I. “ARE YOU EVEN PUSHING?” 

You grunt as you shove the other end of the giant cardboard box containing your very unassembled couch through the doorway of your apartment. 

“Dude, I am pushing.” Hana complains, holding the other end. “This thing is bigger than both of us combined,” 

With one final heave, the box slides across the hardwood floor before coming to a stop in the middle of the still-empty living room. 

“One more piece of furniture and I’m never moving again,” You say as you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. 

“You said that after the dining table.” 

“I mean it this time.” 

Before either of you can catch your breath, loud voices echo down the hallway. 

“Incoming!” Hongjoong appears in the doorway carrying two moving boxes stacked to his chin and half his height, San trailing behind him with another three balanced like they weigh absolutely nothing. Mingi brings up the rear, dragging a suitcase that definitely has wheels. 

“You know,” Mingi says between exaggerated sighs, “people usually hire movers.” 

“Why would we need to pay extra when we have our big brother and his even bigger friends?”

Hongjoong ignores you, setting the boxes down before pulling a box cutter out of his pocket. 

“Mom and Dad stopped by their friend’s place,” he says, “They’ll come back later to help.” 

“I think they’re just excited to be empty nesters.” 

“Empty nesters?” you scoff. “They’re free. We’re the ones stuck living across from this gremlin.” you point at Hongjoong who gasps dramatically. 

“This,” he says, placing a hand over his heart. “is how you thank your amazing, handsome, hardworking older brother who found you a two-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles that is not only close to your office but also thirty minutes from Hana’s university?” 

“You barely did shit, you forced us to live here,” Hana scoffs. She and Hongjoong continue to bicker as they go through your boxes, getting a head start in unpacking. 

The plan had been simple: stay in Seoul, climb the corporate ladder at the marketing firm that hired you fresh out of college, and eventually, build a life there. 

Except, two years later, you’d burned out spectacularly. You’d say that staying close to Hana while she started university was an excuse to move back home when actually you couldn’t stay at the firm any longer before you started ripping your brains out. 

Hongjoong, being Hongjoong, had taken that as a personal challenge to find an apartment for both of you. His standards, unfortunately, were less about amenities and more about distance.

“I can literally see your front door from ours,” he’d proudly announced over FaceTime after sending you the listing. 

You couldn’t say no, not when it had been too long since the three of you somewhat lived in the same space again. The rent was also within your budget, and it was convenient, despite having to live close to an annoying big brother. 

“I deserve compensation,” Mingi sets himself on the floor with a groan as he hands San an Allen wrench for your couch. 

“You got breakfast,” Hongjoong replies. 

“I deserve financial compensation.” 

“You barely did anything.” 

“I deserve emotional compensation.” 

“You need therapy.” 

Hana lets out a snicker beside you. “They’re exactly how you described them, Joong.” 

“They’ve somehow gotten worse.” 

“Hey! I heard that!” 

As the bickering continued, you finally let out of your thoughts and began peeling away the packing tape of the box labeled ‘Kitchen’. 

Maybe moving back hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all. 

The apartment was small but cozy. Afternoon sunlight poured through the wide living room windows, warming the hardwood floors.

Although you’d have to live directly across the hall from your insufferable older brother, you actually could see yourself living here. 

Hongjoong had warned you that you wouldn't just be gaining a neighbor, you’d be inheriting his roommates, too.

 San and Mingi were Hongjoong’s closest college friends. You’d met them before, loud voices in the background while you had your weekly siblings FaceTime. San was exactly like the gentle giant that Hongjoong had described while Mingi was exactly as shameless. 

The third roommate was nowhere to be seen. Your brother had mentioned that he was out running an errand and would stop by afterward to help finish up the rest of your boxes.

So when Hongjoong said there was a third roommate, in your head, he was just another one of Hongjoong’s friends. You haven’t bothered to ask who it was yet, since you were busy with moving in from Seoul. 

“Sorry,” a familiar voice called from the hall. “The line downstairs was ridiculous.” 

Another figure stepped into your apartment.

You haven't seen Jeong Yunho in years. 

The paper bags in his hands crinkled as he adjusted his grip, his eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise before settling into that same easy smile he always had. 

“YN,” he greets you. Your eyes met. He looked older, yet had the same broad shoulders, same clean haircut, and was still ridiculously tall. 

“Yunho-oppa!” Before you could say anything, Hana barreled straight into him. 

“Hana! You’re all grown up now!” Yunho barely had time to shift the paper bags to one arm before she threw herself at him, letting out a laugh. 

“Yo, where the fuck have you been man?” Mingi asks beside where you stood frozen, watching Yunho and your sister catch up.

“Got coffee, I know how cranky you guys get without it.” 

Mingi lets out a sound somewhere between a cheer and a sigh of relief and steals the bag from him.

“I forgive you.” He disappears into your kitchen, already handing out drinks like he owns the place.

It’s Hongjoong’s turn to greet Yunho now, peeling Hana off him so he could stand up properly. 

“Alright, alright. Let him breathe.” 

Hongjoong moves his gaze over to you, as if only just remembering. 

He gestures lazily toward Yunho. 

“I totally forgot to tell you he moved back in.” 

Your brows knit together. You’d assume he was only around to visit. 

“Moved back in?” 

“Yeah.” Hongjoong shrugs. “Shit happened, so he took the spare room a few months ago.”

“You know my sister already.” He points to you. “You remember YN, right?” 

Yunho’s lips twitch into a small smile. 

“Of course I remember. You’re back from Seoul?” His gaze finds yours again.

“Yeah, decided to move back,” you reply. 

Yunho nods once. 

“Welcome back.”

“Alright,” San calls from the living room carpet, waving his wrench in the air.  “You’ve got the rest of the lease to catch up, one of you idiots come help me assemble this couch before I accidentally invent a new piece of furniture. Mingi, what are you doing?”

San’s plea was met with a chorus of groans from your brother and Mingi. 

“I’m already doing the bookshelves,” Mingi whines from the kitchen, sticking a straw through his coffee. 

“You’ve been looking at the bookshelves,” Hongjoong shot back. “That’s not the same thing.” 

“It is if I look hard enough.” 

With a dramatic sigh, Yunho sets his bag beside the front door and shrugs off his jacket. 

“I’ll help.” 

“Finally,” San muttered. “Someone competent.” 

You quietly slipped back into the kitchen, pretending the kitchen boxes urgently needed your attention. It was strange seeing Yunho again after all these years. Stranger still was the tiny flutter in your chest. You hadn't thought about your old crush on Yunho in years. Seeing him again, however, seemed determined to remind you.

Yunho and San were kneeling beside the couch, arguing over which piece was labeled “B.”. 

“It says B.”

“It says eight.”

“It’s literally a letter.”

“Not from here it isn’t.” 

You smiled despite yourself. Hana, who you just noticed has been beside you all this time, catches it immediately, choosing not to say anything but smiles mischievously. 

“What now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“You have that look.”

“What look?” 

“The one you used to have in high school.” 

“I’m smiling because San thinks the alphabet ends at seven,” you defend, tearing your eyes away from your neighbors. 

Hana hums, “if you say so.” 

Before you could ask her what she meant, Hongjoong calls your name from the living room. 

“What?” 

“Can you settle something?” 

You walked over, grateful for the distraction. 

“What now?” 

“San says the couch should face the window.”

“Then won’t it be awkward watching TV?”

“That’s what I said!” Hongjoong exclaims.

“Why are you listening to her?” San grumbles.

“I live here,” you replied the same time Hongjoong says, “She’s my sister.”

As Hongjoong and San shuffled your TV across the room, you stepped around scattered boxes, only to bump into someone coming the other way.

"Oh—"

A warm hand steadied your elbow before you could lose your balance.

"Careful."

Yunho. 

His hand disappeared almost as quickly as it had landed.

"Sorry," you said at the exact same time.

You paused. Then, somehow, you both laughed. It was the first genuine sound either of you had made to each other all afternoon.

In the chaos of moving boxes and misplaced screws, no one noticed Yunho's eyes follow you as you stepped around the clutter after you had regained your balance. Years hadn't changed one thing, you were still just as clumsy as he remembered. He shook his head with an amused smile before reaching for another box, acting as though he'd been looking at the couch the entire time.

When you looked up, Yunho was looking towards your way. Not intensely. Not long enough for anyone to notice, before he gives you a small smile and goes back to what he was doing.

You’d only been living here for an hour. Maybe moving to Los Angeles wasn’t going to be as simple as you’d hoped.

II. IF THERE WAS ONE THING YOUR BROTHER WAS EXCEPTIONALLY GOOD AT,

it was coming home with extra mouths to feed. 

The first time it happened, you were eight. 

You sat cross-legged on the living room floor, notebook in hand, as you drew.

You barely looked up when Hongjoong burst through the front door yelling that he was home—until you heard another pair of footsteps behind him.

The boy standing in the doorway was tall for his age, clutching the straps of his backpack like he wasn't sure he was allowed to be there.

"Mom, I brought Yunho."

Your mother welcomed him inside before Hongjoong dragged him upstairs to play, but not before he caught your eye.

"Hi, YN!" he greeted with an easy smile.

You gave a timid wave from behind your notebook.

For reasons your eight-year-old self couldn't explain, you hoped Hongjoong would bring him over again.

He did.

After that, Jeong Yunho somehow became a permanent fixture in your house.

Whenever Hongjoong came home from baseball practice, Yunho was usually right beside him. He stayed for dinner often enough that your mother stopped asking if he'd be joining. Weekend sleepovers turned into blanket forts upstairs, afternoons at the park became bike rides home together, and before long, he'd somehow become part of your family too.

Unlike Hongjoong, who insisted your drawings looked "weird," Yunho always asked to see whatever you'd been working on. He'd sit beside you on the floor flipping through your sketchbook with genuine interest, tell you your art was cool, and remind you to keep drawing whenever you doubted yourself. If Hongjoong stole the last snack your parents left out, Yunho somehow always made sure you still got half.

Looking back, it was probably inevitable.

Your first crush didn't happen because of one grand moment.

It happened quietly, over hundreds of ordinary ones.

Growing up changed things.

By the time you started high school, Hongjoong and Yunho were on the varsity baseball team. Practices ran later, tournaments filled their weekends, and conversations that used to revolve around cartoons and video games slowly shifted toward college applications, baseball, and whichever girl had slipped a note into Yunho's locker that week.

You had your own friends by then. Your own clubs. Your own life.

Without anyone really noticing, the afternoons you spent with them became fewer and farther between.

Somewhere along the way, your childish crush quietly tucked itself away, becoming one of those things you only remembered when someone brought up middle school.

It wasn't anyone's fault. Life simply got busier. You had your own friends now, your own clubs after school, your own homework that seemed to multiply overnight. Some days Yunho would still come over for dinner, other days you'd only catch glimpses of him as he and Hongjoong disappeared upstairs, laughing about something that happened at practice.

Life scattered all three of you in different directions after that.

Hongjoong left for college first.

Then Yunho.

A few years later, you left for Seoul.

By the time you moved back to Los Angeles, Jeong Yunho had become someone you mostly heard about through your brother's stories—a familiar name attached to someone who no longer felt like part of your everyday life.

III. “I KEEP TELLING YOU, STOP EATING OUR FOOD.” 

Hana screams at your brother, who was currently rummaging through your cabinets. 

It’s been a week since you moved in, and today was your first day at work, while it was Hana’s first day of freshman year.

The dynamic hadn’t always been like this. For the first couple of days, you and Hana mostly stayed at the apartment, trying to feel more at home. Hongjoong would pop in every now and then and made sure you were adjusting well, even cooking dinner for the three of you in your new kitchen. You barely saw his roommates as Hongjoong said they were waiting for you to get accustomed to living at the apartment before they could start hanging out with you.

Naturally, that lasted all of four days. 

First, it was San, who wanted to borrow your clothes steamer since his broke. Then, it was Mingi, who only really came over to check out the snacks you had just bought at the grocery that day. Hongjoong had stopped pretending he knocked before entering. Sometimes you’d regret giving him the door code because whenever you came home from running errands he was already lounging at his designated spot on the couch, eating chips with Mingi. 

The only one who never seemed to invite himself over was Yunho. You’d catch him in passing every now and then. Sometimes he’d stop by with Hongjoong after work to ask how unpacking was going.Sometimes you’d exchange a few words in the hallway. Like nothing has changed. 

“Don’t you boys have food over at yours?” Hana continues her rant, while Hongjoong makes himself a sandwich. 

To be fair, he'd shown up with coffee for both of you, reminded Hana three separate times not to forget her student ID, and insisted on checking whether you'd packed lunch. So maybe he was entitled to one sandwich.

You had just finished getting ready, making sure that your clothes were neat and your makeup looked good. You were just about to leave before Hongjoong and Hana started bickering. Hana’s first class didn’t start until 10, which is why you were leaving an hour earlier than she has to. Hongjoong, on the other hand, had an irregular work schedule which comes with his assistant directing job, which meant he was there early to terrorize you. 

Hongjoong looked over. 

“Shouldn’t you be leaving by now?” 

“I’m literally leaving,” you say, slipping your shoes on. “Try not to burn the apartment down.” 

“No promises!” you hear as you close your front door, the melodic chiming of the door lock filling the empty hallway. 

You round the corner to the elevators and find Yunho already waiting, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Hey,” he greets you. “First day today?” 

It suddenly occurred to you that unlike the others, Yunho also worked a regular nine-to-five. Hongjoong had mentioned he was in finance, which meant the two of you would probably be leaving for work around the same time every morning.

You nodded, shifting the strap of your work bag higher on your shoulder. 

“Yeah. New office, new team.” You smiled sheepishly. “Trying not to embarrass myself on day one.” 

"You won't."

The answer came so quickly that it caught you off guard.

Yunho glanced at you before looking back at the elevator doors.

"You're good at what you do."

For a moment, all you could do was stare.

"How do you know that?"

He shrugged, almost as if the answer was obvious.

"Hongjoong talks."

You let out a laugh. "He does?"

"All the time."

The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open. He lets you go in first, before stepping in and standing beside you, facing the doors.

The elevator’s empty, save for the both of you. There’s an awkward pause, the both of you trying to think of ways to fill the space. 

“So how was Seoul? We never really got to catch up after we left for college,” he asks, while you watch the numbers on the wall go down. You guess this was how he decided to break the silence, straight into it. 

“Um,” you hover. “It was a lot.” you let out a chuckle. 

“A lot good?” 

“A lot everything.” you reply. “I mean, the job was great, I learned a lot from my seniors and it was great being in a new environment, but it really does take a lot out of you. So when we found out Hana got accepted to college here, I decided to apply for a job in L.A.” 

The doors open again, this time a middle-aged woman pushing a stroller steps in, standing in front of both of you. But Yunho decides to keep talking. 

“You know, I was surprised when Joong told us you were moving back.” 

“You were?” 

“I thought you liked it there.” 

“I did.”

He looked at you then, eyebrows knitting together. The baby in the stroller lets out a small whine. 

“I also liked sleeping.” 

That earned a laugh. 

“It just felt like time,” you added. He gives you a nod at that. 

“I get that.”

The elevators slide open. You both get out then, muttering a polite “excuse me”, as you step around the woman and her baby while the both of you get out to the parking. 

“I was also surprised you were Hongjoong’s roommate again. He told me before you moved out like a year ago,” you say, as you walked toward the parking lot.

He rubs the back of his neck, “Ah. Yeah. Things didn’t work out where I was staying so I decided to move back.” 

You nod, not really knowing what to say. 

You stop in front of your car, unlocking it with your keys. 

“This is me. I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah, of course. Good luck today, YN,” Yunho smiles again, and you clutch at your keys a little harder. 

“You too.” 

He waves you off before walking to his car a few feet down. When you get in, you look at yourself at your rearview mirror and let out a big huff of air you didn’t know you were holding. 

Your first day at the Golden Hour Marketing Firm went surprisingly well. You spent the rest of your 20-minute drive to work, practicing introductions so you wouldn’t shit yourself in front of your new team. Your manager had introduced you warmly, filling you in on your role and showing you around. 

By lunchtime, you’d already learned the names of most of your immediate team, survived HR orientation, and only gotten lost twice trying to find the pantry. On your break, Hongjoong sends you a text. 

joongie 🐲

baby sis has been sent off and on her way

she insisted i do NOT drop her off, unfortunately

mission complete regardless, boss 🫡

yn 🧚‍♀️

noted, with thanks 

don’t tell me you’re still at our apartment 

joongie 🐲

mingi thinks you should change your curtains 

yn 🧚‍♀️

i think mingi should get out of my house

joongie 🐲

too late we’re watching yt on ur tv now 

have a great day at work byeeee

yn 🧚‍♀️

me and hana are changing our door code when we get home 

Brand marketing has always been your thing. Growing up, you had a creative side. You were crafty, and always looking for inspiration. But somewhere along the way, that creativity evolved into something more strategic. You found yourself fascinated by what caught people's attention, what made a campaign memorable, and why some brands connected with people while others didn't. Over the years, you worked hard trying to build a career for yourself. You were good at your job.

Seoul had taught you that much.

The pace had been relentless, the expectations impossibly high, and more nights than you cared to admit had been spent asleep at your desk rather than in your apartment. But it had also shaped you into the person you were today.

Moving back to Los Angeles didn't feel like starting over.

It felt like finally giving yourself permission to breathe.

The first thing you noticed when you got home, toeing off your heels by the doorway, was the noise. You'd heard laughter and the clatter of pots and pans before you even unlocked the door.

The moment you stepped inside, Yunho looked up from the counter.

"How was—"

“You’re home!” Hana runs over to give you a hug before Yunho could finish his sentence.. 

Out of the three of you, she’s always been the most affectionate, giving you kisses on the cheek and hugs every now and then. Hongjoong sometimes acts like he doesn’t like it, but when he picked you up with your boxes when you first moved in, he was the first to hug her. 

“How’s your first day?” she asks, still clinging on to you.

“It was great,” you slipped off your heels. “I actually made a work friend today. “

 "See?"

Hana grinned.

"I told you."

You looked around.

San was stirring something on your stove while Hongjoong tosses vegetables in a bowl. Mingi, as you expected, is sitting on your couch, watching some kind of documentary. 

You last notice Yunho standing right by the kitchen, looking like he had just gotten home as well. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, his suit jacket slung over one arm, and his work bag sits abandoned by Mingi's feet.

“Why are these people in our apartment?” you say as Hana lets you go. 

“Dinner party!” San announced.

“Hyung and I wanted to cook you guys dinner to celebrate your first day.” He points to Hongjoong. 

“We’re celebrating!”

“You, how was your first day? Meet anyone new?” you ask her. 

“Eh, it was okay. My classes are cool though. Some guy in my class asked me for my number,” she shrugged. 

“What.” Hongjoong freezes, gripping the bowl. 

“You didn’t tell me that earlier!” Hongjoong crosses his arms.

Hana huffs in annoyance. “Because I knew you’d act like this.” 

“Did you say no?” 

“I gave him my Instagram instead.” 

“You WHAT?” A couple of decibels higher and San would have to physically hold Hongjoong back. 

“My dear big brother, I’m eighteen,” Hana whines, “let me live.”

“You can start living once you're forty-five.” 

The argument continued without either of them expecting to win. Yunho shook his head with a quiet laugh as he reached over to take the bowl from Hongjoong before he accidentally crushed the lettuce in his grip. 

“She is eighteen, Joong.” 

“Don’t encourage her.” 

“I’m encouraging you to breathe.”

“Need any help?” you ask, as you walk over to the kitchen. 

“We’re good, you can sit over by Mingi and relax. It was your first day,” San says, pointing over to where Mingi was sitting. 

“I’d rather not, he’s watching something weird. I think it’s a documentary about Bigfoot.” 

The three of you, while your siblings chase each other in the background, talk about your days. You learn that San works from home in a tech company, and Yunho got home around five minutes before you did. 

In the middle of your conversation, you felt a gentle hand brush your shoulder. You turned just in time to see Yunho lifting the strap of your work bag off your shoulder before setting it on one of the dining chairs. You hadn’t even realized you still had it on you. 

“You’ve been carrying it this whole time,” he said simply before returning to the cutting board. 

“Thanks, I didn’t even notice,” you muttered. 

“No problem.” He turned back to the cutting board as if it hadn't been worth mentioning.

You reached for one of the bowls in the cabinet, clearing your throat before calling out for Mingi.

“Hey Bigfoot! Come set the table with me.”

Dinner ended up being louder than the cooking. Mostly because Hongjoong refused to let Hana tell the story about the guy from her class without interrupting every five seconds. Your conversations drifted from work to college to Hongjoong’s latest nightmare of a film set. You exchanged laughs every now and then, at one point, Mingi spilling on himself. By the time dinner was over, the sun had disappeared beyond the apartment windows. 

You offered to wash the dishes since the boys had cooked. As you carry a stack of plates in your arms, Yunho strides in beside you without a word, carrying the rest of the dishes with his sleeves rolled up. 

You settled into a comfortable rhythm—you washed while he rinsed.

“Hana seems like she’s adjusting pretty well,” Yunho breaks the silence. 

Across the room, Hana, Hongjoong, San, and Mingi had abandoned the dining table in favor of the coffee table, where an Uno game had quickly turned into a shouting match.

(“THE RULES WHERE I PLAYED IS YOU CAN ONLY PUT DOWN DRAW FOUR IT ONLY IF THERE’S ALREADY A DRAW FOUR CARD.”

“I DON’T CARE. DRAW SIX .”

“Both of you shut up. Hongjoong, draw six,” San says.) 

You smile to yourself, handing him another plate. “Yeah. I was worried she’d have a hard time moving to a new city. But she’s always been brave. And I think she just really missed her big brother.” 

“She missed you too, you know,” Yunho said after a beat. 

“Hmm?” you glanced up. 

“When Hongjoong and I came back home to visit, she always talked about you.” Yunho said, setting another plate on the drying rack. “Every summer she’d try to convince Hongjoong to take her to Seoul.” 

“She never told me that.” 

“Hongjoong probably missed you two the most, though. The first night you guys moved in? I walked into the apartment to look for him and found him sitting on your couch after you guys went to bed.” 

“I thought he had already gone back to yours,” you giggle. 

“Nope. I asked him and he said he was standing guard in case someone tried to break in,” he laughed. 

“That’s stupid, the only people breaking into this apartment are him and Mingi.” 

There’s another comfortable silence. 

“Hey, YN?” 

“We may act like a bunch of old idiots,“ He nodded toward the living room, where Hongjoong was accusing San of cheating at Uno. 

“But if you ever need anything, you know can always come over, right?”

Something in your chest softened.

"I know. Thanks, Yunho."

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The water continued running between your hands as another plate passed from you to him.

Somehow, standing here with him felt... easy.

Not because the awkwardness had disappeared.

It hadn't.

But because, for the first time since moving back, you weren't trying so hard to fill every silence between you.

Some silences, it turned out, didn't need filling at all.

IV. EVERY MORNING, AROUND 8:15, YOU LEAVE YOUR APARTMENT. 

Every morning, around 8:15, Yunho is somehow already waiting for the elevator. 

The first couple of days, you assume it’s a coincidence. By Thursday, you’re not so sure. 

Sometimes he’s already waiting. Sometimes he steps out of his apartment just as you lock yours. On Thursday morning, Yunho is waiting with two plastic cups of coffee. 

“San got a new coffee machine,” he says, handing you one. “He made too much.” 

You eye the cup, taking it anyway. “Tell San thanks.” 

“I will.”

As the elevator arrives, you miss the tiny smile that pulls at the corner of Yunho’s mouth. 

The rest of the weeks go by like this: 

You’d find Yunho waiting by the elevator, always with a second cup of coffee for you. The elevator rides became longer conversations, mostly about his roommates’ latest antics and the office romance brewing between two heads of your department.

You’d walk over to your cars side-by-side. On the drive to work, sometimes you’d catch Yunho’s car beside you at a stoplight, letting out two beeps, lifting two fingers from the steering wheel in a lazy salute before the light turned green.  

You’d gotten close with your brothers’ other roommates too. As much as you hate to admit it. 

San had also started treating your apartment like a second home. Sometimes he'd stop by just to water Hana's plants while the two of you were out, claiming, "You'd be surprised how many people accidentally kill succulents."

Mingi, in particular, only ever texted you when he needed rescuing.

The first time it happened, it was barely three weeks after you moved in. Your phone buzzed in the middle of a Saturday morning. 

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

yn 

yn kim 

what do you want

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

sos 

yn kim 

you’re alive enough to text 

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

girl i need ur help

yn kim 

???

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

the girl i brought home last night won’t leave 

could u come over and pretend ur like my crazy ex or something 

yn kim 

absolutely not 

ask san 

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

PLEASE

the boys left to play pickleball 

she wants us to have breakfast 

yn kim 

then get breakfast with her? 

mingi jfc it’s 8 in the morning

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

i NEVER have breakfast w my hookups

pls ill buy u boba for a month

yn kim 

deal

Ten minutes later, you find yourself standing in front of his apartment, questioning whether this was worth the boba. 

The door flew open before you even had a chance to knock.

"I owe you my life."

He stepped aside to let you in before lowering his voice.

"She's in the kitchen."

It happened again.

And then again.

By the fourth time, you no longer asked questions.

You'd simply knock on their apartment, sigh dramatically, and say,

"Where is she?"

Mingi would point toward his room.

"Thank you for your service."

On Friday nights, your group somehow always ended up at the same Korean barbecue place a few blocks away. San and Yunho usually took over the grill while Hongjoong argued that he could cook the meat just as well. Mingi would inevitably declare he was "too full for dessert," only to be the first one ordering boba ten minutes later.

It wasn't long before you met the rest of their circle, too. There was Yeosang and Jongho, San's coworkers who somehow always ended up as the voice of reason; Wooyoung, whose favorite pastime seemed to be irritating San just to get a reaction; and Seonghwa, an old college friend of your brother's who, much to your amusement, was one of the few people capable of making Hongjoong visibly nervous.

Most nights, it was just the six of you, drifting between your apartment and theirs as if there was no real distinction anymore. Someone would inevitably pull a movie from the ever-growing stack Hongjoong had collected over the years, and before long, all six of you would be crammed onto whichever couch had enough space, arguing over what to watch before inevitably settling on something everyone had already seen at least twice.

It was the little things as well, that showed how you all cared for each other like a real family. San and Hongjoong somehow made it their mission to pack yours and Hana's lunches every morning. Mingi, surprisingly, had become self-appointed host of girls' nights, barging into your apartment with face masks, a tub of ice cream, and the announcement that "the boys are pissing me off again."

And then there was Yunho.

It wasn't anything grand. At least, you didn't think so.

He was simply thoughtful.

If your hands were full, he'd take whatever you were carrying without asking. If everyone went out for coffee, yours somehow always ended up paid for. When movie nights stretched past midnight and one of you started nodding off on the couch, he'd throw a blanket over you. You’d seen him do it to San and Mingi once, patting their heads before he settled back in his seat.

You told yourself he was just like that.

So you tried not to think too much about the way you'd occasionally catch him looking at you whenever one of Hongjoong's movies made you cry, or how he always seemed to notice when work had worn you down before you'd even said a word.

Your routine quickly settled into place. Until one Monday, it wasn’t. 

You unlocked your car, tossed your bag onto the passenger seat, and turned the key. 

Click. 

“...No.” 

You tried again. 

Click. 

Your shoulders slumped. 

“No, no, no.” 

You let your forehead fall against the steering wheel. You were already running late, instead of your usual 8:15, you came rushing out of your apartment by 8:30, and Yunho, bless his soul, was still waiting by the elevator by the time you arrived. 

A car stops by your parking spot, Yunho rolling down his window. 

“You okay?” 

“My car chose violence this morning.” 

He laughed quietly, before sliding out of the driver’s seat and coming to your side. “Can I try?” 

You stepped out, handing him the keys. 

He slid into the driver’s seat and gave the ignition a try.

Click. 

Once. 

Twice. 

“I think your battery’s dead.”

You groaned. 

“Great.” 

"Could be worse."

"Could it?"

"You could've found out halfway to work."

"Don't say things like that."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He reached through the open passenger door of your car, grabbing your work bag before picking up the coffee you'd abandoned in the cup holder.

You blinked.

"What are you doing?"

“Good thing your office is right by my route, and I’m also the best person in the world,” he says.

“Pardon?” you ask. 

“You’re riding with me. Get in if you want to make it before work.” 

“I can just call an Uber."

"You can."

He started walking toward his car.

"Or..."

He held up your bag.

"...you can save forty bucks and let me drive you. Hongjoong would kill me if I left you here to book an Uber."

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your smile as you climbed in.

"You're unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

He closed the door before walking around to the driver's side.

As he started the engine, he glanced over.

“We’ll call the mechanic during lunch and have Hongjoong meet him. You gave him the spare key, right?” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I know.” 

He pulled out of the parking garage. 

“But I was going to anyway.” 

When you were on the main road, neither of you spoke anymore. You shifted in your seat, suddenly aware that you'd never actually been alone with Yunho like this before. Usually there was Hongjoong in the passenger seat, Mingi yelling from the back, or Hana changing the music every thirty seconds.

Sensing the awkwardness in the air, Yunho reached toward the center console. 

“You can connect your phone if you want.” 

“You sure?” 

“As long as you don’t play any Taylor Swift. Mingi likes to sing in the shower.”

You laughed. 

“Of course he does.” 

You plugged your phone in, scrolling through your playlists before settling on one you’d been listening to on repeat lately. 

As the music flows in the car, Yunho taps the steering wheel in time with the music while you look out the window, watching the city blur past. 

The rest of the drive slipped by easily. 

You talked about work. 

About Hana mentioning another guy from one of her classes, nearly giving Hongjoong a heart attack.

About Mingi somehow bringing the same girl over for the third time despite insisting he "wasn't looking for anything serious."

By the time Yunho pulled up outside your office building, you were surprised you’d already arrived. 

He shifted the car into park. 

“What time do you get off?” 

“Six.” 

He nodded once. 

“I’ll pick you up.” 

“You don’t–” he cuts you off. 

“Nope, I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

“Okay,” you smile.

You clear your throat and reach for the door handle. 

“Thanks Yunho. See you later.” 

You stepped out of the car, adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

Just as you reached the sidewalk, his window rolled down.

"YN."

You turned.

"I'll see you at six."

By the time six o’clock rolled around, your brain felt like mush.

The first full Monday of campaign planning had consisted of three meetings, two brainstorming sessions, and an alarming amount of coffee.

When Yunho comes to pick you up, you could barely keep your eyes open. 

“For YN Kim?” Yunho says as you sit in the passenger seat, in a perfectly practiced customer service voice.

You looked at him.

"...Yes?"

"Destination?"

You deadpanned.

"Home."

He nodded solemnly.

"Excellent choice."

"Driver, I'd also like to request silence."

"Unfortunately, this ride includes complimentary conversation."

You laugh silently as Yunho drives the car back on the road. 

“Long day?” 

You let out a dramatic sigh. 

“You don’t even wanna know. I sat through three meetings that could've been emails.”

He winced sympathetically. 

“You can nap for a bit if you want, it’s sushi night at our place. You know how Hana and Joong get when there’s sushi involved.” 

“Ugh, I forgot about that. Are you sure it’s okay?” 

“Yeah. We’ve got twenty minutes before we get home.” He shrugged. “I’ll wake you up.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught him turning the volume down on the console. You said nothing, pretending not to notice.

By the time you got home, Yunho had woken you up with a gentle nudge to your shoulder, and a soft “we’re here” before you could even adjust to your surroundings. 

In the middle of dinner, while you were all having different conversations, San’s suddenly looked up from his sushi.

“Yunho, I have a bone to pick with you,” he says seriously, pointing a chopstick at him. You supposed he was feeling tipsy, if not for the soju bottle he split with Mingi. 

“That sounds ominous,” Hana says, stealing a piece of salmon from Hongjoong’s plate. 

“What did I do?” Yunho asks. 

“You finished my coffee beans.” 

“...Again?” Hongjoong sighs. 

“Again.” 

“Wait,” you interrupted. “I thought you always made too much coffee.” 

San frowned, “Those are Guatemalan beans, YN. I don’t just make ‘too much’.”

"Then why has Yunho been bringing me coffee every morning?"

Yunho answered before San could.

"I just make an extra cup while I'm there."

You nodded as though that explained everything.

"That makes sense."

"Does it?" Mingi asked around a mouthful of rice.

Yunho shot him a look.

"What?"

"Nothing." Mingi raised both hands in surrender.

Across the table, San quietly met Yunho's eyes.

Yunho looked away first.

Before the silence could linger, Hongjoong reached across the table and stole the last piece of nigiri from Hana's plate.

After that dinner, you found yourself thinking about the coffee more often than you cared to admit.

Every morning Yunho still handed you a cup without fail, and every morning you caught yourself wondering whether he'd actually been making an extra one... or whether he'd been making one specifically for you all along.

It was a dangerous train of thought.

So you stopped letting yourself think about it.

V. ‘THE BITCH IS BACK’ IS PLAYING IN YOUR EARPHONES WHEN YOU PUT THE LAST ROLLER ON YOUR HAIR.

“I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch, oh, the bitch is back…” You sang quietly under your breath, swaying to the music as you leaned closer to the mirror you'd dragged onto the kitchen island. You were currently getting ready in your kitchen, rollers in your hair, and makeup on the counter. 

Your coworker, Johnny, had asked you out for an annual marketing forum that your firm sponsored. He didn’t have to, because you were planning on going anyway, but it was nice to get asked out again after a while. 

Your dress was laid over the couch as you sat on one of the kitchen stools in your underwear and a robe hanging off your shoulders, because you couldn’t risk getting powder on it before you could even wear it. 

You stood up, grabbing the tube of mascara that had rolled onto the floor, singing the rest of the chorus, and swaying along dramatically.

You were so into it that you didn’t notice your front door beeping. 

“It’s the way that I move, the things that I do, oh-oh-oh!” 

“Oh shit.” 

When you turn around, you didn’t expect to see Yunho standing frozen in the doorway. You let out a surprised gasp, tying the strings on your robe. Yunho just saw you in your underwear, and you were acting like an idiot. 

He also hadn’t expected anyone to be home. When Hongjoong told him the door code, he was told you would’ve been gone by now. 

His eyes met yours and immediately darted somewhere over your shoulder. 

“I, uh, sorry.  Hongjoong told me you were gone, I came to pick up his hard drive that he left here.” 

“Why didn’t he get it himself?” You say, your face flushed. Yunho’s ears had turned red.

Cute, you thought. 

“He’s in the middle of editing,” Yunho said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He asked me to grab it since I was already heading out.”

“I think it’s over there,” you gestured vaguely towards your coffee table. 

“Right.” 

Neither of you moved. 

Yunho cleared his throat before keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the table as he crossed the room. He found the hard drive almost immediately.

Silence.

You couldn't remember the last time the apartment had felt this small.

He turned to leave before hesitating.

“Hongjoong said you have a work event today?” he asks, while you go back to your seat. 

“Yeah, I was supposed to go alone but my coworker, Johnny, asked me to go with him.” 

Yunho gave a slow nod.

"Johnny."

"Mm-hmm."

"From work?"

"Creatives."

"Is he nice?"

You let out a small laugh.

"Why are you interviewing me?"

"He's moving kind of fast."

You let out a laugh.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"No, say it."

Yunho shifted awkwardly, gripping the hard drive a little tighter.

"I'm just saying... asking someone out after a month."

"It's not a date."

"Isn't it?"

You shrugged.

"I don't know. It's a work event."

"Just the two of you?"

"...Yes?"

"So..."

He trailed off.

"That sounds like a date."

“Maybe.”

For the first time since he'd walked in, Yunho genuinely looked stumped.

Like he'd asked himself the same question and didn't have an answer.

He looked away.

"Forget I said anything." You raised an eyebrow. 

“Um, I should go,” he says after a beat. 

You nod, smiling. 

He turns back around with a hand on the knob,”YN?”

“Yeah?”

“You look beautiful by the way.” 

Your smile softened.

"I haven't even put the dress on yet."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

"I know."

Another beat.

"Have fun tonight."

Before you could say anything else, he slipped out the door.

What was that? 

When Yunho gets back to his apartment, he makes a beeline for Hongjoong’s door. 

He knocks, quite aggressively, three times before letting himself in. 

The sight of Hongjoong hunched over his desk and tweaking with the film he’s working on one of his three monitors greets him. Headphones are over his head while he has a hand on his chin. 

If he wasn’t working, Yunho might’ve smacked his hard drive on his head. 

“Hongjoong.” He shoves his shoulder with the hard drive. Hongjoong flinches before realizing it’s him, and takes his headphones off

“Here,” he grumbles. 

“What’s up with you? It took you like five minutes to get back from across the hall.”

Yunho’s supposed to be heading out, but he figures there’s no use anymore, embarrassment clouding his mind and a deep motivation to strangle the man in front of him. 

“YN was there, idiot. You told me she’d be gone.” 

Hongjoong glances at the clock on his desk, “Oops, I think she said Johnny was picking her up at six, not five.” 

“Well, I walked in and she was home.” He closes his eyes for a second. “And I might have embarrassed both of us.” He sighs.

“Did you catch her singing Elton John again? She loves to do that when she gets ready,” Hongjoong says, plugging the hard drive on his computer. 

Yunho nods. He decides not to tell him that he caught her in just her underwear and a robe, though. He’d seen how Hongjoong gets over his sisters. 

“Did you know she was going on a date?” He asks instead. 

“Yeah, some work guy named Johnny.” Hongjoong replies, monotonously. 

Hongjoong clicked through his editing timeline before speaking again.

“Is she done getting ready yet? I told her to send me and Hana pictures before she left.” Hongjoong adds. Yunho’s eyebrows quirk up in surprise. 

“You’re okay with YN going on a date?” he asks. Just the other day, Hongjoong launched a 5-minute tirade about Hana going to a college party that mostly talked about “NO BOYS”. 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You practically put Hana under house arrest because some guy asked for her Instagram.” 

Hongjoong scoffs, “That’s different. Hana is a baby. She enjoys making my blood pressure spike.” 

“How is that different?” 

“Listen, I know I’m the eldest, but YN spent years taking care of everyone else and raising Hana. All she does is work alongside being a good sister, the least she deserves is to get pretty, go out with a coworker on a date, and have fun,” Hongjoong says with a fond look on his face.  

Hongjoong studied him for a second. Then a slow grin spread across his face.

"...Why do you care so much?"

Yunho's head snapped up.

“I don’t. I was just asking.” Hongjoong smirks.

 “I’m serious.” 

“You know YN doesn’t date much. So I know Johnny isn’t really her type.” Hongjoong leaned back in his chair. “She'd rather spend years getting to know someone than jump into something because they asked.” 

“And you know her type?” 

“I’ve been her brother for twenty-six years.” 

Yunho doesn’t speak a word after, his eyes to the floor. 

“I’ll let you figure that out.” 

The date went well. Johnny was easy to be around. Confident, funny, effortlessly sociable. He made conversation with everyone he met, pulled you into group photos, and by the time your workmates migrated to the after-party, he'd somehow convinced half the room onto the dance floor. 

You thought it would be enough to distract you from your thoughts and whatever’s going on at home. But you think all Johnny could ever be to you was a friend. 

If anything, he’d been thoughtful and easy to talk to. But he wasn’t the problem. The problem was that somewhere over the last few months, you’d grown used to a different kind of kindness. One that was quiet and consistent. 

The sort that remembered how you took your coffee, carried your bag without asking, and turned the television down when you looked tired without another word. The kind that would pay attention if you weren’t feeling well, or knew everything about you. 

By the time you get home, you realized you hadn't spent the evening getting to know Johnny. 

You spent the entire night wondering what it would’ve been like if Yunho had been there instead. 

VI. WHEN MONDAY ROLLED AROUND, YOU NOTICED YUNHO HAD CHANGED.

The Monday after you went on a date, he'd ask how your weekend was. When you told him, you don't think Johnny and you could be more than friends, he stifles a grin and nods in understanding.

He still waited for you by the elevator and handed you another cup of coffee without a word. 

There was still the coffee (When has it ever stopped?), the elevator conversations, and small smiles you’d throw at each other. 

But you also noticed, the line between being neighbors and potentially something more started to blur. 

It was subtle at first, a hand on your back when you left the elevator, or instead of separating as soon as you got to your car, he would wait until you closed your car door. But then you noticed he kept making excuses to be close to you, to touch you. 

Whenever it was movie night, he’d go as far as shoving Mingi to the other end of the couch just so he could sit next to you. 

(“You didn’t have to shove the poor guy,” you whisper as he grabs a handful of the popcorn on your lap.

“He’s fine. He was taking up too much space on the couch.”

“Mingi’s pouting.”

“Shh. Just let me sit next to you.” 

“Jeong Yunho!” Mingi shouts, throwing a pillow at him. 

By the end of the night, your head, however, had somehow found its way onto Yunho's shoulder.) 

After dinners together, he'd linger just enough to fall into step beside you while everyone else walked ahead. Whenever you crossed the street, his fingers would wrap loosely around your wrist—or sometimes your hand.

"Cars," he'd explain every single time.

As if that answered everything.

As if he wasn't still holding your hand long after you'd reached the sidewalk.

Even though Hongjoong had gotten your battery replaced, Yunho started insisting you carpool with him to work. He’d made a pretty good argument, that gas prices were crazy high and it would be better for the environment now if you rode to work together.

He’d open the car door for you, be at your office at six on the dot, and always let you choose a playlist. He’d have a different excuse every day like if you were carrying too many things, or if Hongjoong needed both of you to drop by at the store. You would've said yes regardless. 

If your friends noticed, they didn’t say a thing. They watched as you and Yunho cooked dinner together, bumping shoulders and sharing looks that definitely meant that there was something there. When you would get home and start complaining about work, Yunho would drop everything and listen to you. 

(“I don’t think they realize we’re still here,” Mingi whispers. 

“They’re in their own world at this point, I could set myself on fire and Yunho would still be making heart eyes at her,” San grumbles, watching you and Yunho laugh by the couch. 

“Do you think they know?” Hana says. 

“Nah. They’re both idiots. And slow. But I’d let them figure it out.” 

“Figure out what?” Hongjoong asks as he steps out from the bathroom. 

“Nothing.”) 

You know things are changing. And as you hate to admit it, the crush you had on him years ago came back and has evolved into something deeper. Whenever he’s close to you, you’re painfully aware of his presence, your heart beats a little bit faster, and you find yourself looking for him in every room you enter. 

Almost six months after you moved in, and a little over a month since you and Yunho have settled into dangerous territory, your brother announces he’s been chosen to direct all on his own. Suddenly, you and your friends (except for Hana who’s not only underage but had a late night dance practice that day) end up at a bar after Hongjoong’s celebratory dinner.

“DIRECTOR BABY!” San screams, after taking a shot, and kissing Hongjoong’s cheek, and laughing when he gets pushed away. 

You’ve been sitting in a booth for about an hour, when the next round of beers come in. Wooyoung had dragged Mingi with him to the dance floor by the second round, while Yeosang and Jongho sat across from you, whispering to each other. San and Hongjoong were absolutely gone. San had turned red by the first shot, and Hongjoong downed at least five after you learned that Seonghwa wouldn’t be able to come. 

It ran in the family though, because you were second to being absolutely gone as well. 

“Here,” Yunho came back to your booth with a glass of water and hands it to you. 

“Thanks.”

You hadn’t meant to get drunk, but you were celebrating, and then too many shots came and Yunho was so close, you kept thinking of kissing him. So you kept up with the shots and now you feel dizzy, your head spinning. Yunho, being the nicest person ever, stayed completely sober since you arrived.

He put an arm around you when you lean a bit too far to your side. You wish he wasn’t this close because you might actually kiss him this time. You take a sip of the water as you try to focus on your surroundings.

“If you stopped blubbering like an idiot every time Seonghwa talked to you, maybe he would’ve come,” San teases Hongjoong with a matching hiccup. 

“He’s so pretty. Did you know he’s so pretty San?” Hongjoong cries, hand reaching out to grab another shot.

“Yep, okay that’s enough,” Yunho says from beside you and dragging the tray of shots away. “All of you are officially cut off.”

You hear groans coming from the two drunk men in front of you but as you turn your head to look at him like this, serious but with an expression of someone who is used to taking care of people and the sharp tick of his jaw, you think fuck, you really like him. And he’s so pretty.

He’s wearing a white button-up shirt with the top three  left unbuttonned and dark slacks that highlight his long legs and tiny waist. His hand that’s rubbing along the side of your shoulder is cold from the silver rings on his fingers. 

“You’re so pretty,” you murmur before you can stop yourself. 

“What?” he laughs.

“You’re so pretty, you’ve always been pretty,” you repeat, feeling more confident after all the alcohol has kicked in. 

“You really are Hongjoong’s little sister,” he whispers, his wide grin fading into something smaller, the kind that’s only reserved for you. Little sister. You thought with the way he was looking at you, it wouldn’t hurt. But there’s the familiar pang in your chest when you hear it. 

Before you could ask him what he meant, Wooyoung and Mingi come back to your booth.

“What am I looking at here?” Wooyoung raises an eyebrow at you and the two friends in front of you. You stop looking at Yunho then, leaning your head back on the couch while your eyes start drifting slowly. 

“They’re drunk off their minds. I think it’s time to go home,” Jongho says, pointing to the three of you, with a tone so clear you wouldn’t think he’s had more to drink than you. 

You all clear out the booth then, Yeosang and Mingi with their arms on Hongjoong and San, while Wooyoung and Jongho trailed behind. Yunho helped you get to your feet with an arm around your waist and your bag in his hands. 

The air is cold when you step outside, and the sidewalk feels gummy as you struggle to stand up. It was early in the morning, you assumed around 3 am. You were so out of it, your mind going back to little sister, while the boys around you figure out what to do with the drunk ones. 

“Hyung, stop squirming or I’ll call Seonghwa,” Yeosang says, the only other one who was sober, as he tries to get Hongjoong to stand. 

“Do. Not. Call. Him.” Hongjoong says in between hiccups, yet doesn’t make any move to stand up straight. 

“Yunho, did you bring your car?” Yeosang asks. Yunho nods. 

“Okay, I’ll take these guys with me home, could you–“ Yeosang gets cut off.

“I got her.” 

“Great, because Hongjoong looks like he’s going to puke any second from now and my car’s right up here so we’ll get going.” Yeosang sighs, as he struggles to lift your brother up. 

Mingi and Wooyoung stay behind at the club, something about wanting to dance more. 

By the time your brother and the rest get settled in Yeosang’s car, you and Yunho end up alone on the sidewalk. 

“Come on, YN, let’s go,” he says, steadying you with an arm. 

“It’s okay, I-I can just call an Uber,” you say with conviction, despite the pounding in your head.

“YN, I’m not letting you get into an Uber. My car’s just right up the street.” 

You wanted to say more, to ask him why he called you that earlier, but your head really hurt and you wanted to get home, so you nod. 

“Can you walk?”

“I can.”

You absolutely cannot, and Yunho can tell because he holds you even closer so you don’t fall onto the floor, leading you to his car. 

He helps you get into the passenger seat and clicks your seatbelt into place.

As he drives you home, it’s silent. You struggle to keep your eyes open, as you watch Yunho tap on his steering wheel rhythmically. Neither of you speak, had it been a work day,  you’d be talking each other's ears off. 

When he parks the car in your apartment complex, you wake up when he’s opened your door. 

“Hey,” he says softly, “we’re home.”

The elevator ride up is the most daunting thing to ever exist. The alcohol hasn’t worn off, but it pushes you to decide to break the silence anyway.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah?”

You take a deep breath as you hold on to the elevator railing.

“When are you going to stop being so confusing?” 

“What are you talking about?”

You sigh, letting the words flow out of you before you could tell your brain to stop. 

“You do all these things,” you wave vaguely between the two of you. “You look at me like,” like you’re in love with me.  “Then call me Hongjoong’s little sister at the end of the night.”

“YN.”

“I wish you’d stop reminding me whose sister I am.” 

He stares at you, speechless.

“Because every time you say it…” Your voice softens. “…I feel stupid for thinking maybe you meant something else.”

“I–,” 

The elevator dings.

Before he can finish, you hurry out, nearly tripping over your own feet as you make your way down the hallway. You bump your shoulder into the wall once, then again, before finally stopping in front of your apartment.

“Where the fuck are my keys?” you mutter, patting every pocket of your dress in growing frustration just as Yunho catches up beside you.

“You don’t have keys, your door uses a code,” he says.

“Oh.”

When he unlocks the door, you stumble into your room, Yunho following close behind. 

“YN, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“God, my feet hurt,” you deflect, tearing off your heels and throwing it in random directions.

Yunho closes the bedroom door behind him. 

“YN.” 

“Don’t.” you sigh. 

“Can you just look at me?”

You shake your head.

“If I look at you, you’re going to explain it away.”

He falls silent.

“Explain what away?” You laugh, but it comes out tired.

“Everything.”

He frowns.

“You keep doing things that make me think…” You stop yourself, rubbing at your face. “Nevermind.”

“No. Finish.”

You finally look up at him.

“You look at me like I’m important.”

His expression flickers.

“Then you call me Hongjoong’s little sister.”

Silence.

“Do you know how unfair that is?”

Yunho opens his mouth, then closes it again.

You continue, “I want to believe that the way you look at me is not how you look at everyone else, but you say things like that, and I don’t know anymore.” 

There’s a beat. 

“I need to lie down,” you say, while Yunho stood frozen. 

You shift and lie down on your bed, closing your eyes. Maybe he’d disappear from your room if you closed your eyes hard enough. 

As you try to drift to sleep, you hear Yunho come closer to your bed. 

Carefully, he kneels in front of the bed and slips your heels farther underneath it so you won’t trip over them in the morning. He reaches for the throw blanket folded at the foot of your bed, unfolding it gently over you.

“I "I don't do any of that for everyone," he says quietly. "I don't wake up early just to make coffee for everyone. I don't wait by the elevator hoping I get ten extra minutes with someone. I don't come up with excuses to drive people to work or sit next to them whenever I can." His eyes meet yours, steady this time. "I do those things because they're with you. You don’t even notice how much I look at you, do you?”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t open your eyes. 

He sighs. He’d say more, explain things clearly, but he’d rather have you sober before you forget everything he said. 

“Good night, YN.”

There’s a pause, and you think he might’ve actually left, when you feel a pair of lips on your forehead. 

When Yunho quietly closes your bedroom door behind him, he nearly jumps out of his skin.

Hana is sitting on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, lazily sipping from a glass of water.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Well.”

Yunho presses a hand to his chest.

“Jesus, Hana.”

“I came back from Joongie-oppa’s, they got home a bit earlier than you two.”

“Is he okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, Seonghwa’s coming over to take care of him because he kept whining about him, so I left and came back here to wait for my sister.” There’s a grin on her face. The kind that she’d put on when she was up to no good. 

“Imagine my surprise, big brother,” she trails off. “When you two come home, don’t even notice me standing in the kitchen, but disappear into her room in the middle of what appears to be a lover’s quarrel?” 

“It wasn’t–“ he pinches the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t a lover’s quarrel. It’s complicated.” 

She studies him. 

“Did she finally say something?”

Yunho doesn’t say anything. 

He doesn’t have to because Hana could already tell. 

“Huh.” she shakes her head. “So she finally noticed.” 

Yunho looks up.

“Noticed what?”

Hana just laughs.

“Nothing.”

She walks past him toward your bedroom with a cup of water and painkillers that were on the coffee table.

“Good luck, big brother.”

She pauses at your door without turning around.

“You’ll figure it out.” 

VII. WHEN YOU WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING WITH THE WORST HEADACHE EVER,

you decide that you are never leaving the apartment again. 

You remember bits and pieces of last night. You remember taking too many shots, Yunho’s arm around you, Hongjoong calling for Seonghwa, the way Yunho looked at you then called you a little sister. You remember the elevator ride and the forehead kiss he left on you before you drifted away to sleep. 

It was a Saturday, so thankfully you didn’t have to see Yunho today. But your mind goes back to everything you said last night and hoped you hadn't scared him off. 

You spent the rest of the day on your couch, nursing your hangover with soup you had delivered and reruns playing on your TV. 

Hongjoong comes over by the end of your fifth episode, sporting the same headache and squeezes next to you on the couch. Apparently, he’s in the same situation as you. 

“Seonghwa,” he sighs, when you ask him what’s up with him. You don’t ask why, as you two watch TV together.

You’ve been like this for three hours, before Hana comes to intervene. 

“What did we learn?” she says, standing in front of the both of you like a military captain with her arms behind her back. 

Your brother, wearing sunglasses indoors, raises a weak hand.

“Never mix beer and tequila.”

“Wrong.”

She looks at you. 

“To never drink again.”

“Also wrong.”

“The correct answer,” Hana says, “is that none of you are allowed to make decisions after your third shot.” 

“What are you talking about? You weren’t there,” Hongjoong grumbles. 

“You drunk-dialed Seonghwa so many times he had to come here to take care of you and when he got here you puked all over his slippers,” Hana says without missing a beat. She turns to you.

“And you. You’re sitting here with your hopeless brother instead of dealing with whatever happened with Yunho last night.” 

You almost choke on your ice cream. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Something happened with you and Yunho?” Hongjoong turns to you.

“No,” you answer a little too quickly. “Yes,” Hana says at the exact same time. 

“What does Hana know that I don’t?” 

“None of your business.”

“I’m serious. What happened?” He’s using his big brother voice, the kind that made you stop lying, and you sigh. 

“I… might’ve asked him to stop being so confusing.”

“Confusing how?”

“He—” You hesitate. “He called me your little sister.”

Hongjoong blinks.

“…That’s it?”

“No, that’s the problem.”

“I don’t get it.”

You set your spoon down.

“He spends all this time with me. He drives me to work, insists on carrying my groceries, steals San’s coffee every morning, practically kicks Mingi off the couch so he can sit next to me…” You gesture helplessly. “Then the moment I think maybe I’m not imagining things, he reminds me I’m just Hongjoong’s little sister.”

He sits with what you say for a moment, nodding. 

“Can I say something?” 

You shrug, gesturing for him to go on.

“I didn’t see it before but he definitely doesn’t treat us like he treats you. I’ve known Yunho my whole life, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him act the way he acts with you.” 

You grip the bowl in your hands.

“He told you that, didn’t he?” he continues. You nod with a sigh. 

“What if I just made everything weird?” You ask.

“Did he look uncomfortable?” 

“No.”

“Then go talk to him.” 

“Joong—”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You’ve been my sister for twenty-six years. I know when you’re overthinking.”

He nudges your knee.

“If Yunho really did something that hurt you, then tell him.”

A beat.

“And if he didn’t…”

He smiles, small and tired.

“Then stop making each other miserable. I know for a fact he’s feeling as bad as you are.” 

Hongjoong stands to join Hana, and they each grabbed your hand before it dragging you to your room. 

“You’re doing this now,” Hana says. 

“What?”

“If you don’t do it now, you’ll spend the whole weekend on the couch and eat your feelings in ice cream.” 

Three minutes later, after changing into an oversized sweater and convincing yourself at least seventeen times that this was a terrible idea, you stand in front of your apartment door.

“What if he’s mad at me?”

“Yunho?” Hongjoong lets out an incredulous laugh. “That guy couldn’t stay mad at you if you ran over his foot.”

You take one deep breath and pull the door open before you could think about what to say to him. 

To your surprise, Yunho is already standing on the other side, his fist raised mid-knock. 

You both freeze.

“Oh.”

“…Hi.” 

“Can we talk?” he asks.

“I…” A laugh escapes you, equal parts relieved and disbelieving. “I was actually just about to come over to yours.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

You glance back.

Hongjoong and Hana are peeking shamelessly from behind your still-open front door, both giving you enthusiastic thumbs-ups.

You sigh.

“Not here.”

Yunho follows your gaze and immediately understands.

“Yeah,” he says with a laugh. “Definitely not here.”

The two of you walk to the very end of the hallway, where a large window overlooks the city and a couple of chairs make a small sitting area. It’s close, but also out of earshot, so you don’t have to worry about your roommates eavesdropping. 

The silence stretches between you until Yunho finally speaks.

“I guess you remember everything?” 

You nod. He lets out a slow breath. 

“Yunho, I—“ You’re about to tell him that you were sorry for messing things up when he interrupts you.

“I owe you the truth.” You say nothing, as he looks at the view from the window before looking at you in the eyes. 

“I called you Hongjoong’s little sister because you told me I was pretty. When you said that, I panicked. Hongjoong calls Seonghwa pretty because he’s in love with him but is too scared to admit it,” he says, brushing your hair away from your face. “I guess he and I have that in common.” 

“What?”

“It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.” 

“Yunho.”

“Every time I got too close to you, every time I caught myself looking at you for a little too long…” He exhales. “I’d remind myself you were Hongjoong’s sister.”

“Because if I didn’t…” His voice catches. “I’d want things I had no right to want.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs.

“Then you moved back.”

A small smile finds his face.

“And suddenly you were everywhere again. Last night made me realize, I’d probably been in love with you longer than I thought. Maybe since the day you moved in.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. From the window, the sun starts to set, casting a warm glow on Yunho’s face, as he holds your hands into his.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally says. 

You understand now, how it feels to have the one thing you’ve ever wanted, show you that it hadn’t been all in your head.

“You’re an idiot.”

His face falls. 

Before he could apologize, you grab the front of his sweater and kiss him. 

His hands automatically find their place on your waist while he pulls you closer. He tastes like coffee, which you thought tasted better on his lips than in the coffee cup you had every morning. He smiles into your teeth when he realizes you wouldn’t let go, with everything he’d spent months holding in. 

You pull away from him for a moment, him looking at you more clearly now, without hesitating, like he’s loved you all his life. 

“I’m in love with you too, you know.” You grin. “I thought it was obvious.” 

“I was hoping you’d say something dramatic, like you loved me since you were eight,” he jokes. 

“I thought you were cute when I was eight.” 

“Only cute?” 

“I was eight. I just kissed you, Yunho. We’re in love with each other,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks, quieter this time.

Instead of answering, you rise onto your toes and press your lips to his.

“Ahem.”

The two of you spring apart.

Standing a few feet away is Mingi, a trash bag hanging limply from one hand.

He blinks once.

“Am I interrupting?”

Yunho closes his eyes for a brief second.

“Mingi.”

“No, no.” He holds up his free hand. “Please. Continue. I’ve only been waiting…” He checks an imaginary watch. “…roughly six months for this.”

“Mingi, don’t start,” you say, eyes pleading.  

Before either of you can stop him, Mingi is already halfway down the hallway.

“SAN!”

“WHAT!”

“We should go before everyone on the floor finds out,” Yunho whispers. 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE KISSING?”

San’s voice echoes through the hallway.

“Too late.” 

The next Monday morning, you don’t have to walk to meet Yunho by the elevator anymore, because he’s already at your door the second you open it. 

“Good morning,” he smiles. 

“Morning.” 

He’s holding two cups of coffee. You eye them suspiciously.

“Did you use San’s coffee beans again?”

“No.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I bought my own,” he puffs his chest, a proud look on his face. “I figured my girlfriend deserves more than stolen Guatemalan beans.” 

“Girlfriend?” you laugh, taking one of the cups. 

“Yep, girlfriend. I don’t care if your siblings are staring me down now.” 

His eyes leave your face and move to look behind your head, to see Hana eating cereal with a furrow in her brows, Hongjoong beside her at the dining table with the same expression.

“You two are gross,” Hana mutters. 

Yunho ignores her, casually slipping a hand into yours. 

“You know they’re still watching, right?” you whisper.

“I know.”

“They’re judging us.”

“I know.”

“You don’t care?”

He looks at you like the answer should be obvious.

“Not even a little.”

END.

I. “ARE YOU EVEN PUSHING?” 

You grunt as you shove the other end of the giant cardboard box containing your very unassembled couch through the doorway of your apartment. 

“Dude, I am pushing.” Hana complains, holding the other end. “This thing is bigger than both of us combined,” 

With one final heave, the box slides across the hardwood floor before coming to a stop in the middle of the still-empty living room. 

“One more piece of furniture and I’m never moving again,” You say as you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. 

“You said that after the dining table.” 

“I mean it this time.” 

Before either of you can catch your breath, loud voices echo down the hallway. 

“Incoming!” Hongjoong appears in the doorway carrying two moving boxes stacked to his chin and half his height, San trailing behind him with another three balanced like they weigh absolutely nothing. Mingi brings up the rear, dragging a suitcase that definitely has wheels. 

“You know,” Mingi says between exaggerated sighs, “people usually hire movers.” 

“Why would we need to pay extra when we have our big brother and his even bigger friends?”

Hongjoong ignores you, setting the boxes down before pulling a box cutter out of his pocket. 

“Mom and Dad stopped by their friend’s place,” he says, “They’ll come back later to help.” 

“I think they’re just excited to be empty nesters.” 

“Empty nesters?” you scoff. “They’re free. We’re the ones stuck living across from this gremlin.” you point at Hongjoong who gasps dramatically. 

“This,” he says, placing a hand over his heart. “is how you thank your amazing, handsome, hardworking older brother who found you a two-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles that is not only close to your office but also thirty minutes from Hana’s university?” 

“You barely did shit, you forced us to live here,” Hana scoffs. She and Hongjoong continue to bicker as they go through your boxes, getting a head start in unpacking. 

The plan had been simple: stay in Seoul, climb the corporate ladder at the marketing firm that hired you fresh out of college, and eventually, build a life there. 

Except, two years later, you’d burned out spectacularly. You’d say that staying close to Hana while she started university was an excuse to move back home when actually you couldn’t stay at the firm any longer before you started ripping your brains out. 

Hongjoong, being Hongjoong, had taken that as a personal challenge to find an apartment for both of you. His standards, unfortunately, were less about amenities and more about distance.

“I can literally see your front door from ours,” he’d proudly announced over FaceTime after sending you the listing. 

You couldn’t say no, not when it had been too long since the three of you somewhat lived in the same space again. The rent was also within your budget, and it was convenient, despite having to live close to an annoying big brother. 

“I deserve compensation,” Mingi sets himself on the floor with a groan as he hands San an Allen wrench for your couch. 

“You got breakfast,” Hongjoong replies. 

“I deserve financial compensation.” 

“You barely did anything.” 

“I deserve emotional compensation.” 

“You need therapy.” 

Hana lets out a snicker beside you. “They’re exactly how you described them, Joong.” 

“They’ve somehow gotten worse.” 

“Hey! I heard that!” 

As the bickering continued, you finally let out of your thoughts and began peeling away the packing tape of the box labeled ‘Kitchen’. 

Maybe moving back hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all. 

The apartment was small but cozy. Afternoon sunlight poured through the wide living room windows, warming the hardwood floors.

Although you’d have to live directly across the hall from your insufferable older brother, you actually could see yourself living here. 

Hongjoong had warned you that you wouldn't just be gaining a neighbor, you’d be inheriting his roommates, too.

 San and Mingi were Hongjoong’s closest college friends. You’d met them before, loud voices in the background while you had your weekly siblings FaceTime. San was exactly like the gentle giant that Hongjoong had described while Mingi was exactly as shameless. 

The third roommate was nowhere to be seen. Your brother had mentioned that he was out running an errand and would stop by afterward to help finish up the rest of your boxes.

So when Hongjoong said there was a third roommate, in your head, he was just another one of Hongjoong’s friends. You haven’t bothered to ask who it was yet, since you were busy with moving in from Seoul. 

“Sorry,” a familiar voice called from the hall. “The line downstairs was ridiculous.” 

Another figure stepped into your apartment.

You haven't seen Jeong Yunho in years. 

The paper bags in his hands crinkled as he adjusted his grip, his eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise before settling into that same easy smile he always had. 

“YN,” he greets you. Your eyes met. He looked older, yet had the same broad shoulders, same clean haircut, and was still ridiculously tall. 

“Yunho-oppa!” Before you could say anything, Hana barreled straight into him. 

“Hana! You’re all grown up now!” Yunho barely had time to shift the paper bags to one arm before she threw herself at him, letting out a laugh. 

“Yo, where the fuck have you been man?” Mingi asks beside where you stood frozen, watching Yunho and your sister catch up.

“Got coffee, I know how cranky you guys get without it.” 

Mingi lets out a sound somewhere between a cheer and a sigh of relief and steals the bag from him.

“I forgive you.” He disappears into your kitchen, already handing out drinks like he owns the place.

It’s Hongjoong’s turn to greet Yunho now, peeling Hana off him so he could stand up properly. 

“Alright, alright. Let him breathe.” 

Hongjoong moves his gaze over to you, as if only just remembering. 

He gestures lazily toward Yunho. 

“I totally forgot to tell you he moved back in.” 

Your brows knit together. You’d assume he was only around to visit. 

“Moved back in?” 

“Yeah.” Hongjoong shrugs. “Shit happened, so he took the spare room a few months ago.”

“You know my sister already.” He points to you. “You remember YN, right?” 

Yunho’s lips twitch into a small smile. 

“Of course I remember. You’re back from Seoul?” His gaze finds yours again.

“Yeah, decided to move back,” you reply. 

Yunho nods once. 

“Welcome back.”

“Alright,” San calls from the living room carpet, waving his wrench in the air.  “You’ve got the rest of the lease to catch up, one of you idiots come help me assemble this couch before I accidentally invent a new piece of furniture. Mingi, what are you doing?”

San’s plea was met with a chorus of groans from your brother and Mingi. 

“I’m already doing the bookshelves,” Mingi whines from the kitchen, sticking a straw through his coffee. 

“You’ve been looking at the bookshelves,” Hongjoong shot back. “That’s not the same thing.” 

“It is if I look hard enough.” 

With a dramatic sigh, Yunho sets his bag beside the front door and shrugs off his jacket. 

“I’ll help.” 

“Finally,” San muttered. “Someone competent.” 

You quietly slipped back into the kitchen, pretending the kitchen boxes urgently needed your attention. It was strange seeing Yunho again after all these years. Stranger still was the tiny flutter in your chest. You hadn't thought about your old crush on Yunho in years. Seeing him again, however, seemed determined to remind you.

Yunho and San were kneeling beside the couch, arguing over which piece was labeled “B.”. 

“It says B.”

“It says eight.”

“It’s literally a letter.”

“Not from here it isn’t.” 

You smiled despite yourself. Hana, who you just noticed has been beside you all this time, catches it immediately, choosing not to say anything but smiles mischievously. 

“What now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“You have that look.”

“What look?” 

“The one you used to have in high school.” 

“I’m smiling because San thinks the alphabet ends at seven,” you defend, tearing your eyes away from your neighbors. 

Hana hums, “if you say so.” 

Before you could ask her what she meant, Hongjoong calls your name from the living room. 

“What?” 

“Can you settle something?” 

You walked over, grateful for the distraction. 

“What now?” 

“San says the couch should face the window.”

“Then won’t it be awkward watching TV?”

“That’s what I said!” Hongjoong exclaims.

“Why are you listening to her?” San grumbles.

“I live here,” you replied the same time Hongjoong says, “She’s my sister.”

As Hongjoong and San shuffled your TV across the room, you stepped around scattered boxes, only to bump into someone coming the other way.

"Oh—"

A warm hand steadied your elbow before you could lose your balance.

"Careful."

Yunho. 

His hand disappeared almost as quickly as it had landed.

"Sorry," you said at the exact same time.

You paused. Then, somehow, you both laughed. It was the first genuine sound either of you had made to each other all afternoon.

In the chaos of moving boxes and misplaced screws, no one noticed Yunho's eyes follow you as you stepped around the clutter after you had regained your balance. Years hadn't changed one thing, you were still just as clumsy as he remembered. He shook his head with an amused smile before reaching for another box, acting as though he'd been looking at the couch the entire time.

When you looked up, Yunho was looking towards your way. Not intensely. Not long enough for anyone to notice, before he gives you a small smile and goes back to what he was doing.

You’d only been living here for an hour. Maybe moving to Los Angeles wasn’t going to be as simple as you’d hoped.

II. IF THERE WAS ONE THING YOUR BROTHER WAS EXCEPTIONALLY GOOD AT,

it was coming home with extra mouths to feed. 

The first time it happened, you were eight. 

You sat cross-legged on the living room floor, notebook in hand, as you drew.

You barely looked up when Hongjoong burst through the front door yelling that he was home—until you heard another pair of footsteps behind him.

The boy standing in the doorway was tall for his age, clutching the straps of his backpack like he wasn't sure he was allowed to be there.

"Mom, I brought Yunho."

Your mother welcomed him inside before Hongjoong dragged him upstairs to play, but not before he caught your eye.

"Hi, YN!" he greeted with an easy smile.

You gave a timid wave from behind your notebook.

For reasons your eight-year-old self couldn't explain, you hoped Hongjoong would bring him over again.

He did.

After that, Jeong Yunho somehow became a permanent fixture in your house.

Whenever Hongjoong came home from baseball practice, Yunho was usually right beside him. He stayed for dinner often enough that your mother stopped asking if he'd be joining. Weekend sleepovers turned into blanket forts upstairs, afternoons at the park became bike rides home together, and before long, he'd somehow become part of your family too.

Unlike Hongjoong, who insisted your drawings looked "weird," Yunho always asked to see whatever you'd been working on. He'd sit beside you on the floor flipping through your sketchbook with genuine interest, tell you your art was cool, and remind you to keep drawing whenever you doubted yourself. If Hongjoong stole the last snack your parents left out, Yunho somehow always made sure you still got half.

Looking back, it was probably inevitable.

Your first crush didn't happen because of one grand moment.

It happened quietly, over hundreds of ordinary ones.

Growing up changed things.

By the time you started high school, Hongjoong and Yunho were on the varsity baseball team. Practices ran later, tournaments filled their weekends, and conversations that used to revolve around cartoons and video games slowly shifted toward college applications, baseball, and whichever girl had slipped a note into Yunho's locker that week.

You had your own friends by then. Your own clubs. Your own life.

Without anyone really noticing, the afternoons you spent with them became fewer and farther between.

Somewhere along the way, your childish crush quietly tucked itself away, becoming one of those things you only remembered when someone brought up middle school.

It wasn't anyone's fault. Life simply got busier. You had your own friends now, your own clubs after school, your own homework that seemed to multiply overnight. Some days Yunho would still come over for dinner, other days you'd only catch glimpses of him as he and Hongjoong disappeared upstairs, laughing about something that happened at practice.

Life scattered all three of you in different directions after that.

Hongjoong left for college first.

Then Yunho.

A few years later, you left for Seoul.

By the time you moved back to Los Angeles, Jeong Yunho had become someone you mostly heard about through your brother's stories—a familiar name attached to someone who no longer felt like part of your everyday life.

III. “I KEEP TELLING YOU, STOP EATING OUR FOOD.” 

Hana screams at your brother, who was currently rummaging through your cabinets. 

It’s been a week since you moved in, and today was your first day at work, while it was Hana’s first day of freshman year.

The dynamic hadn’t always been like this. For the first couple of days, you and Hana mostly stayed at the apartment, trying to feel more at home. Hongjoong would pop in every now and then and made sure you were adjusting well, even cooking dinner for the three of you in your new kitchen. You barely saw his roommates as Hongjoong said they were waiting for you to get accustomed to living at the apartment before they could start hanging out with you.

Naturally, that lasted all of four days. 

First, it was San, who wanted to borrow your clothes steamer since his broke. Then, it was Mingi, who only really came over to check out the snacks you had just bought at the grocery that day. Hongjoong had stopped pretending he knocked before entering. Sometimes you’d regret giving him the door code because whenever you came home from running errands he was already lounging at his designated spot on the couch, eating chips with Mingi. 

The only one who never seemed to invite himself over was Yunho. You’d catch him in passing every now and then. Sometimes he’d stop by with Hongjoong after work to ask how unpacking was going.Sometimes you’d exchange a few words in the hallway. Like nothing has changed. 

“Don’t you boys have food over at yours?” Hana continues her rant, while Hongjoong makes himself a sandwich. 

To be fair, he'd shown up with coffee for both of you, reminded Hana three separate times not to forget her student ID, and insisted on checking whether you'd packed lunch. So maybe he was entitled to one sandwich.

You had just finished getting ready, making sure that your clothes were neat and your makeup looked good. You were just about to leave before Hongjoong and Hana started bickering. Hana’s first class didn’t start until 10, which is why you were leaving an hour earlier than she has to. Hongjoong, on the other hand, had an irregular work schedule which comes with his assistant directing job, which meant he was there early to terrorize you. 

Hongjoong looked over. 

“Shouldn’t you be leaving by now?” 

“I’m literally leaving,” you say, slipping your shoes on. “Try not to burn the apartment down.” 

“No promises!” you hear as you close your front door, the melodic chiming of the door lock filling the empty hallway. 

You round the corner to the elevators and find Yunho already waiting, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Hey,” he greets you. “First day today?” 

It suddenly occurred to you that unlike the others, Yunho also worked a regular nine-to-five. Hongjoong had mentioned he was in finance, which meant the two of you would probably be leaving for work around the same time every morning.

You nodded, shifting the strap of your work bag higher on your shoulder. 

“Yeah. New office, new team.” You smiled sheepishly. “Trying not to embarrass myself on day one.” 

"You won't."

The answer came so quickly that it caught you off guard.

Yunho glanced at you before looking back at the elevator doors.

"You're good at what you do."

For a moment, all you could do was stare.

"How do you know that?"

He shrugged, almost as if the answer was obvious.

"Hongjoong talks."

You let out a laugh. "He does?"

"All the time."

The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open. He lets you go in first, before stepping in and standing beside you, facing the doors.

The elevator’s empty, save for the both of you. There’s an awkward pause, the both of you trying to think of ways to fill the space. 

“So how was Seoul? We never really got to catch up after we left for college,” he asks, while you watch the numbers on the wall go down. You guess this was how he decided to break the silence, straight into it. 

“Um,” you hover. “It was a lot.” you let out a chuckle. 

“A lot good?” 

“A lot everything.” you reply. “I mean, the job was great, I learned a lot from my seniors and it was great being in a new environment, but it really does take a lot out of you. So when we found out Hana got accepted to college here, I decided to apply for a job in L.A.” 

The doors open again, this time a middle-aged woman pushing a stroller steps in, standing in front of both of you. But Yunho decides to keep talking. 

“You know, I was surprised when Joong told us you were moving back.” 

“You were?” 

“I thought you liked it there.” 

“I did.”

He looked at you then, eyebrows knitting together. The baby in the stroller lets out a small whine. 

“I also liked sleeping.” 

That earned a laugh. 

“It just felt like time,” you added. He gives you a nod at that. 

“I get that.”

The elevators slide open. You both get out then, muttering a polite “excuse me”, as you step around the woman and her baby while the both of you get out to the parking. 

“I was also surprised you were Hongjoong’s roommate again. He told me before you moved out like a year ago,” you say, as you walked toward the parking lot.

He rubs the back of his neck, “Ah. Yeah. Things didn’t work out where I was staying so I decided to move back.” 

You nod, not really knowing what to say. 

You stop in front of your car, unlocking it with your keys. 

“This is me. I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah, of course. Good luck today, YN,” Yunho smiles again, and you clutch at your keys a little harder. 

“You too.” 

He waves you off before walking to his car a few feet down. When you get in, you look at yourself at your rearview mirror and let out a big huff of air you didn’t know you were holding. 

Your first day at the Golden Hour Marketing Firm went surprisingly well. You spent the rest of your 20-minute drive to work, practicing introductions so you wouldn’t shit yourself in front of your new team. Your manager had introduced you warmly, filling you in on your role and showing you around. 

By lunchtime, you’d already learned the names of most of your immediate team, survived HR orientation, and only gotten lost twice trying to find the pantry. On your break, Hongjoong sends you a text. 

joongie 🐲

baby sis has been sent off and on her way

she insisted i do NOT drop her off, unfortunately

mission complete regardless, boss 🫡

yn 🧚‍♀️

noted, with thanks 

don’t tell me you’re still at our apartment 

joongie 🐲

mingi thinks you should change your curtains 

yn 🧚‍♀️

i think mingi should get out of my house

joongie 🐲

too late we’re watching yt on ur tv now 

have a great day at work byeeee

yn 🧚‍♀️

me and hana are changing our door code when we get home 

Brand marketing has always been your thing. Growing up, you had a creative side. You were crafty, and always looking for inspiration. But somewhere along the way, that creativity evolved into something more strategic. You found yourself fascinated by what caught people's attention, what made a campaign memorable, and why some brands connected with people while others didn't. Over the years, you worked hard trying to build a career for yourself. You were good at your job.

Seoul had taught you that much.

The pace had been relentless, the expectations impossibly high, and more nights than you cared to admit had been spent asleep at your desk rather than in your apartment. But it had also shaped you into the person you were today.

Moving back to Los Angeles didn't feel like starting over.

It felt like finally giving yourself permission to breathe.

The first thing you noticed when you got home, toeing off your heels by the doorway, was the noise. You'd heard laughter and the clatter of pots and pans before you even unlocked the door.

The moment you stepped inside, Yunho looked up from the counter.

"How was—"

“You’re home!” Hana runs over to give you a hug before Yunho could finish his sentence.. 

Out of the three of you, she’s always been the most affectionate, giving you kisses on the cheek and hugs every now and then. Hongjoong sometimes acts like he doesn’t like it, but when he picked you up with your boxes when you first moved in, he was the first to hug her. 

“How’s your first day?” she asks, still clinging on to you.

“It was great,” you slipped off your heels. “I actually made a work friend today. “

 "See?"

Hana grinned.

"I told you."

You looked around.

San was stirring something on your stove while Hongjoong tosses vegetables in a bowl. Mingi, as you expected, is sitting on your couch, watching some kind of documentary. 

You last notice Yunho standing right by the kitchen, looking like he had just gotten home as well. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, his suit jacket slung over one arm, and his work bag sits abandoned by Mingi's feet.

“Why are these people in our apartment?” you say as Hana lets you go. 

“Dinner party!” San announced.

“Hyung and I wanted to cook you guys dinner to celebrate your first day.” He points to Hongjoong. 

“We’re celebrating!”

“You, how was your first day? Meet anyone new?” you ask her. 

“Eh, it was okay. My classes are cool though. Some guy in my class asked me for my number,” she shrugged. 

“What.” Hongjoong freezes, gripping the bowl. 

“You didn’t tell me that earlier!” Hongjoong crosses his arms.

Hana huffs in annoyance. “Because I knew you’d act like this.” 

“Did you say no?” 

“I gave him my Instagram instead.” 

“You WHAT?” A couple of decibels higher and San would have to physically hold Hongjoong back. 

“My dear big brother, I’m eighteen,” Hana whines, “let me live.”

“You can start living once you're forty-five.” 

The argument continued without either of them expecting to win. Yunho shook his head with a quiet laugh as he reached over to take the bowl from Hongjoong before he accidentally crushed the lettuce in his grip. 

“She is eighteen, Joong.” 

“Don’t encourage her.” 

“I’m encouraging you to breathe.”

“Need any help?” you ask, as you walk over to the kitchen. 

“We’re good, you can sit over by Mingi and relax. It was your first day,” San says, pointing over to where Mingi was sitting. 

“I’d rather not, he’s watching something weird. I think it’s a documentary about Bigfoot.” 

The three of you, while your siblings chase each other in the background, talk about your days. You learn that San works from home in a tech company, and Yunho got home around five minutes before you did. 

In the middle of your conversation, you felt a gentle hand brush your shoulder. You turned just in time to see Yunho lifting the strap of your work bag off your shoulder before setting it on one of the dining chairs. You hadn’t even realized you still had it on you. 

“You’ve been carrying it this whole time,” he said simply before returning to the cutting board. 

“Thanks, I didn’t even notice,” you muttered. 

“No problem.” He turned back to the cutting board as if it hadn't been worth mentioning.

You reached for one of the bowls in the cabinet, clearing your throat before calling out for Mingi.

“Hey Bigfoot! Come set the table with me.”

Dinner ended up being louder than the cooking. Mostly because Hongjoong refused to let Hana tell the story about the guy from her class without interrupting every five seconds. Your conversations drifted from work to college to Hongjoong’s latest nightmare of a film set. You exchanged laughs every now and then, at one point, Mingi spilling on himself. By the time dinner was over, the sun had disappeared beyond the apartment windows. 

You offered to wash the dishes since the boys had cooked. As you carry a stack of plates in your arms, Yunho strides in beside you without a word, carrying the rest of the dishes with his sleeves rolled up. 

You settled into a comfortable rhythm—you washed while he rinsed.

“Hana seems like she’s adjusting pretty well,” Yunho breaks the silence. 

Across the room, Hana, Hongjoong, San, and Mingi had abandoned the dining table in favor of the coffee table, where an Uno game had quickly turned into a shouting match.

(“THE RULES WHERE I PLAYED IS YOU CAN ONLY PUT DOWN DRAW FOUR IT ONLY IF THERE’S ALREADY A DRAW FOUR CARD.”

“I DON’T CARE. DRAW SIX .”

“Both of you shut up. Hongjoong, draw six,” San says.) 

You smile to yourself, handing him another plate. “Yeah. I was worried she’d have a hard time moving to a new city. But she’s always been brave. And I think she just really missed her big brother.” 

“She missed you too, you know,” Yunho said after a beat. 

“Hmm?” you glanced up. 

“When Hongjoong and I came back home to visit, she always talked about you.” Yunho said, setting another plate on the drying rack. “Every summer she’d try to convince Hongjoong to take her to Seoul.” 

“She never told me that.” 

“Hongjoong probably missed you two the most, though. The first night you guys moved in? I walked into the apartment to look for him and found him sitting on your couch after you guys went to bed.” 

“I thought he had already gone back to yours,” you giggle. 

“Nope. I asked him and he said he was standing guard in case someone tried to break in,” he laughed. 

“That’s stupid, the only people breaking into this apartment are him and Mingi.” 

There’s another comfortable silence. 

“Hey, YN?” 

“We may act like a bunch of old idiots,“ He nodded toward the living room, where Hongjoong was accusing San of cheating at Uno. 

“But if you ever need anything, you know can always come over, right?”

Something in your chest softened.

"I know. Thanks, Yunho."

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The water continued running between your hands as another plate passed from you to him.

Somehow, standing here with him felt... easy.

Not because the awkwardness had disappeared.

It hadn't.

But because, for the first time since moving back, you weren't trying so hard to fill every silence between you.

Some silences, it turned out, didn't need filling at all.

IV. EVERY MORNING, AROUND 8:15, YOU LEAVE YOUR APARTMENT. 

Every morning, around 8:15, Yunho is somehow already waiting for the elevator. 

The first couple of days, you assume it’s a coincidence. By Thursday, you’re not so sure. 

Sometimes he’s already waiting. Sometimes he steps out of his apartment just as you lock yours. On Thursday morning, Yunho is waiting with two plastic cups of coffee. 

“San got a new coffee machine,” he says, handing you one. “He made too much.” 

You eye the cup, taking it anyway. “Tell San thanks.” 

“I will.”

As the elevator arrives, you miss the tiny smile that pulls at the corner of Yunho’s mouth. 

The rest of the weeks go by like this: 

You’d find Yunho waiting by the elevator, always with a second cup of coffee for you. The elevator rides became longer conversations, mostly about his roommates’ latest antics and the office romance brewing between two heads of your department.

You’d walk over to your cars side-by-side. On the drive to work, sometimes you’d catch Yunho’s car beside you at a stoplight, letting out two beeps, lifting two fingers from the steering wheel in a lazy salute before the light turned green.  

You’d gotten close with your brothers’ other roommates too. As much as you hate to admit it. 

San had also started treating your apartment like a second home. Sometimes he'd stop by just to water Hana's plants while the two of you were out, claiming, "You'd be surprised how many people accidentally kill succulents."

Mingi, in particular, only ever texted you when he needed rescuing.

The first time it happened, it was barely three weeks after you moved in. Your phone buzzed in the middle of a Saturday morning. 

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

yn 

yn kim 

what do you want

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

sos 

yn kim 

you’re alive enough to text 

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

girl i need ur help

yn kim 

???

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

the girl i brought home last night won’t leave 

could u come over and pretend ur like my crazy ex or something 

yn kim 

absolutely not 

ask san 

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

PLEASE

the boys left to play pickleball 

she wants us to have breakfast 

yn kim 

then get breakfast with her? 

mingi jfc it’s 8 in the morning

mingi (hongjoong’s roommate) 🐤

i NEVER have breakfast w my hookups

pls ill buy u boba for a month

yn kim 

deal

Ten minutes later, you find yourself standing in front of his apartment, questioning whether this was worth the boba. 

The door flew open before you even had a chance to knock.

"I owe you my life."

He stepped aside to let you in before lowering his voice.

"She's in the kitchen."

It happened again.

And then again.

By the fourth time, you no longer asked questions.

You'd simply knock on their apartment, sigh dramatically, and say,

"Where is she?"

Mingi would point toward his room.

"Thank you for your service."

On Friday nights, your group somehow always ended up at the same Korean barbecue place a few blocks away. San and Yunho usually took over the grill while Hongjoong argued that he could cook the meat just as well. Mingi would inevitably declare he was "too full for dessert," only to be the first one ordering boba ten minutes later.

It wasn't long before you met the rest of their circle, too. There was Yeosang and Jongho, San's coworkers who somehow always ended up as the voice of reason; Wooyoung, whose favorite pastime seemed to be irritating San just to get a reaction; and Seonghwa, an old college friend of your brother's who, much to your amusement, was one of the few people capable of making Hongjoong visibly nervous.

Most nights, it was just the six of you, drifting between your apartment and theirs as if there was no real distinction anymore. Someone would inevitably pull a movie from the ever-growing stack Hongjoong had collected over the years, and before long, all six of you would be crammed onto whichever couch had enough space, arguing over what to watch before inevitably settling on something everyone had already seen at least twice.

It was the little things as well, that showed how you all cared for each other like a real family. San and Hongjoong somehow made it their mission to pack yours and Hana's lunches every morning. Mingi, surprisingly, had become self-appointed host of girls' nights, barging into your apartment with face masks, a tub of ice cream, and the announcement that "the boys are pissing me off again."

And then there was Yunho.

It wasn't anything grand. At least, you didn't think so.

He was simply thoughtful.

If your hands were full, he'd take whatever you were carrying without asking. If everyone went out for coffee, yours somehow always ended up paid for. When movie nights stretched past midnight and one of you started nodding off on the couch, he'd throw a blanket over you. You’d seen him do it to San and Mingi once, patting their heads before he settled back in his seat.

You told yourself he was just like that.

So you tried not to think too much about the way you'd occasionally catch him looking at you whenever one of Hongjoong's movies made you cry, or how he always seemed to notice when work had worn you down before you'd even said a word.

Your routine quickly settled into place. Until one Monday, it wasn’t. 

You unlocked your car, tossed your bag onto the passenger seat, and turned the key. 

Click. 

“...No.” 

You tried again. 

Click. 

Your shoulders slumped. 

“No, no, no.” 

You let your forehead fall against the steering wheel. You were already running late, instead of your usual 8:15, you came rushing out of your apartment by 8:30, and Yunho, bless his soul, was still waiting by the elevator by the time you arrived. 

A car stops by your parking spot, Yunho rolling down his window. 

“You okay?” 

“My car chose violence this morning.” 

He laughed quietly, before sliding out of the driver’s seat and coming to your side. “Can I try?” 

You stepped out, handing him the keys. 

He slid into the driver’s seat and gave the ignition a try.

Click. 

Once. 

Twice. 

“I think your battery’s dead.”

You groaned. 

“Great.” 

"Could be worse."

"Could it?"

"You could've found out halfway to work."

"Don't say things like that."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He reached through the open passenger door of your car, grabbing your work bag before picking up the coffee you'd abandoned in the cup holder.

You blinked.

"What are you doing?"

“Good thing your office is right by my route, and I’m also the best person in the world,” he says.

“Pardon?” you ask. 

“You’re riding with me. Get in if you want to make it before work.” 

“I can just call an Uber."

"You can."

He started walking toward his car.

"Or..."

He held up your bag.

"...you can save forty bucks and let me drive you. Hongjoong would kill me if I left you here to book an Uber."

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your smile as you climbed in.

"You're unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

He closed the door before walking around to the driver's side.

As he started the engine, he glanced over.

“We’ll call the mechanic during lunch and have Hongjoong meet him. You gave him the spare key, right?” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I know.” 

He pulled out of the parking garage. 

“But I was going to anyway.” 

When you were on the main road, neither of you spoke anymore. You shifted in your seat, suddenly aware that you'd never actually been alone with Yunho like this before. Usually there was Hongjoong in the passenger seat, Mingi yelling from the back, or Hana changing the music every thirty seconds.

Sensing the awkwardness in the air, Yunho reached toward the center console. 

“You can connect your phone if you want.” 

“You sure?” 

“As long as you don’t play any Taylor Swift. Mingi likes to sing in the shower.”

You laughed. 

“Of course he does.” 

You plugged your phone in, scrolling through your playlists before settling on one you’d been listening to on repeat lately. 

As the music flows in the car, Yunho taps the steering wheel in time with the music while you look out the window, watching the city blur past. 

The rest of the drive slipped by easily. 

You talked about work. 

About Hana mentioning another guy from one of her classes, nearly giving Hongjoong a heart attack.

About Mingi somehow bringing the same girl over for the third time despite insisting he "wasn't looking for anything serious."

By the time Yunho pulled up outside your office building, you were surprised you’d already arrived. 

He shifted the car into park. 

“What time do you get off?” 

“Six.” 

He nodded once. 

“I’ll pick you up.” 

“You don’t–” he cuts you off. 

“Nope, I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

“Okay,” you smile.

You clear your throat and reach for the door handle. 

“Thanks Yunho. See you later.” 

You stepped out of the car, adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

Just as you reached the sidewalk, his window rolled down.

"YN."

You turned.

"I'll see you at six."

By the time six o’clock rolled around, your brain felt like mush.

The first full Monday of campaign planning had consisted of three meetings, two brainstorming sessions, and an alarming amount of coffee.

When Yunho comes to pick you up, you could barely keep your eyes open. 

“For YN Kim?” Yunho says as you sit in the passenger seat, in a perfectly practiced customer service voice.

You looked at him.

"...Yes?"

"Destination?"

You deadpanned.

"Home."

He nodded solemnly.

"Excellent choice."

"Driver, I'd also like to request silence."

"Unfortunately, this ride includes complimentary conversation."

You laugh silently as Yunho drives the car back on the road. 

“Long day?” 

You let out a dramatic sigh. 

“You don’t even wanna know. I sat through three meetings that could've been emails.”

He winced sympathetically. 

“You can nap for a bit if you want, it’s sushi night at our place. You know how Hana and Joong get when there’s sushi involved.” 

“Ugh, I forgot about that. Are you sure it’s okay?” 

“Yeah. We’ve got twenty minutes before we get home.” He shrugged. “I’ll wake you up.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught him turning the volume down on the console. You said nothing, pretending not to notice.

By the time you got home, Yunho had woken you up with a gentle nudge to your shoulder, and a soft “we’re here” before you could even adjust to your surroundings. 

In the middle of dinner, while you were all having different conversations, San’s suddenly looked up from his sushi.

“Yunho, I have a bone to pick with you,” he says seriously, pointing a chopstick at him. You supposed he was feeling tipsy, if not for the soju bottle he split with Mingi. 

“That sounds ominous,” Hana says, stealing a piece of salmon from Hongjoong’s plate. 

“What did I do?” Yunho asks. 

“You finished my coffee beans.” 

“...Again?” Hongjoong sighs. 

“Again.” 

“Wait,” you interrupted. “I thought you always made too much coffee.” 

San frowned, “Those are Guatemalan beans, YN. I don’t just make ‘too much’.”

"Then why has Yunho been bringing me coffee every morning?"

Yunho answered before San could.

"I just make an extra cup while I'm there."

You nodded as though that explained everything.

"That makes sense."

"Does it?" Mingi asked around a mouthful of rice.

Yunho shot him a look.

"What?"

"Nothing." Mingi raised both hands in surrender.

Across the table, San quietly met Yunho's eyes.

Yunho looked away first.

Before the silence could linger, Hongjoong reached across the table and stole the last piece of nigiri from Hana's plate.

After that dinner, you found yourself thinking about the coffee more often than you cared to admit.

Every morning Yunho still handed you a cup without fail, and every morning you caught yourself wondering whether he'd actually been making an extra one... or whether he'd been making one specifically for you all along.

It was a dangerous train of thought.

So you stopped letting yourself think about it.

V. ‘THE BITCH IS BACK’ IS PLAYING IN YOUR EARPHONES WHEN YOU PUT THE LAST ROLLER ON YOUR HAIR.

“I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch, oh, the bitch is back…” You sang quietly under your breath, swaying to the music as you leaned closer to the mirror you'd dragged onto the kitchen island. You were currently getting ready in your kitchen, rollers in your hair, and makeup on the counter. 

Your coworker, Johnny, had asked you out for an annual marketing forum that your firm sponsored. He didn’t have to, because you were planning on going anyway, but it was nice to get asked out again after a while. 

Your dress was laid over the couch as you sat on one of the kitchen stools in your underwear and a robe hanging off your shoulders, because you couldn’t risk getting powder on it before you could even wear it. 

You stood up, grabbing the tube of mascara that had rolled onto the floor, singing the rest of the chorus, and swaying along dramatically.

You were so into it that you didn’t notice your front door beeping. 

“It’s the way that I move, the things that I do, oh-oh-oh!” 

“Oh shit.” 

When you turn around, you didn’t expect to see Yunho standing frozen in the doorway. You let out a surprised gasp, tying the strings on your robe. Yunho just saw you in your underwear, and you were acting like an idiot. 

He also hadn’t expected anyone to be home. When Hongjoong told him the door code, he was told you would’ve been gone by now. 

His eyes met yours and immediately darted somewhere over your shoulder. 

“I, uh, sorry.  Hongjoong told me you were gone, I came to pick up his hard drive that he left here.” 

“Why didn’t he get it himself?” You say, your face flushed. Yunho’s ears had turned red.

Cute, you thought. 

“He’s in the middle of editing,” Yunho said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He asked me to grab it since I was already heading out.”

“I think it’s over there,” you gestured vaguely towards your coffee table. 

“Right.” 

Neither of you moved. 

Yunho cleared his throat before keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the table as he crossed the room. He found the hard drive almost immediately.

Silence.

You couldn't remember the last time the apartment had felt this small.

He turned to leave before hesitating.

“Hongjoong said you have a work event today?” he asks, while you go back to your seat. 

“Yeah, I was supposed to go alone but my coworker, Johnny, asked me to go with him.” 

Yunho gave a slow nod.

"Johnny."

"Mm-hmm."

"From work?"

"Creatives."

"Is he nice?"

You let out a small laugh.

"Why are you interviewing me?"

"He's moving kind of fast."

You let out a laugh.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"No, say it."

Yunho shifted awkwardly, gripping the hard drive a little tighter.

"I'm just saying... asking someone out after a month."

"It's not a date."

"Isn't it?"

You shrugged.

"I don't know. It's a work event."

"Just the two of you?"

"...Yes?"

"So..."

He trailed off.

"That sounds like a date."

“Maybe.”

For the first time since he'd walked in, Yunho genuinely looked stumped.

Like he'd asked himself the same question and didn't have an answer.

He looked away.

"Forget I said anything." You raised an eyebrow. 

“Um, I should go,” he says after a beat. 

You nod, smiling. 

He turns back around with a hand on the knob,”YN?”

“Yeah?”

“You look beautiful by the way.” 

Your smile softened.

"I haven't even put the dress on yet."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

"I know."

Another beat.

"Have fun tonight."

Before you could say anything else, he slipped out the door.

What was that? 

When Yunho gets back to his apartment, he makes a beeline for Hongjoong’s door. 

He knocks, quite aggressively, three times before letting himself in. 

The sight of Hongjoong hunched over his desk and tweaking with the film he’s working on one of his three monitors greets him. Headphones are over his head while he has a hand on his chin. 

If he wasn’t working, Yunho might’ve smacked his hard drive on his head. 

“Hongjoong.” He shoves his shoulder with the hard drive. Hongjoong flinches before realizing it’s him, and takes his headphones off

“Here,” he grumbles. 

“What’s up with you? It took you like five minutes to get back from across the hall.”

Yunho’s supposed to be heading out, but he figures there’s no use anymore, embarrassment clouding his mind and a deep motivation to strangle the man in front of him. 

“YN was there, idiot. You told me she’d be gone.” 

Hongjoong glances at the clock on his desk, “Oops, I think she said Johnny was picking her up at six, not five.” 

“Well, I walked in and she was home.” He closes his eyes for a second. “And I might have embarrassed both of us.” He sighs.

“Did you catch her singing Elton John again? She loves to do that when she gets ready,” Hongjoong says, plugging the hard drive on his computer. 

Yunho nods. He decides not to tell him that he caught her in just her underwear and a robe, though. He’d seen how Hongjoong gets over his sisters. 

“Did you know she was going on a date?” He asks instead. 

“Yeah, some work guy named Johnny.” Hongjoong replies, monotonously. 

Hongjoong clicked through his editing timeline before speaking again.

“Is she done getting ready yet? I told her to send me and Hana pictures before she left.” Hongjoong adds. Yunho’s eyebrows quirk up in surprise. 

“You’re okay with YN going on a date?” he asks. Just the other day, Hongjoong launched a 5-minute tirade about Hana going to a college party that mostly talked about “NO BOYS”. 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You practically put Hana under house arrest because some guy asked for her Instagram.” 

Hongjoong scoffs, “That’s different. Hana is a baby. She enjoys making my blood pressure spike.” 

“How is that different?” 

“Listen, I know I’m the eldest, but YN spent years taking care of everyone else and raising Hana. All she does is work alongside being a good sister, the least she deserves is to get pretty, go out with a coworker on a date, and have fun,” Hongjoong says with a fond look on his face.  

Hongjoong studied him for a second. Then a slow grin spread across his face.

"...Why do you care so much?"

Yunho's head snapped up.

“I don’t. I was just asking.” Hongjoong smirks.

 “I’m serious.” 

“You know YN doesn’t date much. So I know Johnny isn’t really her type.” Hongjoong leaned back in his chair. “She'd rather spend years getting to know someone than jump into something because they asked.” 

“And you know her type?” 

“I’ve been her brother for twenty-six years.” 

Yunho doesn’t speak a word after, his eyes to the floor. 

“I’ll let you figure that out.” 

The date went well. Johnny was easy to be around. Confident, funny, effortlessly sociable. He made conversation with everyone he met, pulled you into group photos, and by the time your workmates migrated to the after-party, he'd somehow convinced half the room onto the dance floor. 

You thought it would be enough to distract you from your thoughts and whatever’s going on at home. But you think all Johnny could ever be to you was a friend. 

If anything, he’d been thoughtful and easy to talk to. But he wasn’t the problem. The problem was that somewhere over the last few months, you’d grown used to a different kind of kindness. One that was quiet and consistent. 

The sort that remembered how you took your coffee, carried your bag without asking, and turned the television down when you looked tired without another word. The kind that would pay attention if you weren’t feeling well, or knew everything about you. 

By the time you get home, you realized you hadn't spent the evening getting to know Johnny. 

You spent the entire night wondering what it would’ve been like if Yunho had been there instead. 

VI. WHEN MONDAY ROLLED AROUND, YOU NOTICED YUNHO HAD CHANGED.

The Monday after you went on a date, he'd ask how your weekend was. When you told him, you don't think Johnny and you could be more than friends, he stifles a grin and nods in understanding.

He still waited for you by the elevator and handed you another cup of coffee without a word. 

There was still the coffee (When has it ever stopped?), the elevator conversations, and small smiles you’d throw at each other. 

But you also noticed, the line between being neighbors and potentially something more started to blur. 

It was subtle at first, a hand on your back when you left the elevator, or instead of separating as soon as you got to your car, he would wait until you closed your car door. But then you noticed he kept making excuses to be close to you, to touch you. 

Whenever it was movie night, he’d go as far as shoving Mingi to the other end of the couch just so he could sit next to you. 

(“You didn’t have to shove the poor guy,” you whisper as he grabs a handful of the popcorn on your lap.

“He’s fine. He was taking up too much space on the couch.”

“Mingi’s pouting.”

“Shh. Just let me sit next to you.” 

“Jeong Yunho!” Mingi shouts, throwing a pillow at him. 

By the end of the night, your head, however, had somehow found its way onto Yunho's shoulder.) 

After dinners together, he'd linger just enough to fall into step beside you while everyone else walked ahead. Whenever you crossed the street, his fingers would wrap loosely around your wrist—or sometimes your hand.

"Cars," he'd explain every single time.

As if that answered everything.

As if he wasn't still holding your hand long after you'd reached the sidewalk.

Even though Hongjoong had gotten your battery replaced, Yunho started insisting you carpool with him to work. He’d made a pretty good argument, that gas prices were crazy high and it would be better for the environment now if you rode to work together.

He’d open the car door for you, be at your office at six on the dot, and always let you choose a playlist. He’d have a different excuse every day like if you were carrying too many things, or if Hongjoong needed both of you to drop by at the store. You would've said yes regardless. 

If your friends noticed, they didn’t say a thing. They watched as you and Yunho cooked dinner together, bumping shoulders and sharing looks that definitely meant that there was something there. When you would get home and start complaining about work, Yunho would drop everything and listen to you. 

(“I don’t think they realize we’re still here,” Mingi whispers. 

“They’re in their own world at this point, I could set myself on fire and Yunho would still be making heart eyes at her,” San grumbles, watching you and Yunho laugh by the couch. 

“Do you think they know?” Hana says. 

“Nah. They’re both idiots. And slow. But I’d let them figure it out.” 

“Figure out what?” Hongjoong asks as he steps out from the bathroom. 

“Nothing.”) 

You know things are changing. And as you hate to admit it, the crush you had on him years ago came back and has evolved into something deeper. Whenever he’s close to you, you’re painfully aware of his presence, your heart beats a little bit faster, and you find yourself looking for him in every room you enter. 

Almost six months after you moved in, and a little over a month since you and Yunho have settled into dangerous territory, your brother announces he’s been chosen to direct all on his own. Suddenly, you and your friends (except for Hana who’s not only underage but had a late night dance practice that day) end up at a bar after Hongjoong’s celebratory dinner.

“DIRECTOR BABY!” San screams, after taking a shot, and kissing Hongjoong’s cheek, and laughing when he gets pushed away. 

You’ve been sitting in a booth for about an hour, when the next round of beers come in. Wooyoung had dragged Mingi with him to the dance floor by the second round, while Yeosang and Jongho sat across from you, whispering to each other. San and Hongjoong were absolutely gone. San had turned red by the first shot, and Hongjoong downed at least five after you learned that Seonghwa wouldn’t be able to come. 

It ran in the family though, because you were second to being absolutely gone as well. 

“Here,” Yunho came back to your booth with a glass of water and hands it to you. 

“Thanks.”

You hadn’t meant to get drunk, but you were celebrating, and then too many shots came and Yunho was so close, you kept thinking of kissing him. So you kept up with the shots and now you feel dizzy, your head spinning. Yunho, being the nicest person ever, stayed completely sober since you arrived.

He put an arm around you when you lean a bit too far to your side. You wish he wasn’t this close because you might actually kiss him this time. You take a sip of the water as you try to focus on your surroundings.

“If you stopped blubbering like an idiot every time Seonghwa talked to you, maybe he would’ve come,” San teases Hongjoong with a matching hiccup. 

“He’s so pretty. Did you know he’s so pretty San?” Hongjoong cries, hand reaching out to grab another shot.

“Yep, okay that’s enough,” Yunho says from beside you and dragging the tray of shots away. “All of you are officially cut off.”

You hear groans coming from the two drunk men in front of you but as you turn your head to look at him like this, serious but with an expression of someone who is used to taking care of people and the sharp tick of his jaw, you think fuck, you really like him. And he’s so pretty.

He’s wearing a white button-up shirt with the top three  left unbuttonned and dark slacks that highlight his long legs and tiny waist. His hand that’s rubbing along the side of your shoulder is cold from the silver rings on his fingers. 

“You’re so pretty,” you murmur before you can stop yourself. 

“What?” he laughs.

“You’re so pretty, you’ve always been pretty,” you repeat, feeling more confident after all the alcohol has kicked in. 

“You really are Hongjoong’s little sister,” he whispers, his wide grin fading into something smaller, the kind that’s only reserved for you. Little sister. You thought with the way he was looking at you, it wouldn’t hurt. But there’s the familiar pang in your chest when you hear it. 

Before you could ask him what he meant, Wooyoung and Mingi come back to your booth.

“What am I looking at here?” Wooyoung raises an eyebrow at you and the two friends in front of you. You stop looking at Yunho then, leaning your head back on the couch while your eyes start drifting slowly. 

“They’re drunk off their minds. I think it’s time to go home,” Jongho says, pointing to the three of you, with a tone so clear you wouldn’t think he’s had more to drink than you. 

You all clear out the booth then, Yeosang and Mingi with their arms on Hongjoong and San, while Wooyoung and Jongho trailed behind. Yunho helped you get to your feet with an arm around your waist and your bag in his hands. 

The air is cold when you step outside, and the sidewalk feels gummy as you struggle to stand up. It was early in the morning, you assumed around 3 am. You were so out of it, your mind going back to little sister, while the boys around you figure out what to do with the drunk ones. 

“Hyung, stop squirming or I’ll call Seonghwa,” Yeosang says, the only other one who was sober, as he tries to get Hongjoong to stand. 

“Do. Not. Call. Him.” Hongjoong says in between hiccups, yet doesn’t make any move to stand up straight. 

“Yunho, did you bring your car?” Yeosang asks. Yunho nods. 

“Okay, I’ll take these guys with me home, could you–“ Yeosang gets cut off.

“I got her.” 

“Great, because Hongjoong looks like he’s going to puke any second from now and my car’s right up here so we’ll get going.” Yeosang sighs, as he struggles to lift your brother up. 

Mingi and Wooyoung stay behind at the club, something about wanting to dance more. 

By the time your brother and the rest get settled in Yeosang’s car, you and Yunho end up alone on the sidewalk. 

“Come on, YN, let’s go,” he says, steadying you with an arm. 

“It’s okay, I-I can just call an Uber,” you say with conviction, despite the pounding in your head.

“YN, I’m not letting you get into an Uber. My car’s just right up the street.” 

You wanted to say more, to ask him why he called you that earlier, but your head really hurt and you wanted to get home, so you nod. 

“Can you walk?”

“I can.”

You absolutely cannot, and Yunho can tell because he holds you even closer so you don’t fall onto the floor, leading you to his car. 

He helps you get into the passenger seat and clicks your seatbelt into place.

As he drives you home, it’s silent. You struggle to keep your eyes open, as you watch Yunho tap on his steering wheel rhythmically. Neither of you speak, had it been a work day,  you’d be talking each other's ears off. 

When he parks the car in your apartment complex, you wake up when he’s opened your door. 

“Hey,” he says softly, “we’re home.”

The elevator ride up is the most daunting thing to ever exist. The alcohol hasn’t worn off, but it pushes you to decide to break the silence anyway.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah?”

You take a deep breath as you hold on to the elevator railing.

“When are you going to stop being so confusing?” 

“What are you talking about?”

You sigh, letting the words flow out of you before you could tell your brain to stop. 

“You do all these things,” you wave vaguely between the two of you. “You look at me like,” like you’re in love with me.  “Then call me Hongjoong’s little sister at the end of the night.”

“YN.”

“I wish you’d stop reminding me whose sister I am.” 

He stares at you, speechless.

“Because every time you say it…” Your voice softens. “…I feel stupid for thinking maybe you meant something else.”

“I–,” 

The elevator dings.

Before he can finish, you hurry out, nearly tripping over your own feet as you make your way down the hallway. You bump your shoulder into the wall once, then again, before finally stopping in front of your apartment.

“Where the fuck are my keys?” you mutter, patting every pocket of your dress in growing frustration just as Yunho catches up beside you.

“You don’t have keys, your door uses a code,” he says.

“Oh.”

When he unlocks the door, you stumble into your room, Yunho following close behind. 

“YN, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“God, my feet hurt,” you deflect, tearing off your heels and throwing it in random directions.

Yunho closes the bedroom door behind him. 

“YN.” 

“Don’t.” you sigh. 

“Can you just look at me?”

You shake your head.

“If I look at you, you’re going to explain it away.”

He falls silent.

“Explain what away?” You laugh, but it comes out tired.

“Everything.”

He frowns.

“You keep doing things that make me think…” You stop yourself, rubbing at your face. “Nevermind.”

“No. Finish.”

You finally look up at him.

“You look at me like I’m important.”

His expression flickers.

“Then you call me Hongjoong’s little sister.”

Silence.

“Do you know how unfair that is?”

Yunho opens his mouth, then closes it again.

You continue, “I want to believe that the way you look at me is not how you look at everyone else, but you say things like that, and I don’t know anymore.” 

There’s a beat. 

“I need to lie down,” you say, while Yunho stood frozen. 

You shift and lie down on your bed, closing your eyes. Maybe he’d disappear from your room if you closed your eyes hard enough. 

As you try to drift to sleep, you hear Yunho come closer to your bed. 

Carefully, he kneels in front of the bed and slips your heels farther underneath it so you won’t trip over them in the morning. He reaches for the throw blanket folded at the foot of your bed, unfolding it gently over you.

“I "I don't do any of that for everyone," he says quietly. "I don't wake up early just to make coffee for everyone. I don't wait by the elevator hoping I get ten extra minutes with someone. I don't come up with excuses to drive people to work or sit next to them whenever I can." His eyes meet yours, steady this time. "I do those things because they're with you. You don’t even notice how much I look at you, do you?”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t open your eyes. 

He sighs. He’d say more, explain things clearly, but he’d rather have you sober before you forget everything he said. 

“Good night, YN.”

There’s a pause, and you think he might’ve actually left, when you feel a pair of lips on your forehead. 

When Yunho quietly closes your bedroom door behind him, he nearly jumps out of his skin.

Hana is sitting on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, lazily sipping from a glass of water.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Well.”

Yunho presses a hand to his chest.

“Jesus, Hana.”

“I came back from Joongie-oppa’s, they got home a bit earlier than you two.”

“Is he okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, Seonghwa’s coming over to take care of him because he kept whining about him, so I left and came back here to wait for my sister.” There’s a grin on her face. The kind that she’d put on when she was up to no good. 

“Imagine my surprise, big brother,” she trails off. “When you two come home, don’t even notice me standing in the kitchen, but disappear into her room in the middle of what appears to be a lover’s quarrel?” 

“It wasn’t–“ he pinches the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t a lover’s quarrel. It’s complicated.” 

She studies him. 

“Did she finally say something?”

Yunho doesn’t say anything. 

He doesn’t have to because Hana could already tell. 

“Huh.” she shakes her head. “So she finally noticed.” 

Yunho looks up.

“Noticed what?”

Hana just laughs.

“Nothing.”

She walks past him toward your bedroom with a cup of water and painkillers that were on the coffee table.

“Good luck, big brother.”

She pauses at your door without turning around.

“You’ll figure it out.” 

VII. WHEN YOU WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING WITH THE WORST HEADACHE EVER,

you decide that you are never leaving the apartment again. 

You remember bits and pieces of last night. You remember taking too many shots, Yunho’s arm around you, Hongjoong calling for Seonghwa, the way Yunho looked at you then called you a little sister. You remember the elevator ride and the forehead kiss he left on you before you drifted away to sleep. 

It was a Saturday, so thankfully you didn’t have to see Yunho today. But your mind goes back to everything you said last night and hoped you hadn't scared him off. 

You spent the rest of the day on your couch, nursing your hangover with soup you had delivered and reruns playing on your TV. 

Hongjoong comes over by the end of your fifth episode, sporting the same headache and squeezes next to you on the couch. Apparently, he’s in the same situation as you. 

“Seonghwa,” he sighs, when you ask him what’s up with him. You don’t ask why, as you two watch TV together.

You’ve been like this for three hours, before Hana comes to intervene. 

“What did we learn?” she says, standing in front of the both of you like a military captain with her arms behind her back. 

Your brother, wearing sunglasses indoors, raises a weak hand.

“Never mix beer and tequila.”

“Wrong.”

She looks at you. 

“To never drink again.”

“Also wrong.”

“The correct answer,” Hana says, “is that none of you are allowed to make decisions after your third shot.” 

“What are you talking about? You weren’t there,” Hongjoong grumbles. 

“You drunk-dialed Seonghwa so many times he had to come here to take care of you and when he got here you puked all over his slippers,” Hana says without missing a beat. She turns to you.

“And you. You’re sitting here with your hopeless brother instead of dealing with whatever happened with Yunho last night.” 

You almost choke on your ice cream. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Something happened with you and Yunho?” Hongjoong turns to you.

“No,” you answer a little too quickly. “Yes,” Hana says at the exact same time. 

“What does Hana know that I don’t?” 

“None of your business.”

“I’m serious. What happened?” He’s using his big brother voice, the kind that made you stop lying, and you sigh. 

“I… might’ve asked him to stop being so confusing.”

“Confusing how?”

“He—” You hesitate. “He called me your little sister.”

Hongjoong blinks.

“…That’s it?”

“No, that’s the problem.”

“I don’t get it.”

You set your spoon down.

“He spends all this time with me. He drives me to work, insists on carrying my groceries, steals San’s coffee every morning, practically kicks Mingi off the couch so he can sit next to me…” You gesture helplessly. “Then the moment I think maybe I’m not imagining things, he reminds me I’m just Hongjoong’s little sister.”

He sits with what you say for a moment, nodding. 

“Can I say something?” 

You shrug, gesturing for him to go on.

“I didn’t see it before but he definitely doesn’t treat us like he treats you. I’ve known Yunho my whole life, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him act the way he acts with you.” 

You grip the bowl in your hands.

“He told you that, didn’t he?” he continues. You nod with a sigh. 

“What if I just made everything weird?” You ask.

“Did he look uncomfortable?” 

“No.”

“Then go talk to him.” 

“Joong—”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You’ve been my sister for twenty-six years. I know when you’re overthinking.”

He nudges your knee.

“If Yunho really did something that hurt you, then tell him.”

A beat.

“And if he didn’t…”

He smiles, small and tired.

“Then stop making each other miserable. I know for a fact he’s feeling as bad as you are.” 

Hongjoong stands to join Hana, and they each grabbed your hand before it dragging you to your room. 

“You’re doing this now,” Hana says. 

“What?”

“If you don’t do it now, you’ll spend the whole weekend on the couch and eat your feelings in ice cream.” 

Three minutes later, after changing into an oversized sweater and convincing yourself at least seventeen times that this was a terrible idea, you stand in front of your apartment door.

“What if he’s mad at me?”

“Yunho?” Hongjoong lets out an incredulous laugh. “That guy couldn’t stay mad at you if you ran over his foot.”

You take one deep breath and pull the door open before you could think about what to say to him. 

To your surprise, Yunho is already standing on the other side, his fist raised mid-knock. 

You both freeze.

“Oh.”

“…Hi.” 

“Can we talk?” he asks.

“I…” A laugh escapes you, equal parts relieved and disbelieving. “I was actually just about to come over to yours.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

You glance back.

Hongjoong and Hana are peeking shamelessly from behind your still-open front door, both giving you enthusiastic thumbs-ups.

You sigh.

“Not here.”

Yunho follows your gaze and immediately understands.

“Yeah,” he says with a laugh. “Definitely not here.”

The two of you walk to the very end of the hallway, where a large window overlooks the city and a couple of chairs make a small sitting area. It’s close, but also out of earshot, so you don’t have to worry about your roommates eavesdropping. 

The silence stretches between you until Yunho finally speaks.

“I guess you remember everything?” 

You nod. He lets out a slow breath. 

“Yunho, I—“ You’re about to tell him that you were sorry for messing things up when he interrupts you.

“I owe you the truth.” You say nothing, as he looks at the view from the window before looking at you in the eyes. 

“I called you Hongjoong’s little sister because you told me I was pretty. When you said that, I panicked. Hongjoong calls Seonghwa pretty because he’s in love with him but is too scared to admit it,” he says, brushing your hair away from your face. “I guess he and I have that in common.” 

“What?”

“It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.” 

“Yunho.”

“Every time I got too close to you, every time I caught myself looking at you for a little too long…” He exhales. “I’d remind myself you were Hongjoong’s sister.”

“Because if I didn’t…” His voice catches. “I’d want things I had no right to want.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs.

“Then you moved back.”

A small smile finds his face.

“And suddenly you were everywhere again. Last night made me realize, I’d probably been in love with you longer than I thought. Maybe since the day you moved in.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. From the window, the sun starts to set, casting a warm glow on Yunho’s face, as he holds your hands into his.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally says. 

You understand now, how it feels to have the one thing you’ve ever wanted, show you that it hadn’t been all in your head.

“You’re an idiot.”

His face falls. 

Before he could apologize, you grab the front of his sweater and kiss him. 

His hands automatically find their place on your waist while he pulls you closer. He tastes like coffee, which you thought tasted better on his lips than in the coffee cup you had every morning. He smiles into your teeth when he realizes you wouldn’t let go, with everything he’d spent months holding in. 

You pull away from him for a moment, him looking at you more clearly now, without hesitating, like he’s loved you all his life. 

“I’m in love with you too, you know.” You grin. “I thought it was obvious.” 

“I was hoping you’d say something dramatic, like you loved me since you were eight,” he jokes. 

“I thought you were cute when I was eight.” 

“Only cute?” 

“I was eight. I just kissed you, Yunho. We’re in love with each other,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks, quieter this time.

Instead of answering, you rise onto your toes and press your lips to his.

“Ahem.”

The two of you spring apart.

Standing a few feet away is Mingi, a trash bag hanging limply from one hand.

He blinks once.

“Am I interrupting?”

Yunho closes his eyes for a brief second.

“Mingi.”

“No, no.” He holds up his free hand. “Please. Continue. I’ve only been waiting…” He checks an imaginary watch. “…roughly six months for this.”

“Mingi, don’t start,” you say, eyes pleading.  

Before either of you can stop him, Mingi is already halfway down the hallway.

“SAN!”

“WHAT!”

“We should go before everyone on the floor finds out,” Yunho whispers. 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE KISSING?”

San’s voice echoes through the hallway.

“Too late.” 

The next Monday morning, you don’t have to walk to meet Yunho by the elevator anymore, because he’s already at your door the second you open it. 

“Good morning,” he smiles. 

“Morning.” 

He’s holding two cups of coffee. You eye them suspiciously.

“Did you use San’s coffee beans again?”

“No.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I bought my own,” he puffs his chest, a proud look on his face. “I figured my girlfriend deserves more than stolen Guatemalan beans.” 

“Girlfriend?” you laugh, taking one of the cups. 

“Yep, girlfriend. I don’t care if your siblings are staring me down now.” 

His eyes leave your face and move to look behind your head, to see Hana eating cereal with a furrow in her brows, Hongjoong beside her at the dining table with the same expression.

“You two are gross,” Hana mutters. 

Yunho ignores her, casually slipping a hand into yours. 

“You know they’re still watching, right?” you whisper.

“I know.”

“They’re judging us.”

“I know.”

“You don’t care?”

He looks at you like the answer should be obvious.

“Not even a little.”

END.

he feels like his bones were made to accommodate the slope of your hands along his neck and along his mountainous shoulders. you liked stirring swirls with the tips of your acrylics into his messy black hair in the morning.

the sun streams through the half-broken blinds of your apartment, blanketing san in a patterned ray of light. his gentle eyes closed sleepily, practically purring at the feel of your hands and your body warmth beneath him. you lie with your back against the headrest, pillows stuffed beneath your lower back, whilst san lounges comfortably with his head in your lap.

his big, soft hands hold your thighs together like a pillow he fears will iceberg beneath his ear. the comforter is thrown haphazardly over your bed, the fitted sheet lifting off the corners of the mattress. proof of a… busy night.

every time you all but shift beneath him, he grumbles and holds your thighs together. “move again, and i’ll lock your legs together.”

tempting, but you did not need to rile him up this early in the morning. san was much like a cat. cute, fickle. particular.

you wont sit still? he'll do something to help you to relax.

the fingers on your thighs splay wider as if to grab more of your flesh, and he turns his head and begins dusting the tops of your thighs with kisses.

“my sweet, pretty girl.” san murmurs against your skin, a teasing, pouty tone to it. this is how it starts. with buttering you up.

he moves the blanket so his broad shoulders are exposed to the gold morning light, the grey tanktop doing little to hide the proof of his hard work. he can almost feel the way your eyes laser in on his back, and he can't help but smile as his wandering hands move to slip your panties down your legs smoothly. his warm kisses never cease, sensual and promising.

your hands slip away from his hair in surprise, and he nearly throws a fit as he grumbles and grabs your wrists and brings them back to the top of his head. his hands are back on your body in no time, holding both sides of your waist as you might melt through his fingers and massaging your hips with that perfect amount of pressure.

the feeling evokes a content sight out of you, and you find your upper body stretching subconsciously.

“there we go, big stretch, babydoll. good morning to you too,” san teases you with that stomach-flipping grin, and you narrow your eyes to tease him back. he, however, drags his worked, big hands down your waist, along the curve of your hips, back down to your thighs, where he wastes no time in spreading your legs in a way that can only be described as greedily.

“i wanna say good morning to her too…” he growls very quietly under his breath, hastily pushing your thighs back and up against your stomach. “she's always so happy to see me.”

the evidence of “her excitement” is clear: strings of arousal that cling to your lips, spread nice and pretty from the way san holds your legs open. his hands travel along your outer thighs, up your sides, all the while his head lowers between your thighs, eager.

“you were excited first,” you attempt to retort, to resume some semblance of control. you knew you had none; you were so weak for him. and when his heated tongue lay flat against your cunt, and his thumbs pressed into your lower stomach, you had only been proven right.

he squeezed your body like a stress toy, the muscles in his back twitching with every register of your taste. he moaned, so prettily. his mouth moved slowly and deliberately. leisurely, open-mouth kisses. deep, wide licks and hungry swallows. anyone he could tell he was doing it 100% for you would know he was lying if they saw and heard the way san was making out with your pussy.

your head falls back against the headboard, the bones in your legs liquefying as your boyfriend eats breakfast.

“hello, beautiful,” he purrs into a suckling kiss against your clit, and you feel an overwhelming mix of emotions come over you. you grip his hair harder, and he bites his bottom lip with a grin and a laugh as he spits between your pussy lips.

shame, embarrassment, arousal that burned too bright, it ached low in your stomach. you hated it when he talked to your cunt. but the way your stomach tightened in response spoke volumes every time.

when he starts kneading your lower stomach, deep and slow like he was working knots out of you, and gently kitten licking right under your clit, you pull his hair so hard he hisses in pain.

“aww, baby, you’re making this so hard for me.” san pouts and one of his hands lightly smacks your stomach. “i'm tryna keep you clean, but you won't stop dripping all over the sheets, always so messy!”

you sniffle and moan, one of his hands falling away from your waist and slithering between your legs, gathering the stickiness he's pulled out of you all over his middle fingers.

your body twitches at the new touch, and san moans long and low around your clit as he slides his fingers knuckle deep inside you, quick to scrape against that spot, and stars were bursting at the back of your skull.

“d-oh fuck… s-san, mmm…” your words dissolved into mindless, blissful pleasure. a horny smile spreads across your lips as san pushes his fingers deeper into your cunt.

“my gorgeous, sloppy girl.” san slurs against your pussy, his eyebrows furrowing as he eats you like he was imagining it was your lips. his eyes close and his hand squeezes tighter, his thumb presses deeper. his fingers curl harder inside of you, his tongue turns merciless against your clit, and his moans drag feelings out of you that should be illegal.

for some reason, you just could not take it this morning; it all felt so intense for some unknown reason. your hips bucked against his mouth, his fingers repeatedly caught on the ridge inside of you, and your legs began to shake.

san pouts and clicks his tongue out of pity, moving his fingers in deep, wavelike strokes that made your throat feel like somebody was trying to pull it out of you through your stomach. “aww, babydoll, you’re shuddering. it feels so wrong when you cum without me kissing you.”

this is true. he loves to drink your noises when you cum, feel the warmth of your teeth as you shatter on his dick, fingers, abs… etc. he would normally abandon the meal and just finger you until you snap, but, god. he couldn't stay away from your pussy.

warm and sweet and wet. your plush thighs hugging his ears like muffs. your nails against his scalp like a reminder of how he makes you feel. he frowns, like some innocent, wronged cat whose tail you’ve stepped on. but the way his fingers curl and the way he kisses your clit tell different stories.

the hand still holding your waist, and effortlessly your body against the bed, lands another slap against your stomach, and your limbs jerk.

“c’mon, let go, sweet girl. cum. it'll feel so good if you do, and it’ll make me sooo happy,” and he really couldn’t help himself at this point. his lips suction to your clit one last time, pulling away with a wet pop, wasting no time and lifting himself and swallowing your parted lips in a heavy kiss.

his fingers fucked you faster, his thumb moving up to circle your slick clit in place of his unfair mouth. he nibbles your bottom lip with a grin and kisses you so deep with a desire to take you can’t find your breath.

“don't you wanna make me happy, babydoll?” he practically begs into your mouth, and everything inside of you screams to make your heaven of a boyfriend happy. you cum so hard you would’ve thought he was fucking you.

then again, that's how it is with san every single time, and you still haven't gotten tired of it. he just knows what to do, so assertive, so caring, such a man.

coming down from your high, your grip onto his tanktop and bury your face into his neck, huffing and puffing, whining softly as his fingers slowly circle inside of you, working it out as he whispers praises in your ear.

you breathe in the smell of his cologne from the day before, and it makes your stomach tingle. vanilla, whiskey, patchouli, something so intoxicating it's hypnotic. the sun paints his tanned skin a radiant gold, and suddenly you get overwhelmed with the urge to bite him.

you do. he complains with a return bite to your shoulder, and you moan in response. he pauses and licks the bite and smiles, squeezing your waist with anticipation.

you’ve riled him up again.

“you’re not seriously going out tonight when you have this right here?”

“what do you mean- oh my god mingi!”

by going, he meant your movie night hang out with some people from your thursday class and by this, he meant him lying on your bed completely naked. dick out and everything.

you knew he was vulgar but still, he never fails to surprise you.

“mr song put that thing away. it’s a hazard.”

“you calling my dick big?”

you roll your eyes and continue getting ready, until arms suddenly slither its way around your waist, pulling you flush back against a chest.

“baby... how can you abandon me?” he peppers kisses along your shoulder line, something he knows you love so much.

“don’t baby me,” you try to untangle yourself but the man stays firm, “why are you so clingy tonight?”

“i’m not clingy.”

“really?”

“fine... practice was such a bitch so i thought we could spend the night together you know, cuddling and shit...”

“cuddling and shit? you’re such a romantic.”

“come on baby... i’ll do that thing you like with my tongue,” he coos into your ear, voice softer and deeper than usual, “then i’ll buy you fried chicken.”

“deal!”

“you fucking serious?” his mouth hangs wide at the revelation, “fried chicken is all it takes?!”

and he really did order you your favourite fried chicken after doing that thing you loved so much with his tongue, over and over until you saw white. three times.

spending time with mingi was always easy. full of fun, comfort and a lot of sex. there was nothing normal about this scandalous friendship of yours but it worked. he’d come whenever he needed release and you’d call whenever you needed relief. it was the perfect arrangement for two best friends who wanted sex with no strings attached.

“i need some beer. your pussy drained me.”

“you’re unbelievable song.”

while the man searched about in the kitchen, you lay on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through funny reels on his phone. until a notification flashes across the screen, the name somi being the first thing you noticed, followed by three words "come by tomorrow".

you don’t mean to look at the other new notifications but you do.

name after name, message after message from girls you know too well of, telling him to come over. to do things to them.

you weren’t a jealous person, especially not over mingi but just something about this irked you the wrong way, more than you would’ve wanted to admit. it was a strange feeling, one that was never there until you and him fucked.

and now your feelings are fucked.

“what’s with the long face?”

“nothing.”

the man plops down beside you and tilts his head but thankfully doesn’t question any further.

“wanna do something tomorrow? go for a drive? fuck in a park somewhere?” he asks while drinking his beer and checking the plethora of notifications on his phone. his brows raise at the messages but he doesn’t reply to any, nor saying anything aloud.

“i had plans to study with yeonjun.”

“yeonjun? that nerd?” he says it like he’s mocking, tone unpleasant like the look that’s currently on his face, “what’s with you and him?”

“we have like 3 classes together and he helps me out sometimes.”

“he just wants to fuck.”

“he does not!” you were quick to bite back, “he’s a nice guy!”

“yeah you say that now but wait til he’s alone with you and oops, there goes his hand up your skirt.”

“is that what you do? with somi?”

oops. you didn’t mean to mention her name and now that you did, mingi is looking at you like you’re crazy. and you really must be crazy to be mentioning something that was none of your business. especially his sex life.

“somi?” he turns to you with raised brows, “what about her?”

“nothing.”

“really? hm?” he coos, hand now creeping up your inner thigh. the man is evidently amused by how things are playing out, especially with how you’re currently death glaring him. oh he loved that.

“back off song.”

“there’s no need to get jealous, angel,” he leans in closer to you, lips brushing the tip of your ears teasingly, “she’s nothing compared to you.”

his hands grabs at your waist underneath your huge flimsy shirt, fingers already kneading at your soft skin. mingi kisses you before you could swear at him, his lips gentle and teasing against yours.

if it’s one thing that mingi is good at, it’s that he’s fast. because one moment you’re sitting up on the couch, the next you’re lying on your back with the man’s head in between your thighs and your legs in the air.

it’s exactly how mingi likes to have you. fully submissive and whimpering like the pathetic slut you were for him.

“min- mingi too much-” you bite down at your lips to hold back any inappropriate noises, knowing the neighbours must’ve been damn tired of hearing you all night. but it’s almost impossible with the way his god damn tongue is working you, edging you little by little towards your high.

you could feel him smirking into your folds, clearly pleased at how much you’re already squirming in his hold. and it had only been about two minutes.

the man pauses for a second to catch his breath, using the time to glance up at you, his eyes evil and telling enough of what was to come. the view of his head in between your thighs and his glistening lips almost makes you finish on the spot. knowing that it’s your juices on his lips is a whole different tier of high, one that never fails to bring you to cloud nine.

“my tongue make you feel good baby?”

“yeah... so good mingi- ah!” and he was in between your legs again, plump lips immediately attached onto your dripping bareness that begged of a release. the third one tonight actually.

the man is clearly good at what he does, something that doesn’t really surprise you because of the reputation he has on campus. a fuckboy. a very known one too.

“i’m so close- please-” your words are barely audible anymore with your entire body feeling like it’s about to burst any time soon. with your fingers knotted in his hair, you throw your head back and arch your back more, readying yourself for what was to come.

the man immediately notices your reaction, he notices the little twitch in your face you make every time you’re close. mingi always notices.

with his lips sucking harshly at your folds and his tongue flicking at your clit, mingi then adds one finger into your hole, pushing you to almost insanity. and it does just that, your thighs instantly closing around him at the fullness, almost suffocating the poor man as you do. but mingi is exactly where he wants to be, squished in between your thighs that he loved so much.

“come on baby... you can do it. for me.”

and that really does it for you. your body becomes undone beneath him, your limbs numb all over as that very familiar feeling overtakes you whole. white washes over, just like your juices that are making a mess on his face as you finally cum. but he doesn’t stop pumping, instead going faster to overstimulate your sensitivity. evil man.

“mingi!”

“yeah baby?” he finally pulls away with a scandalous plop, a smug grin immediately on his face as he does. you know that look, that cocky look he always wears whenever he has you like this. a fucking mess because of him.

you swear one of these days you’re going to smack him for it.

he crawls up to you while nonchalantly wiping the leftovers from his chin as if it hadn’t just come out of you. the sight causes your cheeks to go a darker shade, embarrassment hanging over you but that only makes him prouder. a true narcissist.

“you’re the worst song.”

“and you love me for it,” he leans in to kiss you, smearing your own juices on your lips. the disgusted face you jokingly make has the two of you in a fit of laughter. it’s an unbelievably sweet moment, one that shouldn’t be making your heart skip a beat. but it does, like it has been for the past couple of weeks.

“i really don’t.”

“i love you though.”

it’s moment like these that has you delusional, totally forgetting that this was just sex and that this man was just smooth...

and that he was your best friend.

“are you meeting that nerd tomorrow?”

“are you meeting somi tomorrow?”

the room then goes silent but the piercing gazes from each other were doing enough of the talking anyway.

you swear it had been very obviously weird lately, the air always thicker whenever one of you mentioned another person’s name. it wasn’t like this before, only in the past few weeks when you began spending even more time together, when the sex seemed more intimate than it should’ve been.

being mingi’s best friend has taught you just how touchy the man really was but this, all of this was not normal. from longer, deeper kisses to the gentle way he would hold you all night and finally that loving look in his eyes. all has become too questionable for two best friends.

yet no one has said a thing.

and no one is going to.

___

“not feeling well?”

a soft hand on your forehead brings you out of your daze, reminding you where you currently were. you’re in the library, where mingi had dropped you off an hour earlier while on his way to somi’s place. ironically enough.

to say the car ride was heavy, would’ve been an understatement because not only were you two not talking but his grip on your thigh the whole way screamed of something more, almost like a threat. yet you gave him a kiss and got off to meet yeonjun as if nothing was wrong.

because nothing should be wrong in this beneficial relationship.

“i’m so sorry just distracted.”

yeonjun only smiles and reaches over to ruffle your hair, “it’s okay, i’m always distracted too.”

you both laugh it off and continue typing away on your own laptops, occasionally discussing something interesting. nerd stuff.

until your phone vibrates inside your pocket.

[ new message from: devil song] wish i could be between your thighs right now devour that pussy make you cry fuck im so hard for you bby

you roll your eyes and put down the phone, only to have it vibrate just moments later.

[new message from: devil song] dont ignore me

[from: you] you’re sick song

it baffles you to think that mingi was sexting you like this while with another girl. it brings up the question, does he do the same when he’s with you? sexting other girls when he’s balls deep inside of you?

[new message from: devil song] want you so bad miss you ill come by tonight

“everything okay?” yeonjun looks at you with concern and you don’t blame him with how focused you’ve been on your phone.

“i’m so sorry, i think i’m just tired. maybe we can meet another time?”

“of course silly,” he smiles reassuringly again, like he always does. “actually i wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to go for drinks tomorrow night? if you’re free?”

“oh- as in you and me?”

“yes,” he chuckles at your confused look, “it’s okay if you don’t want to-”

“it’s not that. i just had a few other assignments due. maybe next time?”

“of course.”

you’d be lying if you said the thought of yeonjun hadn’t crossed your mind before. of getting to know him, of dating him. but your mind always wandered back to someone else, to someone who you had no chance with. to someone who let themselves into your bedroom later that night, while you were trying to sleep.

“really? you’re just going to break into my apartment in the middle of the night?”

“i missed you,” he says as the bed dips, before his body attaches itself onto your back. he’s already topless, arms immediately tangling itself around your waist to hug you closer to him.

he smells of beer, the mixture of it with his familiar cologne drives you insane. but there’s also a hint of something else, of someone else. a sweet, feminine perfume that wasn’t there this morning and it wasn’t yours.

your gut is screaming, telling you that he’s perhaps here now because he wasn’t satisfied with her. or with them. and that you’re just his only choice left.

“you spent so much time with him today.”

“we were studying,” you say bluntly and try to fall asleep again but mingi is already kissing away at the back of your neck, trying to elicit a reaction from you. “why are you here at this time song?”

“had to see you.”

sigh.

“what? she didn’t put out so you came to me?”

“you know that’s not true,” he sounds rather defensive, his grip on you tightening the more he spoke, “they don’t matter. only you do baby.”

he turns your face a little and kisses you before you can even complain, he always does, knowing well enough that he’ll have you immediately puddy in his hands. and it does.

he kisses you rather possessively, lips moving so roughly against yours that it hurts almost immediately. he adjusts you then, turning you so you’re flat on the bed so he could hover over. his hands are already busy at your curves as he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue in when you take a moment to gasp for air. it doesn’t take long for him to dominate you over entirely, he always does and you’ve always let him.

but not tonight.

it was all finally getting to you, that you were the only one to have felt a shift in this friendship, that you were the only one to have thought that there was something more besides sex.

oh how wrong you were.

you press against his chest, slightly pushing him away from you. despite the lack of lighting in your room, you can see the instant surprised look his on face, like he’s part worried and part annoyed at the same time at the sudden disruption.

“what’s up with you tonight?” he sighs through his words but leans back in anyway, immediately marking up the side of your neck.

sigh.

“nothing.”

“come on, i know something’s up. you’re my best friend after all,” he emphasises the two specific words and it hits you like a truck, like an instant reminder of what this really was to him. and what it should’ve been to you too.

“i’m fine,” you say it with a smile.

“good,” he smiles back, teeth showing like he’s relieved at your answer, “now let me make you feel good. i missed my bestie so much today.”

he kisses your jaw, then your chest before disappearing between your breasts. you watch it all in silence, a smile appearing across your face as you yourself feel relieved. relieved to finally be able to let your built up delusions go. you were stupid after all, to have found yourself falling into the very grey area you were afraid of being in the first place.

but at least everything could go back to normal now, back to when you and mingi fucked with absolutely no strings attached.

to be continued.