought we were on a time crunch here.”

Now his brows were shooting to his hairline. “So you don’t want it?”

“Wonwoo, stop playing around –”

You hadn’t even realized until you felt it: his hand leaving his cock to rub slow circles on your already sensitive clit. Legs parting even more, you whined and you almost didn’t recognize your own voice. “What was that again?” He smirked, pinching your clit in a way that made your toes curl. 

“Jesus, okay – I want it so bad,” you moaned, eyes closed as you surrendered to his touch. “Wonwoo, please – just … Oh, my god – please, fuck me. I think I might go fucking crazy if you’re not inside me in the next ten seconds –”

He pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt. You almost cried from the stretch. It was more than you expected, but you now realized that maybe you should stop having expectations with Wonwoo. He groaned, still rubbing your clit to get you to loosen up more, while hiking your right leg on his waist higher. Savoring the feeling of finally being inside you again, he peppered kisses on your cheek, humming against your skin, “You feel so good, sweetheart,” and, “my best girl, my sweetest girl.”

“It’s so – too much, Wonwoo,” you mewled, even though you suddenly didn’t want to imagine a second without him stuffed inside you like this. So full, so deep – you wondered if you’d feel him the next day.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he cooed, tilting his head to graze his lips over yours. “I know you’re tight, but you can take it, right?”

He leaned back slightly to look in your eyes, wiped the tears that threatened to fall, and you nodded.

“Good girl,” he muttered before pulling all the way out. You didn’t even have a moment to catch you breath before he was slamming back in, his jaw unhinging at just how good you felt.

This was different than that time in his dorm. You were both older, not all that wiser, but there was purpose here. He created a rhythm between you two that had you feeling every vein, every fucking ridge, and you were now wondering who taught Wonwoo to fuck like this. Because it surely hadn’t been you. Or maybe this was just a case of his memory again, because it only took him a few deep thrusts to find the perfect angle that brushed your g-spot, causing your legs to jerk upward. He caught your right thigh before it fell, and then bullied his cock back into you as stars flashed in your vision.

Your arms wound around his neck, fingers raking at the nape of his neck, and then pulling, just the way he liked it. “Fuck –” He groaned, his warm breath mingling with yours. “Missed you so much. Missed being inside you. God –”

The discomfort subsided, as if your pussy had molded itself to the shape of his cock, and it was then that you realized that you never wanted to fuck anyone besides Wonwoo for the rest of your life. You had ten years to have your fun, but this – he punctuated your thought with a hard thrust that made your whole body tremble – was it. You didn’t need anyone else, didn’t want anyone else. 

Just Wonwoo. 

You whined out his name, yanking on his hair as he filled you to the brim over and over again. His fingers – those long, fucking fingers – tweaked your nipples just right, and your back arched into him. “Please, don’t stop,” you begged, catching his lip between your teeth for a moment. “Close. So close. Wanna cum with you.”

“I’ll get you there, sweetheart,” he promised, making that warmth in your gut pool even more. If he didn’t get you over that peak soon, you were going to lose it. “Don’t worry. I got you.”

It was almost funny: the lewd sounds of him fucking into you mixing with Billy Crystal reciting the most devastating monologue known to man as When Harry Met Sally continued on his TV. Your focus shifted when his fingers gave one last pinch to your nipple before dragging down, down, down – all the way until his thumb was rubbing circles on your aching bud again. Harder this time. Like the way you pulled his hair. His digits were harsh, eager to feel you tighten around his cock. He wasn’t even fucking into you anymore; he was buried so deep that you felt him everywhere.

But then it happened: your walls clamping around him, your breathing stifled, and he was trying to fight the urge of cumming himself to praise you. “That’s it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You whimpered his name, orgasm crashing over you, and he was still rubbing your clit. “There you go. I got you, sweetheart.”

Your whole body was shaking, and it felt almost religious coming undone for him like this. Like it was written in the stars, or maybe your own obliviousness. It felt like every good memory led to this: the best orgasm of your life with the man you’d been in love with since you were 20.

When he felt your walls start to unclench the slightest bit, that was his cue to move again. He pulled out, and then pushed back in so deep that it felt like you were cumming all over again. Fucking into you like this would become an addiction, he just knew it, because when he finally chased his high and practically cried against your mouth, there was no other feeling like it. The way you held onto him, sucking him back in like a vice, as he fucked his release back into you – maybe you were made for him all this time.

All those years depriving himself of this left him desperate and enamored. He was already going soft but he was still pushing into you, not letting any of his seed escape, and you were clenching yet again, cumming all over his cock like it was the only thing you knew how to do. In all honesty, Wonwoo was tempted to keep going, but when he saw the way your body was damn near shivering in his arms, he decided that it was probably not the smartest to overstimulate you during the first time in so long.

He waited almost a decade for you. He could make up for lost time eventually.

Collapsing on top of you, he kissed you softly, feeling you smile into it. Even though him slipping out of you felt empty after all that, you were almost grateful for the reprieve. His soft cock pressed against your thigh, but he stayed there, on top of you, kissing you like you two were 80 and had been doing this all your lives. You hoped that could be your future after all. Because when he leaned back slightly and your hand came to rest on his jaw, you saw the kind of love you secretly always wanted: the kind that would span years, reincarnated in different people. 

Wonwoo rolled onto his back, pulling the waistband of his sweatpants back up before relaxing against the pillows. You curled into his side and he picked up the forgotten remote, seeing the credits run across the small TV at the foot of his bed. “Shit, we missed all of the movie,” he joked.

You chuckled, arm circling around his middle as he tugged a sheet over you. “We can rewind.”

VIII.

You are where all roads lead back to. Parts of you exist in everything I’ve ever loved. –UNKNOWN

You had never been one for morning sex. Always preferred to wake up without distractions and get to your day as soon as possible. Wonwoo might change that though.

After realizing that it was a Friday night and the both of you had no plans the next day, he obviously had to twist your arm to stay over. You had come to his apartment with no plan, just the tote bag you brought to the office everyday and your rain jacket, so you mildly freaked at the idea of staying over without your favorite toothpaste or facial cleanser, only to find out that Wonwoo kept them stocked just in case. Like he was waiting for the day you slept over again. Except it was different this time, because you were dozing off in his arms as he whispered, “I love you,” and your smitten ass was saying it back.

Waking up to his chest against your back, hard cock pressed into your asscheek, as his hand snaked around to your front to dip his fingers between your legs wasn’t exactly what you imagined, but you liked it. Far more than you ever realized. And you supposed that maybe you secretly wanted this to happen because you did fall asleep in just his t-shirt. (Who’s to say?) It wasn’t long before he was having you cum on his fingers, prying your legs open with his own so he could fuck you on your side like this. Your head had turned to meet his lips from over your shoulder and – oh, absolutely nothing was better than this.

Once you were both spent, he let you fall back asleep – something you never did. You were typically an early riser, never once allowing yourself to sleep in and waste the day. He knew this already, which meant he had to physically tuck you back in under his duvet so you would make yourself comfortable again. “Just relax for once,” he chuckled before pecking your cheek. “Give yourself another hour. I’ll have Mingyu whip us up something.”

“Oh, good,” you replied sleepily, cheek flush with his pillow, “I thought you were going to cook and burn the kitchen down.”

He flicked your nose. “Funny.”

When you rolled out of bed an hour later, you chose to look decent and pulled on a pair of his clean boxers. You looked ridiculous, covered head to toe in Wonwoo, and even though he had let you borrow his clothes before, this felt special. What’s his was also yours now. 

You ran a hand through your tangled mess of hair and tugged it through a scrunchie, padding out into the common area. Mingyu was already gone, probably off to his restaurant, and left Wonwoo some bills to go food shopping later. You crossed the threshold of the kitchen and paused, admiring Wonwoo. He was humming to himself while placing a pod in the Keurig, another steaming mug already waiting for you at his small dining table. You always thought he was handsome, but there was something about his hair sticking up in different directions, the way his sweatpants hung loose on his waist, his glasses sitting crooked on his nose … it did something to you. Nothing was more perfect than Jeon Wonwoo in the morning.

“Is this for me?” You asked, pointing to the mug on the table, and he didn’t even jump at the sound of your voice. As if he expected you there all along.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m almost done with mine, and Mingyu cooked us up some of those fluffy eggs with veggies. The ones you like.”

Sitting down at the table, you crossed one leg underneath the other and took a hefty sip. It was bitter and dark – just the way you liked it. Wonwoo joined you at the table after pouring a splash of milk in his mug, and you both sat there for a moment, perfectly at peace with the silence. It reminded you of that morning – after the first and only hookup – how your knees just barely brushed and the open windows that smelled of fresh flowers, like spring in bloom. Except this time, the weight of liking him didn’t feel like a curse. There were no final exams to worry about. And Wonwoo was now reaching out his hand: still hesitant, but certain. It was a declaration.

An origin wound now healed. 

You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “We really are terrible at casual,” you mused, “which is why I really want to try this time.”

Wonwoo brought your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. His voice was almost cinematic as he replied, “Me too.”

It wasn’t until your good boy was sixteen that things started to shift. His friends were all having their first sexual encounters, and they began to tease your perfect church baby that he was a virgin. Mingyu tried to pretend their words didn’t hurt, but you knew differently. Although you tried to push him in the direction of spending more time with other church children, Mingyu continued to hang out with these raunchy boys, as they were on his high school basketball team. 

He held off valiantly from the compulsions of the deadly sins, but one cold December night, your perfect golden boy finally snapped and gave in to temptation.

The demon known as Wonwoo appeared the moment Mingyu first typed the words ‘porn hub’ into his cellphone, and in the darkness of Mingyu’s room, you met the man who would be your antihero for as long as Mingyu would continue to live.

And Wonwoo is a demon with a reputation. Whereas you like to cherry-pick your wards as the kindhearted humans who are pure of soul, Wonwoo is known for his ability to sniff out those who are easily tempted by sin. His last human was a sexual fiend, and he got addicted to OnlyFans. he lost his relationship and all of his money due to Wonwoo’s coaxing of the addiction. The man died prematurely while drunk driving, which is something of a success story for the demon who collected his soul in the end. 

So why was this demon in particular here with you and Mingyu?

What had seemed like an easy task had become more difficult than you ever signed up for, and Wonwoo seemed to relish in the knowledge that he was here to contradict your every musing in Mingyu’s ear.

One:

“I hope you have your popcorn ready, angel,” Wonwoo grins, as the two of you hover in your between-worlds guardian posting. It’s kind of like an apartment, with two sides, the good and the evil, with a massive monitor to watch what Mingyu is doing at any given time. There are speakers for you both to try to persuade him into things, and your voices are what Mingyu might classify as opposing sides of his subconscious.

“Frat parties can be positive,” you insist as you settle next to Wonwoo. “Last time, he saved that girl who blacked out.”

“Yeah, the wild goose chase,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “He should have been hitting on girls and slamming jello shots, but instead, you convinced him to track down the girl’s dorm room, carry her all the way home, and make sure she was okay when she woke up hours later. He even held her hair back while she puked. Yuck.”

When Wonwoo knows he’s lost to you, he generally fucks off, goes back into his demon side of the apartment, in his demon room,  or leaves altogether to complete other tasks.

Demons don’t need sleep, and technically, angels don’t either, but you’re a self-identifying lazy girl, and you prefer to have rest when Mingyu sleeps, rather than be twenty-four seven working like Wonwoo is. You wonder if his packed schedule is what makes him such a dick, but you also have seen the joy he takes in doing bad deeds, and you can only assume that when he’s not here with you in Mingyu’s head, he’s off pillaging and causing mischief elsewhere.

Wonwoo looks through Mingyu’s eyes, and he leans toward the communicator where he can send his words to your ward. “Get a drink,” Wonwoo insists. “Something fun. Something fruity. Something with way too much alcohol that’s masked with sugar.”

You sigh, also leaning forward. “We should start slow with some water.”

You can sense Mingyu’s inner turmoil as he makes his way to the kitchen, and that’s where he bumps into Hoshi and Seungkwan, both of whom are ruled by their inner demon.

“Hey buddy, want a drink?” Hoshi grins, cheeks pink, eyes clouded with booze.

“Reject him,” you say.

“Accept,” Wonwoo pushes. 

“Sure, why not?” Mingyu grins, taking the cup of purple liquid. He downs it easily, and you sigh. So tonight will be a more indulgent evening, and you hate the way Wonwoo sits back with a smile.

“Score one for me, angel,” Wonwoo muses.

“The night is still young,” you huff.

Wonwoo leans forward again. “You know what goes good with alcohol? Cocaine. Or ecstasy. Something fun. Maybe molly.” 

You’re flabbergasted. “Mingyu has never-”

“Now is the night to start, he’s at a frat party, with friends, and we know Vernon always has a bong on hand. Maybe weed, something chill.”

You hate him, and you spend the next two hours battling Wonwoo for dominance of Mingyu. Wonwoo wins when it comes to alcohol, but your sweet boy isn’t interested in drugs, no matter how much the demon insists it’s the perfect night to dabble.

And that’s when Mingyu first lays eyes on Kimi. 

She’s a year younger than him, someone he’s heard about and seen a few times, but never talked to. She looks gorgeous, in a flowy top and jeans that hug her just right. You can sense Mingyu’s heartbeat quickening, and in his drunkenness, he’s even more susceptible to Wonwoo, who leans forward. “You should fuck her tonight, there’s never a time to be a whore like the present.”

“No sex, you like her!” you argue back. “Talk to her, get her name, look for longevity.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “A one-night stand with a girl like that? Who could think of something better?” 

“Uh, maybe a relationship?” you snap. 

“We don’t know anything about her!” Wonwoo yells. “And we don’t need to know.” 

You lean back from where Mingyu can hear your subconscious pushings, glaring at Wonwoo. “What’s with you and rough, anonymous sex?”

“It’s the best way to have it,” Wonwoo tells you, his grin widening. “I think our Mingyu boy would love to try some of the things he’s seen in the porn I’ve pushed him to watch. You know, bondage, tying a girl up, all the good shit.”

“Consentually, of course.”

“With you here, it would always have to be consensual,” Wonwoo scoffs.

“You’re despicable.”

“I’m a demon.”

“Even demons have their limits.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “Not really.”

“Well, my Mingyu is a good person. He’d never stoop to your level.”

“Well, he watches the porn I want to watch.”

You click your tongue. Wonwoo convincing Mingyu to watch porn is always the worst, and it’s when you leave the viewing station. The demon can be particularly convincing when it comes to observing sex acts on Mingyu’s phone, but you know your good boy would never go further than simply watching. He’s not the type to ever act on some of the more raunchy ideas Wonwoo forces into his head.

No matter how hard Wonwoo pushes, you know your Mingyu.

And you’re thankful that by the end of the night at the frat party, Mingyu agrees with you that he’s now too drunk, and he retires to bed.

The viewing station goes dark as Mingyu drifts to sleep, and you stand up with a sigh, glaring at Wonwoo. 

“You know, one of these days, you’re going to admit that you kind of like the whole bondage sex thing,” Wonwoo sighs.

“What?” you gasp.

“You always leave the room when he and I watch porn.”

“Because I’m a pure being! Because porn and sex go against what I stand for!”

“Porn and lust might be ‘anti-angel’, but sex is natural; it’s God-created. Humans are like any other animal, and they’re meant to have sex, to procreate,” Wonwoo says simply. “I know you’re loose on your whole ‘celibate until marriage’ ideals. When Mingyu lost his virginity, you were happy because it was soft. You might be an angel, but you don’t follow a strict code, no matter how much you try to convince yourself that you follow the bible to the letter. I’m just curious how loose your morals really are. You might think I’m here to test Mingyu, but I’m really here to test you.” 

“And who do you think you are to test me?” you glare.

Wonwoo shrugs. “Just a demon who specializes in lust, a demon who took one look at you on Mingyu’s shoulder and decided, ‘you know what, I’d fuck that angel.’”

“As if that’s a compliment.”

“It is, most angels have sticks up their asses the size of the Empire State Building. And don’t get me wrong, you have a stick up yours too, I’m just curious if you’d want something else up inside of you at the same time.”

“I can’t believe you,” you groan, hating the way your body reacts to his sinister smirk, the slight floodyness of his hair, and the regal way he stares at you.

“You don’t have to believe me when I say I want to defile you. I’ll prove it to you soon enough,” Wonwoo’s smirk widens. “You might be an angel, but angels aren’t impervious to sin. After all, demons were angels once, until they stopped lying to themselves and gave in to the carnal pleasures. We’ll get there, don’t worry. I might be a demon, but I can be patient.” 

Two:

“Hold it, you’re not going anywhere,” Wonwoo grins, grabbing your arm as you’re about to leave the room, when Mingyu pulls up pornhub with Kimi on his mind. 

“I’m not sitting here with you for this; it’s weird,” you insist, pulling yourself away from him, hating the way the cold of his touch lingers on your skin.

“Boys will be boys, let the man find some release,” Wonwoo tells you, his grin widening.

“Boys may be boys, but you were whispering in Mingyu’s ear all day that he should have a jack off session and think about ‘that chick from the frat party.’”

Wonwoo shrugs. “It wasn’t that hard to convince him.”

You let out a deep breath. 

“Watch this,” Wonwoo leans forward so Mingyu can hear him. “Look up ‘rope BDSM.’”

“Oh my gosh!” You cover your eyes with your hands as Mingyu quickly follows through with Wonwoo’s suggestion.

“There’s something so sexy about having complete control of another person,” Wonwoo insists, leaning back and staring at you with dark eyes. “Admit it, you liked controlling Mingyu before I showed up.”

“It’s not remotely the same.”

“It is, sort of.” The demon shrugs. “You like control. I know you do. Because every time you don’t get your way, you have a little fit.”

“I do not!”

“Look at you, angel, you’re practically stomping your cute little foot right now.” Wonwoo lets out a chuckle, and you hate how attractive it is. “If you play your cards right, someday, I might let you have a little control over me.”

“What, like tie you up?” you scoff.

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Does that excite you?”

“In your dreams,” you snap.

“Angel, we both know I don’t sleep. But I do imagine things, things about you…”

Your breath catches.

“I imagine what you sound like, what you taste like. I imagine the look in your eye when I have you immobilized and at my mercy. I imagine making you crack, making you finally admit that pleasure is exactly what it means in the dictionary; the feelings of delight, something you enjoy with every fiber of your being, something you’d beg for me to give you again and again.” 

Your skin is heating with embarrassment, and it’s crazy to you that Wonwoo can say everything he just said with a completely straight face. He has zero shame in admitting the things he’s just admitted, and yet, you feel like the dirty one. 

“I’m leaving,” you say again, more firmly this time.

“I won’t stop you; you have full control of yourself, and that’s what makes this interesting.” Wonwoo turns his attention back to the screen, where Mingyu is now in the throes of enjoying porn. 

“You’re evil,” you snap.

“I’m a demon, it’s part of the job description,” Wonwoo says absentmindedly.

You fight the urge to stomp your foot, and with one last scoff of displeasure, you go back to your quarters, throwing yourself down onto your bed with a muffled scream. 

Three:

It’s been a month of chaos. Wonwoo has become somehow even more dirty, and every time he whispers some sexual idea in Mingyu’s ear, his eyes are fixed on you. 

You squirm when he mentions bondage, porn, rough sex, and more dirty things that are not for an angel’s ears. 

And to make matters worse, you know that Wonwoo is imagining himself doing all of these dirty things to you. To be the object of sin and desire is new to you, and it brings an uncomfortable feeling to the pit of your stomach.

You grapple with yourself every night, unable to get Wonwoo’s voice out of your head.

The word ‘tantalizing’ has never had much merit for you, but now, you understand. Wonwoo oozes sex and intrigue; he makes your mind go to places it's never before visited; dark, lustful places that make your heart race and your skin tingle. 

The little smirk that quirks onto his lips when he knows he’s irritated you has become burned into your mind's eye, and you can’t escape the shiny points of his canines, or the flash of black that overtakes his irises when he’s being demonic. 

You can feel your resolve to stay true to your morals is slipping, and in its place is a growing need that’s threatening to overtake you, body and soul.

This is the power of a truly strong demon, and it both scares and excites you while you war with yourself. 

Four:

After another long day of Wonwoo being raunchy, Mingyu finally goes to sleep. The viewer goes dark, and you stand up with a sigh. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” you muse, “but I’m thankful you didn’t push for more porn.”

“He’s on a streak, you know,” Wonwoo smirks. “But I figured I could let you off the hook for one night.”

“Let my pure boy off the hook, you mean.”

“No, I meant what I said. You’re the one who has a problem with it, not Mingyu. He’s just a hot-blooded man who’s hardly had any good sex in his life. A bit of porn can’t hurt.”

You roll your eyes. “Scientists who study the interaction between porn and erectile dysfunction would beg to differ.”

“Human scientists.” Wonwoo’s smirk widens. 

“I’m not having an argument with you, I’m off the clock.”

“Off the clock,” the demon repeats with a chuckle. 

“Yes, off the clock, which means I also don’t have to deal with you anymore.”

“You enjoy ‘dealing with me.’” Wonwoo insists.

You scoff loudly. “In what diluted world can you come to that conclusion?”

The demon steps closer to you. “The world where I’m a demon who can read sexual energy, and lately, it’s been wafting off your aura like smoke. And where there’s smoke, well, there’s fire.”

“I think you should get your eyes checked,” you fire at him, your arms crossing over your chest in an effort to keep that ‘sexual energy’ contained. 

“You’re such a virgin that it’s almost laughable,” Wonwoo tells you, his voice lowering. “Most angels don’t have the kind of lustful energy you do, virginity and all, but every being that exists is plagued by at least one of the seven deadly sins, angels included. It seems to me that your carnal desire is sex, which isn’t anything to be ashamed of. I’ve worked with angels who are greedy, angels who have a sense of divine wrath, but pride is the main trait I’ve seen. One could argue that all three of those sins are more disgusting on an angel than that of simply wanting to be touched, to experience one’s form to the fullest.” 

Your mouth feels dry, and you lick your lips, unsure of what to say.

“Don’t worry, angel, I don’t need a response, not really. But… I would never defile an angel without her wanting it, so when I ask you this next question, I’ll need at least an enthusiastic nod if not a verbal ‘yes.’”

“What do you need to ask me?” you whisper.

Wonwoo is close enough to touch you now, and he reaches for your hand, tracing his thumb against your palm. Your mind is telling you to pull away, but you can’t. His touch is cold, but there’s something so nice about it…

“Can I kiss you?” Wonwoo asks, his words hanging in the air like a heavy smog.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it does little to help, and you stare at the beautiful demon. Your body is screaming yes, but your mind is still plagued with trepidation. 

“It’s a sin.”

“A kiss isn’t a sin, and besides, you’re off the clock, remember?” His smirk is just so beautiful, and you have to remind yourself that even though he’s a demon, Wonwoo was crafted by God’s own hands. “I think you can forgive yourself for a small misdemeanor, after all, humans are forgiven for much worse.”

“I…” Your heart is hammering in your rib cage, and never in your long life have you felt a desire like this.

“Or… I could wait,” Wonwoo sighs. “I won’t pressure you. I’m a demon, but I’m not an asshole.”

The idea of waiting even longer makes your skin tingle, and you can feel a frown of dissatisfaction appearing on your face.

“You can kiss me,” you say, and the words feel foreign on your tongue.

“Even though you hate me?” Wonwoo grins, cocking a brow.

“Even though I hate you.”

The demon lets out a laugh, dropping your hand in favour of grabbing your hips. He pulls you toward him, being shockingly gentle for a man who’s so outspoken about his taste for rough sex.

“Nobody has to know about this,” Wonwoo whispers as he leans closer. “Even angels are allowed to have dirty little secrets.”

“Then this will be our little secret,” you breathe, swallowing thickly as your hands instinctively go to his shoulder, tugging the demon even closer.

He meets your gaze as he slowly leans in, giving you all the time in the world to change your mind. But you’re in too deep now, and there’s no going back.

His lips press against yours gently, and your whole body is flooded with what you can only describe as pleasure, like a cool breeze wafting over you on an extremely hot day. You want more, and Wonwoo tugs you closer by your hips, his tongue snaking out to rub your lower lip.

Your mouth opens a little, a whimper escaping you as the kiss deepens. Wonwoo releases a low growl, and butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach from the sound.

Nothing in the world has ever made you feel this way, as if you’re glowing, and all because a dark being is tantalizing you toward sin.

With a gasp, you pull away, breathing heavily. 

Wonwoo holds you, not pushing for more; he gives you mental space to analyze what’s just happened, while still keeping you physically close, like a protector.

It’s such an odd notion, the idea that a demon could be any sort of protection for an angel like you. 

“I think…” You swallow thickly. “I think I need to have some time alone now.”

“I understand,” Wonwoo nods, his hands slipping away from your hips. “The ball is in your court, angel. Until you decide what you want to do, this is our little secret.”

“Our little secret,” you repeat like a mantra, but the words don’t do anything to help the anxiety building inside of you. It’s as if at any moment you could be struck down for impurity, except, even when you’re alone later, no hand of God comes to smite you.

You think carefully about what Wonwoo’s said, about all living things having their sinful, carnal desires, even angels.

Maybe this is natural, maybe this is okay… maybe. 

Five:

You’ve been yearning for Wonwoo in a way you’ve never yearned for anything since your creation. It’s taking every ounce of your self-restraint to keep your distance from him, and Wonwoo’s not making any of it easy.

Every dirty whisper in Mingyu’s ear, every glance at you while he talks about sex, bondage, and porn… 

It has your heart racing, your skin heating, and your core throbbing in a way that used to be foreign but is now becoming all too familiar. 

“Should I push for more sin tonight?” Wonwoo asks as Mingyu gets ready for bed. “Or have you had enough?”

You groan, knowing that you’re wet from the day you’ve had. “Please.”

“Please, what?” He cocks a brow.

“I’m so tired of all of this.”

“Tired of fighting your own desires, you mean,” Wonwoo corrects, seeing right through you.

You hate that your ‘sexual aura’ is visible to him, hate that no matter how hard you try to fight it, Wonwoo will always know the truth.

And the truth is: you want this demon to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked. You want to get a taste of the sin he has to offer, the sin he claims other angels partake in secretly.

Why are you holding yourself back, holding yourself to a set of standards, if others in your angelic profession don’t?

“What are you thinking about?” Wonwoo asks, watching you carefully.

You release a deep breath. “Everything.”

“Sounds like a lot,” the demon chuckles.

“It is.”

“Too much for a sweet angel like you to carry on her own shoulders.” 

You study his face, wondering if he’s being condescending or not.

“Being a demon is much easier. I don’t have to worry about anything,” Wonwoo continues, leaning back in his seat. “No rules, no standards, no fear. Just existence. Freedom.”

“I’m free,” you insist.

“Are you really?” Wonwoo grins. “Could have fooled me.”

“I am free! I’m an angel! I have the most freedom in the world!”

“Freedom to kiss who you want to kiss? To act on the desires that were literally built into you? Why would God have made you with the sin of lust if he did not intend for you to act on it? To torture you for your entire existence?” Wonwoo shakes his head. 

“He bestowed temptation so his creations could rise above it and devote themselves to Him,” you insist. “It teaches spiritual strength and perseverance.”

“Whatever you say, little Miss Sunday School.”

You let out a deep sigh. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” Wonwoo grins.

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because it makes me want you even more!” you scream. “For a reason I can not comprehend, I want you. I want you for the teasing, for the chastizing, for this disgusting ego that I would never condone on a human ward. I want it. I want all of you. And it’s killing me!”

Wonwoo stands up abruptly, and you mirror him, heart racing in your chest.

You can’t believe you’ve just admitted all of it, all of the deep dark things you’ve been thinking about for weeks.

“An ego can be sexy,” Wonwoo says finally. “Although I’d classify myself as more of a prideful being than an egotistical one.” 

“Ugh!” You throw your hands up, hating that his smirk is the most handsome thing you’ve ever seen, hating that he’s right. 

“Tell me you want this again,” Wonwoo urges you, stepping closer.

“I want you! You already heard me say it!” Your skin is hot with irritation, both sexual and emotional, and you can hardly think straight.

“No, tell me you want this.” Wonwoo grabs your hand, tugging you to his chest. He looks down at you, his lips almost ghosting over your own.

“I want this,” you whimper, feeling defeated and broken. 

You can no longer hold yourself back, and part of you doesn’t want to.

“I’ll be gentle,” the demon promises, bringing his mouth down to your throat, where he presses soft kisses that take your breath away. 

“I thought you liked it rough,” you say, releasing a chuckle that brings your anxiety down.

“I also like pleasure. I’m prideful, not a narcissist. Tonight, your pleasure will come first.”

Your skin tingles, and you swallow a lump in your throat. You can feel your fear dissipating. Part of you had imagined he’d want to try bondage with you right away, so it’s a relief that he’s going to meet you at your level, which is… well, nonexistent.

You are a free being. And tonight, you will lose your heavenly virginity of your own volition.

Wonwoo begins to suck on a spot just below your ear, and it makes you moan. You throw your arms around the demon, tugging him closer.

One of Wonwoo’s hands slips down to your bum, squeezing you through your white pants. 

God, he feels so good, and you focus on the feeling, pushing aside your racing thoughts.

You draw his lips to yours, and Wonwoo groans with pleasure, tugging you so you’re flush to his body. 

Kissing him is like magic, and you get lost in it easily. Your core is wet, and you can feel your panties getting sticky, which is a tantalizing thought.

“Bedroom,” Wonwoo says, breaking the kiss. 

Without missing a beat, the demon reaches down and lifts you bridal style. You gasp, clutching onto his shoulders and blinking up at him. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Wonwoo laughs. “As if I was about to take your virginity in a living room.” 

He heads toward your side of the apartment, and he pushes the door of your bedroom open.

Your room is all creams and minimalism, a true safe space, and he pauses to look at it for a moment. He’s never been in your room, nor you in his.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing, it’s just… very different from my side of the space.” 

“No whips and chains hanging on the walls?” you tease.

“How about no black onyx floors or dark colours.”

“Well, I am an angel,” you point out as he gently sets you on the bed. 

“Yes, baby, the best angel I’ve ever met.”

“Really?” 

“Without a doubt. The most angelic.” Wonwoo climbs on top of you, and your legs spread instinctively as the demon looks down at you. “I’ve never met an angel who has never sinned. It’s endearing.”

“Will you still find me endearing after tonight?” you ask.

“I’ll find you endearing forever,” Wonwoo promises.

“Who knew such sweet words could come from a demon.”

Wonwoo laughs. “If anyone deserves sweet words from me, it’s you.”

“You’re just saying that to get me in bed.”

“We’re already in bed.”

“Good point.” You grab the nape of his neck, tugging his lips down to yours.

This verbal foreplay has become trite, and you’re ready for more, ready for all Wonwoo is about to give you.

For the first time, you taste desperation on his lips, and it excites you. He grinds gently down against you, and it’s the first time there’s been pressure on your core. Tingles of pleasure run through you as you tighten your legs around his hips, willing him to push harder.

Wonwoo groans, following through with your silent plea. He ruts hard as you kiss each other, stimulating your clit through your clothing.

One of his hands reaches up and grabs your breast through your white sweater, massaging you and making you gasp.

“Such pretty sounds,” Wonwoo whispers, biting your earlobe gently. “Can’t wait to hear you screaming my name.”

“Wonwoo,” you whimper, wiggling beneath him, eager for more.

He sits up, and with one tug, Wonwoo removes your sweater, leaving you in a cream bra. 

“All white everything, huh?” he laughs.

“I’m an angel.”

“So you keep reminding me. You always wear such loose, modest clothing, but I imagined you’d be gorgeous under all these layers.” He licks his lips, his thumb teasing the lace of your bra. “Should I go slow?” 

“Go medium,” you tell him.

Wonwoo lets out another chuckle. “That wasn’t one of the options.”

“Make it one of the options.”

He shakes his head at you, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

You thread your fingers through his raven black hair, mewling as he massages you through your bra. Your nipples are aching already, and there’s a sense of great relief when he finally takes your bra off. 

“So pretty,” Wonwoo muses, kissing down from your throat to your breasts, where he captures one of your nipples in his mouth.

You whimper desperately, your entire body on fire with the pleasure.

“And so sensitive too,” the demon groans, gently dragging his teeth over your sensitive bud.

“Please,” you gasp.

“Please, what?” he looks up at you.

You let out a shuddery breath. “More.”

 “Your wish is my command, angel,” Wonwoo teases, his hand gliding down your body. Deft fingers slip under the waistband of your pants, but he stays over your panties as he makes contact with your clit.

You writhe against the bedding, eyes clenched shut as foreign ecstasy washes over you.

He continues to suck on your nipple as he toys with your pussy.

“Soaking through your panties,” Wonwoo tuts. “My dirty girl.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you’re shocked that you like the way his words feel. It’s a sinful kind of praise, and it makes you dizzy as you watch him, anticipating what he’ll do next. 

Wonwoo takes his time as he licks and sucks your nipples, playing with your pussy through drenched fabric.

It’s a relief when he finally tugs your pants down, leaving you in only panties.

Then, Wonwoo sits up, tugging his shirt off with one motion.

Your jaw drops at the view of his bare torso. He’s lean but muscled, and you wish you could trace the lines on his skin, but Wonwoo made it clear that tonight is about you. 

“I’m going to eat you out now,” Wonwoo explains, as he sinks to the floor. “Bet you taste like nectar and sunshine.”

Talking about your ‘taste’ makes you shy, and you close your thighs, only for him to gently pry them open.

“Don’t be bashful, baby,” Wonwoo coos, pressing kisses to your skin. 

“What if I don’t taste like nectar and sunshine?” you ask.

“I can already smell it on you,” Wonwoo promises, an attempt to be assuring, but now you’re talking about smell, and it makes you even more anxious. “You know what, let’s leave taste and smell out of this for now, okay?”

“Yes, please,” you nod, biting your bottom lip.

Wonwoo hooks his fingers in your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs.

The cool air of the room on your wet core makes you groan, back arching a little as you writhe against the bed.

Cold hands grab your thighs, confidently spreading you open. 

“Just breathe,” Wonwoo reminds you as he leans forward and licks the entirety of your core lewdly.

“Shit!” you gasp, thighs quaking.

The demon chuckles. “That’s the first time you’ve ever swore.”

You slap a hand over your mouth, and he shakes his head at you, returning to his task.

Soon, you’re moaning through your fingers, and your other hand reaches down to grab at his hair, keeping his face buried between your thighs.

He eats you out like a starved man, ravaging your pussy with licks and sucks that have your head spinning in the best possible way.

And then Wonwoo begins to growl, and you’ve never heard anything so erotic.

Your own gasps and whimpers are filling the room, and you can feel something getting tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach.

“Wonwoo,” you pant. “I think… I think I’m going to cum!”

He releases a groan, and the vibration of it on your clit makes your legs shake. All of your muscles are tense, waiting for that final push-

Then you look down, and your eyes lock with his. His pupils are blown, and he looks absolutely demonic, but there’s something so incredibly sexy about this powerful demon worshiping you with his mouth on your core-

You cum like an electric shock, your entire body jolting, muscles releasing only to clench again as the waves surge through you.

You scream, grabbing at the bed sheets like an anchor as your orgasm overtakes you.

Wonwoo is unrelenting on your core, groaning and eating you messily, and it only makes the whole situation more erotic.

You’ve been to Heaven, but nothing has ever felt like this.

“Wonwoo!” you scream when the pleasure begins to feel like it’s too much, like you can’t contain or sustain this type of ecstasy anymore.

The demon pulls away immediately, looking up at you.

“Angel,” he breathes, “you’re glowing.”

“What?”

“You’re glowing,” he repeats. Wonwoo grabs your hand from the bed, lifting it so you can see that your skin is literally aglow.

“Is this normal?” you gasp in panic.

“I’ve never seen it.”

“And you fuck a lot of angels?” you snap.

“Not really,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I find most of you to be too high-strung.”

“I’m high-strung.”

“But it’s endearing on you.” His thumb gently rubs your glit, and you jolt, releasing a gasp. “Glowing can’t be harmful.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure it’s just pent-up energy,” he muses. “Should I give you more?”

You take all of one second to consider his words before nodding. “More.”

Wonwoo nuzzles against your inner thigh with a laugh, and then he teases a digit between your pussy lips, gently sinking it into you.

You groan, your inner walls having never been touched before.

“So warm,” Wonwoo breathes. “So tight.”

He gently finger fucks you, teasing your hole open, and he brings his mouth to your clit again.

His pace is slow, and you know he’s letting you acclimate to the stimulus. 

You can feel yourself dripping on his digit, and the slick is making it all too easy for him to work you open. Soon, he adds another finger, and you groan desperately, loving the slight stretch.

“Gonna make you cum on my fingers before I give you the real thing,” Wonwoo explains.

“Okay,” you whimper.

He returns to sucking on your clit, but he’s not being as gentle as he was before.

You can feel that tension building again, and with each slick sound of his fingers fucking into you, you know you’re getting closer to the edge.

Whimpers escape your lips, and you gasp when he crooks his fingers, hitting a spot that has your whole body coming alight with pleasure.

You’ve heard Wonwoo talk about the ‘g-spot’ before, and you’re pretty sure he just found yours.

Your toes are curling, muscles getting incredibly tight as his pace quickens.

“I’m close!” you cry out, grabbing the bed sheets again, your heart racing in your chest.

Wonwoo groans a sound of affirmation, and again, his noise of pleasure is what sends you over the edge.

Just like the first time, he works you through your orgasm, unrelenting, while the pleasure courses through you. You’re a throbbing, whimpering mess by the time Wonwoo pulls away, and you watch with shy delight as he licks his fingers clean, moaning at your taste.

“How did that one feel, angel?” he asks. 

“So good,” you whimper. 

Wonwoo stands up, looking down at your nude form.

“Ready for the real deal?”

“I’m scared,” you admit, seeing the outline of his cock through his pants.

“That’s natural,” Wonwoo breathes, undoing his belt. “And if you still want to change your mind…”

“No.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Let’s do this.” 

Wonwoo pulls his pants down, and suddenly, his cock is slapping up against his stomach.

Your jaw drops at the sight of him. He’s long… well, you’re pretty sure he’s long, not that you have much to compare it to. 

“That’s going to fit inside of me?” you ask.

“Angel, your pussy is wetter than a slip and slide, it won’t be a problem,” Wonwoo laughs.

“Just… go slow.”

“Not medium?” he teases.

“Wonwoo…” you groan.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises, now fully nude as he climbs on top of you. “Don’t worry.”

Wonwoo presses his lips to yours, and you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pouring all of your attention into the meeting of your mouths.

Wonwoo slowly begins to rut, teasing his cock through your wet pussy lips and bumping your clit. The grinding feels phenomenal, and soon you’re a moaning mess beneath him, your core aching to be filled.

As if he can read you, the demon reaches for the base of his cock, lining the tip up with your wet hole. His mouth moves to your throat, giving you space to speak if you need him to pause or slow down, but as his tip slips inside of you, you realize there will be no need for breaks.

Sure, the stretch is new, but it’s not bad.

In fact, your pussy is trying to swallow him up, and with each inch after inch, you feel more and more complete.

Wonwoo truly is your opposite, the yin to your yang, and it feels phenomenal to finally be connected like this.

“You okay?” Wonwoo asks, and you can see his muscles feathering, as if it’s taking every ounce of self-control for him not to let loose and fuck you stupid.

“Feels good,” you groan, wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him further into you. 

Wonwoo moans deeply, and a moment later, he’s fully sheathed in your wet core.

You both release sounds of pleasure together, and your lips meet in a fiery kiss.

You love tangling your fingers in his hair, and it makes him kiss you harder. He’s still fully inside of you, unmoving as your walls adjust, but soon, your own hips are rocking, and he takes the cue to begin to thrust.

The first movement is shallow and slow, and you revel in the drag of his cock against your inner walls.

You cry out, throwing your head back, and Wonwoo latches onto your throat, sucking and nibbling.

Your pebbled nipples press against his chest, and each movement toys with them.

You can feel Wonwoo everywhere. He’s completely commanding every one of your senses, and not a single thought is going through your mind except for one word: more. 

His pace is increasing, and you get the sense that he’s reacting to your sounds, figuring you out based on your whimpering and whining.

You pull Wonwoo away from your throat by his hair, and you open your eyes, looking up at him.

God, he truly is the most beautiful being you’ve ever seen. 

He’s truly a vision, lust-blown pupils and all, his hair a mess from where you’re tugging on it. 

You breathe in each other, lips almost meeting but just separate, and the teasing makes everything more seductive.

Wonwoo pulls out of you suddenly, flipping you onto your side. He moves behind you, a cold big spoon as he enters you again. His breath is hot on your shoulders, and he takes the opportunity to gently bite your neck, making you gasp. You reach behind yourself, grabbing his hair again, which earns you a groan of pleasure. 

His hand is on your hip, and he fucks into you desperately, adjusting your body ever so slightly, opening your leg a little so he can hit deeper.

“Wonwoo!” you whimper when his hand slips from your hips to your core, his fingers teasing your clit.

“That’s it, scream my name,” he grins, biting your earlobe and making you shiver.

“Wonwoo!” you say it louder this time, unable to contain yourself as he works you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Gonna cum on my cock, huh, angel?” he chuckles. 

“Yes, I’m so close,” you whimper, pussy tightening around him.

“Not yet.” Wonwoo pulls out of you suddenly, and you whine, only for him to adjust you. 

Now you’re sitting on top of him, with Wonwoo propped against the headboard.

“Why am I on top?” you ask, confused.

“Oh angel,” he licks your nipple, “just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you’re the one who is in control.”

His hands are on your hips again, and he lifts you slightly, allowing him to plow up into you.

You cry out from how deep his cock is hitting you, from the way he’s using you like a ragdoll.

You throw your head back, and his mouth latches onto your nipple. Your hands fly to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he fucks you stupid.

Each smack down of your core on his cock has pressure on your clit, and you can feel that orgasm bubbling again.

You feel drunk, or, what you think being drunk would feel like. It’s a pleasurable dizziness, a mind numbing euphoria and a tingling that flutters through your entire body.

Wonwoo growls, and you know it’s a sound of affirmation, a sound to push you toward the edge.

A few more rough thrusts have you tumbling into ecstasy, your entire core clamping down on Wonwoo’s cock. Your head falls forward, your lips making contact with the crown of Wonwoo’s head as he also groans. He pulls off of your nipple, panting desperately as he holds you down, his cock burried in your throbbing pussy.

You know he’s cumming too, and feel his muscles twitching, his shoulders tight with tension.

And his sounds… nothing in Heaven or on Earth sounds the way Wonwoo does when he’s wrapped in pleasure.

Your entire body sings with delight as the two of you hold onto each other, jolting with the aftershocks of your extreme highs.

The two of you hold each other, breathing in one another.

Wonwoo leans his face against your breasts, and you cradle him.

You’ve never felt this close to anyone.

For a moment you can forget that he’s a demon and you’re an angel.

None of that matters right now.

Finally, Wonwoo pulls away with a sigh. “This changes things.”

“It does,” you agree.

“We’re bound together for as long as Mingyu lives, so… you better not decide you hate me tomorrow.”

You laugh. “You irritate me, but I don’t hate you.”

“I’m not going to stop telling Mingyu to pursue his sexual desires.”

“I never expected you to,” you admit with a sigh.

“And you’re… okay with it now?” 

“As long as it’s consensual, fine, he can be as dirty as he wants to be.” 

Wonwoo laughs, cuddling close to your chest again. “See, in this day and age, some sins like premarital sex are outdated.”

“We could debate that,” you laugh, running your hands through his hair.

“I think I would like that.”

“I feel like it would be a case of unstoppable force meets immovable object.” 

Wonwoo chuckles, and you love how beautiful he is when he smiles. “Sounds like us.”

“But we can’t let our sexual escapades get in the way of doing our job for Mingyu,” you declare.

“I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from your work,” Wonwoo groans. “You’d probably bite my cock off if I tried.”

“Consider yourself warned.”

“Consider yourself worshipped.”

“Huh?” you blink down at him.

“You’re still glowing, angel.” Wonwoo plays with a piece of your hair. “It’s been a long time since a demon like me has had anything to look up to.”

“You look up to me?”

“In some ways, but don’t make this more of an embarrassment than it already is.” Wonwoo lets out a sigh. “You’ve reformed me… slightly.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the power of good pussy.”

“Great pussy,” Wonwoo corrects. “And no. If I’m being honest, I think you’ve been changing me for the better for a while, bit by bit.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Wonwoo smiles. “And I’m just happy.”

“I can live with that.” 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! this one was fun, it was a little late to be posted because my puppy has a tooth infection and it's been a hell of a week. reminder! Patreon charges on the FIRST of every month, so if you're going to get my Patreon, just be aware of that, or wait until June 2nd :)

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🔮 preview. Your core tingles as you test the bindings on your wrists. There is truly so much he can teach you about the darker side of sex, the pain that turns into pleasure, the freedom of being completely immobilized and at the mercy of someone you trust to take care of you. 

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, bdsm themes, wrist bondage, pleasure dom!Wonwoo, oral/pussy eating, wonwoo has powers in this… including a long demon tongue, overstimulation, finger fucking, body/breast worship, squirting, dacryphilia (arousal from tears/crying),  dirty talk, praise, multiple reader orgasms, etc…   I petnames. (hers) angel. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 140

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

To your shock, Wonwoo isn’t pushy with you the way he’s pushy with Mingyu. He hasn’t said a word about the soft sex the two of you have continued to have for months now, and he hasn’t made you feel lesser than him for being vanilla either.

Wonwoo treats you very differently than he treats Mingyu, but you know that every time Wonwoo brings up rough sex in Mingyu’s ear, it’s because Wonwoo himself has an interest in it.

The demon has talked about being a sexual pleaser, and your need to please him has grown too. Can you really hold Wonwoo and yourself back from reaching another level by dabbling with the BDSM themes he’s so fond of?

Can you… condemn him to vanilla sex for as long as the two of you are connected through Mingyu?

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The princess nodded as she watched him look towards the kitchen where his parents hadn't emerged yet. 

“Your order is almost ready, but it’ll be twelve dollars,” he informed as the princess nodded and handed him a pouch of coins. He opened the pouch and started to count the coins when the princess interrupted him. 

“You can have all the money.” 

“What?” Wonwoo asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. 

“You can have all the money. I sure don’t need it,” she said again, smiling watching Wonwoo struggle to say anything back to her. 

“Well… umm.. Thank you, your highness,” he said, bowing his head as his parents came out of the kitchen with the bread in a basket. 

“Princess!” His mother exclaimed, a big smile coming across her face, “here’s the bread you ordered.” 

“Thank you Mrs. Jeon.”

“What are you doing with all the bread?” Wonwoo’s father asked, watching the princess struggle to carry the basket. 

“It’s for my brother, he asked for some more so that we can have some for lunch,” she huffed trying to look around the basket. 

“Wonwoo, why don’t you help the princess and carry the basket for her?” His father asked. Wonwoo nodded and gently took the basket from the princess’ hands as she sighed. 

“Thank you,” she smiled, “do you mind coming to the castle?” Wonwoo looked at his parents who smiled and nodded. “I’ll have the coach-man escort you back home.” 

Wonoo nodded and followed the princess out to the carriage. His parents waved from the carriage as it took off leaving him and the princess in silence for a majority of the ride to the palace. 

“It’s my birthday today,” Wonwoo stated. 

“Wait, what?” Y/N gasped, turning around quickly to face him, her braid nearly hitting her cheek, “how old are you turning?" 

“Eight,” he smiled. 

“Well happy birthday Wonwoo!” Y/N smiled back at him, as the carriage glided up to the castle. 

“Follow me!” she said excitedly, tugging open the door and hopping out. Wonwoo remained seated for a beat, letting the sudden silence wash over him, a warmth blooming in his chest that settled into a gentle smile.

The kitchen was at the back of the castle, which meant Wonwoo got to walk around a bit before he left. Y/N led Wonwoo through a magnificent archway, stopping where a handsome older boy, Prince Jeonghan, was waiting. 

“Brother!” Y/N announced, catching the attention of the young prince, “the bread is here!” 

Jeonghan glanced at the basket, then his attention settled on Wonwoo, “and you are the one who bore this weight. You must be the baker's son.” 

Wonwoo immediately lowered his gaze and bowed his head low. “Your Highness, Jeon Wonoo, at your service. It is my honor to deliver the order.” 

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, noting Wonwoo’s polite deference and the ease with which he held the basked, which was clearly far heavier than the boy his age should carry without strain. 

“An honor, you say?” Jeonghan mused, circling Wonwoo slowly. “Most children who visit the bakery simply take the coin. You seem quite humble to volunteer for the delivery.” 

“I didn’t volunteer your highness,” Wonwoo admitted, “my father asked me to deliver the bread.” 

Jeonghan waved a dismissive hand, “regardless. You show good strength for your age, better manners than most squires we currently employ, and you were honest with me instead of taking the credit for yourself.”

He paused, looking Wonwoo up and down. “I imagine the palace life is a world away from the village bakery. Tell me, Wonwoo, are you fond of horses?” 

Wonwoo, still holding the basket in the middle of the hallway, looked up, surprised by the sudden shift in topic. 

“I—I have only seen the royal horses from the edges of the stable yard, Your HIghness,” Wonwoo admitted, his voice soft. “But they are magnificent. My father always said a healthy horse is the kingdom's true wealth.” 

Jeonghan gave a rare, sharp smile, “a practical outlook. Good. Our stable master is short on reliable hands, and a boy with strong arms and good manners is a valuable commodity. Tell me Wonwoo, how would you like to see that wealth up close? We are in need of bright, strong, lads for our stable service.” He gestured to the castle towering above them. “The opportunity is there. We would offer you a place as a Page, you would care for the royal mounts and run errands throughout the palace. It is hard work, but it offers a proper education and a future far greater than flour dust.” 

Y/N’s eyes lit up with excitement, “say yes, Wonwoo! You can stay!” 

Wonwoo looked from the Prince to the Princess, his head spinning with the weight of the proposal. He knew this was a monumental chance for his family. He bowed again, the bread basket dipping slightly, “if my parents agree, Your Highness, I would be honored to accept that position and serve.” 

Prince Jeonghan was satisfied enough with the answer and nodded. He reached out, gently rubbing the tops of his sisters head, messing up her hair, and gave a brief, sharp smile before turning away and leaving the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he walked away.

Y/N immediately smoothed her hair down, ignoring her brother and turned to Wonwoo with a wide smile, “they will agree! This is wonderful, Wonwoo! We’ll see each other everyday!” 

Wonwoo nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He knew that it would be hard for his parents to lose him at the bakery and wasn’t sure if they’d agree. He just let Y/N lead him to the kitchen and placed the bread basket on the table, looking around the room at all the food that was being prepared for the day. 

“Would you like to stay for breakfast?” Y/N asked Wonwoo, noticing the hungry look in his eyes as he stared at the spread, but he shook his head and politely bowed. 

“Thank you for the offer Your Highness, but I must get back to the bakery. Not only do I have a big decision to make, but I have some bread to prove.” 

Y/N nodded her head in understanding, before smiling wide. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I can’t wait to hear your decision!” 

Wonwoo offered her one final, quick bow before she led him back through the sprawling hallways and out to the front courtyard where the couch-man was waiting. He climbed into the carriage, the warmth of her smile still blooming in her chest. Knowing that tonight, his simple life as the bakers son was about to change forever. 

As soon as the carriage pulled up to the bakery, his parents were waiting for him. He thanked the couch-man who had opened the door for him and slowly approached his parents, who had big smiles on their faces. 

“So? How was the castle?” His father asked, as his mother reached out to hold his hand. 

“It was nice,” he quietly responded, avoiding their eyes. 

His mother squeezed his hand, sensing his sudden reserve, “only nice? You were gone for a while. Did something happen at the castle?”

Wonwoo took a deep breath, trying to be brave. He pulled his parents towards the front door, “could we go inside? I have to tell you something big,” he said, “while I was at the castle I ran into the prince.” 

His father’s expression sharpened instantly at the mention of the prince, “the prince?” His father pressed, “What did he say? Did he have a message about the order?” 

“He offered me a job,” Wonwoo explained, sitting down between them. “He said I could be a Page at the castle. I would help with the horses and run messages and they would teach me things.” He looked earnestly at his mother, “he said it was a chance to have a great future.” 

Both his parents exchanged a shocked look, their faces betraying their astonishment. They had not expected such high regard  to be shown toward their son. 

“He was impressed that I could carry the bread basket at my age and said that I had good manners.” 

His mother smiled warmly at the mention of her son’s kind heart. She sighed, and tenderly  brushed some of his messy hair away from his eyes, taking a close, worried  look at him. She knew that her son had a kind spirit and a loving heart. She was scared that the politics of the royal family would ruin him. 

“What do you think about the offer, son?” His father asked, sitting down next to his mother and taking Wonwoo’s other hand, so they were connected in a tight circle. 

Wonwoo sighed. He knew that his parents would miss him, but he really wanted to study and live in the castle.More than anything, he wanted to get to know the kind and lively spirit that was the princess. He looked up towards his mother and squeezed her hand. 

“I want to go,” he stated, his voice quiet but a little firm. 

His mother inhaled sharply, a single tear sliding down her cheek, but nodded in understanding. “Oh, my dear boy,” she murmured, squeezing his hand tightly. “We know you do. It’s a chance for you to see the world beyond our bakery door.” 

His father squeezed his hand as well, his eyes fixed on the future. “It is an immense opportunity, Son. A gift the Jeon family could never buy,” he looked at his wife. “If we agree, we must set rules. He is only eight. We will insist on weekly visits, and we will insist they treat him fairly.” 

“I won’t be alone,” Wonwoo said, looking up at them both, his eyes earnest. “The princess said she would see me everyday. She’ll look out for me.” 

His parents looked at each other, the name of the Princess, cutting through their fear and striking at the core of the offer. They knew that the unlikely spark between the princess and their son was the very thing that made this impossible dream possible. 

His mother sighed once more, before wiping the tears rolling down her eyes, before looking at her husband who nodded. 

“Alright son,” his father said, his voice thick with pride and gravity. “You can be a Page in the castle.” 

Wonwoo knew the castle was big from the distant view he had everyday, but he didn’t think it would be this big on the inside. The halls went up so high they almost touched the sky. The vast space gleamed with gold and marble, and every chamber felt like walking into a cold, beautiful treasure chest.

It felt like the opposite of the warm, cozy bakery he grew up in. 

He was led up into one of the servants quarters in the east hall. His room was at the top of the tower, which meant he had to climb a lot of stairs every morning. But when he looked out, the view across the kingdom was truly beautiful. 

He was given the morning to unpack his things and change into his new uniform. The simple, slightly rough fabric felt stiff and heavy compared to his soft cotton clothes from the bakery. When the time came, another Page, older and silent, led Wonwoo through the echoing stone corridors, down into the lower grounds and toward the immense Royal Stables. The air changed instantly, replacing the cold marble scent with the rich, earthy smells of hay, leather, and horses.

The Stable Master, a large, weathered named Lord, Baek, stood in the central yard, directing a flurry of activity. He did not look up when Wonwoo approached. 

“Lord Baek, the new Page, Jeon Wonwoo,” the older Page stated curtly. 

Lord Beak finally looked down, his gaze sharp and assessing. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t scowl. 

“You are small,” Lord Beak said simply, his voice a low rumble. “And you are new. That means you listen, you do not talk, and you work twice as hard as everyone else. The palace does not pay us to make friends, boy.” He pointed to a large pile of intricate leather bridles piled in the corner. “Your first task: those bridles need cleaning and polishing until they shine like the Princess’s jewels. Then you will sort that pile of curry combs. I want the bronze separate from the steel. Go.” 

Wonwoo immediately lowered his head. He knew this was not a place for smiles or softness. 

“Yes, sir,” he replied quietly, already moving toward the dirty pile of bridles. He spent the whole rest of the day, even missing supper to finish the work Lord Baek had given him. Only eating when it was almost all the rest of the servants had gone to bed. 

He hadn’t even seen the princess his first day, like the thought he would. 

The next day was different, he learnt quickly that during the week he would attend school and then help in the stables after school and work purely in the stables during the weekend, leaving almost no time for leisure. 

He would attend classes quickly, change and then work until he went to bed. It was the same thing everyday. It wasn’t until almost a month into living in the castle did he see the Princess. 

He was making his way to the stables with a couple of horses when he heard her voice.  It was bright and clear, cutting through the usual drone of the courtyard like a silver bell. He recognized the sound immediately. 

"There you are, Wonwoo! I've been looking everywhere!"

He froze mid-step, causing the horses behind him to shuffle restlessly. He looked up, and there she was, walking towards him, in a fancy gown and flowers all throughout her hair, a clear sign that she had been in the garden. Her face lit up with a usual lively smile at the sight of him. 

He immediately dropped his gaze and tried to bow as best as he could while still holding the reins. 

“Your highness,” he said, “I apologize. I am still on duty.”

Y/N simply walked right up to him, entirely ignoring the horses and his formal bow. 

“Duty? You look like you haven’t slept in a week! Don’t worry, I told Lord Beak I needed help finding the best apples for my pony, Cloud. Come on, I’m rescuing you.” She reached out a hand to take one of his reins, ready to pull him along. 

Wonwoo smiled, thankful that he didn’t have to do chores right away. He sighed, and handed her one of the reins. The tension in his shoulders seemed to lift immediately. 

Y/N beamed, now walking side-by-side with him, leading the horses away from the crowded stable yard and toward a sunny, secluded path near the royal orchards. 

“What were you supposed to be doing right now?” Wonwoo asked softly, unable to help the smile in his voice. 

She leaned toward him, lowering her voice so no adults could hear her. “Etiquette  lessons with Madame Balm. She always makes me walk lines and corrects my posture even though my posture is perfect!” 

Wonwoo chuckled, the sound slightly rusty from a month of hard work and silence. The idea of Y/N forced into rigid formality was both ridiculous yet familiar. 

“Walking straight lines sounds terribly difficult,” he murmured, shaking his head. 

She tightened her grip on the reins. “It’s a nightmare. But anyway, I haven't seen you around at all! Why did it take you so long to come find me? Did Lord Baek put you in the deepest part of the stables?” 

Wonwoo sighed, he also was disappointed that he hadn’t had free time to do simple things like explore the castle or spend time with the princess. 

“I’ve been busy from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep,” he explained, pulling the horses to a gentle stop near a large apple tree. “There is school, and then the stables. Everyday Lord Beak doesn't let us stop,” he looked at her then the smile gone, “I thought I would see you sooner.”

Y/N’s bright smile softened into an expression of immediate sympathy. She dropped the reins letting the horses graze freely, and turned fully toward him 

“Oh Wonwoo,” she said gently, reaching out a hand to touch his sleeve, “I missed you too. I told you I would see you everyday, and I promise I’ll come to the barn to see you after you're done with school.” 

The simple assurance was like warm balm after a month of cold stone and hard labor. 

“You will?” he asked, the hole in his voice undeniable. 

“Y/N nodded firmly, “every weekday. We can talk while you polish tack or muck stalls. We have to be quick, but we’ll be together. You need a friend here, and so do I.” She gave his sleeve a final squeeze before handing him a basket and turning toward the orchard. “Now, let’s go find those apples. Cloud will be crossed if he misses his snack.”

The simple, quiet ritual established from there became the fixed point in their lives. The early years were defined by shared secrets and easy comfort. Wonwoo polished the tack while Y/N read him chapters from grand adventure novels she was supposed to be studying. 

Everyone in the castle found their relationship quite sweet, quite wholesome, seeing it as a lovely display of the Princess’s kind heart and the Page’s steadfast loyalty.

As they started to grow out of their childish features and into their blossoming young teenage years, the comfortable ease began to break down, replaced by a strange, charged awareness. The first big shift between them was when Wonwoo, now transitioning from Page to Squire, had a sudden growth spurt. He was no longer the small baker boy. His shoulders had broadened, and his hands, once small enough to fit inside hers, were now rough and large from endless drills with practice of swords and dealing with hard leather. Their interactions were less about childish games and more about unspoken emotions and feelings of discovery. 

There was less time for them to work with horses and run around the gardens, and Princess Y/N could keenly feel the change between them. Instead of watching him clean the stables and helping with the horses, she would now watch him from the palace balcony. Below, he was training, his form becoming sharper, and she watched him make friendships with the older boys and men among him, who were quickly becoming his peers. The stables were no longer their private sanctuary; they were a training ground preparing him for a world she couldn't fully reach. 

He had just finished a brutal evening training session and was scarfing down his supper in a quiet corner of the Squire's mess hall when she appeared.

“Are you having fun at least?” She asked Wonwoo, watching him chew quickly. 

Wonwoo paused, holding a piece of bread mid-air. His face was smudged with dirt and sweat. He was exhausted, but he shook his head slightly. 

“Fun isn’t what it’s for Your HIghness,” he replied, swallowing hard. “It is an honor. I need to be ready to protect your brother, and you, when the time comes.”

Y/N sighed, leaning her elbow on the table. She looked at his tired eyes and the determination etched onto his face. The playful boy she had rescued was now a soldier in training. 

“I know it’s necessary, but you used to laugh more,” she murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t forget the simple things Wonwoo.” 

Wonwoo quickly looked away from her, his gaze locking onto the rough wooden table. He was painfully aware of how close she was, how sweet the scent of her  perfume was compared to the stink of sweat and steel clinging to him. 

“I don’t forget anything your highness,” he said, his voice a little bit more playful. Trying to reassure her that the boy she once knew was still in there. “But the simple things don’t keep the castle safe. Duty comes first. Always.” 

He deliberately avoided looking at her again, using his rigorous schedule as a shield to hide the truth. Every moment spent training, every drop of sweat, was purely for her sake. The duty was the only thing he was allowed to love. 

Y/N huffed and stood up from the table, clearly frustrated at the sudden, cold distance he created. She didn’t want to cause an argument with her best friend. She leaned down quickly and pressed a sharp, quick kiss to his grimy cheek before turning and leaving the dining hall. 

Wonwoo froze entirely, his fork clattering against the plate. The immediate shock was overwhelming. He looked up, but she was already gone, leaving him alone, heart hammering against his ribs, his duty almost completely forgotten in the face of her reckless affection.

Wonwoo’s sixteenth birthday was quiet, marked by the heavy anticipation of his final years as a Squire. By royal decree, he received a small ceremony in the yard where Prince Jeonghan presented him with a beautifully weighted, custom-fitted-sword, his first piece of truly good steel, a visible sign of his imminent knighthood. While the court cheered his merit, Y/N found him later that night in the armory, the heavy scent of metal and oil surrounding them. 

She gave him no gift, but instead, she reached out and traced the sharp line of th new sword resting on his hip. Her touch, far more intimate than any metal, made him hold his breath. He knew his sixteenth year meant the line between them was hardening, he was closer than ever to become her official protector, a position that demanded he be nothing more, and everything less, than the boy she loved. 

“Have you given it a name?” She asked, as Wonwooran his thumb lightly along the spine of the blade, careful to avoid the edge. 

“No, Your Highness,” he replied. “It’s not mine yet. Not truly. Not until I’m sworn in.” 

“But it will be yours,” Y/N insisted, his eyes fixed on the reflective metal. “And it will be the thing that keeps us safe. It deserves a name.” 

He looked from the sword to her, and the protective, desperate love he felt for her was momentarily reflected in the cold steel.

“Celestra's Mark.” He said, after a few moments of thinking.

Y/N smiled, a quiet, knowing smile. “It suits you, Wonoo. It suits the shield you are becoming.” She reached out and ran a fingertip over the steel, a daring, silent acknowledgement of the sacrifice he was making for her home. 

He quickly re-sheather the blade, the sound a sharp, final click in the quiet armory, marking the end of their sixteenth birthday moment and signaling the return to the strict boundaries they both observed. 

He quickly re-sheathed the blade, the sound a sharp, final click in the quiet armory, marking the end of their sixteenth birthday moment and signaling the return to the strict boundaries they both observed.

“How’s Wonwoo’s training going?” Prince Jeonghan asked.

Y/N jumped, a small cry catching in her throat, at the sudden presence of her older brother. Her entire body recoiled, and her hand flew instantly to cover the sudden, frantic pounding of her heart beneath her gown. She took a sharp, necessary breath to regain control. 

“Brother! You startled me,” she managed, turning to face him from her balcony she was watching Wonwoo from. “I didn’t hear you come in. Why are you sneaking around?” 

Jeonghan raised a skeptical eyebrow at her obvious shock. 

“I wasn’t sneaking, Y/N. You were simply daydreaming. You shouldn’t look so guilty when asked about my top Squire,” he jested, his gaze lingering on her flushed cheeks. He walked to the railing and followed her gaze down to the training yard. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental about the baker’s boy?”                                

Y/N whipped her head around to scowl at her brother before smacking him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Don’t call him that, Jeonghan. You know he’s going to be Knight Wonwoo soon,” she retorted, though her cheeks remained pink. She adjusted the fabric of her sleeve, gathering her composure. “His training is excellent, he is ready for his oath next month, isn’t he? Even Lord Baek admitted he’s the sharpest they’ve had.” 

Jeonghan smiled, pleased by the quick defense and the confirmation of Wonwoo’s skill. 

“He’s the sharpest, which is why I’m making sure he protects what matters most. Once he’s knighted, he won’t be mine. I”ve assigned him to you, Y/N. KNight Wonwoo will be your personal guard. Which, speaking of the future, is why I came looking for you.” He turned, the playful smile fading, signaling the shift to official business. 

He leaned against the cold stone railing, his eyes fixed on the distant peaks of the kingdom.

“The political envoys arrived late this morning from the Northern March.” Jeonghan took a long, heavy breath. “The alliance is confirmed, Y/N. You are formally engaged to Prince Mingyu. The betrothal will be announced next month, and the wedding will take place when you both come of age.” 

The simple announcement, delivered without fanfare, landed in the quiet afternoon like a shattering pane of glass. Below them, Wonwoo was practicing a flawless disarming maneuver, the first knight assigned to guard his Princess and her new fiancé, completely unaware that the duty he was training for was about to destroy the only thing he truly cared for. 

“No,” she whispered, the denial a desperate, raw sound. “No, you can’t - I won’t” 

Her composure was utterly fractured. She let out a frustrated, wounded cry, a loud, immature sound completely inappropriate for a Princess, and shoved past Jeonghan, he silks catching on the railing. She didn’t bother with the proper entrance, instead hiking up her skirts and bolting from the balcony entrance, her footsteps echoing loudly down the stone corridor in a frantic dash to escape.

Down below, in the middle of a perfect disarming drill, Wonwoo stopped. The jarring sound of the Princess's unmistakable cry and the panicked rush of her footsteps had cut through the focused chaos of the training yard. He looked up instantly, following the sound to the East Hall balcony. He didn't see the reason, but he clearly saw Prince Jeonghan standing alone at the rail, looking grieved and defeated, and he saw a flash of the Princess's distinctive blue skirt disappearing rapidly into the castle interior. Something was terribly wrong.

Y/N ran without caring who saw her or how undignified she looked. Tears steamed down her face, blurring the marble halls as she raced toward the seclusion of her private chambers. The words formally engaged to Prince Mingyu run in her ears and slammed into her mind, suffocating her. This wasn’t a choice, it was a decree. The cold duty she had always feared had finally snatched her future. She only wanted the comfort of her home, the one she had found in the stables with Wonwoo, but now that home felt impossible far away. 

Hours later, long after the curfew bells had sounded and the last of the squires were asleep, Wonwoo crept out of his quarters. He ignored the aching fatigue from his training and followed a familiar, shadowed route through the silent castle grounds. His destination was the stables, the only place he could think she might retreat when the palace felt too large and cold. 

He found her exactly where he expected: huddled on a bale of hay in front of her horse Cloud’s stall, the smell of the clean straw a stark contrast of the despair across her face. She was not crying, but her shoulders we slumped and her face was drawnb, illuminated only by the faint silver light spilling in from the high stable windows. 

Wonwoo didn’t speak a formal greeting. He simply sat down beside her, the movement quiet and deliberate. The cold hilt of Celestra’s Mark pressed against his hip, a silent reminder of the position that now separated him from her pain. 

“Your Highness,” he said softly, his voice barely a murmur, and turned his head to look at her. “What happened this afternoon? What made you run?” 

Y/N didn’t lift her head. She picked nervously at a loose piece of straw. 

“It doesn’t matter, Wonwoo. It’s palace business,” she mumbled, attempting to push him away from the formal tern. 

“It matters to me,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “I saw you run. And I know the difference between palace business and when my Princess is truly hurting.” He waited, allowing the quiet space to fill with the steady breathing of the horses and placed his hand on top of hers a gesture that shattered the distance between them. 

Y/N finally lifted her head, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. She didn’t pull her hand away. 

“They did it, Wonwoo,” she whispered, her voice cracking, the grip on his hand tightening. “The alliance is confirmed. I am formally betrothed to Prince Mingyu.They said the wedding will be when we come of age. They just sentenced me to years of waiting for a life I don’t want.” 

The words Prince Mingyu hit Wonwoo with the force of a solid steel blow. His meticulously constructed inner world, the one built on the fragile hope that his silent dedication would somehow earn him a future near her, shattered instantly.

His breath stopped in his chest. His training, honed over a decade, forced him to remain physically still, but internally, panic seized him. Betrothed. He, her assigned personal guard, had just been sentenced to stand beside her, day in and day out, while she belonged to another man. Celestra's Mark, the sword of his honor, felt suddenly heavy and cold, a permanent weight of irony pressing against his side. The irony was a cruel joke: he had worked tirelessly to earn the right to protect her, only to find that his first and most sacred duty was to escort her to the man she was forced to marry. His grip on her hand tightened involuntarily, not in comfort, but in a momentary, silent plea.

His breath stopped in his chest, but his training forced him to remain physically still. His grip on her hand tightened involuntarily, a momentary, silent plea before he forced his features into the neutral mask of the Squire. He released her hand slowly, pulling back only inches, but the distance felt like miles.

“This is why I must be knighted next month, Your Highness,” he said, his voice low and utterly devoid of emotion, though his heart was hammering a furious rhythm against his ribs. He deliberately focuses on the duty, the only thing he was allowed to acknowledge. “It is necessary for the stability of the crown. It is necessary for the safety of Hesperos.” 

He lifted his hand, not to reach for her, but to gently touch the hilt of his sword. 

“But I swear to you this,” he continued, his eyes finally meeting hers, intense and burning with a controlled fire. “Until the day they bind you to him, and for every moment after, you will never be alone. I am your shield. I will guard your happiness even if it means sacrificing mine.” 

The sheer weight of the unofficial oath hung heavy in the stable air. Y/N watched his face, searching for any flicker of the boy who used to share her forbidden sweets, but saw only the frigid determination of the future knight. 

“Wonwoo..” she began, her voice ran, reaching out to him again, perhaps intending to ask the question of their shared past that they both had always avoided. 

But Wonwoo didn’t let her finish. He knew that one more word, one more touch, would shatter his discipline he had spent years on, that he needed to survive the years ahead. He quickly stood up, his movements stiff and practiced. 

“I must go, Your Highness,” he said, the formality of the title now sounding like a deliberate, painful barrier. “I have an early morning training session, and I cannot be found here.” 

He gave her a quick, deep, formal bow. The bow of a future guard, not a friend, and without another word, he turned and melted back into the shadows. He did not look back, even as his heart screamed in protest. He left her sitting alone on the hay bale, holding the cold, empty space where his hand had been, acutely aware that the silence he left behind was the sound of their fate sealing shut. 

Two years passed in an agonizing, slow motion defined by duty and proximity. Wonwoo, now eighteen, was no longer a youth. He was a disciplined warrior, lean and stoic, prepared for the oath that would officially bind him to the crown. 

Bind him to her. 

For the past two years, his life had been a singular exercise in control. The memory of Y/N’s tearful face and the unspoken desperation of their final meeting in the stables fueled his training.

 He had mastered the Knight’s Oath and the use of Celestra’s Mark, going over every rule of honor and servitude until his emotions were buried beneath the hard, cold surface of military perfection. He had to be perfect because he was now bound to the Princess in a daily, professional capacity, forced to witness the life he couldn’t have.

Meanwhile, Prince Mingyu had become a fixture at the court. He was everything a future King Consort should be: handsome, genuinely kind, and popular within the court and the people. Crucially he was good with Y/N. 

Y/N and Mingyu’s betrothal was treated as a gentle, long-term courtship. They spent time together formally. Attending state dinners, riding, and sharing lessons. Mingyu was attentive and funny, clearly enjoying her company.

Y/N was unfailing courteous to Mingyu, fulfilling her duty, but her heart had not shifted. She still sought out the quiet comfort of Wonwoo’s presence whenever their duties overlapped, replying to his silent understanding, but it killed Wonwoo. 

He was always there. Standing two steps behind her as she laughed at Mingyu’s jokes, watching her hand brush Mingyu’s arm, and witnessing the natural ease of a relationship that was publicly accepted. He had to suppress every jealous instinct and every desperate desire, knowing that his primary duty was to ensure the safety and happiness of the man who would take his princess.

“What do you mean you don’t want me there at your knighting ceremony?” She had quietly pleaded, trying not to cause any attention between them in the halls of the servants quarters. 

It was almost midnight and if they were seen together, punishment would be brutal. So being quiet was crucial. 

“I mean that you have previous commitments to the prince at the time of my ceremony,” Wonwoo sighed, hating the tears slowly falling down her cheeks. “I will ask sir Baek to attend with you in my absence.” 

“But I don’t want Sir Baek.” 

“I cannot miss my own knighting ceremony,” Wonwoo scoffed. 

“Then I will miss the tea ceremony,” Y/N pushed back, trying to step closer to the almost knight. Wonwoo shook his head and held out an arm to push her back slightly. 

“We both know you cannot. Your parents would be furious.” 

“They should be. They knew your ceremony was tomorrow, why did they have to schedule it on the same day?” 

Wonwoo sighed, and allowed himself to have one selfish act of affection towards you. He raised his hand and gently cupped her cheek, wiping the tears falling down her cheeks. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But you cannot miss the tea ceremony.” 

Y/N wheeped, but didn’t try to argue more. Instead she leaned into his touch a little bit, allowing him to cup her other cheek. “Promise me that you’ll re-inact the entire thing once I get back?”

Wonwoo chuckled at the request. Only she would ask him such things, but reluctantly agreed by shaking his head. “I’ll skip the nonsense and just show you the badge.” 

Y/N gasped and pulled away from him, watching him laugh some more. “You will do no such thing Wonwoo!” 

Wonwoo just smiled and watched as she wiped away a few of her own tears before trying her best to put on a smile for him. 

The smile that could make twelve hours of training worth it. 

The smile that he would kill for. 

The smile that saved him from a life of bread and baking. 

The smile he loved. 

He still thought about how weird it was being in front of the whole royal family and not having her present. 

It was ironic. The person he was swearing to protect wasn’t even here. 

Prince Jeonghan was the one knighting him, he was the one he was giving his oath to when it should have been the princess. 

His princess. 

His parents were at the ceremony. It had been almost a month since he had last seen them, and the prince was kind enough to allow them to spend the rest of the day together after the ceremony. 

His mother was crying the whole entire ceremony and his father had been standing beside her with a proud look on his face. 

The day of the knighting ceremony arrived. The cathedral was packed, the air thick with incense and the sound of solemn music. Wonwoo knelt before Prince Jeonghan, the active royal authority for the ceremony, wearing the heavy formal armor, the weight of the steel a physical manifestation of his sacrifice. 

He still thought about how strange it was being here in front of the whole royal court without the Princess present in the royal box. 

It was bitterly ironic. 

The entire reason he had pushed himself, the person he was truly swearing to protect, wasn’t here at this pivotal moment. Prince Jeonghan was the one administering the oath, the one he was dedicating himself to, when in his heart, that commitment belonged to his Princess. 

He found solace only in the sight of his own family. His parents were seated near the front, guests of the royal family for the day. His mother was quietly crying the whole entire ceremony, utterly overwhelmed with pride, while his father stood beside her, his face set in a proud, unwavering expression. It had been almost a month since he had last seen them, and Prince Jeonghan had been kind enough to allow them to spend the rest of the day together after the ceremony. 

Prince Jeonghan’s voice boomed as he placed the blunt side of a ceremonial sword, the King's own great sword, on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Do you swear loyalty to the Crown of Celestra, upholding its laws, its alliances, and its sovereign lines, with Honor as your sole guide?” 

Wonwoo met Prince Jeonghan’s eyes, his resolve absolute.

“I swear,” Wonwoo affirmed, his voice ringing clearly through the cathedral. 

The final pronouncement was made, the assembly cheered, and the heavy ceremonial robes were swiftly replaced with his new, bespoke knight's uniform. Celestra's Mark, his sword of honor, felt balanced and light on his hip, despite the immense weight of the oath he had just taken.

As the cathedral began to empty, Prince Jeonghan gave him a respectful nod, releasing him. Wonwoo moved immediately toward the section where his family waited.

His mother, dressed in her best Sunday clothes, rushed forward. She didn't bow or curtsy; she simply enveloped him in a fierce, tearful hug, pressing her cheek against the cold steel of his shoulder plate.

“Oh, my beautiful, clever boy,” she wept quietly into his uniform. “You did it. You are a Knight.”

Wonwoo hugged her back fiercely, inhaling the comforting scent of baked dough and lavender that always clung to her. For a moment, he wasn't Knight Wonwoo, sworn protector of the Princess; he was just her son.

His father approached, a man of quiet strength whose own rough hands had shaped hundreds of loaves of bread. He didn't embrace Wonwoo, but instead placed a large, calloused hand on his newly armored shoulder, right where the King's sword had touched him.

“Honor,” his father said, his voice thick with pride. “That is the only thing we ever asked you to carry, son. Carry it well.”

Wonwoo nodded, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

“I will, Father,” he promised, his voice regaining the steady confidence of his rank. “Always.”

He pulled back, smiling at them both, knowing that their pride was the one shield he was truly glad to carry.

Wonwoo pulled back, smiling at them both, knowing that their pride was the one shield he was truly glad to carry. 

They settled at a small, reserved table in a quiet corner of the outer hall, where the noise of the main celebration couldn’t reach them. His mother fussed over his untouched plate of food, while his father sipped water, still watching him with that look of intense pride. 

“And the Princess, Wonwoo?” his mother asked softly, resting a hand on his forearm. “Is she well? We heard she has been... very busy with state duties this past year. You two still spend time together, yes?”

The question was innocent, delivered with the easy familiarity of someone asking after a well-loved niece. Wonwoo felt a sharp, internal twist.

“The Princess is excellent, Mother,” he replied, his tone immediately defaulting to the cool, formal respect required of his rank. “As her personal guard, my duty is now to ensure her safety at all times. I am constantly near her, though our interactions are strictly professional.”

His father frowned slightly at the formality. “Professional? What happened to the young lady who used to quiz you on your lessons? I trust the steel hasn't made you forget your manners, son.”

“No, Father,” Wonwoo murmured, avoiding their eyes and focusing on slicing his food with precise, stiff movements. “Her Highness is betrothed to Prince Mingyu now, and my position requires absolute discretion and honor. She is the future of Celestra. I am simply her shield.”

Both of his parents gave each other a knowing look, a silent agreement passing between them not to push any further to upset him. They sensed the rigid, painful distance he had put up around himself. They understood duty, but they didn’t understand the price he was paying for it. 

Prince Mingyu was always kind towards Y/N. He never treated her like a possession or a political prize, but rather as a friend he genuinely respected. In the long two years since their formal betrothal, he had come to understand the sad truth of their union.

He knew that she wasn’t in love with him. 

This awareness didn’t make him cruel or resentful. Instead, it lent his patience and courtesy a layer of profound maturity. He valued her well-being above their alliance, a face that only deepened the quiet agony for both Y/N and the knight sworn to protect them. 

Which is precisely how Mingyu knew that something was wrong with Y/N quickly into the tea ceremony. 

She was performing her required courtesies flawlessly, speaking the correct diplomatic language, offering measured smiles, and accepting the exquisite gifts from the Northern March delegation with grace. Yet, Mingyu noticed the minute details. 

The way her gaze drifting past the delegates to fix on the reflection of the silver tray before quickly snapping back. She was present, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. 

He waited until there was a lull in the ceremony before saying anything. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, making sure that the other occupants of the ceremony were busy and not interacting with them. 

“Pardon?” Y/N asked, her gaze unfocused for a beat too long. 

Mingyu leaned closer, his expression earnest. 

“Your hands are shaking,” he whispered, eyes quickly darting down to her shaking hands. “If you need air, I can excuse us. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Y/N felt a fresh wave of despair. It wasn’t the political pressure, it was the unbearable weight of not being there for her best friend. She looked at Mingyu’s kind, concerned face, the man who was trying so hard, and the guilt that she had forced Wonwoo into this impossible, painful position crushed her. She had to deny her reality to the one man who sincerely wished her well. 

“It’s nothing, Prince Mingyu,” she replied, forcing a brief, brittle smile. “Just the tediousness of the negotiations. I assure you, I am perfectly well.” 

Mingyu sighed, a soft and heavy sound that seemed to carry the wright of both their roles, and nodded his head slowly. In that single gesture, he acknowledge the unspoken truth of her heart without judgement or resentment. He wasn’t just a prince at that moment, he was a man who saw the bars or the cafe they were both trapped in. 

With a determined look in his eyes, he began trying to plan an escape for them both, his mind already working though ways to slip away from the prying eyes of the delegates and the stifling atmosphere of the embassy. He knew they couldn’t run forever, but for her, and for his own peace, he was willing to find a way to claim even just a few hours of freedom from the suffocating demands of the crown. 

Mingyu moved with a calculated grace, guiding Y/N back toward the interior of the hallway rather than the main ballroom. He knew the embassy's layout well enough to know that the servants’ corridors and the garden exits were currently unguarded, as all security was focused on the front gates and the main reception hall. With a quick, conspiratorial wink, he draped his heavy traveling cloak over her shoulders, effectively hiding her shimmering dress and the royal crest of Celestra. As they reached the heavy wooden door, Mingyu paused, his hand on the iron latch. He looked back at Y/N, the moonlight catching the determined set of his jaw. He wasn't just giving her a few hours of peace; he was risking a minor diplomatic scandal to ensure she didn't break under the weight of her own crown.

“Once we step through this door, we aren’t royals,” he whispered, the cold air turning his breath into a white mist. “Just for tonight, Y/N. No princess, no fiancé, no duty. Just two people walking in the snow.”

Y/N felt a surge of genuine gratitude. For the first time in years, the crushing pressure in her chest eased. She reached out and took his hand, not out of duty, but out of a shared need for air. As the door creaked open, they stepped out into the night, leaving the world of politics and silent knights behind them, if only for a moment.

Once they were alone, Mingyu didn't push or accuse. He simply leaned against the cool stone railing, respecting the space between them.

“I know it wasn’t the tediousness of the negotiations,” he said softly, turning to face her. “You are far too composed for that. Please, Y/N. Tell me what is weighing so heavily on your heart.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, watching the frost gleam on the sculpted bushes below. The air was crisp and clean, offering a small reprieve from the stifling political atmosphere.

“You are too kind, Mingyu,” she murmured, the sincerity in her voice making her throat tight. “That kindness is why this is so difficult.”

She didn’t dare speak Wonwoo’s name, but the heavy implication hung between them. Mingyu already understood.

“Is it still difficult because of the distance?” he asked, his voice low and sympathetic. “Because of what you had to leave behind in Celestra? I never asked you to forget your past, only to share the future with me.”

Y/N finally met his eyes, her own filled with guilt and sorrow.

“I am fighting every day to be the Princess Celestra needs,” she confessed, her voice barely a breath. “But I cannot help but feel like I am giving up some part of myself to do so. Prince Mingyu…. You deserve someone who doesn’t feel like they are breaking just to stand beside you.” 

She saw the hurt and confusion in his eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain the true source of her fractured heart. Instead, she quickly recovered, forcing a brief, brittle smile. 

Mingyu nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than protocol allowed. He was trying to understand, searching her expression for the piece of the puzzle she was clearly withholding. He wasn't a fool; he could hear the finality in her tone, the way she spoke of their union as if it were a sentence rather than a beginning.

"I understand duty," he said softly, his hand retreating from the railing but his presence remaining heavy beside her. "But I do not wish to be another burden you have to carry, Y/N. If standing beside me feels like breaking, then we are starting on a very fragile foundation."

The Northern March delegates laughed at a joke across the table, the sound jarringly loud against the quiet tension between the Prince and Princess. Y/N kept her eyes fixed on the snow falling, terrified that if she looked up, he would see the truth, not just that she didn't want him, but that her heart had already been given to someone else.

Mingyu straightened his posture, shifting back into his role as the perfect diplomat as the delegates turned their attention back toward them. He didn't push her further, but the concern hadn't left his eyes.

"The Court Dance begins shortly," he murmured, his voice returning to a formal, neutral tone for the benefit of their audience. "Perhaps the movement will help settle your nerves. I would be honored if you would grant me the first set."

The following days were not filled with the frantic energy of the ceremony, leaving a hollow silence in the private royal gardens. Y/N walked the stone path alone, her fingers trailing over the dew-covered hedges. The heavy silks of the ceremony had been traded for a simpler gown, but the weight of her check remained unchanged. She stopped at the edge of the fountain, watching her own distorted image in the water.

The conversation with Mingyu still echoed in her mind. She had seen the way he looked at her, not with cold calculation of the Council, but with a genuine desire to be the partner she needed. It made the lie heel even more jagged. Every step toward the wedding felt like a step further away from herself, a slow erasure of the woman she used to be before the needs of the kingdom became a cage. 

A soft rustle of gravel nearby signaled that her solitude was coming to an end. She turned, her shoulders instinctively tensing for another diplomatic confrontation, but the air in her lungs finally felt light again when she saw Wonwoo.

He was standing a respectful distance away, his expression calm and his posture as steady as the ancient stone walls of the palace. He didn't offer a platitude or a royal greeting; he simply stood there, a quiet anchor in the midst of her internal chaos. Seeing him, the one person who knew the woman behind the title, the suffocating weight of the crown seemed to lift just enough for her to breathe. The brittle, defensive mask she had been wearing since the night before finally softened, and for a fleeting moment, she didn't feel like a Princess fighting for Celestra. She just felt like herself.

“How did you find me?” She asked, looking back to the fountain, not wanting him to see the slight flush on her cheeks. 

“You forget my lady, that it is my job to know where you are at all times of the day,” Wonwoo replied, his voice carrying a rare, light trace of amusement. There was a faint, teasing ghost of a smile on his lips that she usually only saw when the palace was fast asleep. It was a subtle, joking tone. One that reminded her he wasn’t just a shield in polished armor, but the person who knew her better than anyone else. 

The small smile on his lips didn’t last long; as he stepped closer, his keen eyes swept over her, noting the tension in her shoulders that even the morning air couldn't melt away. The joking tone vanished, replaced by the quiet, intense focus he reserved only for her.

“The levity doesn’t suit the look in your eyes, my lady,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a more private register. He moved to stand near the edge of the fountain, his gaze following hers to the dancing water. “Something happened during the ceremony. Your composure was... different. What is bothering you?”

Y/N felt the familiar urge to deflect, to give him the same brittle smile she had given Mingyu. But with Wonwoo, the lie always felt heavier. He didn't just see the Princess; he saw the girl who was terrified of losing herself.

"Mingyu noticed," she admitted, her voice so low it was almost lost to the splashing water. "He saw my hands shaking. He offered me a way out, and it only made the guilt worse. He’s a good man, Wonwoo. That’s what’s bothering me. He is a good man, and I am standing there lying to him with every breath I take."

Wonwoo’s expression shifted, a shadow of pain crossing his features at the mention of Mingyu’s kindness. For a long moment, the only sound was the rhythmic splashing of the fountain. Then, defying every rule etched into his training since the day he was knighted, he took a step forward, closing the gap that protocol demanded he maintain.

He didn’t just stand behind her as a shadow. Instead, he reached out, his hand hesitating for a fraction of a second before his fingers brushed against hers. He gently took her hand, the one that had been trembling during the ceremony, and folded his palm over it. The leather of his glove was cool, but the pressure was firm and grounding.

“Then stop looking at him as the Prince of a rival house, and stop looking at yourself as a piece of a treaty,” he whispered, his voice thick with a sudden, raw honesty. He didn't pull his hand away, even though a single wandering eye from the palace windows could cost him his position. “You are not a lie, Y/N. You are a woman being asked to carry the weight of an entire world on your back. If you cannot be honest with him, at least be honest with me. You don't have to be the Princess of Celestra within these four walls.”

The touch was a silent rebellion, a brief erasure of the line between a knight and his sovereign. For that heartbeat, they weren't a political tragedy in the making; they were simply two people holding onto each other in the quiet of a fading dawn.

Y/N didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she turned her palm upward, lacing her fingers with his as if anchoring herself to the only real thing left in her life. The cool morning air bit at her skin, but where their hands met, there was a heat that made the rest of the world feel distant and blurred.

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for a sign of the same fracture she felt in herself. “And what if being honest with you is the most dangerous thing of all?” she whispered. “Every time I look at you, I remember exactly who I am, and exactly what I have to give up to keep this kingdom whole.”

Wonwoo didn’t flinch. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand in a slow, rhythmic motion that felt like a silent vow. The distance between them had vanished, and in the stillness of the garden, she could see the golden flecks in his eyes and the way his jaw was set in a hard line of restrained emotion.

“Then let it be dangerous,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Let the world fall apart outside this garden. For once, just once, don’t worry about the Council or the Prince or the peace. Just stay here. Just breathe.”

For a long, suspended moment, the political machinery of Celestra ceased to exist. There were no impending weddings, no trade routes, and no heavy crowns. There was only the sound of their shared breath and the terrifying, beautiful realization that the person she was supposedly "giving up" was most alive when she was standing right here, in the shadow of the man who was never supposed to touch her hand.

The air between them seemed to vanish as the silence grew heavy, charged with years of unspoken words and shared glances. Y/N looked up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs, not with the cold anxiety of the palace halls, but with a desperate, frantic longing.

Wonwoo’s gaze dropped to her lips, his breath hitching. The logic of the knight, the duty to the crown, and the fear of the Council all seemed to dissolve in the pale morning light. He moved slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, to remember her station, to be the Princess again. But she didn't move

She leaned in, closing the final inch of the distance that had felt like a chasm for far too long. When his lips finally met hers, it wasn't the polished, formal grace of a royal courtship. It was a collision of relief and suppressed grief. It was the taste of a secret they had both been dying to tell, a soft and tentative touch that quickly deepened into something more certain. His free hand came up to rest against the side of her neck, his thumb grazing her jawline, holding her as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded.

For that one moment, the wedding to Mingyu felt like a ghost story from a distant land. There was no Celestra, no Northern March, and no duty. There was only the warmth of him, the scent of the garden, and the terrifyingly beautiful reality of a love that could never be spoken of in the light of day.

Wonwoo let out a sharp, ragged breath against her skin, the instinct of a soldier suddenly warring with the hunger of a man. The reality of their situation seemed to crash back into him, and he began to pull away, his hands sliding from her waist to her shoulders to create distance. He was the protector, the one meant to keep her safe from the very scandal they were currently creating.

But Y/N wasn’t ready to let the world back in.

As he retreated, she stepped forward, her hands tangling in the heavy fabric of his tunic to pull him back. She chased his lips, refusing to let the warmth vanish, her movements desperate and unyielding. She didn't want the safety he offered; she wanted the fire that only he could provide.

A low, pained sound caught in Wonwoo’s throat as he felt her persistence. His resolve, built over years of rigid discipline, crumbled in the face of her touch. His hands moved from her shoulders to her face, his fingers threading through her hair as he stopped retreating and met her with an intensity that matched her own.

For a few breathless seconds, he stopped being her guard and simply became hers. He kissed her with a ferocity that spoke of every time he had been forced to stand three paces behind her, every time he had watched her smile at Mingyu, and every night he had spent patrolling her door knowing he could never enter.

It was a beautiful moment, fueled by the knowledge that every second they spent like this was a betrayal of the crown she wore, and the life they were both expected to lead.

Finally, it was Y/N who pulled back, though only by an inch. Her breath came in short, jagged hitches, the heat of the kiss still burning on her lips. She didn't let him go completely; her hands remained anchored to his chest, feeling the frantic, heavy thud of his heart beneath the heavy fabric of his uniform.

Wonwoo stood perfectly still, his eyes dark and clouded with a mixture of adoration and agony. He didn't try to step back again, nor did he reach for her. He simply waited, his head bowed slightly, yielding entirely to her. In this quiet corner of the garden, the power dynamic of the court had inverted. He wasn't the guard commanding her safety, and he wasn't the soldier following a vow; he was a man placing his entire existence in her hands, waiting for her to decide what happened next.

He was giving her the control, the one thing she never had in the council rooms or at the tea ceremonies. If she told him to leave, he would disappear into the shadows. If she told him to stay, he would burn the world down to keep her.

Y/N looked up at him, her fingers curling into the embroidery of his tunic. For the first time, the silence between them didn't feel like a burden. It felt like a choice. She could see the vulnerability in the set of his shoulders, the way he was breathing only when she did, completely attuned to her next move.

"You're not going to stop me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the moment.

"I am yours to command, my lady," Wonwoo murmured, his voice rough and low. "In this, and in everything else. If this is what you want... I have no will to fight you."

Y/N blushed, but before she could say anything the heavy, metallic thud of the Great Terrace doors echoing across the stone gallery acted like a bucket of ice water. The spell shattered instantly.

Wonwoo was the first to react, his soldier’s instincts overriding his heartbeat. He stepped back with a sharp, fluid movement, putting the required three paces of distance between them before Y/N had even fully processed the sound. By the time the heavy doors creaked open and the rhythmic click of heels on marble grew louder, he had already straightened his tunic and clasped his hands behind his back, his expression smoothing into a mask of professional indifference.

Y/N turned toward the fountain, her heart still racing so violently she was sure the approaching attendants would hear it. She frantically smoothed her skirts and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her lips still tingling from the pressure of his.

“Princess? Your father is requesting your presence in the solar for the finalization of the wedding guest list.”

The voice of a young page reached them, followed shortly by the boy himself as he rounded the hedge. He stopped and bowed low, oblivious to the fact that he had walked into the aftermath of a quiet revolution.

“I am coming,” Y/N managed to say, her voice steadier than she expected, though she didn't dare look back at Wonwoo yet.

As she began to walk toward the terrace, she passed Wonwoo. For a split second, their eyes met, a flash of raw, shared memory that burned through their masks. He bowed his head as she passed, the perfect picture of a loyal, stoic guard, but the slight tension in his jaw told her everything she needed to know. 

The three years leading up to Y/N’s wedding  changed everything, even if they never spoke about it. That morning in the garden was still there, hanging between them like a secret they both remembered but never dared to bring up. To talk about the kiss would mean admitting they had broken the rules, so they just lived with the memory of it, letting it sit in the silence of every room they shared.

In those three years, Wonwoo grew into a man who didn't need words to understand her. He became a master of noticing the small things that everyone else missed. He knew that when she was stressed about the wedding, she would twist the ring on her finger until her skin was red, and he’d quietly step into her line of sight to catch her eye and keep her grounded. He noticed that she hated the heavy, suffocating scent of the lilies the Queen favored, so he would make sure the windows in her sitting room were cracked open just enough to let in the fresh air before she arrived.

For Y/N, Wonwoo was the only person who actually saw her. She noticed how he always seemed to know when she had a headache, standing in a way that blocked the harsh glare of the sun from her desk. She watched him change, too, his shoulders got broader, his face more serious, and his protective streak grew even stronger. He didn't have to say anything for her to know he was looking out for her. Every time he handed her a cloak before she felt a chill, or stepped closer when a stranger got too near, it was his way of staying close to her without breaking the silence they had maintained since they were fifteen.

Despite the fact that her wedding to Mingyu was now only weeks away, they continued their quiet routine. They were experts at pretending they were just a Princess and her guard, but the way Wonwoo noticed every small change in her mood said otherwise. He was still the person who knew her best, even if they had to act like that kiss in the garden had never happened.

The training grounds were thick with the scent of kicked-up dust and oiled leather as Wonwoo and Mingyu circled each other. Now at twenty one, both men had grown into their frames; Mingyu with the broad-shouldered, effortless grace of a future king, and Wonwoo with the lean, lethal efficiency of a high-tier guard. The clash of their practice swords echoed against the stone walls, a rhythmic, violent dance that usually ended in a draw.

"You're distracted," Wonwoo remarked, his voice steady even as he parried a heavy blow from Mingyu’s blade. He didn't wait for a response before stepping into Mingyu’s space, forcing him to adjust. "Your footwork is sloppy on the left. You’re overextending because you’re tired."

Mingyu laughed, a short, breathless sound as he wiped sweat from his brow. "Maybe. The wedding preparations are exhausting. My father has me reviewing trade routes until dawn." He lunged again, but Wonwoo deflected the strike with a flick of his wrist. "But how would you know? I thought I was hiding the fatigue well enough."

"You are," Wonwoo said, his eyes focused and sharp. "But you’re moving the same way the Princess does when she’s had a long night of council meetings. You both get a slight tension in your shoulder, the right one. It makes your strikes heavy but slow."

Mingyu stopped mid-swing, his sword dropping an inch. He tilted his head, looking at Wonwoo with a sudden, piercing curiosity. The silence on the field stretched out, suddenly heavy.

"The right shoulder?" Mingyu repeated, his tone thoughtful. "I've known her since we were children, and I never noticed that. I didn't even know she had a tell when she was tired. She usually just hides behind that perfect, icy smile."

Wonwoo realized his mistake instantly. The "little things" he had spent three years cataloging were supposed to be his private map of her, not something he shared with her fiancé. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his expression smoothing back into a mask of professional neutrality.

"It is my job to notice," Wonwoo said, though the words felt hollow in his own ears. "A guard who doesn't recognize when his charge is fatigued is a guard who misses a threat. She hides it well from the court, but she can't hide it from the person standing three paces behind her for twelve hours a day."

Mingyu didn't go back to the sparring stance. He sheathed his practice blade and stepped closer, his gaze searching Wonwoo’s face. "You notice a lot, Wonwoo. You knew her favorite tea yesterday before she even asked for it. You moved her chair away from the draft in the solar without her saying a word. You seem to know her better than I do, and I’m the one she’s supposed to marry."

Mingyu didn't reach for his sword again. Instead, he leaned against a wooden training post, watching Wonwoo with a look that was more analytical than angry. There was no heat in his eyes, but there was a new, sharp focus, the kind a hunter uses when he realizes he’s been looking at a map upside down.

"It’s more than just the shoulder, isn't it?" Mingyu asked, his voice dropping to a conversational level that felt far too intimate for the middle of a training field. "Yesterday, at the banquet, she started to reach for the wine, but you swapped her glass for water before her fingers even touched the stem. You knew she had a headache before she’d even admitted it to herself."

Wonwoo felt a cold pull of dread in his stomach, but he kept his posture rigid. "The Princess is prone to migraines when the hall is too crowded, Prince Mingyu. I was simply anticipating a need to keep her present for the toast."

"And the way you stand?" Mingyu continued, ignoring the excuse. He stepped toward Wonwoo, circling him slowly, much like they had been doing during the spar. "You don't just stand behind her. You stand for her. You adjust your position based on the sun to keep her in the shade. You move when she breathes. It’s almost like you’re wired to her."

Mingyu stopped in front of him, looking Wonwoo straight in the eye. There was no malice in his expression, Mingyu wasn't a cruel man, but there was a dawning realization that he was stepping into a space that was already occupied by someone else.

"I’ve spent three years trying to learn her favorite colors and her favorite poets," Mingyu said with a faint, almost sad smile. "And here you are, knowing the rhythm of her breath. It makes me wonder, Wonwoo... is that level of devotion something they teach in the Guard, or is it something you taught yourself?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Wonwoo knew that any answer he gave now would be a confession. He could see Mingyu waiting, not for a lie about protocol, but for the truth about why a common guard looked at the future Queen as if she were the only fixed point in a turning world.

Wonwoo didn’t blink. He kept his gaze level, matching Mingyu’s stare with a calm that he didn't actually feel. He knew he was standing on a thin ledge. One wrong word could end his career or, worse, put Y/N in a position she couldn't explain.

"Every person has a rhythm, My Lord," Wonwoo said. His voice was low and steady, lacking any of the nervous energy that might give him away. "When you spend every waking hour ensuring someone stays alive, you stop seeing them as a person and start seeing them as a series of patterns. I know when she is tired because a tired Princess is a vulnerable one. I know when she has a headache because a distracted Princess doesn't see a threat coming."

Mingyu hummed, a small sound of acknowledgement, but he didn't look convinced. He picked up a cloth to wipe the sweat from his neck, his eyes still fixed on Wonwoo.

"Patterns," Mingyu repeated. He sounded like he was testing the word out to see if it rang true. "That’s a very clinical way to describe it. But I’ve watched you when she isn't looking. You don't look like a man watching for assassins. You look like a man who is afraid the world is going to break her."

Wonwoo tightened his jaw. He could feel the heat of the afternoon sun on his neck, but he felt cold. Mingyu wasn't being aggressive, which made it harder to deflect. He was being observant, and that was far more dangerous.

"She is the future of this kingdom," Wonwoo replied. He chose his words with extreme care. "It would be a failure on my part if she were to break under the weight of it. If I know her better than most, it is only because I am the only one allowed to see her when the mask slips. That is the burden of the guard, not a choice of the man."

Mingyu stayed quiet for a moment, tossing the cloth aside. He looked out toward the palace balcony where Y/N often sat.

"I hope you're right, Wonwoo," Mingyu said. He didn't sound angry. He sounded almost worried. "Because if I am going to be her husband, I would like to think I could eventually understand her the way you do. But standing here, I feel like a stranger trying to read a book in a language I haven't mastered yet."

He turned back to Wonwoo, his eyes searching. "It makes me uneasy. I do not want to lose her before our life together even begins simply because I am too blind to see what she needs. You have had three years to learn every breath she takes, and I am starting to realize that if I do not catch up, I will never truly have her."

Wonwoo felt a sharp pang of guilt mixed with a dark, possessive spark he tried to shove down. He realized that Mingyu wasn't just suspicious; he was afraid. He was afraid that no matter how many titles he held or how many provinces he brought to the marriage, he would always be the second person in the room when it came to Y/N’s heart.

"You have time, My Lord," Wonwoo said, though the words felt like a lie on his tongue.

"Do I?" Mingyu asked with a small, hollow laugh. "The wedding is in a month, Wonwoo. You have a three-year head start. I just hope that by the time I learn her patterns, she hasn't already decided that you are the only one who truly knows her."

Mingyu offered a final, lingering look at the palace before turning away without another word. The sound of his boots retreating across the gravel felt like a countdown, each step emphasizing the month remaining before the wedding. Wonwoo remained exactly where he was, his hand still gripped tightly around the hilt of his practice sword. The silence of the training grounds rushed back in, but it offered no comfort. He realized then that Mingyu’s lack of anger was actually more dangerous than a confrontation. A jealous man could be handled with protocol, but a man who recognized the truth was a man who might eventually demand it.

Wonwoo looked down at his calloused hands, the same hands that had caught Y/N’s tears and adjusted her cloaks for years, and felt the crushing weight of his position. He was the keeper of her secrets, but as Mingyu had pointed out, he was also the one standing in the way of her future. He stood alone in the settling dust, realizing that his devotion was no longer just a shield for the Princess, but a growing threat to the very peace he was sworn to protect. The map of her heart that he had spent three years drawing was no longer his alone to keep. Mingyu was looking for it now, and Wonwoo knew he couldn't hide the trail forever.

Later that evening, the palace had fallen into the hushed, rhythmic stillness of the night watch. Wonwoo stood outside Y/N's chambers, his back to the door, but his mind was still on the training grounds. He waited until the final patrol of the hour passed before he risked a soft, rhythmic knock on the wood behind him. It was a signal they had used a handful of times over the years, one that bypassed the formal "My Lady" and spoke directly to the girl he had once kissed in the garden.

The door opened just a crack, and the warm glow of candlelight spilled into the dark hallway. Y/N looked up at him, her hair down and her face tired, her eyes immediately searching his for the reason behind the late-night interruption. She noticed the tension in his jaw before he even spoke.

"We need to be more careful," Wonwoo whispered, his voice barely audible. "Mingyu is not as blind as we thought. He is starting to see the patterns."

Y/N stood up from her desk by the window. The moonlight lit up her face just enough that Wonwoo could see the worried expression she was wearing. “See the patterns? What do you mean?” she asked, reaching out. Wonwoo sighed and took her hands, his rough palms a stark contrast to her soft skin.

“We were training together today and I was foolish enough to share an observation about you with him,” Wonwoo admitted. He looked down at their joined hands, realizing how easily this simple gesture would confirm every suspicion Mingyu held. “He noticed how I look after you. He mentioned the way I know your favorite tea or how I move to block the draft before you even feel the cold. He told me he feels like a stranger reading a book in a language he hasn't mastered yet.”

Wonwoo squeezed her fingers gently, his voice dropping an octave. “He isn't angry, Y/N. That is the problem. He is observant, and he is starting to realize that I have a three-year head start on knowing your heart. He told me he’s afraid he will never truly have you because I am already standing in the space he is supposed to occupy.”

Y/N felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. The three years of silence they had maintained suddenly felt fragile, like a glass bridge beginning to crack under the weight of Mingyu's gaze. They had spent so much time perfecting their masks in public that they had forgotten that a man who loved her would be looking for the person behind the mask.

“If he knows,” Y/N whispered, her eyes searching Wonwoo’s, “then he knows that my marriage to him will be a lie. What do we do, Wonwoo? If he tells my father, or if he decides he cannot marry a woman who is already spoken for in every way that matters, what happens to you?”

Wonwoo pulled her closer, his hands moving from hers to cup her face. The professional distance he had maintained for years finally snapped. He looked at her with a raw intensity that made her breath hitch, the mask of the stoic guard completely gone.

"He won't tell your father," Wonwoo said, his voice low and urgent. "Mingyu is a good man, but he is a man who wants to be loved. He will keep watching us, and eventually, the truth will destroy all three of us. I cannot stand by and watch you walk down that aisle knowing I am the reason your heart is breaking."

As he spoke, a single tear escaped and traced a slow, shimmering path down her cheek. Wonwoo didn't hesitate. He reached out and caught the drop with the pad of his thumb, wiping it away with a tenderness that felt more intimate than any word he had ever spoken. He let his hand linger there, his thumb resting against the corner of her mouth.

"I have spent the last three years watching you prepare for a life that is going to suffocate you," he continued, his voice softening. "I have made arrangements. I have a way out of the city, and I have friends across the border who do not care about alliances or crowns. I am not telling you that we have to go tonight, but I am telling you that the door is open."

He stepped back just an inch, giving her space to breathe, though he didn't let go of her hands. "You have two weeks before the final ceremonies begin. Use them. Look at the life they have built for you, and then look at me. If you decide that you cannot go through with it, tell me. We will leave everything behind, and I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it. But if you choose the crown, I will stay. I will be your guard, and I will never speak of this again."

The silence in the room was heavy with the weight of the choice he had just laid at her feet. For three years, they had been trapped by fate, but now, Wonwoo had given her the one thing she thought she had lost forever: a way out. He was offering her a life of anonymity and struggle, but one where he could finally love her in the light.

"Think about it, Y/N," he whispered, his eyes lingering on hers. "Don't answer me now. Just know that you don't have to be the person they are forcing you to be. You just have to decide if the woman you are is enough for the life I can give you."

The days that followed were a slow torture of divided loyalties. Every time Y/N looked at Mingyu, she saw a man who was genuinely trying to bridge the gap between them. He brought her books he thought she might like and made self-deprecating jokes during formal luncheons to try and coax a real smile from her. At twenty one, Mingyu was everything a princess should want, kind, handsome, and earnest. Yet, every time he reached for her hand or asked her a question about her childhood, Y/N felt a wave of guilt so cold it made her fingers go numb. She was watching a good man fall in love with a ghost, while the man who actually held her soul stood three paces behind her, a silent shadow in silver armor.

Her internal struggle became a physical weight as the wedding preparations reached a fever pitch. She spent her afternoons in fittings for a gown that felt more like a shroud, surrounded by seamstresses who praised her beauty while she felt like she was disappearing. During these moments, her eyes would instinctively find Wonwoo’s reflection in the tall pier glasses. He remained the perfect picture of professional indifference, but she could see the slight, familiar tension in his jaw that Mingyu had pointed out. She realized then that Wonwoo wasn't just waiting for her answer; he was suffering through every second of the countdown alongside her.

The contrast between her two lives grew sharper with every passing hour. With Mingyu, there was the promise of a stable, powerful future, a crown, a duty fulfilled, and the safety of her kingdom. With Wonwoo, there was only the unknown. She thought about the horses at the south postern and the gold he had saved, and she wondered if she was brave enough to be the woman he believed she was. She was terrified of the war her departure might spark, but she was even more terrified of the person she would become if she stayed. Every time Mingyu laughed or tried to "learn her patterns," it only served to remind her that those patterns had been woven by Wonwoo’s hands.

By the end of the week, the pressure had become nearly unbearable. Y/N found herself standing on her balcony late at night, looking out toward the dark horizon where the border lay. She thought about the life Wonwoo had offered her, a life without titles, where they could finally speak about that morning in the garden without fear. The choice was no longer just between two men; it was between the Princess of Hesperos and the woman who had once been kissed behind a hedge. As the moon climbed higher, she realized that the more Mingyu tried to know her, the more she realized that only one person truly did.

The dining hall felt far too large for just the two of them, the flickering candlelight casting long, distorted shadows against the tapestries. Mingyu had dismissed the servants earlier than usual, leaving them in a silence broken only by the clinking of silverware. Wonwoo stood at his post by the heavy oak doors, a silent statue whose presence seemed to vibrate in the air between Y/N and her fiancé.

“You’re doing it again,” Mingyu said quietly, setting his wine glass down with a definitive click.

Y/N looked up, her fork pausing halfway to her plate. “Doing what?”

“You’re here, but you’re not,” Mingyu replied, his voice devoid of anger but heavy with profound sadness. He leaned forward, the light catching the gold embroidery of his tunic. “I have spent the last hour trying to talk to you about the music for the ceremony, about the flowers, about our future home in the North. And every time I speak, you look right through me as if I am a ghost.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. “I am just tired, Mingyu. The preparations are a lot for anyone.”

“It’s not just the fatigue,” Mingyu countered, his gaze shifting briefly to the shadow by the door before returning to her. “I’ve tried to learn your patterns, Y/N. I’ve tried to be the man who knows when you’re stressed or when you need a moment of quiet. But every time I think I’ve found a way in, I realize that the door is already locked from the inside. There is a wall around you that I can’t climb, and I think we both know who holds the key.”

The air in the room became suffocating. Y/N glanced toward Wonwoo, but he remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the far wall, though she knew he was hanging on every word.

“I want to love you,” Mingyu said, his voice cracking slightly. “I want to be the person you turn to. But how can I marry a woman who looks at her guard with more recognition than she looks at her husband? How can I build a kingdom with someone who treats my presence like a sentence she has to serve?” He reached across the table, his hand hovering near hers but not quite touching. “Tell me the truth, Y/N. If I walked out of this room right now and called off the wedding, would you be heartbroken, or would you finally be able to breathe?”

The silence following Mingyu’s question was so heavy that the crackle of the fireplace sounded like a thunderclap. Y/N looked down at his hovering hand, then slowly shifted her gaze to the doors where Wonwoo stood. For three years, she had carried the weight of the crown and the secret of the garden like a leaden cloak, but looking at Mingyu’s pained, honest face, she realized she couldn't let him shoulder the burden of a lie any longer.

“I would breathe,” she whispered, the words coming out as a shaky, jagged confession.

She looked up, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I would breathe, Mingyu, and that is the most terrible thing I have ever had to admit. You are a good man. You have been nothing but kind, and patient, and everything a Queen could ever ask for. But my heart was never part of the alliance. It was never mine to give to you in the first place.”

Mingyu’s hand dropped to the table, his fingers curling into a fist. He didn't look surprised; he looked like a man watching a storm he had seen on the horizon finally make landfall. He followed her gaze to Wonwoo, who had finally broken his stance. Wonwoo’s hand was resting on the hilt of his sword, his expression a mix of terrifying protectiveness and profound grief.

“It’s him, then,” Mingyu said, his voice a hollow echo. “It’s been him since the beginning. Every time you tripped, every time you sighed, every time you looked for a reason to leave a room, it was always toward him.” He let out a sharp, bitter breath that wasn't quite a laugh. “All this time, I thought I was failing to win you over. I didn't realize I was trying to win a battle that had already been lost years ago.”

Y/N stood up, her chair scraping harshly against the marble floor. “It wasn't a choice I made to hurt you, or the kingdom. It just... it happened. And we spent three years pretending it didn't. We tried to be what everyone needed us to be, Mingyu. But I can't do it anymore. I can’t walk down that aisle and promise to spend my life with you when every piece of me belongs to the man standing three paces behind me.”

Mingyu sat in silence for a long time, his eyes fixed on the flickering candle flames. The betrayal clearly hurt, but his anger seemed to be eclipsed by a weary sense of clarity. He looked at Y/N, then shifted his gaze to Wonwoo, really looking at him for the first time not as a shadow, but as a rival who had already won.

"I will not be the one to go to your father," Mingyu said, his voice sandpaper-dry. "I have no desire to be the reason a man is executed for the crime of being loved by a Princess. And I have too much pride to drag a woman to the altar who is mourning someone else while she holds my hand."

He stood up, his movements stiff and formal. He walked toward the door, stopping just a few feet from where Wonwoo stood. The height difference between the two men was negligible, but the tension was immense.

"I will tell the Council and the King that I am the one who wishes to call off the wedding," Mingyu stated, looking Wonwoo directly in the eye. "I will tell them that I have realized our temperaments are not a match, and that the alliance would be better served through trade agreements rather than a hollow marriage. I will take the blame, and I will return to my own lands."

He turned back to Y/N, a shadow of a smile touching his lips, one that didn't reach his eyes. "But understand this: my protection ends the moment I leave. The King will be furious. He will look for someone to blame for my departure, and he will look at your guard with fresh eyes once I am no longer here to distract him. You have the freedom you wanted, but it is a fragile thing."

Mingyu reached for the door handle, pausing one last time. "I won't tell your secret, but I won't help you keep it either. If you are going to run, you should do it while the court is still reeling from my announcement. Because once I am gone, you will be the only target left for his rage."

With a final, sharp nod, Mingyu exited the hall, leaving the heavy doors to swing shut behind him.

The silence following Mingyu’s departure was thick and suffocating. Wonwoo didn't wait more than a heartbeat before he was across the room, his hands finding Y/N’s shoulders. The professional mask had completely shattered, replaced by an urgency that bordered on desperation. He knew the clock was ticking; once Mingyu delivered his news to the King, the palace would transform into a cage of suspicion.

"We leave tonight," Wonwoo insisted, his voice a low, frantic rasp. "Do not pack a trunk. Do not look for jewelry. We take only what we can carry on a horse. Mingyu has given us a window, but it is closing with every step he takes toward your father’s study. Once the King realizes the alliance is dead, he will look for a reason, and he will look at me first."

Y/N nodded, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. They moved through the servant passages, ghosts in the corridors they had walked for years. Wonwoo led the way, his hand never leaving hers, his eyes scanning every shadow. They reached the heavy iron gate of the south postern, the air smelling of damp earth and freedom. Wonwoo pulled the heavy bolt back, the metal screeching just slightly, and for a moment, the open woods lay before them, dark and inviting.

"Just a few more steps," Wonwoo whispered, stepping out into the cool night air and reaching back to pull her through.

"Is that as far as you thought you would get?"

The voice was like a blade of ice cutting through the dark. Torches flared to life all at once, illuminating the stone archway and the line of royal guards standing with crossbows leveled. Standing in the center of the light was Y/N’s father, the King. He looked older in the torchlight, his face twisted in a mask of cold, controlled fury. He didn't look at his daughter; his eyes were fixed entirely on Wonwoo’s hand, which was still gripped tightly around Y/N’s.

"I trusted you with her life," the King said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I gave you the honor of standing in her shadow for years, and you used that proximity to rot the very foundation of my kingdom. Did you truly believe I wouldn't notice the way you looked at her? Or did you think my daughter’s duty was so cheap it could be stolen by a common soldier in a garden?"

Wonwoo didn't let go of her hand. Instead, he stepped in front of her, shielding her body with his own as the guards moved in to circle them. The freedom of the woods was only ten feet away, but it might as well have been on another continent.

The King took a step forward, the orange light of the torches dancing in his eyes. He ignored the crossbows and the tension in the air, focusing entirely on the man who had dared to touch the crown’s most precious asset. He didn't order an execution, not yet. Instead, he looked at Wonwoo with a terrifying, quiet curiosity.

"You have thrown away your life, your honor, and the safety of your family for this," the King said, gesturing vaguely to the dark woods behind them. "A common guard, raised in the barracks, believing he could steal a Princess. Tell me, soldier, before I have you stripped of your rank and thrown into the black cells: why? What could you possibly see in my daughter that was worth the certain death you are facing now?"

Wonwoo didn't flinch. Even with the tips of the crossbow bolts glinting in the light around him, he stood tall. He felt Y/N’s fingers tremble in his, and he squeezed them once, firmly, before finally speaking.

"It wasn't a choice, Your Majesty," Wonwoo began, his voice surprisingly steady. "I didn't look at her and see a Princess or a political alliance. I saw a girl who was forced to grow up in rooms full of people who only wanted something from her. I love her because I am the only one who knows what her silence sounds like. I love her because I have seen the weight she carries every single day, and I wanted to be the one person she didn't have to be strong for."

He took a small breath, his eyes meeting the King’s without a shred of apology. "I love her because I noticed the things no one else cared to look for. I know how she breathes when she’s afraid, and I know exactly how much she has sacrificed for a crown that only feels like a cage. You see a legacy, My Lord. I see a person. And if loving her as a person instead of a puppet is a crime, then I am guilty a thousand times over."

The King’s expression didn't soften; if anything, his jaw tightened at the raw honesty in Wonwoo's voice. He looked at his daughter, seeing the way she was looking at Wonwoo, not with the practiced grace of a royal, but with a desperate, heartbreaking devotion.

Y/N stepped forward, her movement so sudden and determined that the guards with the crossbows shifted their weight. She did not let go of Wonwoo’s hand; instead, she used it to pull herself level with him, standing shoulder-to-shoulder against the light of the torches.

"He is right, Father," she said, her voice ringing out with a clarity she had never possessed in the Council chambers. "You ask why he loves me as if it is a mystery, but the real question is why you never bothered to know me well enough to ask that yourself. For years, I have been a piece on your board. I have smiled when told, spoken when prompted, and agreed to a marriage that would have withered my soul just to keep your peace."

She looked at her father, seeing the king first and the parent second, and for the first time in twenty one years, she didn't look away.

"You see his devotion as a betrayal of his rank, but it is the only honest thing in this entire palace," she continued, a single tear silvering her cheek but her gaze remaining steady. "Wonwoo didn't steal me. He saved me. He saw the girl you forgot existed beneath the silk and the titles. If you punish him for loving me, then you are punishing the only person in this kingdom who actually knows who your daughter is. You can throw him in the cells, or you can take his life, but you cannot undo the fact that he has already given me more freedom in his silence than you ever gave me in your halls."

She took a shaky breath, her grip on Wonwoo’s hand tightening until her knuckles were white. "If he is a criminal for seeing me as a person, then so am I. If he goes to the dungeons, I will follow him. If he is exiled, I will walk beside him. You taught me that my life belongs to the crown, but tonight I am telling you that my heart belongs to him. You can keep the Princess, Father, but you will never truly have me back."

The King stood motionless, the flicker of the torches casting deep, unreadable shadows across his face. 

The King stood motionless, the flicker of the torches casting deep shadows across his weathered face. He looked at his daughter, really looked at her, and saw not a political pawn, but a woman whose spirit he had nearly extinguished. He saw her hand gripped tightly in Wonwoo’s and realized that the "loyalty" he had demanded from his guard was nothing compared to the devotion Wonwoo had actually given her. The silence stretched, the guards waiting for a command to strike, but it never came.

"I have spent my life building walls to protect this kingdom," the King finally said, his voice losing its iron edge and sounding, for the first time, like that of a tired father. "I thought that by securing your future through alliances, I was protecting you as well. But standing here, seeing the way you look at him... I realize I have only succeeded in building a prison for my own child." He let out a long, heavy breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "If I force this, I lose my daughter. And if I lose you, what was the point of the kingdom?"

He signaled to the archers, and with a collective rustle of leather and wood, they lowered their crossbows. The King stepped forward, stopping just a few feet away. He looked Wonwoo in the eye, not with fury, but with a searching, heavy solemnity. "You say you know what her silence sounds like. You say you know the person beneath the crown. That is a burden heavier than any sword, soldier. If I allow this, you are no longer just a guard. You are the guardian of her happiness. If you fail her, there is no corner of this world where you can hide from me."

He turned back to Y/N, reaching out a hesitant hand to brush a stray hair from her forehead. "The alliance with the North will be difficult to mend, and the Council will scream for blood. There will be no secret flight into the woods tonight. If you want this man, you will have him, but you will do it properly. We will find a way to make him more than a soldier in the eyes of the court. It will take time, and it will be a scandal that tests us all, but I will not be the man who broke my daughter’s heart to save a border."

He looked at their joined hands and gave a small, weary nod. "Go back inside. Both of you. We have a great deal of work to do to explain why the Princess is marrying her shield instead of a Prince."

The transition from being hunted fugitives to an officially recognized couple happened with a dizzying speed that left the palace reeling. After the King’s public dismissal of the guards, the heavy atmosphere of the courtyard evaporated, replaced by the hushed whispers of the court. But for Y/N and Wonwoo, the noise of the world didn't matter. They were led not to a cell or a hidden path, but back to the private solar overlooking the moonlit gardens, the very place where their secret had lived in the shadows for so long.

As the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind them, the silence was no longer a weapon used against them; it was a sanctuary. For a long moment, they simply stood in the center of the room, the space between them finally free of the "three-pace rule." The torchlight from the hallway was gone, replaced by the soft, silver glow of the moon spilling across the floorboards. Wonwoo was the first to move. He unbuckled the heavy leather vambraces from his forearms, the metal clattering onto a side table, a sound of a soldier finally laying down his arms.

"It doesn't feel real," he whispered, his voice thick with a vulnerability he had never been allowed to show.

Y/N crossed the room, her silk skirts rustling like a long-held breath finally released. When she reached him, she didn't just take his hand; she leaned her forehead against his chest, listening to the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart. It was beating fast, matching her own. Wonwoo wrapped his arms around her, pulling her so close that the cold metal of his remaining armor was the only thing between them. He rested his chin on the top of her head, his eyes closing as he inhaled the scent of jasmine in her hair, a scent he had inhaled from a distance for years, but could finally claim as his own.

The relief was a physical wave, washing away the exhaustion of the last few days. Wonwoo pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands sliding up to cradle her face. There was no urgency now, no four-minute timer, no shadow guards lingering in the doorway. He traced the line of her jaw with a slow, reverent thumb, his gaze lingering on her eyes as if confirming she was truly there. "For three years, I thought the only way I could love you was in the dark," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rasp. "I thought I would spend my whole life being the man who stood behind you, never the man who stood beside you."

Y/N reached up, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down until their lips were inches apart. "You were always beside me, Wonwoo. Even when you were standing at the door."

When they finally kissed, it was slow and deep, a silent vow exchanged in the moonlight. It wasn't the frantic, desperate kiss of a doomed couple; it was the quiet, steady beginning of a life lived in the light. They had a long road ahead, angry councilmen, broken treaties, and a court that would never truly forget, but as Wonwoo pulled her back into the safety of his embrace, Y/N knew that for the first time in her life, she wasn't just a Princess. She was home.

The walk to the royal chambers felt entirely different than it had for the last three years. Usually, Wonwoo followed several paces behind, his eyes scanning the corridors for threats, his presence a comfort but a distant one. Tonight, as they climbed the grand spiral staircase, his hand remained firmly in hers. There were still guards posted at the turns of the halls, but as the couple passed, the men didn't move to intervene; they simply lowered their heads in a new, uncertain kind of respect.

When they reached the heavy, gold-inlaid doors of her bedroom, Wonwoo paused. It was the threshold he had stood outside of for a thousand nights, guarding her sleep while he sat in the cold silence of the hallway. He looked at the handle, then back at Y/N, a trace of his old professional hesitation flickering in his eyes. Y/N smiled and tugged on their interlaced hands, an invitation to further break the boundary that the crown had set. 

"I have spent three years imagining what it would be like to walk through this door with you," he whispered, his voice low and private. "And now that it’s open... I find I’m almost afraid to step inside. As if the dream might break."

Y/N didn't say a word. She simply squeezed his hand and pushed the door open.

The room was bathed in the warm, amber glow of a dying fire in the hearth. The scent of cedar and dried lavender hung in the air. As the door clicked shut behind them, the finality of the sound felt like a seal on their old lives. The palace, the King, and the looming scandal were all on the other side of that wood. Inside, there was only the soft crackle of the embers and the two of them.

Wonwoo turned to her, the firelight catching the sharp planes of his face and softening the intensity in his dark eyes. He reached out, his fingers slowly unlacing the heavy cloak from her shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a pool of silk. He moved with a reverence that made her heart ache, his touch light as if he were handling something incredibly fragile.

"No more doors between us," he murmured, stepping into her space until their shadows merged against the far wall. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering there, his thumb brushing against her temple.

For the first time, he wasn't looking for assassins or listening for footsteps in the hall. He was only looking at her. He leaned down, his lips ghosting against her forehead before he pulled her into a slow, deep embrace. In the quiet of the room, far above the rest of the world, they finally let the weight of the crown and the sword fall away, ready to face the first night of a future they had finally earned.

In the quiet of her chambers, the adrenaline of the confrontation finally broke, and the reality of their survival crashed over her. Y/N looked up at Wonwoo, her eyes shimmering in the dying firelight, and a single, heavy tear escaped, tracing a slow path down her cheek. It wasn't a tear of sadness, but of a profound, overwhelming relief that had been three years in the making.

Wonwoo’s expression softened instantly, his heart aching at the sight. He reached out with a hand that had spent years gripped around the hilt of a sword, but now moved with the most delicate tenderness. Using the pad of his thumb, he caught the tear before it could reach her jaw, wiping it away with a lingering touch. He didn't pull his hand back; instead, he let his palm cradle her face, his thumb brushing over her skin as if to ensure she was truly real and truly safe.

"No more tears, Y/N," he whispered, his own voice thick with emotion. "The fighting is over. We don't have to hide anymore."

He leaned down, his eyes searching hers for a brief second before he closed the distance. The kiss was slow and deep, a quiet anchor in the middle of their changing world. It tasted of salt and the lingering heat of the hearth, a soft promise that he was no longer just her guard, but her partner. As he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her flush against him, the last of the tension left her body. In the safety of her room, with the world outside finally silenced, they stayed like that for a long time, two people who had finally found their way home.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Wonwoo’s neck to also pull him closer, before slightly pushing him towards her bed. 

“Your Highness,” Wonwoo breathed against her lips, the habit of three years of service flickering in his voice even now.

But Y/N didn't let him finish. She pressed her fingers gently to his lips, shaking her head as a fresh tear of relief welled in her eyes.

“No titles,” she whispered, her voice a soft command that had nothing to do with royalty and everything to do with the woman she had finally become. “Just Y/N. From tonight on, it’s just Y/N and Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against hers. A small, genuine smile finally broke through his stoic mask, the kind of smile he had only ever saved for her in the shadows of the garden. He reached up, his thumb catching the tear on her cheek and wiping it away with a lingering, tender touch.

“Y/N,” he repeated, the name sounding like a prayer in the quiet room.

He leaned down again, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was no longer a secret, but a beginning. There were no ranks between them now, no barriers of stone or silk; there was only the steady heat of the fire and the two of them, finally whole. 

When Y/N started fiddling with the latchings on his armor, his heart stuttered, “are you sure?” He asked, looking down at her with nothing but love in his eyes. 

“I’ve been in love with you the moment you offered to carry that huge bread basket for me when we were children,” Y/N confessed in between pressing kisses all over his face. “I don’t want to wait any longer.” 

Wonwoo chuckled at the confession and nodded before undoing the latches on his chestplate. Y/N watched him undo his left shoulder and when he was finished, undid the right for him. Letting the metal arm pieces fall to the ground. They worked together to take the rest of his armor off, from the chestplate to the leg pieces until there was just Wonwoo in the simple shirt and pants. 

“There’s the boy I fell in love with,” Y/N sighed, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. 

Wonwo quickly moved his hands from cupping her jaw to the lace of her dress, trying his hardest to undo the laces without looking and not accidently knotting them. 

Y/N chuckled and reached behind her own back to remove Wonwoo’s hands to undo the laces herself. Wonwoo’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment but went back to cupping her cheeks as she quickly undid the laces of her dress and then pushed the heavy fabric off her shoulders when it was loose enough, leaving her in a light frock. 

He cupped her ass and slightly nudged her with his legs causing Y/N to lift both of her legs and let Wonwoo carry her while making his way toward the bed. Once he felt his legs hit the edge of the bed, he gently lowered her onto the bed. 

Y/N gasped when he disconnected their lips and slowly started kissing all over her face. Her nose, her eyes, her forehead, then started moving down towards her jaw and neck. She sighed, reveling in his attention and moved her hands from around his neck to in his hair. 

Wonwoo groaned, when she started pulling on his hair when he started pressing kisses to her collarbone and started pushing the straps of her frock off her shoulders and slowly pulling it down to reveal her chest. 

“You’ve always been beautiful,” Wonwoo confessed, his voice dropping to a low, rough velvet that made her heart skip. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes tracing every curve of her face in the firelight as if he were seeing her clearly for the very first time. “But tonight, here with the truth between us... you’ve never looked more like yourself. And that is what I’ve always been in love with.”

Y/N felt a fresh wave of warmth spread through her chest, her fingers tightening in his hair as he peppered kisses along her chest and stomach. 

Wonwoo looked up in between kisses to her nipples to watch her glistening face melt at the pleasure he was giving her, before giving a particular harder suck to her left nipple. She let out a moan and tightened her grip on his hair. 

“Wonwoo,” she panted as his hand went to spread her legs and started moving his kisses lower. She finally let go of his hair so he could move further down her body, grasping the bed sheets feeling him settle between her legs. 

“I don’t exactly know what I’m doing here,” Wonwoo said, pressing kisses against her hip bones. “If anything doesn’t feel right, tell me.” 

Y/N nodded, and reached down to lace her hand with his, “You weren’t out bedding every maiden that looked your way?” 

Wonwoo scoffed and squeezed her hand, “I was sworn to celibacy when I became your knight, lest you forget.” 

Y/N chuckled, and squeezed his hand back, “I trust you Wonwoo.” 

Wonwoo smiled up at her before moving his other hand to her hip to keep her in place and lowering his lips to her core.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but the other knights had shared stories about pleasuring women. They talked about tasting women and the sounds that they made, so he knew that the moans Y/N was making when he was kissing her earlier was what should happen as well. 

He started licking through her folds, tasting the arousal that was nestled between her legs, and noticed that the spot at the top of her mound made her moan the most. He moved his attention towards the top of her cunt and started rubbing his tongue in circles feeling her whimper and buck her hips gently. 

“Does this feel good love?” He asked, the vibration of his low voice causing waves of arousal shoot through her body, causing her to wrap her legs around his shoulders, locking him in place. 

He switched between rubbing her sex and sucking the pebble before she squeezed their interlocked hands again. 

“It feels good Wonwoo,” she trembled, hips stuttering before releasing all over his face. Wonwoo continued licking her through her release, eager to taste every last drop of her. 

“You taste devine,” he praised, running his tongue all around her, triggering another build up. “Can you do it again for me? Please?” 

Y/N whined, tightening her legs around his head, the overstimulation on her clit turning from discomfort to pleasure again.  After a few more hard sucks to her mound she fell apart on his tongue again, back arching this time and moved her free hand to try and pry his head away from her in case he wanted another orgasm. 

Wonwoo licked his lips, not wanting to waste a single drop of her arousal before slowly kissing his way back up her body. A kiss to her kip, below her belly button, her rib, below her breasts, her nipple, her sternum, her jaw, and then finally her lips. 

She moaned into his mouth, not used to the sweet taste of what she could only assume was herself, before tugging his shirt off him. 

Wonwoo’s training had done him well. He was no longer the skinny baker's boy she had known in their youth; he had grown into all his features quite well. His chest was broad, a testament to the grueling years spent on the training grounds and the heavy toll of his duties, his shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of her safety for years, and the solid muscle of his arms provided a sense of security that no stone wall ever could. The lean, awkward teenager had been replaced by a man of formidable presence, forged by the discipline of the guard and the silent fire of his devotion to her.

She ran her hands across his chiseled chest, before tugging on his pants. He chuckled, and nodded sitting back to take them off. 

As she watched him remove his pants and reveal his cock. Y/N’s cheeks flushed at the size of him, as Wonwoo's breath also hitched at the cool air flooding the room from the open window. He leaned back down over her, interlacing one of their hands together and pinning them by her head. His other hand went back between her legs to make sure she was wet enough to take him without any pain. 

When his hand came in contact with her wetness he lined himself up with her before looking back up into her eyes. 

“I love you,” he softly smiled, connecting their lips before slowly pushing himself into her. 

“I love you too,” she sighed, trying to adjust to his size. Wonwoo winced, as Y/N tried to adjust to his size, clenching his cock a few times, panting heavily, rubbing her hard nipples against his own, and holding onto his bicep.

Once Wonwoo was all the way in her, Y/N moaned, and squeezed his bicep harder. Wonwoo groaned at how tight she was, before pushing his hips back, taking a second to catch his breath and rocking his hips back into hers. 

Y/N threw her head back into the pillows as Wonwoo continued to move, the pleasure building up in her stomach before she gently put her hands onto his chest, asking him to stop. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, a concerned look spreading across his face. 

Y/N batted her eye lashes up at him before turning onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows and knees, the sheets catching under her. Wonwoo groaned before leaning over her and interlocking their hands again before sliding back into her. This time thrusting into her harsher. 

“I’m close,” Y/N panted against the pillows. Wonwoo would have almost missed it, if he wasn’t so focused on the noises she was making. He smiled and squeezed their interlocked hands before moving to cup her breast and squeezing her nipple. 

The stimulation was enough to cause Y/N to climax, her walls fluttering around his cock, causing Wonwoo to also climax, emptying himself into her. As Wonwoo’s climax finished, he smiled and slowly pulled out of her, pressing kisses along her spine as she stayed propped up on her elbows and knees to catch her breath.

Once he finally noticed that her breath was evening out, he laid down beside her, arms under his head to look up at her glowing face. Her eyes were closed, but she was smiling. He chuckled and reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“Where did you learn all of that Sir Wonwoo?” She panted, finally opening up her eyes and slowly moved her legs so that she was laying on her stomach. She turned her head toward him to see him reaching towards the floor to grab something off the ground before coming up with a rag to wipe her down. 

“I have only heard stories from the other knights I trained with. Although they never told me how the deed is done, they did tell me what their lovers enjoyed,” he smirked.

Y/N smiled, rolling on to her back so he could clean between her legs, before spreading them. “Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t complaining. More so in awe of how good it felt for our first times.”

Wonwoo carefully opened her legs and gently pressed the rag between her legs, dabbing the remaining release from between them and pressing a kiss to her clit. 

Y/N gasped, at the contact before nudging him with her foot. “Give me some time to recover.” 

Wonwoo chuckled, “sorry. I couldn’t help it.” 

He moved back up to lay beside her, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight. With a gentle, inviting smile, he patted his broad chest, signaling for her to lay on top of him. Y/N didn’t hesitate; she shifted closer, resting her head against the steady thrum of his heart and draping her arm across his torso, finally feeling the warmth she had only been allowed to imagine for years.

“I can’t believe that we get to be together,” she whispered, her voice muffled against the soft fabric of his tunic. The words felt fragile, as if saying them too loudly might wake her from a dream. “For so long, I thought the only way I could keep you safe was to keep you away. I thought our lives would always be lived in glances and whispers.”

Wonwoo’s hand found her hair, his fingers stroking the tresses with a slow, rhythmic grace that acted as a balm to her nerves. “The wait is over, Y/N,” he murmured, his chest vibrating beneath her cheek as he spoke. “No more hallways between us. No more watching you walk away into rooms I wasn’t allowed to enter.”

He tilted his head down, resting his chin atop her hair, his other arm wrapping securely around her waist to hold her flush against him. In the quiet of the room, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and their synchronized breathing. The baker’s boy who had become a soldier, and the Princess who had become a woman, were finally just two souls sharing a bed and a future.

“We have the rest of our lives for it to feel real,” Wonwoo promised, his voice a low, steady anchor in the dark. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The palace was no longer a labyrinth of secrets, but a home filled with the sound of celebration. The scent of orange blossoms and expensive wine lingered in the air, drifting up from the courtyard where the kingdom was still toasted to the health of the newly titled Consort and his Princess. But inside the royal chambers, the heavy oak doors had been shut against the world, finally granting the couple the one thing they had fought the hardest for: a moment of absolute peace.

The transition from a disgraced guard to the Grand Commander of the Royal Guard was a transformation that changed the very foundation of the kingdom. The King, recognizing that no man was more capable of defending the crown than the one who loved its heir, officially placed the silver seal of the Knights into Wonwoo’s hand. He was no longer the skinny baker’s boy or the silent shadow; he had become the kingdom’s most formidable pillar. His broad chest now filled out the midnight-blue velvet and silver-plated armor of his station, a physique forged by years of discipline and the heavy weight of a responsibility he took with absolute gravity.

Under Wonwoo’s leadership, the atmosphere of the palace shifted. He replaced the atmosphere of surveillance with one of brotherhood, training a new generation of knights who looked at him with the same reverence the common people did. In the war room, he sat at the King’s right hand, his directness as a soldier cutting through the political noise of the Council. He had become a man of such presence that the Northern factions no longer dared to test the borders; they knew the Princess was guarded by a man who had already proven he would face death for her.

The ceremony had been a masterclass in royal spectacle, yet for Wonwoo, it felt like a dream occurring in slow motion. As he stood at the altar in his formal whites, the sunlight filtering through the stained glass caught the sharp, handsome lines of his face. When Y/N walked down the long stone aisle, the room fell into a hush that wasn't born of protocol, but of genuine awe. She wasn't just a Princess being wed; she was a woman reclaiming her life. When they finally stood face-to-face, Wonwoo didn't wait for the priest's prompting. He reached out and took her hands, his large, calloused fingers enveloping hers with a grounding strength that said, I have you.

The reception had followed with endless toasts and the clinking of crystal, but the true wedding happened in the small, stolen glances they shared across the high table. Every time a lord addressed him as "Lord Consort" or "Commander," Wonwoo would feel a phantom weight of his old armor, but then he would feel Y/N’s knee brush against his under the table, anchoring him. They danced once—a slow, sweeping waltz that cleared the floor. In that moment, with his hand on the small of her back and her hand on his broad shoulder, the "patterns" of their love were on display for the whole kingdom to see. They moved as one, a seamless harmony that proved their souls had been married long before the rings were ever exchanged.

Now, hours later, the echoes of the cheers had finally faded, replaced by the crackle of the fire in their private suite. Wonwoo finished unbuckling the last of his formal gear, the heavy silver-trimmed cloak hitting the chair with a dull thud. He stood in his simple linen undershirt, his chest broad and rising steadily with his breath as he looked at Y/N by the hearth. The transition from the public hero to the private husband was visible in the way his shoulders finally dropped, the tension of the day melting away.

He moved toward her, his bare feet silent on the rugs. He didn't say a word as he reached her; he simply wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her back against the solid warmth of his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the lingering scent of her wedding perfume and the familiar, sweet warmth of her skin. "I thought the day would never end," he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating rumble against her back. "I spent the whole night wanting to spirit you away from the crowds and bring you back here, where it’s just us. I think,” Wonwoo began, his voice raspy from a day of formal vows and political pleasantries, “that if I had to shake one more Duke’s hand or hear one more toast about 'border stability,' I might have actually seized the crown and run for the hills.”

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and clear in the quiet room. She stepped toward him, reaching up to help him with the stubborn silver fastenings at his throat. “And here I thought the Grand Commander was supposed to have infinite patience. You looked so stoic at the altar, Wonwoo. Like a statue carved from marble.”

“I wasn't being stoic,” he admitted, his hands coming up to rest on her waist, pulling her flush against his broad chest. “I was terrified that if I moved too quickly or breathed too loud, the illusion would shatter. I kept waiting for a guard to tap me on the shoulder and tell me to get back to my post at the door.”

He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closing for a moment as he breathed her in. “But then you took my hand, and your skin was so warm. That was when I knew it was real.”

Y/N leaned back just enough to look at him, her fingers tracing the sharp, familiar line of his jaw. “No more posts at the door, Wonwoo. From now on, you’re the one inside the room. With me.”

“It’s a strange promotion,” he murmured with a small, lopsided smirk, the one he only ever showed her. “I went from guarding your life to being your life. I think I prefer the new title.”

“And what title is that?” she teased, her heart thudding against her ribs as his grip on her waist tightened.

Wonwoo didn't answer with words at first. He swept her up into his arms, his strength effortless as he carried her toward the bed. He laid her down against the silk pillows before settling beside her, patting his chest in that silent, sacred invitation. Once she was tucked against him, her head rising and falling with his breath, he whispered into her hair.

“Just Wonwoo,” he said softly. “Your Wonwoo.”

“That’s the only one I ever wanted,” she replied, closing her eyes as the peace of their new life finally settled over them both

Wonwoo crouches down to his level and asks, “Are you lost? Who did you come here with?”

The boy looks at him wide eyed.

“I'll contact the security team.”, his secretary, Mr. Jung informs promptly.

Wonwoo smiles as he ruffles the boy’s hair. It's astonishing, the way he feels extremely inclined towards the tiny human.

“What's your name?”

Seeing the reluctance, he decides to approach the boy with something that might pique his interest.

“Do you like playing games?”

And that works, the boy nods politely as his eyes light up and Wonwoo fights off all his urges to squish his cheeks.

“Let's play until that uncle”, he points towards Mr. Jung, “finds your family or relatives to get you.”

It was supposed to be a normal busy day at the company. The edifice echoes constant clicking of shoes, hushed murmurs and flipping of pages.

It is all good so far until a phrase starts spreading floor by floor, gets passed up in the canteen, being told in the cubicles.

‘Did you see a kid roaming in the building? He looks like a little carbon copy of our CEO, Mr. Jeon.’

Your heart thumps as you overhear your colleagues from behind the closed bathroom door. It can't be, you say to yourself. You pull up your phone to read the clauses stated in the company portal under the tab ‘Policies’. You are not allowed to bring your family to the premises unless there's an occasion or you're explicitly required and instructed to do so, states the rules.

Relief floods your senses, there's no way your son would be brought and led inside the building on a regular workday, that too without your knowledge or consent.

The day goes on as you submerge yourself in preparing a lawsuit against an accuser for trying to damage the reputation of the company and sabotaging the career of an artist under it by staging false allegations.

It's lunchtime and you're still reviewing the drafts when there's a knock on the cabin door. Your gaze doesn't even lift from the screen when Mr. Joo enters. You suppress your urge to roll your eyes, preparing yourself to be bombed with another set of misogynistic slurs being inserted after each line the old man says.

You've been recruited as the head of the legal department for unarguably the best in the entertainment and music industry, The Carat Company, eight months ago. And Mr. Joo who was so sure about getting promoted as the head, the position he eyed for (more than worked for) couldn't quite accept an outsider that too a woman who's much younger than him to snatch something from him which was never his to begin with.

You wonder how long until your tolerance runs dry and the man in front gets slammed by a lawsuit which wouldn't only end up with him losing his job.

After a draining ten minutes conversation with Mr. Joo, you head towards the canteen. You find your group at the table, as always saving you a seat.

“My son has a fancy dress competition at his school today. He went dressed up as Harry Potter.”, Sunjae from the IT department recites, taking out his phone and showing the pictures his wife has sent him. Everyone at the table coos at the cuteness.

The chattering continues with you all catching up on work, workplace gossip and family tales.

“My daughter hasn't been feeling well, I'll be clocking out early today.”, Sooji from the marketing department says, concern evident in her voice. You all nod in unison, even urging her to leave post lunch.

A sad smile splits onto your lips. You too want to show how cute Wonjae looked when you dressed him up for the picnic you both went to last week. Everyone knows that you're a single mother and that you've a son. That he's an intelligent kid, that he's the bundle of joy that shines in your life. But that's all they get to know because you want to keep it lowkey.

How could you show him to them when he looks exactly like his father? That he's more like Wonwoo than Wonwoo himself. Same Wonwoo, who's also the CEO of the company you are working at. Records would give away that you both attended the same university, practically batchmates, shared lectures. You're afraid of any digital footprints either of you could have left behind. You can't afford to shake up any rumours.

Prior to applying for this job, you had taken time, there were months of mental preparation before you sent across the application. You had no choice but to succumb to this economy and walk into the lion’s den.

Now everyday before leaving the house, you pray not to cross paths with Wonwoo. You wonder if he'd even recognise you, you don't want him to but there's an ache in your heart at the thought of it.

“I saw a kid roaming in our block. You won't believe at a glance I thought he's the son of Mr. Jeon.”, Sunjae recollects.

“Mr. Jeon isn't even married.”, Yoongi, from finance deadpans, “Though you don't need to be married to make a–”

Collective shushes make him shut up.

It piques your interest, you wonder who it could be until your phone buzzes with a call from Jihoon, the HR Manager.

And you're panting, down on your knees as you see your son, Wonjae standing in front of you.

“How did you get here?”, you ask the little boy, who stares at you with glossy eyes and jutted lips.

“Are you angry at me, mama?”, he asks with a quiver in his voice and your heart sinks.

You give him soft kisses on his forehead, patting his arms gently, “Jae, I'm not angry, I just want to know what happened.”

“I brought him here, Y/N.”, Jeonghan steps up and says with his head hung low, “I'm sorry.”

You sigh and get up rubbing your temples.

“Jae said he wanted to see the place where you work. I thought I could give him a quick tour, as getting permission won't be a problem.”, Jeonghan continues, “I brought him here only after confirming that Wonwoo won't come to office today.”

“And you didn't think of informing me?”, you ask using your strict voice, causing Jeonghan to cower a bit, “How did he end up roaming alone around the entire office?”

“I got a call when I was walking him through the gaming zone and it went on for a while. When I hung up, he was gone. After searching for a bit, I had to run by the security division and found him through the CCTVs.”, Jeonghan grimaces, “I'm really sorry, Y/N.”

Jeonghan and you, go way back. He's a prominent and popular artist under the company but you were friends, well to be precise he was Wonwoo's friend and you knew Jeonghan through him during the university days. Then circumstances caused you to cut ties with him. It was two weeks ago when Jeonghan (another person you wanted to avoid) found you while taking the same elevator.

And he didn't let you slip away. You hated how persuasive he was because he made you spill your life out which you don't do with others. It enraged you that he didn't even have to be perceptive to know who Wonjae’s father was.

“The entire office is talking about him, Jeonghan.”, you whine out in defeat.

“And that's not the worst part, Y/N.”, Jihoon who was watching the scene, the one who called you, the only one in the office who without any prior connection to you knows about your situation, articulates, “I found Wonjae inside the CEO’s office. He was playing Jenga with Mr. Jeon. I took him by saying he's the son of one of the new crew members.”

The ground beneath you slips. Everyone watches you holding their breaths. Your mind runs miles, producing hundreds and thousands of thoughts. And this moment of truth makes you question everything.

Were you too numbed by the pain of your miseries that you neglected your son's wants? What if he wants his father in his life? What if he hates you for not letting him be with his father? What if–

A little pair of hands grabbing yours, breaks your reverie.

“Mama, I'm sorry.”, Wonjae cries, waddling a bit towards you, hugging your legs.

You collapse on the floor, embracing your son tighter, letting your own tears fall. You rarely cry, tears are a luxury, you think. But today, maybe the tears are falling because you can't bottle up anymore.

You pull away, wiping his tears, “Shhh. Don't cry, I'm not upset.”

The trembles subsides and Wonjae hugs you again, face planted against your chest. It's a habit, he hides his face and complains, “Papa bumped into me, I almost fell.”

You listen quietly, caressing his back.

“Then he took me to his office.”, you see him swaying his right hand in the air, “I told him my name and age but I didn't tell him about you, mama.”

Wonjae takes a lot after his father, in his appearance, stances and habits. He is calm, patient and has better intelligence and emotional quotient compared to the kids of this age. He knows about his father, he understands that there must be a reason behind his parents not living together unlike his friends’.

And most importantly, he trusts you. He knows whatever you do, it will be for his good, so he's compliant and obedient.

“Mama, can we go home?”, he says yawning, “I want to sleep.”

You understand, you get it. Wonjae has seen his father countless times on the screens and the covers but today was the first time he met him. Knowing your little guy, you know that he has used all of his brain capacities today in spending time with his father. So you'd let him rest today.

The conversation you want to have with him, has to be shelved tonight. It's something you'd have to thread carefully with Wonjae.

And after dinner when your son falls asleep, you stay wide awake.

Maybe, you can't avoid Wonwoo all your life. And maybe, you shouldn't avoid Wonwoo anymore.

You wonder if certain strings of incidents are bound to happen. It was last week only when your son met his father and today, it seems you'd be meeting your past lover.

A sudden allegation about copyrights being charged against the company, an emergency board meeting and now a briefing about the legal action items to dissolve the matter.

And being the legal head, you'd be leading the meeting. You look at your reflection in the mirror, chanting the same words in your mind. You understand the gravity of the situation, the urgency it holds because within the months of your joining, this is the first time you'll be directly reporting to the CEO.

You think Wonwoo wouldn't recognise you. A mere fling, that's what you were to him after all. And even if he does, it would be best in his interest to ignore.

Wonwoo enters the meeting room and you find your gaze fixated upon him and it brings back all the memories.

You don't meet his eyes when his secretary introduces you both but you do feel the touch of his hand lingering longer on yours.

The meeting goes on and you're proud of yourself for not becoming a mess under his gaze. There are no questions from him, he just listens to what you offer and you take it as a good sign.

“I'll prepare the draft version of the clauses and send across to you, Mr. Jung.”, you say standing up from your seat while sizing the papers laying on the table, “It shouldn't be a major threat because I have found some discrepancies in their lawsuit, they most probably want to stir up some buzz about themselves and make some money out of it.”

Mr. Jung nods, “I'll be expecting the final draft today, we can discuss it further.”

You take it as a sign to take a leave. You walk out of the meeting room only to slide into the next empty one you found because your legs almost give up. You take deep breaths, drink water and assure yourself that it's not a big deal. You're sure that Wonwoo would want no business with–

The door opens and you freeze.

It's Wonwoo who's standing on the threshold.

“Y/N”, he calls out your name with so much vulnerability that it makes your heart twist with an ache.

“I never thought I'd find you again.”, he says almost breathlessly.

“Sorry, I know seeing me again caused a lot of disappointment.”, you blurt out even before thinking and sigh, “I did apply here knowing that it's your company but be assured I didn't come here because of you.”

You could see his face drop and he's about to open his mouth to speak again but you beat him, saying, “Mr. Jeon, if you'd excuse me, I have a meeting in five minutes.”

Wonwoo says nothing but just as you cross him to walk out of the room, he grabs your arm.

And he looks at you holding an unspoken plea in his eyes, while yours glare back at him. Your eyes hold the same intensity, Wonwoo thinks.

“I don't think what you're doing is appropriate, Mr. Jeon.”, you articulate, trying to free your arm from his firm grip, “Let me go.”

While you successfully yank out your arm, his next words leave your head spinning.

“I'll let you go now but we'll be seeing each other often from now on, Y/N.”

And he is true to his words.

The employees are confused, the legal department is in uproar. Why is the CEO visiting their department every other day?

“Y/N, is there something serious going on within your department?”, Yoongi asks oneday, during lunch, “I thought the copyright allegation lawsuit was resolved.”

You feel like banging your head on the very first surface you lay your eyes on. Wonwoo has been trying to talk to you and honestly if he wanted he could summon you anytime and you would have no other choice but to oblige. But you don't get what he's trying to establish by making trips throughout the office, especially the legal department.

“There are some ongoing issues which might escalate if not taken care of right now, so we're having rounds of discussion.”, you lie through your teeth, hoping for Yoongi to believe it.

Yoongi nods but he in fact does not believe it. Because you may not be aware, but he is, aware of the fact that you have a son, about whom when asked you always dodge the topic. He has seen Wonjae one night walking down the streets of the market with you. It wasn't something very peculiar until he found out that you have studied at the same university as Wonwoo, the graduation year matching as well. He didn't make his presence known, he just watched. He has a hunch that there's a past that you've been trying to bury so earnestly. That's why he doesn't pry.

Work is done for the day and you drive to your favourite spot, in hopes of getting a breather, a break from all the chaos.

“Sorry to interrupt your alone time.”, you hear a very familiar voice and smile instantly.

“You're not interrupting anything if we had decided to meet here, Chanie.”

Chan walks upto beside and leans against the railing, watching the city lights blaze underneath.

“How's everything going?”

“I don't know, but one thing for sure, this is something I don't want to do at all.”, he answers with a tinge of agony in his voice.

Lee Chan is the CEO of Sebong Corp., the company known to be a rival of The carat company. He is definitely someone who shouldn't have anything to do with you but you both go way long back. When he was still a student and you were just a law major who was working multiple part times while searching for a job.

You took pity on a student who always looked lost and saved him the food packets hiding from your boss only to give it to him when he made a routine tour to the store.

And that student almost cried out of gratitude whenever the pregnant worker sneaked him food late at night.

It goes on for a few months, until Chan reveals that he's actually a chaebol and in line to inherit the family business.

You were rendered speechless. But Chan was annoyingly sticky, he appeared whenever you worked begging for forgiveness until you gave in.

You wonder if you attract these kinda people.

Apart from Mina, he's the one who stayed by your side, always offering help if you ever needed and spoiling Wonjae whenever you would let him.

You are proud of how Chan is handling everything and still staying rooted to the ground.

“Next time, let me take you and Jae to a nice restaurant to eat.”, he suggests but frowns the next moment, “I doubt he'd even remember his one and only favourite uncle, it's been so long since we met.”

“True, why don't you come home over this weekend? I'll make you your favourite dishes.”

“Deal done.”, he beams and you turn to him and open your arms.

He instantly hugs you and you pat his back, “I'm so proud of you, Chanie. You're doing so well.”

He sighs, all the tension leaving his body, “Needed to hear this today, thanks.”

Not every bond has to be blood related, some go beyond everything.

“What's going on, Mr. Jeon?”, Mr. Jung asks as he notices Wonwoo spacing out again.

“You can drop the honorifics, Uncle.”, Wonwoo says in a lite tone. He slumps against the chair, his eyes fixating against the white wall of the ceiling, “It's her, Uncle. I had no idea she was working here.”

Mr. Jung’s expression solemns, “It explains your erratic behaviour. Did you get a chance to talk to her? Instead of going around the office, you could just summon her.”

“I have a lot to tell her, but where do I start?”, Wonwoo grimaces, “Wouldn't it be an abuse of authority to summon her for any personal agenda.”

Mr. Jung just nods.

“I have so much to say but at the same time I don't have any words that I could give out.”, He rubs his eyes, they're glistening, “Maybe, I just want to know how she has been because I am a selfish prick who needs to hear that the girl he dumped back then is unscathed so that he can be guilt ridden.”

He lets out a chuckle, “Honestly, I am just parading around the legal department because I get to see her, hear her voice and sometimes we even have a conversation because of work.”

“You say that you don't regret the choices you made. It certainly doesn't seem so.”

Wonwoo doesn't reply, he doesn't have an answer. He was doing just fine, living his life, doing his work diligently non stop for years. So what changes now?

It's late in the evening as the office empties out. There's a cramping pain in your stomach and you curse out when you discover that you've forgotten the medicines at home. You feel nauseous, there's a throbbing ache in your head and it intensifies everytime you look at the long chains of emails that sit inside the folders, all labelled with high importance and needing to be made some progress today.

You walk out of your cabin and enter the cafeteria to get some cookies as you call your son to inform him that you'll be going home late tonight. You tell him to do his homework and heat the food before eating. You also tell him to not wait for you and go to bed.

“Check the monitor first. Don't open the door to strangers.”, you remind him, “I love you, Bye.”

You hang up and get the fright of your life when you see Wonwoo standing beside you.

“Who was it?”, Wonwoo asks, his brows raised and arms crossed over his chest.

“W-What are you doing here?”, you ask panicked as you try to peep behind him, hoping no one sees the two of you.

“Let’s go to your cabin, I need to talk to you.”, he says and waits for your rejection because he knows there's no way you're willing to talk to him.

But you agree and now you're both inside your cabin, standing facing each other.

“What do you want?”, your voice comes out strained as you clutch your stomach, supporting yourself against the table.

“Are you okay?”, Wonwoo asks, concerned, “You're sweating and–”

“What did you want to talk about?”, you cut him off, “It’s surprising because I thought we're done for this lifetime. You made it pretty clear that time.”

Wonwoo winces at your verbal jab.

“And if it's something trivial, if you're trying to apologize or bring up our past then don't. I have moved past everything and I'm quite content in my life now, Mr. Jeon.”, you try to speak, emphasizing each word but they come out in ragged breaths.

The more Wonwoo observes you, the more he gets worried, he picks up the water bottle from the table and uncaps it to hand it to you, urging you to sit down.

There's a sharp sting in your stomach and you crouch down. When your vision fades you manage to utter, “M-Mr. Jeon, Amaris Hospital...”

And that's what Wonwoo hears before he watches your body go limp as you collapse on the floor.

Wonwoo watches your unconscious figure laying on the hospital bed as he stands outside the VVIP ward. His mind races miles after the conversation he had with the doctor.

He gets to know that you've been suffering from severe gastroenteritis which you've acquired post pregnancy. He is baffled, his mind can't comprehend and in the heat of the moment he makes an unethical request to have your medical records, the request which he takes back immediately, apologizing.

Mr. Jung rushes to the hospital with the information Wonwoo has asked him to get. 

“Y/N, has only one person registered as her family in the records.”, he informs, “It's her son. She has her friend as an emergency contact and I've called her. She should be here anytime.”

What comes as a greater shock to Wonwoo after sometime is seeing Jeonghan rushing towards the ward, holding hands with a little boy whom even though he has seen only ones but remembers vividly.

“How is Y/N, Wonu?”, Jeonghan asks as he pants.

Wonwoo is frozen, he's not present at the moment. There are gears running in his head, there's vigorous thumping in his heart.

“She's fine now. The doctor said she'd be discharged tomorrow. She'll wake up once the effects of sedation wears off.”, Mr. Jung answers.

“Thanks for admitting her. I'm Mina.”, your friend says.

Jeonghan picks up Wonjae in his arms, they both look at your sleeping form from outside the ward.

“Mama will be okay right uncle Jeonghan?”, Wonjae asks and Jeonghan and Mina assure him immediately.

“Wonjae… Jeon Wonjae….”

All heads turn as Wonwoo keeps on mumbling the name. Every dot connects. Wonjae carries his surname, he looks like him and he's seven years old. The last time he saw you, before he left you, was eight years ago.

He walks towards Wonjae as Jeonghan lets him down.

“He is mine, isn't he?”, Wonwoo asks Jeonghan before crouching down in front of him.

Jeonghan stays quiet, so does Mina when Wonwoo looks at her.

And when he finally locks his gaze on his son, he breaks down in tears. He sobs hugging him. 

Wonjae, seeing his father, cries as well.

“Don't cry, Papa.”, he says as his tiny hands try to wipe the tears from his father's face. And the more Wonwoo sees him, hears him call him as father, the more his sobs turn into wails.

Your body feels heavy, your head feels weighed. There are some whispers that reach your ears but you can't quite make sense out of it. Slowly opening your eyes, you see the white ceilings, the monitor beeping and then Wonwoo.

And by the demeanor, you guess that he has figured out something.

“Mr. Jeon...”

Wonwoo perks up at your voice and when your gazes meet, you see a fresh bout of tear pooling in his eyes.

And all he says is, “We have a son, Y/N. Wonjae is mine, he's ours…”

You inhale shakily. Out of all the possible ways you imagined that he'd react when he finds out about Wonjae, this isn't the one you thought of. Why does the CEO of the most successful entertainment company seem in distraught? Definitely, he's unpredictable and you're scared of what's to come next.

You crane your neck to look at Wonwoo, “Mr. Jeon, I'd like to discuss some things with you, could you please make some time out of your schedule for me?”

Wonwoo feels the distance between you two. It twinges, it gnaws at him. 

“Get rest first. I have sent Wonjae with Jeonghan, he'll be staying at his house. Mina is still here and we'll talk once you get better.”, Wonwoo assures you, “You can find me anytime.”

You close your eyes, mind pondering about what's to come.

Your fingers hover against the door. You could feel the weight of the documents clouding over the entire span of you've spent to raise your son.

On the opposite side, behind the closed doors, waiting for you, is the man you once loved. The father of the child you birthed seven years ago. The chief executive officer of the company you're currently working at.

Also the man, who had broken your heart, had left you alone to pick up the pieces on your own.

You knew that this day would come. You have spent years preparing to face him one day. Over the years you've seen this face everywhere, be it on magazines or billboards or be it glorified on media but why is your chest caving in as you stand on the threshold, a moment away to see him again?

Taking a deep breath, you pitch your face into the most neutral expression you could bear. You won't deter, you won't step back.

Your knuckles give two swift knocks on the door and the secretary opens it for you, letting you in and stepping out once you enter.

At the sound of the door closing, your gaze lifts.

Wonwoo walks towards you, in large but steady strides, just as you have remembered. He stands in front of you, at a distance. Your gazes meet and the time stops.

Because this time unlike all the previous encounters, you are not avoiding him. This time you take time to observe him.

Wonwoo hasn't changed much, his eyes hold the same depth. He, you assume, still likes his hair side parted with locks clipped so they don't fall on his face. The scent of the same perfume lingers in the air, the one which he had always claimed as his signature. The frame of his glasses aren't geometric anymore, he goes with pilot nowadays.

And before your mind could trace back on the memory lane deeper, you decide to slip back into the momentum.

“Mr. Jeon”, you bow to him, giving a small smile. Your heart beats erratically, as you continue to speak, “You must be busy so I won't take much of your time.”

The title you call him by is foreign to Wonwoo's ear. It has been bothering him a lot. It always used to be strings of sickly sweet nicknames. 

He watches the changes time has brought upon you. You no longer seem like the carefree law major from back then. You no longer are the girl who'd cry over smallest things, speak the first thought that came to your mind.

While Wonwoo loses touch with the current predicament, you line up several documents on his desk in specific order.

It's exacting because you used to know him so well, maybe even know if he hasn't emerged entirely as a different person. You see the way his eyes are on you but the dilated pupils give away the fact that he's running miles in his head.

So you wait, wait for him to come back to the present, to this moment. 

And he does, a few minutes later. You can tell it by the way his gaze locks into yours right away, his lips curling down in slightest.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

His voice strikes a chord in your heart, before it reaches your ear. The voice that you used to love so much, the voice that sung you to sleep on restless nights, the same voice which when called your name, it summoned your soul.

Years of preparation goes down in the trench as you're about to break down at the first set of words you hear from him today.

But you can't, you're not the same vulnerable Y/N, who used to strip bare in front of her lover.

“I think we have more important matters to discuss, Mr. Jeon.”, you speak through your gritted teeth.

“But you promised you'd answer all my questions.”, Wonwoo reminds you calmly.

“And this is what you want to know?”

“Out of all things, first and foremost, yes this is what I want to know.”

You find it ironic, trapped in by his words, you answer truthfully, “I just can't sum up everything but I have been holding it in, thanks to Wonjae.”

Wonwoo perks at the mention of your son's name, well his as well.

“The first document is about me as Wonjae’s legal guardian, consenting to you conducting a DNA test.”, your gaze is gentle as you point at the bunched papers, “I don't want any questions, any fingers raised at my son in future.”

“But I don't–”

“I request you to conduct one.”

Your sharp tone shuts up Wonwoo completely, though not willing, he nods.

His gaze sweeps across the rest of the document which promotes him to ask, “What are the rest of these documents for?"

Your eyes turn somber. You've studied law, practised it. You know all the nooks and crannies and you're a mother who is raising her son against all odds.

“The second document is a contract that states that if you don't want to be associated with Wonjae then the fact that he’s your son will be concealed and never brought up by me. If I ever do so”, you turn the pages and show him the space left blank, “You can fill up the breach statement and penalties in this section, I have left it blank.”

Wonwoo gapes at you in disbelief, “What do you think you're trying to pull here?”, he speaks in a low tone but you can hear the agitation ringing in it, “What do you think of me, Y/N?”

You don't deem it necessary to answer his questions and proceed further to explain the contents of the last document.

“If you have any concerns about me working in your company and see me as a threat or identify me as someone who has the potential of stirring up trouble then you can ask me to resign but under the conditions that I work here until I find another job.”, you attitude has shimmered down from being hyper to nonchalant, now that you have done your part.

Wonwoo observes you, in disbelief and at himself in distaste because he's the reason behind the version you are currently showcasing.

“Also, I have prepared the clauses for custody just in case you're willing to share responsibilities in future. I'll bring it to you if you decide to be a part of Wonjae's life.”

You say terms, speak things all in legal language and Wonwoo just listens.

“I would have suggested you to run these documents by your legal team to cite any negotiations or catch any flaws but unfortunately, it would mean that I'd be the person you'll need to work with.”, you smile sardonically, “So it would be better if you contact someone who's not affiliated to this company.”

He wonders if things would have been different if he stayed and in the midst of the storm that whirlwinds in his head, he asks, “Why didn't you tell me that you were pregnant?”

What a simple question to ask. Are all questions meant to have an answer? 

“Would you have stayed?”

Silence falls upon. 

You give him a knowing smile, “Just when you were leaving, I asked you something, do you remember?”

Yes, he remembers, all of it. The way you had chased him to the station, your face wet, eyes bloodshot from crying. The way you just stood in front of him, mumbling the last question you had as the train entered the platform.

“What if I have something important to tell you? Would it make you stay?”

“There’s nothing left to salvage. Nothing's gonna stop me from leaving. This is the end for us.”

It answers his previous question. It makes sense now, he didn't only leave you, he had abandoned his unborn child as well. 

Some fences can't be mended, some bridges can't be cemented, just like this relationship, which once bloomed beautifully, is now wilted.

“Do you have anything else to ask, Mr. Jeon? If not I'll be taking my leave.”, you say arranging all the documents, “I'll leave the documents here with you. We can meet once you have gone through these and made a decision.”

Wonwoo observes you, he can't even fathom the hurt you've gone through. He knows he's the reason for your suffering, he's grateful that you've been raising his son with so much love.

“I'll get back to you, Y/N.”

That's all he says and expects you to leave but what you do next tears him apart.

You are kneeling down, in front of him. Your head hangs low as you plead, your voice quivering, “Mr. Jeon, you can have everything you want at your feet but Wonjae is the only one I have. You have the power, money and capability to do anything. So I beg you, please don't take my son away from me, he's the sole reason I'm living this life.”

Wonwoo fists his hands, he feels insulted. How low do you think of him? But again, is it your fault that you don't trust him, because if it was in the past you used to trust him more than yourself.

He bends and holds your shoulder firmly as he helps you get on your feet.

“I'd rather perish than to do something like that to you or our son.”, Wonwoo grabs your chin to make you look at him, “We made him with love, Y/N.”

A tear falls down your eye, “Did you ever love me?”

His hands leave you, he looks at you with dejection.

“Love is built on trust but you never trusted me. Not enough to let me know your actual identity. You hid the fact that you are an heir to the Jeon estate. I get it, you didn't slip initially but we dated for 4 years. You even knew about my cousin’s best friend but I didn't even know about your closest family.”

You let out a bitter chuckle, “It's all in the past now. Let's focus on Wonjae, if you want to be a part of his life.”

“I want to be a good father to him.”, Wonwoo says sincerely, “Help me, Y/N, please.”

You nod while wiping your tears, “Jae is just like you. It's like my genes didn't even try.”, you breathe out a smile, “He likes you, I can see the way he lights up when he sees you on the Tv or covers. Please don't disappoint him, please be there for him. If you're going to do it, please do it right.”

And Wonwoo is determined.

“I already got your number from Jeonghan, I'll call you later.”, you tell him, “And if you want to meet Jae, come over this weekend, I'll text you my address.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“You're welcome.”

It's going well, though Wonjae was hesitant initially, he is delighted to have his father in his life which makes you wonder if all these years you have been doing things right. You'd admit that you're jealous seeing the father-son duo because they blend in so well, it's like they've never been apart. But you're happy for Wonjae.

“Don't spoil him too much.”, comes your warning one day when you spot Wonwoo setting up the new gaming devices in your son’s room, which you recollect your son has been wanting for long.

“I'll keep it in check.”, Wonwoo answers, “But let me make up at least a little for the lost time.”

Your heart swells when you enter the room an hour later only to see your son perched on his father's lap, both of them equally invested in the game, same face, same expression and same mind.

“He goes to karate classes every friday.”, you say rummaging through the drawers one evening and Wonwoo adds it as a reminder in his calendar.

“He goes to painting class on Tuesdays and his music classes are on Wednesday and Saturday. He learns to swim on Mondays and he rests on Thursdays. Sundays are reserved for his weekly shenanigans, he suggests random activity and we do it throughout the day.”

Wonwoo is half amused, half concerned and you see it on his face vividly.

“And no he doesn't get tired, it's not too much for him. It's his idea to explore all the fields and go ahead with the ones he finds interesting. The list of curricular activities was way long, we have trimmed it down to these and it may shorten further.”, you explain in a breath and hand him the timetable you finally found after almost turning the room upside down.

“He may look like me but he's just like you, Y/N.”, Wonwoo smiles looking at the paper in his hand, “You used to be like this.”

Used to be, not anymore, you think. The past you were totally a different person, she wouldn't even recognise the present you, you're so different now. 

Wonwoo lays the paper flat on the table as he meticulously inputs each activity in his calendar. You watch him in silence, watch the man you had once wanted to spend your entire life with.

“Are you planning to let everyone know about Wonjae?”, you ask Wonwoo, later that night anxiously after he puts your son to sleep.

It had been gnawing at you relentlessly. Wonwoo notices the nervousness, he walks into the kitchen and makes you a cup of coffee.

“You’re the favourite celebrity of the nation, a long line of influential people are waiting to get their daughter married to you and if you suddenly declare that you have a child…”, you look at him with glassy eyes, “I'm afraid that people will target Jae. I don't care if I am subjected to any kind of ridicule or threat–”

“Y/N, calm down.”, he says calmly, “For now I have decided it to be not known. I have tightened the security and been careful but”, he assures you, “if it gets known I'll protect you both.”

“You don't have to protect me, Mr. Jeon.”, your voice drops an octave, a sign of your defensiveness, “Just take care of Jae.”

“I'm sorry, Y/N.”, he just says it, for the present, for the past, “I had a reason to leave though it wouldn't justify what I did. I'm really sorry.”

“Jae has fallen asleep, I think you should leave now.”, you get up from where you're sitting, “You're my employer and let's try to stick to the dynamics.”

Wonwoo watches quietly as you retreat back to your room. You have changed, a lot, thanks to him.

“Won! You won't believe what happened.”, you jump onto his lap as soon as you spot him sitting on the sofa.

Wonwoo smiles, ruffling your hair as he secures his arms around your waist, “What happened, love?”

You press a quick kiss to his lips, smiling, “While returning back from the University I saw an old man selling some stuff at a very cheap price. And I was shocked when I saw the limited edition cassettes, you know the ones I've been collecting recently. I bought all of them! My collection is complete!”

“Woah, I'm so proud of you.”, Wonwoo kisses the side of your head.

“I got you a metal pick, because you keep losing them. Also, I got us matching rings!”

Wonwoo looks at you in awe as you put the ring on his pinky.

He puts his hand over the suit pocket and feels the ring as he presses over it through the layers of fabrics. A look at the closed door and he's out the next moment.

“I am guessing the matters are resolved now.”, Yoongi says one day during lunchtime, “Mr. Ceo is not seen as much around the office nowadays.”

“Yes, it is resolved.”, you say monotonously.

Yoongi hums, “Good then. Let me know if you need my help for anything.”

You squint your eyes, smiling, “You don't know shit about law, Yoongi.”

“Oh but I do know about a thing or two outside law, Y/N.”

“You have a misconception about yourself, I see.”, you chuckle when Yoongi glares at you.

And that glare turns into a fond smile while you eat off his ears about a character of the show you don't like.

Wonwoo, who happens to pass by the area, doesn't quite like the way whoever the guy sitting beside you is looking at you. That afternoon, he didn't have lunch, apparently due to loss of appetite.

He has been trying to make space for himself in your life but you're rigid. He shudders at the thought of your angry face whenever he subtly tries to bounce off the wall you've built around yourself. You only pay him mind when you discuss about Wonjae with him, otherwise he's just sidelined.

He has zero interest in work today, his mind keeps playing the incidents from the previous night.

He was supposed to drop by your apartment as usual to spend some time with Jae and you.

He punches the passcode and is met by a startled you.

“Jae would be staying at Mina’s tonight, I had already sent you a text regarding this.”, you say and wait. Wait for him to leave.

“Oh sorry, I didn't get a chance to check my phone.”

Lies. Wonwoo is at your place today with just one motive, to talk to you.

There's a moment of silence and you're just about to show him the way out, he asks, “Can we talk?”

“We don't have anything to talk about, Mr. Jeon–”

“Stop calling me that!”, he hisses and closes the distance between the two of you, “Call me Wonu, Won, Woni anything, please.”

You look at him incredulously, “But that's not what I should be calling my employer, isn't it?”

“I'm not just your employer.”, his voice drops an octave, “I was your lover, I am the father of your child.”

“What are you doing?”, you ask wearily when he grabs your arm and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you.

He rests his forehead against you, closing his eyes, “Please, let me hold you for a moment.”

You are confused, you don't want yourself anywhere near him but your body betrays you, it seeks comfort into the embrace of your past lover, it's just like returning to an old habit.

“I never stopped loving you, Y/N.”, he confesses, opening his eyes to see your wide ones, “I did leave you at my own will but it wasn't because I fell out of love.”

“It doesn't matter anymore.”, you say trying to push him away but his grip is too strong, “All I wanted was a closure when you left but you didn't even consider me worthy of that. I didn't know who you actually were, didn't get the reason behind your abrupt decision of breaking up and now you decide you wanna do the truth drop just because we have a son.”, you shake your head, “That's not how it works. I know I'm just a baggage that comes with Jae, I know my place, you had made it clear then, so you don't have to do all of this.”

He frees you, his eyes holding depths of oceans before retreating to stand by the window, facing away from you.

“I am the youngest within the Jeon household. I was loved, always getting what I wanted and never put on the pedestal because I have an older brother. I was always used to getting away with whatever, while he was dumped with all the expectations, afterall he was supposed to take over the Jeon empire.”

There's a pause before he continues, “He looked like he belonged to the limelight while I was the opposite, always preferred to be in the shadows. It was a blessing, to have a big brother like him, to have such loving parents who never tried to load their expectations on me. I expressed my desire to get enrolled into the University under the plain disguise and pursue a degree I wanted.”

He turns to look at you, “That's when I met you and we fell in love. I was so happy, happiest I'd say because you saw me for me, I was grateful that you made me a part of your life but it kept bugging me that I was hiding my identity.”, his voice cracks, “I was afraid, what if after learning everything, you make a decision to leave me? But that's when the incident happened.”

“My brother finally snapped. He couldn't take the pressure, couldn't bear the heaviness of the expectations anymore so he tried to step down. But my parents wouldn't let him, for them their pride mattered the most. They couldn't just let people think that they raised a failure in the Jeon household.”

You listen silently.

“My brother left. He disappeared without any trace, no goodbyes, nothing. I was heartbroken, my parents were inconsolable. Until a few months passed and they recovered. And that's the first time I got to witness the true nature of my parents. They only saw me as a replacement to my brother. It was so evident, I was thrusted into grooming sessions to be the acting director. It was so sudden, it felt nauseous because I have always seen myself out of those scenes, to me they were for my brother. No one cared, the expectations were projected onto me and that's when I started missing the classes and I got to see you less. My mind started to shift, it was messed up and after pondering for weeks, I chose to be an obedient child to my parents and leave behind everything I was associated with, including you.”, he looks at you apologetically, “I'm sorry.”

“I can't forgive you.”, comes your immediate and stern reply, “I hope you realise that out of all the things you could have done, you decided to abandon me.”

Wonwoo freezes at your words, the truth hits him in the gut.

“You didn't even seek for me for all these years.”, your voice cracks with the hurt, “You know about Jae because I decided it to be known. So don't you dare come here pretending like a good person as the world believes you to be. I know who you are, what you are.”

“You're right.”, Wonwoo says, more to himself, “I am really an awful person.”

And then he leaves and doesn't come back for days until your son calls him just because he misses his father.

The weekend follows and the doorbell rings. Before you could reach, you see your son jumping towards the door, his smile widening when he sees his father on the monitor.

It's a mundane Saturday, except you're building a fort in the living room with your son and Wonwoo. It's simple actually, you've built it for Wonjae many times but today something is hindering it and you figure out that the reason is Wonwoo.

He's absolutely clueless, he's not helping, he rather needs help.

“Papa, you are so bad at it.”, Wonjae calls him out and you bite your lips to suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat.

Wonwoo with a very childish frown on his face, refutes the claim, “I am just giving you both a chance to showcase your skills.”

You roll your eyes, focusing on assembling the fort while the two guys bicker on the backdrop.

“Mama, save me!”

You turn back to see Wonjae tackled on the ground as Wonwoo tickles him. A laugh bubbles out of your throat, you feel good in the moment. After all, this was something you've always wanted, to get married and start a family with the man you once loved so much.

“Woni, let's get married.”, you declare, out of nowhere, “I want to marry you immediately.”

Wonwoo laughs, “You speak out the very first thought that comes to your mind.”, he caresses your cheeks fondly, “Let’s get married once we settle in our careers.”

“You don't have to work, I'll take care of you.”, you say sincerely, “Just be mine, please.”

“That's not what you said last time, as far as I can recollect.”, Wonwoo squints his eyes at you, “You said that you don't want to work, you just want to be my wife, the mother to my kids.”

“And I meant it!”, you cross your heart.

“Which one did you mean? Because both are pretty contradictory to me.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”, you admit, a soft smile spreading on your lips.

And in the moment, Wonwoo falls in love with you all over again. He leans in, eyes never leaving yours as he closes the gap between you two.

The phone rings and you both groan.

“It's my dad, let me take this one.”, you say, pulling back as you check the caller Id.

He nods but does exactly the opposite by pulling you by your neck and planting his lips on yours for a kiss that takes your breath away.

The ringing of the phone eventually stops but Wonwoo doesn't.

A soft sigh escapes from within you and your mood shifts. There's no point in dwelling in the past now.

Yoongi paces nervously as he awaits you. A sudden click and he sees you entering through the door and from behind you, emerges Jihoon.

Yoongi pulls you aside and whispers, “What's the HR guy doing here, Y/N?”

“He's trustable.”, you assure him and introduce them to each other.

Yoongi exhales sharply, he sweeps a glance at the two of you and speaks, “I think there may be some fund embezzlement going on and for long.”, he takes out his phone and shows some the snaps he has taken, “While I was accessing some documents for the recent staffing activities, I came across this.”

“How did you get access to this? Shouldn't this be requiring credentials of Senior Managers?”, Jihoon asks, eyeing Yoongi suspiciously.

Yoongi scoffs and looks at you, “Look at your trustable guy, he's doubting me.”

You glare at Jihoon and then look back at Yoongi, “Don't mind him, Yoongi, tell us the entire thing.”

He nods, “So the exchange receipts you're seeing, on the surface they're all going to different accounts but when I traced back the companies turned out to be paper companies. Someone has to be in the directorial position to pull this without getting noticed. I had even dropped an anonymous tip to the auditor's office but surprisingly or not, no action was taken.”

“This is concerning.”, Jihoon ponders over, “Does anyone else know about this?”

“I'm not aware.”, Yoongi answers truthfully, “This shouldn't be of my concern but I can't get it out of my head and I think if I try to poke again they'll be on my tail.”

“We definitely need someone from the Audit team on our side, someone who's trustworthy and holds power.”, you say, “But it doesn't seem plausible.”

“I'll see what I can do.”, you assure both of them, “Yoongi, please send those evidences and Jihoon, could you check if you could link any of these account owners to anyone from the company?”

While you walk out of the room with a lot on your mind, you get a call from your son and he has some requests.

Wonwoo punches the code hurriedly as his heart races after getting a sketchy text from his son. He manages to enter your apartment only to find it pitch black and eerily silent.

“Y/N? Jae?”, he calls out through the passage and he keeps calling as he makes his way to the hallway.

Suddenly the light goes on, the whistles blow and confetti flies.

Wonwoo stands wide eyed, as he sees the banner reading a ‘Happy Father's Day!’ and looks at Jae holding a cake smiling while you, Jeonghan and Mina stand behind him each wearing a party hat and funny accessories.

You observe quietly, the way your son is beaming in happiness when his father appreciates and voices out all the praises on receiving the gifts.

You're proud of your son, he's empathetic, he's kind and he's all you could ever want. When he called you at work, which was rare, with a hesitant voice and a wish to celebrate the day because he recently learnt that his father's birthday had already passed, you agreed immediately, because he loves to celebrate special days.

You're setting the table, faint sounds of laughter reaching your ears.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You look up to see Wonwoo looming over your frame.

“It was all Jae’s idea, you should be thanking your son.”, you say light heartedly, “I didn't even remember.”

Wonwoo looks at you surprised, “You forgot? Didn't uncle always nag when you don't wish him? You should give him a call–”

He halts when he sees you go stiff.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?”, Wonwoo asks, now alarmed, “Are your parents fine?”

“They should be.”, you answer vaguely, before busying yourself back on plating the food, “You should go back, Jae must be looking for you.”

The dinner is going well with Wonwoo mostly talking with Jae and Jeonghan while Mina chimes in only when she feels like it.

Your mood has dampened ever since Wonwoo has brought up your father so you're just present, not involved in whatever is being discussed.

When Jae hops off to take a washroom break, Jeonghan takes the chance to ask you, “Are you seeing someone, Y/N.”

You shake your head, “There's a lot on my plate already and I'm content with Jae in my life.”

Though it is an open secret, Wonwoo feels relief flood in his chest.

“Didn't even seek?”, Jeonghan probes further.

You sigh, “Actively no. But I did go on a couple of dates, even the blind dates Mina set me up for, but”, your gaze drops, “All of them backed out as soon as they learnt about Jae. Guess, no one wants a woman like me. So I have given up on it.”

There are words on the tip of Wonwoo's tongue, he wants to say that you're everything one could ever want, then why did he leave you in the first place?

Your mind lingers back to that phase where your self esteem had hit rock bottom because of some failed dates with men you didn't even know. Might sound funny but the canon balls life had thrown at you combined with ‘nothing has ever gone right’ made you falter.

Jae comes back and the topic is dropped off the table, it's all laugh and chatters until Jeonghan decides to tease you for fun, with the help of his beloved nephew. He loves teasing the heck out of people whom he dear and has engulfed the little boy into this as well. He murmurs something into Jae’s ear without you noticing.

Jeonghan gives a sly grin as he sweeps a gaze round the table and asks Jae, “Jae, tell us who you love more, Mama or Papa?”

A classic trick question to which people tend to avoid answering.

But Jae is giggling as he answers almost immediately, “Papa!”

It is supposed to be a stick to tease you but your heart drops. There's a sudden shift in your demeanor and it's noticeable.

There's a screeching sound as you stand up abruptly and walk into your room, closing the door behind.

“Everything is not made to be a joke about.”, Mina hisses, glaring at Jeonghan.

“Did I hurt, Mama?”, Jae asks, tears already pooling in his eyes.

“Yes, you did. This is not something I expected from you.”, Mina answers him, trying to tone down her anger, “Go to your room, we'll talk tomorrow about it.”

Wonjae follows obediently.

“I'm sorry, I was just trying to–”

“You should leave if you're done.”

It hits a nerve and Jeonghan tries to defend himself which leads to a heated exchange between both.

“Aren't you being too much here, Mina?”, Jeonghan raises his voice with accusations.

“Oh maybe I am because you and him”, she sweeps a glance at Wonwoo, “weren't there during her pregnancy phase. Neither of you are aware of what she had to go through, that her parents disowned her, that she almost lost her life while giving birth to Jae due to excessive bleeding and all other complications.”

Both the men freeze and Mina heaves out a breath.

“You might think, Y/N is getting sensitive over a joke but you guys need to understand that she has her entire life built around Jae, she has always tried to be the best parent to him so if he suddenly says he loves his found father more over her even as a joke, she would begin questioning whatever she has ever done for Jae and whether she went wrong somewhere.”

“Can I go and talk to her?”, Wonwoo asks, his voice shaky holding the pleading tone.

“Do whatever you want, just don't hurt her anymore.”, she says, grabbing her belongings and exiting the apartment.

“Go talk to her.”, Jeonghan adds, “I'm leaving, call me if you need me.”

You sit quietly at the corner of your bed, your mind empty. Your fingers fidget among themselves and all you are trying to remember is why you left the table. Why did it sting so much? Wonjae has always longed for his father ever since he knew about him so it was given and there's nothing to be upset about it.

But maybe you're easy to be left behind, maybe not choosing you is easier than staying. You feel tears streaming down your face, you feel your heart constricting in pain.

Wonwoo enters the room crouches in front of you.

“I'm sorry”, you say, as soon as you feel his presence, avoiding his gaze, “I overreacted over a small matter–”

And you halt when you hear a choked sob.

“No I'm so so sorry.”, he hiccups through every word he tries to speak, “I– You had to suffer so much and I wasn't even by your side. I can't even turn back time, I can't take away your pain.”

You wipe his tears and he leans against your palm.

“I left when you needed me the most. You had to make a lot of sacrifices, while I was just– I'm sorry, Y/N.”

Wonwoo's crying and you watch in shock as he goes into hyperventilation. He grasps at your arm as he tries to breathe but it doesn't work. You hurriedly take off his glasses, loosen his tie and unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt.

“Wonwoo, calm down”, you say, grabbing his face, “Look at me and try breathing. Inhale through your nose and exhale slowly through pursed lips as if blowing out a candle.”

“I-I can't–”, he manages to speak between the ragged breaths.

Then you do what your mind prompts you to, you press your hands near to his mouth which makes his lips pucker and you plant yours on them.

You kiss him tenderly, caress his arms gently with the motive of calming the neurotransmitters in his brain and it works, you feel Wonwoo taking slow breaths as his mind distracts and body eases in the moment.

You pull away, searching for his eyes, “Better now?”

He nods, breathing heavily. You don't let him leave in the middle of the night, offering him to sleep in your bedroom. Once you both kiss your son’s sleeping form goodnight, the two of you settle in an awkward stance.

“Jae doesn't like sharing his bed, so you take my bed and I'll take the couch.”

But somehow you end up in your bed with Wonwoo as he invades your personal space and holds you in his arms like he always used to do.

There's intimacy in the moment which makes you spill your heart out, you tell him how your orthodox parents cut ties with you when you told them about your pregnancy. They never reached out to you after that. You tell him how haunting it was for you to go through it alone. How tiring it was to support yourself by working multiple part time jobs while preparing for interviews and managing the pregnancy and that you believe that Mina is godsend because she's the nurse at the hospital you were brought to when you had fainted at work once and since then she stayed and looked over you like a godmother.

“Aren't you uncomfortable in those clothes?”, you ask, eyes droopy.

“With you in my arms, these clothes are the least of my concern.”, he smiles stroking your hair, “I could do this all my life.”

“I missed you, Won.”, the nickname slips out of you naturally, “When it was unbearable, when I had something to share but no one was there to listen, when while giving birth I thought I wouldn't be able to live through.”, you hide your face in his chest, trying to blink away the tears, “I wished you were there when I held Jae in my arms for the first time, when he grew up to be so much like you.”

Your words turn into sleepy mumbles until they stop.

And once you fall asleep, his floodgates open again, Wonwoo cries the more he looks at you, apologizing a thousand times. He promises to keep you and Jae safe and now all he wants is to take the weight off your shoulders.

Morning comes with the rays of sun peeking through the curtains. You turn within the sheets, having the best sleep in a while as you hug the side pillow, throwing a leg over it. Ten more minutes you promise to yourself as you snuggle closer, a familiar Cologne hitting your nose. You frown, running your hands over the pillow only to find it moving as well.

Your eyes fly open and reality comes crashing down, the pillow you're grabbing is a certain Jeon Wonwoo, who is currently staring down at you with fond eyes and a soft smile.

“Good morning.”, he greets and all you try to do is get away from the proximity. But your baby daddy has other plans.

With a swift swig, he pulls you closer by your middle and pecks your forehead. You go stiff as he eyes your lips and leans in but you don't stop him.

“I think Jae is calling me.”, you say, getting your senses back and wriggling out of his grip, running out of the room.

Wonwoo sits disappointed but his heart is eased.

“Are you sure, you don't wanna inform Mr. Jeon yet?”, Jihoon asks as his eyes almost pierces through the documents, “I got hold of Jimin from the Auditor’s team and he's digging up the history it seems.”

“We can't go up to him just with these documents. We need concrete proof because seemingly we are up against a bunch of influential people. Let Jimin come back with something.”

As you fish out your phone to call Yoongi, the said man appears looking very distraught.

“Guys, it's not only embezzlement, they're planning to upsurge the ownership of this company.”, he informs, leaving the rest of you shocked, “They are on move to convince the shareholders about transferring the shares but given our CEO’s clean image, it won't be easy, what could they be upto?”

“How do you know so much?”, Jihoon asks Yoongi and the latter rolls his eyes.

“Put your mind to come up with something useful.”, comes Yoongi’s snarky remark.

And while the two snide at each other, you ponder on whether to inform Wonwoo about the matter or wait a bit more.

But time doesn't wait and so doesn't the conspirators because a few days later all you see is yours and Jae’s face on every article, all the news bulletins linking the two of you with Wonwoo.

And your heart drops when you realize they're going to use you to tarnish Wonwoo's image.

What was Mingyu thinking, taking Orion all the way out here without giving you so much as a heads up? Why would he keep it from you at all? And what was with his cryptic words when you dropped Orion off with him? Mixed with this inexplicable behaviour, you have to assume he was planning to do this -- whatever this is -- from that point or even earlier.

You expect to catch him off guard, maybe yell at him, tell him off as soon as he opens the door you're rapping your fist against, but it's his mother who appears when the door opens.

Her face crumples up, tears brimming in her eyes. You freeze. She whimpers, almost, coos a sweet yet quivering, "Oh, my dear," and quickly pulls you into her motherly embrace. "You've been through so much."

Unable to respond, you simply let your hands drift up to return the hug, eyes searching over her shoulder into the house. Just beyond the entryway is a living room couch, on top of which sits Mingyu's younger sister, whom you haven't seen since she went to study abroad many years ago, and Orion, who beams when he sees you.

"Mama!" he calls out, and your heart deflates, finally feeling like it fits in your chest again after the roller coaster you felt on the way here. You can't help it; the tears come like a tidal wave, and you curl into the hug like it's your very own life raft. Orion notices your mood immediately. His smile drops, and he flips himself over to slide off the couch, then runs up to you at the highest speed his little legs can carry him. His tiny hand tugs at your pant leg as he pouts up at you. "Mama?"

The solace of Mingyu's mother's hug can't last forever when your son needs you, so you release yourself from her embrace and go to crouch down in front of Orion. "Hi, baby," you murmur, brushing his hair out of his eyes and forcing a smile. "Did you have fun today?"

Humming and nodding, Orion points at Minseo back on the couch. "Noona draws pretty!"

You glance up at her, and somehow despite the discontented look on her face, you know she isn't upset at you. Just...carefully deciding what to say. She shrugs at the question in your eyes. "'Auntie' felt weird," she explains, looking down at her fingers as she fiddles with her nails. Her next words come out in a murmur. "It's all so sudden."

She doesn't say more than that, and you certainly have no response. Minseo is young still, though not much younger than you were when Orion entered your life. At her age, it makes sense to not want to be called an aunt by your brother's friend's kid... but you can't help taking in the way she can't quite look at you, or the way her mom still has a gentle, soothing hand on your shoulder and the remnants of tears in her cheeks.

"Mingyu..." you hesitantly call out for him, knowing he has to be nearby.

And you do know him. You've known him for years. Mingyu slumps into view, leaning on a corner wall, but he too can't meet your eyes. He's never been the best at facing emotional stuff, but until now, you thought you were his exception.

When you first got to know your best friend, you were twelve and covered in cake flour.

It was day two of this fancy baking/cake decorating summer camp you won entry to in your sixth grade debate competition, and since your partner from the first day was out sick and apparently so was the partner of the lanky, dark-haired boy you didn't talk to at all on day one, you two were made temporary baking buddies. It took all of five minutes for you to realize how clumsy your new buddy was, all of ten to get you both a healthy poof of flour to the face because he turned the stand mixer up too high, and all of eleven to get you laughing so hard the teacher made you both leave the kitchen to get cleaned up.

He told you his name was Mingyu, and that you weren't like the other kids in the class. At the time, you didn't really understand what he meant, but that week of summer camp (which was thereinafter spent with Mingyu as your partner because he begged the teacher to make the swap) revealed to you that your random debate prize was worth more than you thought. Even though you didn't believe Mingyu at first when he said he was the heir to some multi-million dollar computer thingy, nor that the rest of the classmates were born with similarly shiny spoons in their mouths, you came around to the idea soon enough. He was right that your day-one partner was a little stiff, maybe talked a little funny like they might get punished for saying the wrong thing. And he was right that everyone came to class in pretty designer clothes, which you hadn't really noticed until he pointed out the old shirt you had on. (Your parents sent you in your Saturday Worst after day two since they knew you'd make a mess anyway.) But he was mostly right about the fact that the kitchen you all used as a classroom had eight KitchenAid™ stand mixers, and not a single drawer or cabinet filled with mismatched tupperware.

You became a little self conscious after realizing all the other kids could probably buy and sell you, but somehow, Mingyu made you feel okay. He was goofy and dumb at the same time as he was talented and smart, and even though you'd often end up with literal egg on your face, he actually made some really tasty food.

Twelve-year-old Kim Mingyu had a cellphone, a blackberry that you pretended didn't impress you when it totally did. But a cellphone wasn't much good for staying in touch when you didn't have one for him to call, so you traded emails instead. You asked where he was going for seventh year, and he replied with the name of some private school you'd never even heard of, but it was the same when he asked for yours. Mingyu barely knew about your neighbourhood's existence, much less the schools in the area.

You both laughed. Then, as his personal driver opened the backseat door to a car you thought might be bulletproof, he looked you right in the eyes and said, "I'll miss you. Email me lots, okay?"

When it finally got to you just how much he meant it, you were fifteen and eyeing up your high school like the huge building might rumble to life and crush you underfoot.

It was day one of another three years of studying for who-knows-why, and you wished you felt more confident than you did. It shouldn't have been scary. You tightened your hands around the straps of your backpack anyway. Students filed past you towards the front door like it was nothing, so you didn't notice him standing right next to you until he cleared his throat obnoxiously loud and said, "It doesn't look so bad."

His voice was different when it wasn't filtered through the corded phone at home, but you recognized it immediately anyway. "Mingyu?" you said in disbelief. He stood there with his hands casually resting in his slacks' pockets, a smile that was this close to a cocky smirk on his face. A backpack was slung over one of his shoulders. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He shrugged like it was nothing, like he hadn't appeared out of nowhere after not seeing each other in person for three years because he was too busy being rich or whatever, and started walking towards the school like it was just another day for him. "Same thing you're doing," he said. "I go here."

It turned out that the preppy, high-end high school you'd studied your butt off to get into was the bottom of the barrel for his family, and he'd had to plead with his grandfather that this was the best way for him to learn what it's like being an average nobody (you'd scoffed at that part) and would in turn make him make better decisions for a company whose userbase was, obviously, the average person. But none of that mattered really, because at fifteen, you knew exactly why Mingyu had gone down on his knees in front of the person he both respected and feared most in his life.

Teenage Mingyu might have been a little snobby and a huge brat, but for some reason, you could always see right through him to the boy who just wanted genuine connection, who wanted friends that would laugh when he dropped something instead of scrambling to pick it up for him, who wanted to be praised when he was actually proud of himself rather than when somebody wanted to get something out of him. Maybe it was because you could see right through him that he stopped bothering to hide anything from you at all.

You became friends with Soonyoung somewhere in the middle of high school. Nowhere near as close were you and him as you were with Mingyu, but you could see the way it created an odd glint in Mingyu's eyes when you would tell him a story about the day you'd shared with the goofy upperclassman. All it took was one insinuation from you to have Mingyu crumble and admit that he felt irrationally jealous, that he feared your new, seemingly amazing friendship with Soonyoung could result in him losing his precious You time.

After that was, thankfully, resolved, he also admitted that it was because of you he felt comfortable enough to say anything at all. He wasn't used to letting his emotions mean anything, he'd said. His grandfather had taught him that emotions were fickle and fleeting, and that they should not matter in the slightest. They would ruin a man in the end, if he let it.

Yet, you could always tell when he was sad, or angry, or jealous, or scared anyway, so what was the harm in just speaking to you about it?

It was like that for a long time.

Around a year before Orion, though, you began seeing less and less of Mingyu. You'd attributed it to multiple factors at the time. The health of Mingyu's grandfather was steadily declining, and even though he was stubbornly clinging to the title of Chairman, half of the company was preparing Mingyu for his eventual campaign. You'd heard that it would be tough competition against a young rising star within the company, whom Mingyu had been toe-to-toe with for a few years at that point. Not only was Mingyu swamped, but you were hardly able to make time to hang out with anyone. This was mostly due to your over-eagerness when selecting classes, but you'd made your bed.

How were you supposed to know about any turmoil Mingyu was facing if you barely even saw each other?

Was that your mistake? Was that what changed both your lives?

In a house in the countryside, you look at Mingyu now, with his head lowered and bottom lip dangerously close to trembling.

Did you stop seeing Mingyu, stop seeing right through him for too long, to the point that you can't see anything anymore?

"Mingyu," you whisper. It's hardly as loud as a breath. He doesn't look up. "What did you do?"

prev « masterlist » next

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･being two of the most popular streamers across the board, your subscribers often speculate if your constant bickering with wonwoo has some underlying pretense. little did they know, the two of you have everything on display on a single, unsuspecting twitter account. 

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“Favorite Poison” (Part of the Game Over series) by @/lovelyhan

Fem!reader || Streamer au, enemies to lovers, smut, angst, fuck buddies || W.C: 15.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･no strings attached sex is easy. catching feelings for a person you supposedly hate is hard. it's in times like this when wonwoo wishes he can set the dial to his life on easy mode forever, but everyone knows he's nothing if not stubbornly competitive.  

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“Endpoint” by @highvern

Fem!reader || Uni TA au, FWB to idiots to lovers, fluff, smut, angst || W.C: ~19.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

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“Heart of the Sea” by @/highvern

Fem!reader || Pirate au, Royalty au, Angst, Romance, Adventure || W.C: 22k

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“34.6037° S, 58.3816° W” by @the-boy-meets-evil

Fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, angst || W.C: ~22.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know

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“HER” by @chocosvt

[Series] || fem!reader || Uni au, slowburn, strong angst, drama, romance, smut || Total W.C: 140k || Parts: 6 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

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“Payment Due” by @solarwonux

Fem!reader || Uni au, sexworker au, fluff, angst, smut || W.C: 56.1k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･HYBE U one of the top highly prestigious universities in the country. A shit hole, a total money making scam that liked to sucked the life out of its students. Not being able to meet the funds to pay for your tuition your best friend lets you in a little secret. A way he’s been keeping afloat for years now, easy money. The problem is you want in. 

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“Cats and Coffee for Two” by @multi-kpop-fanfics

Fem!reader || Coworkers to lovers, fluff, comedy, smut || W.C: 12.2k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Job hunting is a tough sport and Wonwoo has experienced it to its core. One fine autumn day comes where he's finally free from the shackles of unemployment, but he will soon find himself in the shackles of coffee, tea and cat hairs, But most importantly, he will have to share these shackles with you.

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“Flower” by @wonwoonlight

Fem!reader || Exes to coworkers au, angst, slice of life, fluff || W.C: ~13k

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“Wanna be yours” by @viastro

Gn!reader || Uni au, childhood friends to strangers to loversish, angst, fluff, humor || W.C: ~9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you thought that growing up as best friends meant you’d stick together for as long as you could. you never thought of that exact chance for you and wonwoo until entering university, where you were nothing but his driver when he was out partying for too long. so why do you still pick up the phone when he calls you if he’s the one who left first?

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“Twisted Fate” by @smileysuh

Afab!reader || Vampire au, soulmate au, enemies to lovers, smut || W.C: 14.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･“He deserved it,” Wonwoo assures you, reaching out to grab you by the back of the neck, pulling you closer. He’s covered in blood, and he looks like a sexy, wild monster. But he’s your monster, and you can’t help but react, leaning in- “Jesus Christ,” you hear Jeonghan breathe, turning to give you and Wonwoo privacy while he presses his lips against yours hungrily. At first, you can try to ignore the wet liquid on your fingertips as you grab at his strong shoulders, but you can’t ignore the taste on his tongue. Your body goes rigid and Wonwoo pulls back with a sigh, resting his forehead against yours. It’s an oddly peaceful moment amongst the chaos.

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“My Way to You” by @/wonwoonlight

[Series] || fem!reader || heir/heiress au, best friends to lovers, fluff, drama, angst || Total W.C: ~47k || Parts: 13(+1 epilogue) || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You don’t remember a time when you don’t have Wonwoo by your side. But when things happen and you’re left to deal with your feelings, you can’t help but wonder if what you have with him can be framed under the name of friendship after all. or, alternatively, Wonwoo’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember and he doesn’t know if he should be thankful or not that you’ve never suspected him for it.

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“By the Moon” by @/wonwoonlight

Werewolf au, fantasy au, angst, fluff, hurt comfort, action, suggestive || W.C: ~18k

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“All My Love” by @pepperonidk

[Series] || Fem!reader || High School au, fluff || Parts: 10 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･He's cool, smart, attractive... and completely out of your league. But that won't stop you from falling head over heels for him. (alt. jeon wonwoo is mr. darcy incarnated… a fumbling nerd turned popular kid)

⊹ smut tags: dry humping, kissing, fingering, penetrative sex, corruption kink, degradation, dom!wonwoo, brat!reader, virgin!reader,oral (f. receiving), creampie, exhibitionsm (?), slightly perv!wonwoo undertones, petnames (reader: darling, baby) (wonwoo: baby), big dick wonwoo, riding, headlock (this is a warning actly). ⊹ warnings: alcohol, reader is downbad for wonwoo, stalking, slut-shaming, evasions of privacy, if i missed anything lmk! cuz ik i did i just can't think of what hehe :p

act two, self control.

chapter one, before the fight. 

The booth you sat in was far too cramped for your liking, yet there was a sense of relief that washed over you. Raval had been a go-to hang-out spot after all the tireless hours spent studying during the weekdays. The atmosphere was lively, your friends’ laughter drowning out most of your thoughts. 

Tonight also marked the first time in your life that you could fully enjoy a night out with your friends. Without Wonwoo’s presence clouding your worries. 

Despite his obvious plea for attention, you felt like you could finally breathe. The adjustment and decision to flat-out ignore him was difficult, but thanks to Seokmin it had become a little easier to bear over time. This past week was filled with more joy than you’ve had in a long time. And Seokmin had been extremely doting towards you throughout it all. 

“Babe, can you pass the pistachios please?” Jun pouts, his cheeks red from his third glass of beer. 

“Did you need me to peel them for you, baby?” June coos, lips curling into a cutesy tone. 

With a quizzical expression, Mingyu turns to Kalia, trying not to laugh at the other couple's foolishness. The two share a look before Kalia fake gags, causing Mingyu to burst out laughing. It had almost gone unnoticed until Mingyu broke out into a fit of giggles, June glaring at him with an unamused expression. 

Watching the whole scene unfold had you smiling to yourself, wondering if there would ever be a time when you got to have these cheesy moments with someone the way your friends did. 

“Oh please, Kalia. You act like I didn’t see you and Mingyu practically eating each other's faces off in the library yesterday, ” June huffs, shooting daggers at the both of them while peeling away the pistachio shells for her drunken boyfriend. 

“Hey! You said that no one would catch us.” Kalia slaps the back of Mingyu’s head, causing him to wince. 

“First of all ouch, second of all, I didn’t know that anyone would go that far back into the library!” Mingyu defends himself.

“Actually, the two of us were trying to do the same thing, but we saw you and dipped,” Jun confesses in his drunken state, while he munches on the pistachios June had been feeding him.

“Ha! Take that June, you're just as bad as us, if not worse,” Kalia gibes, sticking her tongue out at June. 

“Actually, all of you are equally as corny, end of discussion,” Leigh chirps, his eyes rolling as Lynne, his twin sister, cackles beside him. Both evidently fed up with the ‘who’s the cheesier couple’ argument. 

Amidst all the bickering, you take a sip of your drink, eyes glimmering with admiration. It seemed so simple for your friends to find someone who truly loved them, and wasn’t afraid to show it. 

Wonwoo had been at the forefront of your mind for so long that you had denied yourself anyone else. You had been so set on making Wonwoo your end goal when you could’ve found someone who would’ve treated you better. Reminders of all your missed opportunities left a bitter taste in your mouth, the alcohol on your tongue sweet in comparison.

“Something on your mind?” Lynne breaks you out of your thoughts. 

With your glass pushed down onto the sticky bar table, you give her a crooked smile that feels less disingenuous than the previous smiles you have been producing these past few months. 

“Kinda wondering when I’ll have something like those goofballs over there,” you chuckle bitterly, head motioning to the two girls fake arguing while their boyfriends sat there cluelessly. 

“I thought you were dating Wownoo?” Lynne asks, and you couldn’t help but laugh at your pitiful situation. 

His face flashes briefly within your mind, and you’d almost forgotten that you had chosen not to speak to him, for how long? You weren’t sure. It could be days or months, or until you’ve finally healed from your one-sided heartbreak. 

“No… no. He and I were just close friends,” your tone is melancholic. Lynne’s worry is transparent as she squeezes your shoulder. 

Desolation filled your senses regardless of the bar patrons' exuberant chatter. Your group of friends were all in their own worlds while you were troubled and inattentive. There was guilt gnawing at your insides. You didn’t want this to be one of those talks where you delve into the intricacies of your peculiar friendship with Wonwoo. 

“And that's okay, too. I'm not sure what happened, but he’s an idiot if he can’t see what's right in front of him,” she affirmed as you sat there, relieved that she didn’t press the situation further. 

“Tell me about it, it feels like everyone's been saying the same thing,” you mutter. 

Overhearing your conversation, Lynne’s twin brother couldn’t help but jump in, “Wonwoo’s a dumbass.” 

Lynne gives him a pointed look, but can’t help but laugh at her brother's antics.  Feathery giggles leave your throat too, finding Leigh’s unexpected declaration amusing. 

“Sorry, I had to put my two cents in, he kinda sucks! As a friend he’s okay I guess, but as a boyfriend, girl, you’re better off without him,” Leigh puts his hands up in defence, but there was truth behind his statement. 

“True, I’ve seen what he’s done to some of the girls on campus, total—,” Lynne begins, only for her sentence to be cut off. 

“Red flag,” Leigh finishes Lynne’s proclamation. 

Twin telepathy, you assumed.

“Hey, I’ll cheers to that,” you shook your head with a chuckle, taking three shot glasses before topping them up with a bottle of tequila Mingyu had bought for the table. 

“What! You guys are taking shots without us?” Jun whined before filling his glass with liquor. 

The whole table's attention is on the three of you now, joining in on the rounds of shots going around. The clangour of glassware chimes throughout the carved-out space of the bar you and your friends had claimed for the night. 

“Wonwoo’s an asshole!” Leigh blurted out loud before throwing back the alcohol in his cup. 

There's a moment of silence amongst the rest of your friends at the table, before they all burst out laughing before repeating Leigh’s words. 

“Wonwoo’s an asshole!” They all say wholeheartedly in unison. 

The gleam in everyone’s eyes caused warmth to swell all over your body. Nothing could compare to moments like these, and you desperately hoped that the night wouldn’t end. The reassurance that your friends had given you should’ve been worth the pain of cutting Wonwoo off. Praying that their effort to cheer you up wouldn’t be wasted on foolish decisions you desperately wanted to make; the yearning for Wonwoo has only skyrocketed and it frightens you to the core.

 No matter how distracted you attempt to make yourself, he still floods your every waking thought. 

two. 

 Since your decision to ignore Wonwoo, Seokmin has been coming over to your place a lot more often. You can’t recollect when it started to happen, but you're not opposed to his company. It’s quite the opposite actually; if anything he’s made your days a lot brighter, keeping you distracted from your urge to text Wonwoo. 

The time you spent with Seokmin mostly consisted of him trying to get you to finish the whole Harry Potter series with him. When you told him you’ve never seen the movies before, he had a comical look of shock painted over his face. Hands slapped against his cheeks, eyes wide they almost popped out of the sockets, type of comical. 

“Not even the first movie?! Not even on Halloween during elementary school?” Seokmin gasps, hands on your shoulders, trying to gauge what you did and didn’t know about the infamous films. 

“Yes! Not even when I was a kid, is it bad that I haven’t watched it?” 

“It's not just bad, this is almost criminal,” Seokmin sighs, feigning distraught. 

You chortle at his remark, baffled by how seriously passionate he is about Harry Potter, which ended almost ten years ago, you might add. 

“Well, there’s only one thing we can do,” he shakes his head, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. We’re going to binge-watch this thing until you're caught up.” 

“What? Isn’t that a bit much? There are like a bajillion movies,” you exasperate. 

Not wanting to hear another complaint from you, Seokmin shushes you dramatically. His pointer finger was in front of your lips before you could get another word in. 

“I'll get the snacks. You sit here and get comfy because you’re in for a ride,” Seokmin asserts before standing to grab food and drinks from your kitchen. 

An audible sigh leaves your lips, arms crossed as you pull the blanket over yourself to “get comfy” just as Seokmin wanted. 

A few minutes passed before Seokmin returned to the living room, a bowl of microwave popcorn perched on his side and two cans of soda cradled in his other arm. 

“You left your phone on the counter, by the way,” He mentions before placing it on the coffee table. 

“Oh! Thanks, I didn’t even realize,” you smile, shifting to make room for him on the couch. 

“You ready for the greatest movie experience ever?” Seokmin beamed, plopping back into his seat beside you. 

“Sure, but we can only watch the first two,” you bargained with him, knowing that if he had it his way, you two would be up till sunrise. 

Seokmin rolled his eyes jokingly, pretending to be annoyed with your lack of enthusiasm. Despite his antics, he agrees with your compromise. The movie begins to play and you let yourself relax in his presence. A bowl of popcorn is shared between you two while he wraps his hand over your shoulder. Not used to the proximity between you and him, you're thankful the increased volume drowned out the pitter-patter of your heartbeat. 

…

“Well that was a lot better than I expected,” you admit. 

Although you were uncertain about watching the movies at first, you had acknowledged the hype around the Harry Potter franchise. Seokmin had caught all your facial expressions while watching, peering over to catch your reactions during all the major plot points. You had been so obviously absorbed in it that you didn’t realize he had been staring.

“I told you! It just gets better from here. The Goblet of Fire is my favourite, you’ll love it,” Seokmin marvels, wanting to indulge in his interests with you. 

“Tom Riddle is kinda cute, I won’t lie.” 

“But he’s evil…and you know he gets ugly anyways. He’s literally Voldemort!” Seokmin disputed with a stare of mild disgust. 

“Yeah, I know, but there’s a bunch of attractive villains, like Killmonger from Black Panther,” you shrug, but Seokmin looks at you like you had just insulted his entire bloodline with your statement. 

Giggling, you didn’t expect him to take your opinions so seriously. 

“Fine. I won't say anything else. You go take your shower, and I’ll clean up,” he ushers you toward your room while holding the empty bowl in his hands. 

“How did you know that I was gonna take a shower?” you ask with curiosity. 

“I’ve known you for so long, you always take a shower before bed,” Seokmin explained nonchalantly.  

Heat radiated off your face, and your timid expression would’ve been visible if Seokmin’s back wasn’t facing you. You hadn’t realized how well Seokmin knew you.

“Thanks for cleaning up, I won’t be long,” you give him a smile of gratitude before heading over to your bathroom. 

The more time you spend with Seokmin, the more you regret falling for Wonwoo. Seokmin is kind and doting, and he never causes you to feel any worry. He is the prime example of home, reminiscent of a warm fire while snuggled up on the couch with a pile of blankets.

 Seokmin feels safe. The safe choice, the smart choice. 

Unfortunately, you were too foolish to have known sooner. Your irrevocable love for Wonwoo overshadowed all the possibilities of being with Seokmin. 

A knock on your front door brings you out of your spiralling thoughts. But before you head over to open the door, Seokmin beats you to it. 

“Minnie? Is someone at the door?” you call out from your bathroom, not bothering to leave. 

“Yeah! Your neighbour just needed to borrow something,” Seokmin half yelled from where he stood. 

There was a moment of doubt in your mind, why would your neighbour want to borrow something so late into the night? Instead of investigating further, you leave it to Seokmin to help them, too tired to talk to anyone else for the rest of the evening. 

“Okay!” is all you say. 

You turn on the shower, allowing the steam to congregate and relax your senses. As you step in, you grant the warm water the ability to wash away your conflicting thoughts about both Seokmin and Wonwoo. 

after the fight. 

“It’s time for you to go. I’m tired, Wonwoo.”

The bile in your throat stings, the corner of your eyes wet with tears. You didn’t expect Wonwoo to burst in here accusing you of things you wouldn’t dare do. There’s a familiar hollow feeling in your chest as you recollect how much of your heart you laid bare for him to witness. 

Had you known that ignoring him would lead to an outburst of unrelenting anger, you wouldn’t have done so in the first place. Even when this cologne hangs in the still air of your apartment, you yearn for his presence. Even when you unleashed your fury at him, kicking him out with no remorse, you still yearn for his touch. 

There hadn’t been many fights between the two of you, only enough to count on one hand. It would be petty arguments over stupid things. Arguments that would lead to one of you apologizing before the day was over. This fight seems different. It can’t be resolved with a quick ‘I’m sorry’. 

Defeated and tired, you move to your bed. Your phone sits atop the dresser. Curious and wishing for Wonwoo to just return and apologize, you click his contact. You almost feel like you are in some fever dream, the words ‘you’ve blocked this number’ staring back at you in flashing red. 

Horrified by the sight of your phone screen, you don’t remember blocking him in the first place. Wracking your brain, you’re trying to think of all the instances where you had been drunk or high enough to even do so, but nothing comes to mind. If you didn’t block him, then who did? 

You unblock his contact as quickly as possible, not wanting to create even more distance between you, although it might be too late to rectify the situation. A few messages were sent shortly after the fight had gone down. 

[2:55 a.m.]  [wons <3: idk if you’ll receive this but i’m sorry darling. i mean it.] [wons <3: i didn’t mean what i said earlier. i was just so angry. when ure ready to talk, lmk.]

Wonwoo’s text brings a swell of comfort within you. As much as you hate what he did, you could never bring yourself to hate him. 

three.

“You know, I’m kinda glad you’re here,” you professed. 

The harrowed walls of your home became a lot more bearable now that you had someone other than yourself inside them. The entire place felt far too big for you, especially because you tend to sit alone with your thoughts too often. 

Seokmin coming over to hang out was not part of your initial plan. But his unannounced visit wasn’t unwelcomed either. He was extremely talented in distracting you with his sporadic outbursts of energy and laughter. Seokmin made you feel quaint, almost as if he could be the ‘someone’ after everything you had been through with Wonwoo. 

With crescent-shaped eyes that appeared when his smile broadened, Seokmin wrapped his arm tautly against your shoulder. 

“I honestly just came over to check on how you were doing, after everything that happened, but I don’t mind staying for a while, I’d do anything if you asked.” 

“Are you flirting with me, Lee Seokmin?” 

Seokmin threw his head back with a hearty contagious laugh. Before you knew it, you were laughing along with him. 

The voice in the back of your head hissed symphonies of how easier your life would’ve been if you had just fallen in love with Seokmin instead. No matter how many times you tried to unearth a flaw of his, nothing comes to mind. There were so many signs leading you toward him, and how perfect he would be for you. But your heart still belongs elsewhere, even after what has been said and done. 

Seokmin’s eyes dimmed, “Would it be so bad if I was?” 

Taken aback by his words, your mouth opens and closes, trying to figure out whether he’s joking or genuine about his statement. 

“I-I guess not,” you mumble, watching the way his gaze shifts from your eyes down to your lips. 

Holding your breath, you can’t deny the tension that the two of you had created. Bodies practically meshed together on the couch, you weren’t sure how you ended up in this position but if Seokmin was the answer to distracting you from the fight with Wonwoo, who were you to deny him? 

“I really want to kiss you,” Seokmin confesses. 

“I wouldn’t stop you if you did.” 

Seokmin didn’t need much convincing after what you had professed. Swinging your legs over his lap, he grapples you into a position that has you straddling his thighs. The swiftness of his movements almost caused a yelp to leap out of your throat, but he steadied you before you could let out another noise.

With the faintest of touch, Seokmin places his lips over yours. Ever so cautious, ever so careful, he clearly wants to savour the moment. Despite his heedfulness, you were the exact opposite. You want it to be fast, you want him to be rough. 

There’s deliberate fervour behind your actions, causing Seokmin to groan in surprise. Rough palms gripping your waist, he matches your energy. The world sinks into a deep void along with the cruel songstress who refused to let you neglect your feelings for Wonwoo. 

Even though you have the desire to prolong your make-out with Seokmin, your phone buzzes against the plush cushions of your couch. Practically jumping out of his lap, you unlock your phone as if you weren’t just making out with Seokmin, to discover yet another text from Wonwoo. 

Every time his contact appears on your screen, your heart can’t help but skip a beat. It angers you how easily enraptured you are by something so minuscule. Even after you had kicked him out of your house that night, you can’t deny his diligence and how desperate he is for forgiveness. 

You almost wanted to curse him out for his audacity, but the other half wanted to give in and let him explain. Eyes glued to his messages, you find yourself reading them over and over again, your heart swollen with an aching desire to talk to him again. 

[11:09 p.m.]  [wons <3: hi. ik ur still mad but let me make it up to you. please?]  [wons <3: i don’t know what i have to do to make u forgive me but just know i don’t want us to end on this note.]  [wons <3: please darling, u mean so much to me, i don’t wanna lose u.]  [wons <3: i can’t stand this. please, just give me a chance to make things right] 

Only a fool would be swooning over his visible cry out for attention, and a fool you were.  Wonwoo’s claws have sunk so deep into you, that you can’t even kiss someone without him interrupting. It's like he knew what you were doing without even seeing you. 

“I thought you blocked him?” the inflection of disappointment apparent in Seokmin’s voice. 

Plopping your phone back down on the sofa, your brain finally registers the words that Seokmin had just uttered. You know for a fact that it wasn’t you who blocked his contact, but how the hell did Seokmin know?

 Unless he was the one to do so… 

A moment of realization struck you like a bolt of lightning, and the confusion finally cleared by the slip of Seokmin’s tongue. Why would he block Wonwoo’s contact on your phone? 

Attempting to recall when and where this could’ve happened, you remember the day you left your phone on the kitchen counter during the Harry Potter movie marathon. The burn at the back of your throat intensified as awareness sunk into your whole being. Seokmin was under the guise of a doting friend while you were in your feelings for Wonwoo. Pretending to be your knight in shining armour while you were in a vulnerable state. How could you be so naive? 

Wonwoo had been trying to tell you the truth, but you foolishly snubbed all his warnings out of anger. 

Nauseous and betrayed, you didn’t know that Seokmin would turn out to be the one to manipulate you, to sway your opinions to gain your time and affection. You’re so shaken up from your revelation that you almost forget who exactly is sitting right in front of you. 

“I’m really sorry Seokmin, but that kiss. I wasn’t thinking straight,” you attempt to act calm, not wanting to escalate the situation. 

“It’s okay, I understand. It's only been a week,” he shrugs with a rueful demeanour, “You’re still in love with him and there's not a lot I can do to change your mind.” 

“You’re right, there isn’t,” you reply with certainty. “I've been in love with him for years, and that’s not going to change for a while.” 

“I just want you to know I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“I can’t do that to you knowing I still love him,” you disclose and hurt flashes across Seokmin’s eyes. 

“I understand.” 

“I hope so, considering you had gone on my phone behind my back and blocked his contact.” 

Shock is the best way to describe Seokmin’s reaction. He probably hadn’t realized that you figured out where his true intentions lie. But now that it’s out in the open, you can’t help but stand your ground. 

Seokmin doesn’t deserve to be in your presence right now, especially after he took advantage of your vulnerability. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seokmin tries to respond nonchalantly, but his eyes frantically avoid your gaze. 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” you grit, your knuckles were straining from how hard you gripped onto your phone. Displacing your anger before it was shot full throttle and onto Seokmin’s face.

“Fine. You caught me. But there wasn’t any other way for you to forget him if you kept in contact with him. Even if you weren’t explicitly answering his texts.” 

Standing up and stalking over to your door, you open it to usher Seokmin out of the home. 

“That’s for me to decide. Not you. Now please leave.” 

Without much defiance, Seokmin leaves, evidently hurt by your anger towards him. The frown on his face deepened while he grabbed all his things, and walked out your door.

 As he leaves, he utters his last words, clearly miffed by your decision to kick him out.