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Just for the glory - Sim Jake 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .demigods series

Synopsis: Jake Sim, son of Hermes and captain of cabin 11 at the camp halfblood, is known as the best swordsman of his generation. With his swordsmanship and unshakable confidence, his life seems perfectly under control, until you, challenge him to a sword duel. In front of the entire community, Jake accepts the challenge, confident in his victory. However, he soon discovers that you are not just a beautiful face, but a formidable warrior with skills that surprise him. Amid the fierce competition and growing tension, you two are caught by an unexpected spark. As your hearts begin to intertwine, Jake will have to face a new kind of battle: the duel between pride and love.

Content: +18MDNI fem! reader x jake, pjo au, hermes! son jake x aphrodites! daugther reader, jake is a little cocky i based his character on my man luke castellan ok, violence (sword duel), cursing, sexual tension, oral sex (f recieving), praising, worshipping, dirty talk, explicit sex.

Word count: 10.2k (a bit long but so worth it i swear)

taglist at the end, likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

In camp Halfblood, everybody knew who you were.

Or at least, they thought they knew.

You were the ideal Aprhodite's daughter. Sweet, always soft-spoken, smiling with a kind word for everyone. You helped your sibilings braid their hair before every meal, the younger ones seeing you as an older sister who they always could count on, the older having the necessity of taking care of you. You left little handmade gifts in front of every cabin, just because, and remembered the name of even the shyest campers. You were grace in motion, impeccable manners in every movement, the very picture of your mother's legacy.

Didn't raise your voice, didn't loose temper. You didn't need to. People naturally flocked to you, drawn in by your calm presence and genuine warmth. Your reputation was spotless, your charm unmatched. No one had ever seen you in a real fight. You were considered the peace, where every demigod landed when they were feeling tired, struggling with the heavy air of the camp.

You wore vanilla scented perfume, braided your hair in beautiful, creative ways, decorating with flowers and colorful petals, your clothes always placed beautifully over your body, enchancing your figure. Your hands were gentle, soft fingers with perfect manicure as you helped wounded demigods and waved at the little kids that looked up to you as a mother they never had. A soft, wide smile in your lips, always glistening with lip gloss.

And to be honest, you liked it that way.

"Your strength is in your beauty, and your charm" your mother had said to you once, through a dream, when you first got claimed "Make me feel proud."

Nobody expected anything from you, beyond being lovely and helpful, but that was good, because you were free to move in silence. And although you enjoyed the vision people had of you, you took that into advantage, even if you and your siblings weren't taken very seriously, you wanted to feel powerful, to reach glory. It's what every demigod truly desired, and you weren't the exception.

You were hungry for it, ambition became your dna.

So you let them see only what you wanted.

They didn't see the girl that trained secretly until sunrise, even when you hated early mornings, the girl that read and memorised love poetry but dreamt about the battlefield, the girl that watched Ares kids closely to learn about their movements and strategies, the girl that hurt herself a lot of times trying to perfect her skills with the sword, the arch, and every other existing weapon. You had your own powers, the ones your mother had blessed you with (charmspeak, cursing) but you wanted more.

You didn't really had to prove yourself to anyone, everybody already loved you, but you did it because you could, because you wanted to. Because love isn't always soft, it's protective, fierce, and sometimes it required a blade.

In the moonlight, you drew your hidden blade, an elegant shortsword, delicate-looking, but perfectly balanced. You began to move, each step practiced and precise. Your form was fluid, flawless. There was no hesitation in your strikes, no wasted movement. You moved like water, graceful, calm... deadly.

Few knew about this side of you. You didn’t train to impress anyone. You trained for yourself. For the day someone would push too far. For the day someone would need protecting. For the day you’d have to prove that love isn’t weakness.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

The morning sunlight spilled across Camp HalfBlood like golden syrup, warm and slow. At the Aphrodite cabin, everything was already in perfect order. Beds were made, mirrors sparkled, and the scent of roses and vanilla drifted lazily through the open windows.

You sat on a velvet couch, humming softly as you helped your youngest sister adjust a flower crown on her beautiful, long hair.

“There.” you said with a gentle smile, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind the little girl’s ear. “You look like a dryad princess.”

Your siblings adored you, and you enjoyed spending time with them like this, quiet, calm, just like you always were. They were like the little family you never had.

Your little sister turned and hugged you “You’re the best, Y/N.”

You kissed the top of her head. “Go get dressed, sweetheart.”

And just like that, the moment of peace shattered.

The cabin doors burst open with a loud bang, doors crashing the walls as your younger brothers came in running and heavy breathing, eyes opened wide.

“Y/N!” Sunoo, one of you brothers shouted breathlessly, his chest heaving, hair wild. “You gotta come see this, the Hermes kids are going at it in the sparring field! Like, full-on duel style! It’s insane!”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes with amusement. Hermes kids, they had the second place as the messiest ones in camp, just under Ares kids, of course. The whole cabin gasped, fluttering around the room with curiosity.

"Wait, like, real swords?" Your sister stared with big, surprised eyes, and you placed a hand on her head, trying to calm her down.

"It's Jake again, i knew someone would challenge him one day"

You blinked slowly, brushing invisible lint off your skirt. Of course, Jake Sim was the main character of today's exciting event.

Jake Sim had the kind of reputation that walked into a room before he did.

The moment someone said his name, you’d hear it all: "Best swordsman at camp," "Captain of Cabin 11," "Hermes' golden boy." He was fast, blindingly so, with reflexes sharper than his blade. Some swore they’d seen him disarm an opponent in under three seconds. Others claimed he could steal your weapon mid-swing and hand it back with a wink.

He wasn’t just skilled. He was annoyingly skilled.

Jake had that effortless swagger, half grin, half smirk, full confidence. He could talk his way out of trouble, into hearts, and across borders. Born to the god of thieves and travelers, Jake carried that legacy like a badge of honor. He never stayed in one place too long, never let anyone too close, but somehow, everyone still wanted to be around him.

Even campers from other cabins, rival cabins, wanted to be his friend, or at the very least, seen near him. He was the kind of demigod others watched on the training field and thought, Yeah, that’s who I want to be when I stop tripping over my own sword.

He was cocky. No, scratch that, he was infuriatingly cocky. But the thing was... he could back it up. Every time.

Jake didn’t take most things seriously, except sword fighting. That was his sanctuary, his art. He trained like he had something to prove, even if no one could figure out what it was. People said he was strong enough to lead a quest on his own. Strong enough to beat a child of Ares in single combat. Strong enough to never lose.

So when someone mentioned a duel with Jake Sim, everyone came running. Because when Jake fought, it wasn’t just a match, it was a show.

"I'm telling you, sister, he's gonna chop that kid's head off"

You rose gracefully, smoothing down your perfectly pressed blouse. Your voice was calm, almost amused. But the sentence made you frown your eyebrows, you were always looking after the kids, so you naturally worried hearing your brother’s words.

"Well, if he's fighting a kid, i must go take a look then"

You quickly put your shoes on, not wasting time before heading out of the cabin.

The air outside was brisk with early morning chill, the kind that made your skin tingle and your senses sharper. You walked calmly across the training grounds, your footsteps light, unhurried. A few of your siblings trailed behind you, excited whispers bouncing between them.

When you reached the edge of the sparring field, the crowd was already thick. Campers from nearly every cabin had gathered in a wide circle, forming a loose ring around the action. You stepped between two taller demigods, murmured a soft “excuse me,” and looked toward the center of the field.

There he was.

Shirt slightly rumpled, curls tousled from the fight, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth like he was enjoying himself just a little too much. His bronze sword flashed in the sunlight, fast and fluid, spinning in perfect arcs. His opponent, a short, golden haired son of Apollo, was panting, wild-eyed, struggling to keep up.

Jake wasn’t even sweating.

He dodged each swing with ease. Not out of necessity, out of amusement. His stance was relaxed, movements smooth, measured. He looked like he was playing. The boy lunged again, desperate, and stumbled.

Jake stepped aside, caught the boy’s wrist mid-swing, and twisted gently, not enough to break anything, but enough to send the sword clattering to the dirt. Then, with a flick of his own blade, he tapped it against the kid’s shoulder.

“Better luck next time, champ,” he said, voice light, teasing. “But maybe wait until you can hold the sword without it shaking, yeah?”

A few campers laughed. A few others didn’t.

Your brows knit as you stepped forward through the crowd. Of course he would find fun in fighting a younger, inexperienced boy, it only fed to his ego. Your heart shattered at the little boy's expression, that protectiveness nature in your eyes.

Your voice was soft, but it carried, clear and unmistakable.

“I expected more from you, Jake Sim.”

The laughter faded like a snapped string. Heads turned. Even the Apollo boy froze, eyes wide.

He hadn’t realized you were there. And yet, there you stood, poised, polished, and completely unreadable. The very picture of Aphrodite grace in a soft cream blouse, sunlight catching in your hair like a halo.

“Oh?” he said, lifting a brow. “And what exactly did you expect?”

You walked toward the center, graceful as ever. You knelt beside the boy first, murmured something too quiet for the others to hear, and gently helped him to his feet. Jake watched, his eyes following you slowly, and he swallowed, of course the first thing you’d do would be check on the boy. You gave him your handkerchief, embroidered, of course, and sent him off with a smile that was more comforting than any healing spell.

Then you straightened and turned to Jake, your tone polite, serene, and yet somehow sharper than any blade.

“A real swordsman knows the difference between a challenge and an easy win,” you said. “He doesn’t swing his pride at someone half his size just to prove he’s still the strongest.”

The crowd let out a soft ripple of ooooohs, but you didn’t flinch. You didn’t even raise your voice.

Jake’s jaw tightened, barely. His fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword. She’s calling you out. Not just for the fight. For everything. The showboating. The ego. The fact that you saw right through it, and weren’t afraid to say it.

For the first time all morning, Jake didn’t have a clever comeback ready. He studied you, this sweet, delicate Aphrodite girl with a quiet voice and ribbons in her hair, like he was seeing you for the first time. He knew you, but like every other demigod in camp, only your facade.

And he didn’t know what to make of you.

You tilted your head slightly, that same gentle smile on your lips.

"What could you know about it, princess?" His tone was sarcastic, teasing, his hand now resting on his hip.

Of course he would say that, always underestimating your lineage, you were used to that, but that didn't mean it didn't strike the wrong buttons in you.

You flipped your hair, lifting your shoulders into an almost lazy expression.

"I don't know, hero." an eyebrow lifted in your face "To be called the best swordsman here, i think that was kind of lame. Your evident hunger and overwhelming pride, you make them too obvious when you're fighting" You kept smiling, and you saw how his jaw clenched a bit. "It's going to be your downfall one day."

A fire lit in him, and you almost laughed, cocky men like him were so easy to get.

Then his smirk returned, slow and full of challenge.

“Careful, sweetheart. That sounded dangerously close to a challenge.”

Someone needs to stop him. Someone needs to remind him that strength isn’t just speed or skill. It’s restraint. It's knowing when to put the sword down.

You looked around.

No one moved.

Then, with a deep breath, you spoke.

"Maybe it was."

Challenge, delivered like a bouquet of roses with a blade hidden in the center. Jake felt something twist in his chest, something like adrenaline, but deeper. Like interest. Like curiosity.

He stepped forward, lowering his sword, just slightly. His eyes met yours, and the grin he gave you now was slower. Less cocky. More intrigued.

“Well,” he said, voice rich with anticipation. “Guess I finally found someone worth my time.”

Your hands stayed at your sides, calm as ever. But your eyes were sharper than glass. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Jake chuckled, confident.

“Are you?”

You didn’t answer, just winked at him gracefully before turning around, taking the boy’s hand so you could go and help him get clean, all of your sibilings following you, lips parted, still processing what just happened.

Camp’s best swordsman stayed there, watching you as you walked away, eyes lingering to you figure, half smirk still on his lips. Intrigued, curious. A little offended, to be honest.

But it didn’t matter. Revenge would be so sweet.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

“Are you out of your divine mind?!”

The room was a flurry of perfume, silk, and frantic hands as you stood calmly in the center, arms raised slightly as one of your sisters laced her bracers with delicate precision.

“You’re dueling Jake Sim.” Minjeong, your loudest sister, paced dramatically. “Jake. Sim. The golden boy of the entire camp. The guy who once beat two Ares kids in one match without even messing up his hair!”

“I heard he fought a drakon on a solo quest,” another added, wide-eyed. “With a stick.”

Of course they were worried, no other camper had dared to challenge him into a full, real duel, less say an Aprhodite kid, you guys weren't for the fight, it wasn't in your true nature. But you were different, and he was about to see that.

You gave them a soft smile.

“You forgot the part where he’s cocky, overconfident, and clearly underestimates me.”

“Babe, we all underestimate you. That’s the problem.”

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a hair behind your ear. “Good. That’ll make it more satisfying.”

Your siblings paused, blinking.

Then Minjeong narrowed her eyes. “Okay. Who are you and what did you do with Y/N?”

On the other side of the camp, Hermes cabin was buzzing.

“Dude, you are so dead,” one of Jake’s brothers laughed, slapping his shoulder as Jake tightened the straps on his armor.

“Nah,” another chimed in, flopping onto the bunk beside him. “He’s got this. It’s just Y/N.”

Jake didn’t look up. He was focused on adjusting his grip tape, his fingers moving fast. “Exactly. It’s just Y/N.”

But his jaw was clenched.

He wasn't just thinking about the duel itself, he was thinking about you. How you dared to call him out in front of everybody, not even raising your voice, not even making any expression. Just that damn, calm smile in your beautiful face, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It made him burn, not only with anger, ego already hurt, but with something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

“Yeah, but she called you out in front of everyone,” Jay pointed out with a grin. “Like… burned you alive and smiled while doing it.”

“Did you see her face?” a younger Hermes camper piped up. “She looked like she was about to give him a compliment and then murdered him.”

Jake snorted, finally cracking a grin. “She’s got teeth under all that sugar, huh?”

The others laughed, but Jake’s mind wasn’t entirely on their banter. He kept replaying your voice in his head, calm, soft, but piercing. The way you’d looked at him. Like you already knew exactly how this would end.

It wasn’t just your challenge. It was the fact that you hadn’t been angry. Or scared.

You’d been sure.

Jake had never gone up against someone like that before.

And it was messing with him.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

The field felt different that morning.

Quieter, somehow, like the entire camp was holding its breath.

Campers crowded along the perimeter, perched on rocks, benches, fences. Even a few nymphs had slipped out of the forest to see what the hype was about. Someone had dragged out a banner from last summer’s Capture the Flag game and hastily painted over it in red: JAKE SIM VS. Y/N – BEAUTY VS. THE BEST

Laughter. Shouting. Betting. It was a storm of noise.

Jake was already there, stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders. His sword gleamed at his side, and his hair caught the sun in just the right way, it was almost unfair how good he looked in a fight.

He looked up as soon as he felt you enter.

You stepped through the archway into the field like you weren't walking to a duel, more like you were entering a ballroom. Light-footed. Graceful. Composed.

Your armor was pale gold, custom-fit over soft rose-toned leather. Subtle floral engravings decorated the trim, and the sheath on your hip sparkled faintly with celestial bronze. Your sword was delicate and elegant, thinner than his, but no less dangerous.

For a second, the crowd went quiet again.

Jake couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. You looked like a real life goddess, ready for war, but the delicacy, soft aura that sorrounded you still untouched.

It made his brain tickle, his throat dry. But he played it off.

“Didn’t know they made armor with perfume built in.”

You stopped a few feet away, tilting your head. “Didn’t know they made egos that big without divine intervention.”

Oof. That got a few laughs. You came with these type of comebacks so easily, never seemed touched by his comments, never letting anyone get under your skin.

Jake raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair.”

His gaze was locked into yours, heavy, lit up, burning with something more than challenge or anger, it was an intense look, as if he was trying to figure you out, trying to look right through you.

A heartbeat passed.

Chiron stepped between you, tall and regal, his voice booming with authority. “Campers. This is a friendly duel. Training blades only. No fatal blows. First to disarm wins.” He looked between the two. “Understood?”

Jake gave a nod. “Sure.”

You smiled sweetly. “Of course.”

Your swords were exchanged for dulled celestial bronze training versions, enchanted to sting like Hades but not kill.

As Chiron backed away, the air thickened. The noise from the crowd melted into the background.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

You just watched each other.

Jake’s smirk faded into something quieter, measured. Curious. You stood with your blade at your side, calm and unmoved, like you were waiting for him to decide when the dance would start. The crowd was roaring behind you two, but Jake barely heard it anymore. You stood across the ring, your sword loose in one hand, eyes locked on his like you were the only two people in the world. Yours shining, sparkling with hunger, he could tell you’d been waiting for this, he just couldn’t understand why exactly.

Then the real game started.

You began to circle. Slowly at first. Measuring. Watching.

Jake’s feet moved in perfect rhythm, fluid, confident. He tilted his head slightly, sizing you up.

“You sure you’re not just here to impress your cabin?” he teased, voice low.

You smiled softly. “You sure you’re not just afraid to lose in front of yours?”

The way you said it, light, airy, like a flower petal on the breeze, made the jab land even harder.

Jake’s smirk twitched. Okay. Cute. You were cool. Calm. Unshaken.

But he knew how to break through that. He always did.

He feinted to the right, quick and sharp.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, your blade rose fast, just enough to parry if he committed. You didn’t overreact. You didn’t fall for it.

Interesting.

Jake took a step in and you mirrored it.

Two more steps.

Then Clash.

Your swords met in a flash of bronze, the sound ringing out like thunder. Your strike was fast. Faster than he expected. Not wild, not emotional, precise. Controlled. You pivoted on your heel, angling your body to minimise target space. Your movements were so clean, so deliberate.

Jake caught the blow, just barely. Your faces were close now, blades pressing, arms trembling with tension.

You were faster than he expected, stronger too. Your swords clashed again, ringing across the field, but Jake barely registered the sound. His focus narrowed, locked on the girl in front of him.

He’d never really looked at you before, not like this. You were always… in the background. The picture of perfection. Helping younger campers with their braids, organizing picnic tables, smiling like nothing in the world could touch you.

But this girl?

This girl moved like a storm pretending to be a breeze.

Every strike you threw was elegant, but lethal. Every step was soft, but deliberate. You were poetry in motion, graceful and deadly. And you weren’t just matching him, you were challenging him.

Jake gritted his teeth and swung again, forcing you to block high, then low. You countered with a fluid pivot that nearly knocked the blade from his hand.

The air was hot, the sun high in the sky, every eye on you two, on the fight. Long minutes passed between swings and hits, where neither of you seemed to be surrendering for now.

He was sweating, like actually sweating.

And you, gods, you still looked serene. Focused, unrattled. It should’ve pissed him off, it did a bit, but instead something in his chest twisted. Tight.

How the hell did he not notice you before?

You could feel his strength in every strike. The way he moved, clean, sharp, confident. There was a reason why they called Jake Sim the best swordsman of his generation.

You spun to the side, narrowly dodging a brutal downswing, and countered with a quick jab towards his side. He blocked it in time, but you saw the flicker in his eyes, surprise.

You weren’t playing anymore.

There was heat in his eyes, not just from the fight. Not from frustration, it was something else. Like curiosity, like awe.

You took a deep breath, and stepped back, reseting your stance. So did he. You were circling again, both breathing harder now, both sweating, neither smiling anymore.

The way you moved, each strike fast and precises, calculated like a chess player five moves ahead. You were good.

But Jake’s eyes kept drifting.

The curve of your shoulders as you pivoted. The way your braid swung behind you, like it was dancing with the wind. The way your perfect skin glistened beneath the sun and the sweat, a few strands sticked to your beautiful face, your makeup still perfectly applied, the way your body seemed to shine. Your armor, subtle, elegant, hugged your body like it has been made by Aphrodite herself. Which, honestly? Wouldn’t been shocking.

And then there were your eyes, focused, glowing, locked on him like a pretador pretending to be a prey.

You stepped into him, swung high. He blocked, but his grip slipped a little, the crowd gasping.

Pull it together, for fucks sake. He thought, tilting his head, chest moving up and down, lips parted as he caught his breath. But for some reason he couldn’t, not when you were this close, not when you smelled like roses and wildfire, sweet and soft. It made his skin shiver even if the day was hot beneath the burning sun. The sweat on his forehead falling along his whole face until it was dripping from his neck.

You spun again, graceful as a dancer, and your leg brushed his as you passed him. His mind scrambled for focus, he tightened his grip and turned, eyes locked on your back for a split second before you twisted around, blade raised. And smiling.

He was so in trouble.

You could feel it, the shift. Jake was still fighting, fast, precise, sharp like always. But there was something different in the way his sword moved now. A half second slower, a little less direct, his eyes weren’t on your blade anymore.

They were on you.

You ducked under his swing, twisted behind him, and let your fingers graze his side, not a hit, just barely a touch. And he froze. Then you stepped back into position, sword up again, and let your gaze flick down his chest, then back up, slow, enough for him to notice, fast enough to pretend it was accidental. This was a different game now, something unspoken.

Jake’s breath hitched.

“You okay there, Sim?” you asked sweetly, voice like honey and silk.

He scowled, but it was weak. His lips twitched like he wanted to smirk.

“Just adjusting.” he muttered, circling again.

You let your shoulders relax, body fluid as you moved. Your braid bounced with each step, catching the sunlight, you could feel his eyes on it. On you.

But you struck again, quick, sharp, letting your body press just a bit too close in the follow-through. He caught your blade, but his footing slipped, just slightly. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body, his arm brushing your waist, his breath was right there, hitting your cheek. It was now your skin’s turn to shiver.

You leaned in, whispered just loud enought for only him to hear.

“Still think this is just a friendly spar?”

His eyes met yours, heated, locked. Fire beneath them.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. There was something floating between you two now, something more than just challenge. It was lust, intrigue, desire.

Jake was losing focus, and he knew it. Everytime he got close, you’d look at him like that, eyes calm, soft, but hiding the fire behind them. Like you knew you were pulling his strings and were enjoying every second of it.

He swung low, fast, but you danced out of range like you could read his thoughts, your movements were too smooth, too deliberate. You were baiting him. Then he circled to the left, feinted, struck high, and you caught it. Your blades locked again, faces inches apart, breath mingling.

Your lips were slightly parted, glistening, cherry lip gloss still perfectly applied.

Jake’s chest rose and fell with each breath, sweat slid down the back of his neck, and still, he couldn’t stop looking at your mouth.

You tilted your head, just slightly, close enough to be a whisper.

“You’re distracted.”

“I’m not.” He answered quickly, too quickly.

So you smiled. “You are.”

Your swords scraped as you held the lock, muscles trembling.

“Are you gonna try to kiss me, or are you gonna fight me?” you murmured, so low only he could hear.

And he blinked, just once. And in that exact half-second, you dropped your weight, twisted under his blade, and swept his legs out from under him with one clean, beautiful spin.

Thud.

He hit the ground, flat on his back, sword flying from his hand and skidding across the arena floor, eyes wide open as if he couldn’t believe it.

Then, the crowd exploded. Cheers, gasps, laughter. Your siblings jumping, hugging each other, kids from other cabins going crazy.

You looked around, getting an early hint of that glory you so much desired, that moment, where everyone seemed to be worshipping you, admiring you, you felt something you couldn’t describe. This was what demigods were made for, what you were born for. And today, today you proved it. You smiled at the crowd, bowing gracefully like a ballerina who just finished a perfect show, your siblings throwing pink, beautiful flowers at you, a few getting stuck in your hair.

Jake groaned and blinked up at the sky, still trying to catch his breath, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Then you stepped into his field of vision. You stood over him like a goddess in battle armor, your sword pointed gently at his chest, just where his racing heart was, one eyebrow raised in that maddening, perfect smile.

“Disarmed.” you said simply.

He stared up at you, breathless. Not because of his obvious lost, but because of you.

“Remind me never to underestimate Aprhodite’s kids again.”

You tilted your head, same sweet grin in your lips.

“We’re full of surprises.”

And then you offered him a hand, he stared at it for a few seconds, thinking, his head spinning, going circles, not because of the fall, not because he had been defeated, but because your smell was taking over all the air around him, and for some reason, he wanted his lungs full of it.

He finally took it, sweaty, hot palms against each other. Your fingers were warm, strong, and when you pulled him up, you were close, closer than before. Not just physically.

And suddenly, the duel didn’t feel like the end. It felt like the beginning of something much more dangerous.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

It had been three days. Three days since the duel. Since you, sweet, soft-spoken, perfect little Aprhodite’s daughter had knocked him flat on his back in front of half of the camp and walked away like it meant nothing.

Jake placed the edge of the training arena, jaw tight, arms crossed. The sun was setting behind the trees, casting long shadows across the field where he’d lost. Where you had disarmed him, humiliated him, and smiled while doing it.

His fingers twitched like they were still reaching for the sword you’d knocked away.

And fucking gods, it still pissed him off. Not because he lost, okay, a little bit.

But mostly because you hadn’t even looked surprised. Like you knew all along that you could take him down. Like it was easy. It was the way you looked at him while you fought, calm, focused, like you’d seen through every layer of swagger and charm he wore like armor.

And worse, it was the way he had looked at you, every curve of your body, every flick of your wrist, every step, graceful, purposeful, dangerous. How your figure moved, how your face stayed calm all the time, looking beautiful, perfect. His whole body shivered just at the memory. You hadn’t just beat him in duel.

You unraveled him.

Now he didn’t know what the fuck he wanted. Part of him wanted a rematch, part of him wanted to kiss you just to see if you would let him, part of him wanted to grab his sword, drag you back into the arena and lose on purpose just to feel that thrill again.

You’re Jake Sim. Son of Hermes. Captain of cabin 11. Everyone looks up to you.

How could he just walk up to the girl who beat him, who toyed with him, and say “Hey, i haven’t stopped thinking about you. You got under my skin and i don’t know what to do with that.”

It felt like surrender. And he never, never did that.

But what terrified him more than bruised pride, was the thought of never seeing you like that again. The thought of you walking away from whatever the hell this was.

Jake looked down at his hands, strong, calloused, steady. But for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with them.

The Aprhodite cabin was glowing in the afternoon light, sun filtering through silk pink curtains, the scent of jasmine and rosewater drifting in the air as some of your sibilings had a relaxing, spa day.

You sat on the edge of your sister’s bed, weaving ribbons through a braid with steady, practiced hands. Your touch was soft, gentle, perfect, as always. You smiled when your sister thanked you, gave her a quiet “Of course” and rose to help another camper fix the hem of a dress.

Your movements were calm, graceful.

But your thoughts? Nowhere near calm.

They were back in the arena. Back with the weight of Jake’s body hitting the ground, the way the crowd roared, the he’d looked up at you, surprised, winded, and just a little bit wrecked.

A thrill sparked in your chest all over again.

You did that.

For once, your strength hadn’d been hidden behind beauty or kindness or smiles. You’d shown it. Proved it. And not just to the camp, but to him.

And gods, the look on his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the grin creeping onto your lips as you adjusted a camper’s hair clip.

He’d looked at you like he couldn’t decide wether to fight you or fall for you. And if you were being honest with yourself, you kind of hoped it was both.

Because as much as you were proud of your win, of the way you’d flipped him on his back in front of everyone, you couldn’t stop thinking about the tension in his jaw. The heat in his eyes, the sweat falling from his neck, his dark hair sticked to his forehead, his plump, perfect lips parted as he tried to catch his breath. The way his voice dropped.

There had been something there. Not just in the way you two moved, but in the pause between your strikes. The almost-touch, the almost-kiss. The hunger for something unspoken that wasn’t just glory.

He hadn’t spoke to you since then, not once. Was it pride? Or was he trying to stay away from you?

The idea of him thinking about you, fighting with the same pull, made your chest tighten in a way that was far too satisfying.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

In the armory, the air was thick with the scent of oiled leather and iron. Faint dust danced in golden rays of afternoon light cutting through the narrow windows. It was quiet. Undisturbed. You decided to go there to pick a few new weapons for this year's Capture the Flag, after all, you were the camp's new favorite warrior.

But then Jake Sim walked in.

His boots echoed slightly against the stone floor. He didn’t speak at first, he just watched you.

You stood with your back to him, delicately running your fingers along the line of dagger belts laid across a wooden table. The soft curve on your neck, the gentle sway of your hair, Jake’s eyes followed every detail like it was dangerous.

Because it was.

His heart was racing and he knew exactly why, it was because of you, because of the thoughts he had been having about you, about what you did to him and what he wanted to do to you. It was driving him crazy.

“You always this graceful picking out weapon straps?” he finally said, voice just low enough to carry.

You turned, slowly, as if you’d known he was watching all along. His raspy voice echoing, you suppressed a smirk. He was wearing the camp shirt, tightened around his chest because of his muscular body, veins popping under the slightly tanned skin of his arms, hair perfectly slicked back, that same, cocky, confident smirk in his lips. It made you want to kill him or jump right onto him an devour him.

“Only when i know someone is staring.” you said with a smile so subtle it felt like a secret.

Jake’s heart kicked hard in his chest again.

You were dressed simply, white tank top and cotton shorts, your usual camp gear. But the way you stood there, confident and completely at ease, made it impossible to look away. Your lips were glossed with something soft and pink. Your eyes sparkled, playful, unreadable. Your beautiful, long eyelashes decorated with perfectly applied mascara, a soft red blush on your cheeks.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”. You said, drifting closer to the display, tracing the edge of a bronze buckle.

Jake leaned against the nearby bench, arms crossed, trying to look unbothered. Trying.

It was the first time you two were talking after the events in the arena, the first time you two were alone, in a room, with those drowning feelings that none of you had put the finger on, it was like a recipe for disaster. And you were about to fall inside of it, deep.

“Didn’t expect you to haunt my thoughts either, but here we are.”

Your eyes lifted. And there it was, that flicker of fire beneath the calm, sweet surface. Made him want to forget all of his pride and kneel down in front of you to worship you.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” A shiver went down your spine when he smirked, cocky out of habit, but inside he was drowning.

“You beat me in front of everyone. It’s hard to forget something like that.”

Was it just that? Or something else? Something heavier, deeper, hotter. You didn't know. Jake was a cocky man, pride showered him like a second skin, you knew it was hard for a demigod like him letting those words leave his mouth, and for some reason, it was satisfying.

“Mmm.” You murmured, stepping a little closer. “I think you liked it.”

Jake didn’t respond, he couldn’t. You were closer now, not enough to touch, but gods, it was close. He could see every detail of you, the way your lips parted as you breathed, the faint blush rising to your cheeks, the slight rinse and fall of your chest, you beautiful, perfect body.

And you were watching him, really watching him. Not just for his words, but for every breath he took. The air filled with tension, desire, something unbereable.

“You’re tense.” You said softly, eyes dropping to his clenched jaw.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You took another step forward, the tips of your fingers brushed the hem of his shirt, not enought to count as a touch, but just enough to promise one. His body tensed, his gaze locked with yours, intense, deep.

“You’ve been acting like you’re unaffected. But i see the way you look at me, Jake.”

His throat went dry, he didn’t move. If he moved, he wasn’t sure he’d been able to stop himself. He was a man with ambition, who always followed his desires. And right now, they weren’t innocent desires.

You tilted your head slightly, he fucking loved when you did that, when you acted all innocent and pure, and maybe you were, but now he was seeing right through it, and your lips now were barely a breath from his.

“Say it.” You whispered, challenging him, once again, doing the thing that drove him crazy.

Jake stared at you, jaw clenched, heart hammering. His pride screamed to hold back, to play it off, to make a cocky comment. But the desire? The desire had been clawing at his insides since the second you’d walked into his life.

“You’re driving me insane.” He said finally, low, deep voice as he spoke “And i don’t know if i want to kiss you or throw my sword at your head.”

And you laughed, soft and slow, your whole body twitching a his confession. Because you felt that too, you’d been wanting, all of it, too, to fight him again, to win again, to kiss him, to feel him.

“You want to kiss me.” You said simply.

Then, finally, he moved.

One hand reached up, cupping the side of your face. His strong, calloused thumb brushed along your jawline, slow, reverent, fingertips tickling. His other hand found your waist, fingers flexing against the fabric of your tank top. He looked at you like you were the most dangerous thing he’d ever faced, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight or surrender.

“Tell me to stop.” He whispered, voice rough, shaky, hot breath against yours.

“Don’t you dare.”

And he kissed you.

Not rough, not rushed. But deep, like he’d been starved for you and didn’t know how to go slow. Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer. You kissed him like you knew exactly how long he’d been holding back, like you’d been holding back too.

The room spun, the rest of the world fell away.

There was only the heat of his mouth, the press of his body against yours, the way your breaths tangled like you were trying to inhale each other. Your lips were moving above each others at a slow, almost teasing pace, like the one you had in the battlefield, dancing while little sighs left both of your mouths, hot breaths colliding. His lips were soft, plushed, and he tasted sweet, it made you tremble and you had to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer, deeper. Jake whimpered, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue, exploring your mouth with it and tangling it with yours, sending that familiar shiver down your spine.

He slid his hand from your waist to the small of your back, pulling your flush against him, your fingers were tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. He let out a soft sound in the back of his throat, frustration, relief, desire.

When you bit gently at his lower lip, he growled.

“Gods.” he muttered into your mouth. “You’re going to ruin me.”

And you laughed against him.

In one smooth, desperate morion, he lifted you, hands gripping under your exposed thighs as you gasped, and set you up on the workbench behind you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking him in. The bench creaked beneath you, old wood protesting, but neither of you cared.

Your hands then slipped beneath the edge of his shirt, palms pressed to his warm, tanned skin. You felt the tension in him, tight and coiled like a spring ready to snap. Jake kissed you like he’d been starving, like every second of restraint he’d shown since the duel had been building to this one moment. His hands were everywhere, your thighs, your waist, your back, memorising you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen, lip gloss ruined, your eyes dark and bright and locked on him like he was something you couldn’t quite resist either.

“I tried not to want this.” He admitted, breath ragged.

You touched his face, gentle, detailing every inch of his gorgeous features. “I didn’t.”

He exhaled a soft laugh, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Of course you didn’t.” He murmured, smiling against your skin. “You’re too damn perfect.”

You slid your fingers through his hair again, dark brown strands between them, nail grazing lightly at his scalp. “Still think i’m just a pretty girl?”

Jake pulled back to meet your eyes again.

“No.” He said, voice low and sure “You’re dangerous, and i want more.”

And then he kissed you again, deep, slow, like he really meant it this time. Like it wasn’t just heat or revenge or rivarly anymore.

Like it was want, it was real.

And you let him, opening your mouth and recieving his wet, warm tongue, sucking it and letting out little sounds that only made him kiss you harder, his rough hands now caressing the skin of your thighs, gripping a little tight like wanting to mark his fingers, his kiss becoming sloppier, needier, he wasn’t holding back anymore. The stubborness in you had faded away, since the moment he put his lips above yours, and right now, you were going to let him do as he pleased, because you wanted that too.

So you slid your delicate, smooth hands beneath his shirt, now touching the bare skin of his abs, tracing the perfectly built lines, thanks to his training, then his chest, then down again, deleiting yourself with that soft skin, that was burning beneath your fingers, and he whimpered again, biting your lip so hard that it stinged a little, but you didn’t care, you just moaned, low, softly, and he lost his mind. Because his hands now traveled to your covered ass cheeks, squeezing them tight above the cotton of your shorts, shamelessly groping as if he’d never touched anyone before, because the sound that left his throat was different this time. And you squirmed, the shiver that once was settled on your spine moving down all the way to your core, ending up in a wetness that you couldn’t ignore.

He broke the kiss, but only to bring his face to the curve of your neck, kissing there, sucking, licking, hot and wet tongue against your skin, and you tilted your head, giving him more space, eyes closed as you sighed.

“Fuck, this damn smell.” He whispered with broken voice, lust being the only tone in it “It’s been driving me crazy.”

You bit your lip when he caught your skin between his teeth, biting, marking, slightly arching your back, your covered breasts making contact with his chest, and he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, practically breathless.

“You want this, right here?” he asked, deep in his heart wishing you’d say yes.

And of course, you nodded, fluttering your eyelashes in that way that made his knees weak.

So he wasted no time, grabbing the hem of your tank top and lifting it over your shoulders, sliding it out of you with desperation, your bare, perfect breasts in front of him, nipples hard the second the air made contact with them. And his face, he looked completely wrecked as he admired you. Dark, lustful but shiny eyes taking in every inch of your body. He was sure that you were Aprhodite herself brought to life.

His face buried in your chest, hand cupping one of your breasts and tongue licking and sucking into the other, and you moaned high pitched, arching your back again and gripping his hair wanting to feel him closer, your whole body shivering, the wetness between your legs now completely impossible to ignore. The sound of his mouth against your skin combining with your whimpers, your legs trembling, no man had ever touched you like that before, like worshipping you.

“J-Jake…” you moaned, biting your lip, eyes sparkling filled with need and desire and hunger.

“You’re a fucking goddess.” He whispered, not letting go of your nipple, hand squeezing. “I’d let you ruin my whole life.”

That was the hottest thing someone had ever said to you, and you whimpered, stretching your hand so you could touch him again, helping him slid out of his shirt, this one ending up on the floor along your tank top. And the sight was breath taking, his glistening, tanned skin, his toned abs, his pumped chest, the veins in his arms. He was a god too, you were sure about that. Your hand ended up sliding beneath his cargo pants, palm making contact with his already hardened member, and he growled again, thrusting his hips needfully to meet with your touch. He was thick, hard, throbbing through his boxers, and you whimpered again when he did the same to you, manly hand finding your clothed pussy, rubbing his fingers against you, your wetness noticeable through the thin, laced fabric of your underwear.

"Do you taste just as sweet as you smell?" He whispered, in your ear, teeth biting your earlobe, you didn't respond, not being able too, your whole body feeling like it was on fire.

Your legs threatened to close, but he kept his other hand on your kneee, forcing you open, thumb rubbing circles against your swollen, clothed clit. Then, in just a second, your back crashed with the wall as he slid down your shorts, and underwear, throwing them on the floor and just taking a second to admire you. Your face was red, you were now naked, there, in the armory, in front of him, and the look in his eyes was completely different. He was broken. His gaze trailed down your body, your breasts, your torso, between your legs, your beautiful, heavenly pussy in front of him, dripping, wet, glistening, needy.

He didn't say anything, he couldn't find the words to even try to describe you. So he knelt down, like a mortal in his favourite goddess altar, hands gripping your thighs, tight, he wet his lips with his tongue, and your hands found his hair again, he closed his eyes as you caressed him. Few seconds passed, and he leaned in, face buried between your legs, looking so gorgeous, but so fucked. And then, a long, soaked, warm lick, his tongue traced a slow line in your folds, and you screamed, throwing your head back. And the sound he let out, was almost unnatural.

Jake kept his eyes closed as he sucked your clit, tongue tracing circles before starting to suck you, tasting you, swallowing you, devouring you. He ate you out like an starved man, spitting and licking and whining against your soaked pussy, nose rubbing with your aching clit, and you could only whimper and moan, rocking your hips into his face, begging him to never stop. And he wouldn't dare, because you were the sweetest thing he'd ever put in his mouth, in that moment, he wanted to die between your legs. His face was a mess, chin soaked in your arousal, cheeks red, eyes still closed. One finger found your entrance, sliding between your walls so good and your pussy clenched around it, the wood beneath your body completely soaked, sticky with your sweat and fluids.

"So sweet." He whispered, his hot breath crashing with the skin of your inner thighs, and then he opened his eyes, dark gaze locked with yours.

His finger thrusted inside and out of you, lips wrapped around your clit, and you whined, your legs shaking, twitching, trembling, sweat starting to fall down your forehead. Second finger slid, curling inside of you, stretching you so good, brushing teasing your g-spot.

“G-Gods.” You whined, pulling strands of his hair.

Jake then stood up again, cleaning his lips with his palm before devouring your mouth again, and you could taste yourself in his hot mouth, your dripping pussy still pulsing, clenching around nothing. But not for too long, because he slid two of his fingers inside of you again, deep, hard, rough, now really fucking you with them, curling them and bumping them into your g-spot over and over again, spreading your walls, soaking them with your fluids.

“Fuck, you’re leaking.” his voice was so weak, so broken. “Can’t wait to feel you. Been wanting this since you called me out with that beautiful face.”

Palm was crashing with your clit, fingers moving in and out fast, the wet sounds and moans being the only ones in the hot, barely illuminated room. Your whole body tensed, showered in pleasure.

Then Jake pulled them out, and you whined, teary eyes looking at him like really full of desire, of want, of need. And he couldn’t hold back anymore, not when you were so perfect, so gorgeous. So made for him.

So he finally, finally took his member out, throbbing, thick, hard, veins popped up, red tip leaking, he was full of need too. And your eyes shined, your mouth watered, the lust taking you over. He didn’t wait much, he couldn’t, so he stroked himself a few times, jaw clenched and hisses through his teeth, he rubbed his tip between your folds, teasing you and himself, one hand gripped to your waist, marking. And then, he slowly slid in, and you grabbed his shoulders for balance, because the feeling crushed your brain and body, his thick length stretching you as good as his fingers, deep, slow, you watched as it disappeared inside of you. And he groaned, low, eyes sticked to yours, thrusting his hips a few times, still at a slow pace, like not wanting the sensation to go away so fast.

“Fucking hell” he bit his lip, moaning. “You’re so tight, this is the most perfect pussy ever.”

You let out a cry once his thrusts became faster, rougher, skins crashing making an obscene sound as his cock disappeared inside of you, his eyes sticked to your face, not wanting to miss any of the expressions you were making, your beautiful, perfect face ruined by the pleasure. But he was no different, his jaw tight, his eyebrows frowned, hisses leaving his parted lips as he moaned and growled like an animal. The once perfectly made braid in your hair was now messy, a few strands sticked to your face, your eyes teary, your forehead full with sweat, your lips sore because of how much you were biting them.

One hand cupped your breast again, squeezing hard, as if he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, of your perfect body. And the other found your aching, swollen clit, messy circles at the pace of his thrusts, he rolled his hips harder into you, going so deep, you could feel him in every inch of your insides, the pleasure showering you, your brain completely shut down. You moaned high pitched, hiding your face in the curve of his neck, eyes closed as you saw stars.

“You like it?” he asked, a smirk in his lips, his cocky nature still in him, breathless, between thrusts “Tell me, please, need to hear you say it, princess.”

The nickname wasn’t sarcastic anymore, it was affection in it, worship, devotion.

And you whined against his skin, filling your lungs with his sweaty, manly smell, nodding, desperate, needy.

“Y-Yes. Please don’t stop.”

So using his incredible strength, he pulled out, but he made you put your feet on the ground, flipping you over so your chest was now against the wood of the counter, and he slid in again, grabbing your hips, bumping deeper thanks to the new position, head of his cock reaching your g-spot immediately, and you cried against the surface as tears rolled down your cheeks, ruining your mascara. His thighs crashed against your asscheeks, his movements now sloppier, erratic, he was really fucking you now.

But to be fair, you fucked him first, just in a different way.

He kissed down your back, everywhere, sucking too, wanting to mark every inch of your soft skin, and you arched your back, thrusting backwards meeting with his hips, nails scratching the wood beneath you.

This wasn’t just fucking. This was him discharging all of his frustration and anger in you, but not in bad way, in a i fucking trust you and worship you as a goddess way. And it was driving you crazy, you had the strongest man in camp moaning your name and mind-fucked and wanting to die inside of you.

Jake’s hand placed your braid over your shoulder, now kissing your neck again, whispering sweet words in your ear, voice wrecked and weak, crushed by his own moans and groans.

“You’re so perfect. I wanna worship you all my life. I want you to see me, to humiliate me again, i don’t care, i’d fight with you all the time just to keep your eyes on me.” He was mumbling, completely pussy drunk. But you were too, because he stretched you so good, because the warmth of his weigth was just too much, you sniffed through your nose, whining.

“J-Jake…” you moaned again, the knot on your lower belly starting to built. And he understood, because his fingers brushed your clit again, fast, rough. Your legs were trembling, your knees weak, the air so hot, you felt like you were about to pass out.

He grabbed your throat, not hard enough to choke, just to hold, to make you raise your head so he could kiss you again, dirty, sloppy, angry. His tongue explored your mouth once again, and his movements were completely erratic, senseless, he was close too. A few drops of his sweat soaked your face, combining with the saliva falling from the corner of your mouths. The way we kissed you, the way he touched you, the way he fucked you. Not only made you whimper because you were an Aprhodite girl, not only because it flattered you, but because it was him.

And you broke, body completely wrecked, back arched as you screamed so high pitched and came all around his cock, the orgasm taking you over, your pussy dripping, clenched tight around him, your heart racing, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He came too, because the look of your climax was just the peak of perfection in his eyes, and he didn’t hold himself back, guttural groan leaving his throat as his orgasm made him leak inside of you, warm, creamy fluids filling you up, thrusts becoming slower, weaker, his pulsing cock discharging all of his pleasure.

Neither of you spoke for a few seconds, he didn’t pull out, didn’t move, part because he couldn’t, part because he didn’t want to. You felt his lips on your cheek, sweet, slow, his breath making your skin jump. But you couldn’t move either, you didn’t feel like yourself, the whole room was spinning, your body felt like floating. You sighed deeply, trying to regain balance.

Then Jake finally pulled out, slow, and his cum dripped between your folds, and down your legs. His eyes sparkled, the view just so perfect for him to handle.

“Are you ok?” He asked softly, grabbing your waist so you’d stood up, his eyes were still lit up.

You cleaned the sweat of your face with your hands, trying but failing to fix your hair. Then you smiled, same sweetness as ever. Even after he literally fucked you.

“I think you broke me.” You joked, voice still weak, but your eyes were sparkling too, something new awakened inside of you, and him. Between you two.

Jake chuckled, still a bit breathless, but he started to pick up your clothes, shaking them because of course, you could never wear something dirty.

“Well, princess. Call that a rematch.”

And you rolled your eyes, pushing his chest surprisingly strong, he almost tripped. Then you both laughed.

He kissed you again. Sweet, soft, and you didn’t want him to stop. Ever again.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

“How long are they gonna keep going with this?” Sunoo groaned, rolling his eyes and resting his head on your little sister’s shoulder, her smiling, amused by the scene in front of them.

The sun hung lazily over camp Halfblood’s training field, glints of sunlight off polished bronze blades. A few kids crowded at the edge of the ring, sitting on logs and leaning over the rails, whispering at each other.

“They’re still going.”

“Twenty minutes.” A Hermes camper confirmed, eyes locked on the fight. “And they haven’t stopped once.”

You stood across from Jake, your sword poised gracefully, a bead of sweat running down the side of your face, your stance was perfect, shoulders relaxed, chin lifted, eyes sharp.

Jake… was smiling.

“Tired, princess?” He asked, circling you slowly.

“You wish, hero.” you shot back, shifting your grip. “I could do this all day.”

“Yeah?” Jake twirled his sword lazily “You gonna keep staring at me or actually fight?”

“Hard to fight someone when they’re too busy admiring themselves”

Your sisters went oooh. And Jake smirked.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Your blades met with a clash, steel, sparkling, footwork fluid and fast. But it wasn’t just training. You had a rythym now, a dance you both knew by heart. Teasing swipes, parried blows, a spin that brought you two almost chest to chest.

“You’re holding back.” Jake whispered low enough for only you to hear, breath brushing your cheek.

“So are you.” you whispered back, voice like silk. “What are you afraid of?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he lunged, and you spun. Your blades locked high, too high. One step, a slip. Your foot caught the edge of the sand pit, Jake reached out instinctively, grabbing your waist.

You fell.

Right onto the training mat, you landing on top of him with a surprised gasp, tangled up in his limbs and laughter.

Neither of you moved.

You hovered over him, bracing your hands on his chest, his heart pounding beneath your palms.

“You ok?” You asked softly.

“Perfect.” Jake breathed, but his eyes were fixated on your lips.

There was a beat, a long, electric pause. No teasing, no taunts. Just tension, want. Something warm and stupid and real blooming in his chest.

And then he leaned up, meeting you halfway.

The kiss was soft at first, just a brush of lips, like a secret shared in plain sight. But then it deepened, slow and certain.

Until you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Jake rested his forehead against yours.

“Still think we’re just sparring?” you murmured, teasing smile in your voice.

Jake grinned. “Definitely not.”

From the sidelines, Jay, one of his brothers shouted.

“Get a cabin!”

But Jake reached up, brushed a strand from your face, and smirked. Eyes sparkly, lost, completely in love.

“I told you i’d win.”

“I let you fall.” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get cocky.”

taglist

@gulicore @bussolares @vixialuvs @berryloveseunghan @lilifiedeans @m1kkso @usuallyunlikelyfox @jayjw16enxp @starfallia @bellsjakesgf @zuwishii @cutehoons02 @immelissaa @nyxtwixx @kayjiguki @emisluvr @k1ttyjwon

thank you so much for reading!! hope you enjoyed <3 it would help me a lot if you liked/repost but i’m happy knowing that someone even read this !!

heeseung’s drabble next !!

#enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen jake smut #enhypen jake #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfiction

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hoonieangel · 8 days ago

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this was so cute !!

CALCU-CRUSH! ♡ p. sunghoon

୨୧ SMAU! SYNOPSIS -› Yeah, Park Sunghoon might be just a little annoying- but hey! at least he can help you get an A in AP CALC, and he will never a crush on you to make things super weird and complicated, right?

୨୧ PAIR -› math tutor!sunghoon x chem nerd! y/n ft. jake and wonyoung

୨୧ GENRE -› highschool au | ୨୧ TROPE -› idiots to lovers

୨୧ INCLUDES -› idk man they're just idiots LOL

୨୧ REN SAYS... me when i don't want to write the written chapter for get better so i create a whole new smau because i finally have gotten around to doing smaus and text posts for enha also nae taught me how to add colors and i havent looked back ever since LOLL thank u user dioll !! alsoo the name is calculus but the lus is replaced with crush its not calc crush its calcucrush !!!!

୨୧ DONE!

PROFILES (powerpuff gals /// mathletes turned baddies)

01 ♡ bombed like the bathrooms

02 ♡ $300 on a kpop ticket

03 ♡ cognitive dissonance

04 ♡ holding hands in rugby stands

05 ♡ operation jacket around shoulders

06 ♡ WRONG JACKET ABORT MISSION

07 ♡ feelings? yea i still have touch

08 ♡ if you want to date her by 40

09 ♡ cured from stupidity sickness

10 ♡ he hits me (his girlfriend)

୨୧ PERM TAGLIST @dimplewonie send ask or dm to be added!

#enhypen #enha #enhypen au #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhablr #sunghoon

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hoonieangel · 15 days ago

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🤍🤍🤍🤍

THE SCIENTIST

pairing: popular hueningkai x deaf fem!reader

summary: Kai, who thrived in sound. Loud noise, vibrant conversations, the hum of life. And the quiet girl that sits prettily by the window—had begun to haunt his mind—stirring his heart the way only music ever had.

There must be some scientific explanation for this... right?

warnings: deaf reader, set in 1995 timeline, verbal!abuse, physical!abuse, family-trauma, ableism!(hate this word so much). side character!death, purely work of fiction. subtle implications of survivor guilt, high-school setting but everyone is 18 and above. everything written here is not a description of any idols. characters like chae-won, yun-jin etc are used. if any of the warnings above might be triggering for you, please proceed with caution if you decided to read. (let me know if i missed anything.)

smutwarnings: explicit!smut, pull-out method(pls don't),fingering!, missionary!, virginity!loss. MDNI.

wc: 21k

notes: inspired by twinkling watermelon. while I’ve done some research to better understand what it’s like to be deaf, there may still be inaccuracies. I did my best to approach the subject with care and respect. love knows no boundaries, hence I wrote this piece. a big thank you to my beta reader.

You were born with the inability to hear anything.

The world is nothing but a muted place for you. You never heard the birds singing at dawn, the hum of a bustling street, or the warmth in your parents’ voices—even your own. The sun might be painting the sky with its warm hues, but for you, it was just another day of deafening silence.

And then there was that one particular day.

You didn’t hear the crash, the scream of tyres, or the shattering glass. You didn’t hear your mother's voice, soft and trembling, as she held you close. Eyes brimming with tears, searching yours, face pale and streaked with blood.

You tried—desperately—to focus, to read the words forming on her lips. But your head spun, the world blurred, and all you could feel was her cold hands cradling your face. How can you? When you couldn't even hear your own pained whimpers from the glass that cut your skin. Strangers pulled you. They carried you away—away from her, away from her forever.

You’ve convinced yourself it must be punishment—a cruel reckoning from a life before this one.

Why else would your hearing be taken from you? Why else would the universe strip away the one person who truly saw you, who tried to understand you, even in your silence? What crime could have been so unforgivable that it warranted a lifetime of loss?

You stabbed at the food on your plate, pushing it around without taking a bite. Your stomach churned—not from hunger but from being trapped here. The room was filled with people who called themselves your family. Family—nothing more than a coincidence of living in the same house.

A sharp kick to your foot snapped you out of your thoughts. Your eyes met hers—your stepmother. Her perfectly practised smile didn’t reach her cold, calculating eyes.

She had arrived after the accident, ten years ago, when you were just eight. Back then, she was a tutor, brought in to give your father hope—a cruel, empty hope that you could still learn to speak. She had played her role well, and now she sat at the head of this table, the head of this house, ruling with her own. Her daughters—your stepsisters—sat on either side of her, mirroring her expressions, their eyes flickering toward you.

“Is the food not to your liking?” she asked—you read her lips, something you had to do out of necessity. Her stare burned into you.

You knew that look too well. Behave. Know your place.

And, as always, your father sat there, oblivious. His eyes never caught the disdain in hers, never lingered long enough to notice the cracks in the perfect picture she painted. Soon, he'll be back overseas for another business trip.

"Y/N?"

You hesitated, lifting your hand to sign, then you caught her eye—a sharp, pointed look. Your hand faltered, dropping back to your side.

Instead, you let out a hum. It wasn’t much, just a sound—a vibration you couldn’t hear but felt in your throat. She tilted her head slightly, giving a satisfied nod.

Your father pushed back his chair, standing with the same distracted air he always had. He walked over to you, placing a hand on your head, a gesture so routine it barely meant anything anymore. I’m going now. That was what it always meant.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead briefly, before straightening up. His secretary hovered near the door. You watched his back as he walked out, leaving you staring from the table.

The day your mother left you, you lost... him too.

Seeing the doors close, you rose from your seat, but your stepmother was quicker, blocking your path. She loomed, her face a mask of forced patience. "Do I need to remind you again?" she said, "I said speak. No hand signs or whatever that is. That is not allowed here on this house. Do you want me to get mad at you again?"

Her glare felt like a physical force, pinning you to the spot. Unable to meet her eyes, you nodded weakly, looking at the floor. But she wasn’t done. She stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders in a firm, punishing grip. Her fingers dug into your skin as she shook you, her frustration spilling over.

Everyone watched. They just.. watched. The maids stood frozen in the corner, their expressions carefully blank, devoid of any emotion, too scared to intervene. Your stepsisters whispered to each other, their mocking smiles only adding to the humiliation.

You nodded again, your only escape was to comply. A soft hum escaped your lips, the sound she always, always insisted on, a token of submission that seemed to satisfy her. Her hands drop from your shoulders. The moment her grip released, you ran. Up the stairs, down the hall, into the only place that felt remotely yours—your room.

Once inside, you collapsed at your desk, leaning forward until your forehead pressed against the hard surface. The tears came quickly, spilling from your eyes as sobs racked your chest. They said crying was supposed to help, to lighten the burden somehow. But for you, it only made the weight heavier. You couldn’t even hear yourself cry. The silence made your pain feel endless.

In your despair, your arm knocked into something on the desk. You looked up in alarm, your heart skipping as you saw the mess. Paints, scattered and spilling, teetered dangerously close to the last drawing you had finished the night before.

Frantically, you reached out, your hands moving quickly to fix it. The thought of losing that small piece—felt unbearable. You righted the paints and saved the smudged edges of the paper, tears blurred your vision as you looked at the sketch.

A boy, in your uniform, with bangs that fell over his eyes and the back of his hair just shy of touching his collar, stood smiling softly. In his hands, he held a guitar, fingers resting gently on the strings.

Huening Kai has so much to be delighted for—his mom, his dad, his sweet sisters—but if he’s being frank, what he’s most thankful for is the day he picked up a guitar and found his love for it.

Music has been his refuge during both the small, frustrating setbacks—like failing a math test he poured hours into studying for or losing a manga he cherished so much and never finding it again—and the moments that cut far deeper.

It was there when his parents decided to end their marriage, leaving him struggling at first—to make sense of a family that no longer looked the same. It was there when Lea packed her things and left for college, that he felt the ache of her absence in a much quieter house. It was there when two of his bandmates graduated, their spots in the group left empty, a reminder of how quickly life can change.

Through music, he met people who became his closest friends, his second family—people he couldn’t imagine living without.

It all comes back to one truth: music doesn’t betray you. It’s always there, no matter what. It’s honest, a constant in a world that often feels anything but. It’s there when you need it most, wrapping you in its arms like an old friend who doesn’t need words to understand—even when you can’t find them yourself.

“Huening Kai!” a high-pitched voice calls out. He feels the soft thud of pillows hitting him and a sharp slap against the back of his thigh. Seriously? He had just fallen asleep.

“I’m going to eat all your food if you don’t get up,” the voice threatens. That gets his attention. Groaning, he blinks his eyes open, adjusting to the dim light of his room. Familiar sight of used guitars propped against the wall, the gleam of trophies, and the dark violet hue that wraps around the room.

He blinks. Oh. It’s his sister, Hiyyih.

Hiyyih stands there, a plate in one hand, an annoyed look plastered across her face. Kai can tell she’s been sent by their mom to rouse him, probably against her will. She takes a deliberate bite of scrambled eggs, her eyes narrowing as she gives him a pointed look before turning to leave.

Kai chuckles softly, shaking his head as he rubs his eyes. He stretches, muscles still heavy, and a frown tugs at his lips. Today is the first day of his last year in high school. The final chapter. Soobin and Yeonjun won’t be there anymore. He sighs, swinging his leg off the bed.

He runs a hand to his tousled hair, grabs a hoodie from the back of his chair and pulls it over his head. He heads towards the chatter—smell of eggs, bacon and pancakes makes his stomach growl.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," His mom greets him with a smile. His frame now towering over the kitchen shelves. He catches her watching him, a soft look in her eyes, and it makes him smile back.

"Morning," Kai mumbles, sits down at the table, reaching for a slice of toast.

Hiyyih watches him,"I thought I was going to have to eat all your food," she teases.

Kai rolls his eyes but grins. "You wish."

"Big day, huh? Last first day of school."

"Yeah. It feels… weird. Soobin and Yeonjun aren’t going to be there. Has Lea called yet?"

"She did. She's doing great so far, being a college girl." his mom answers, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll make even greater memories this year."

Kai smiles, appreciating her words. "Thanks, Mom."

Breakfast was filled with small talk, morning routines wrapping around them. Hiyyih busied herself packing her lunch, their mom helping her with a few finishing touches. Being just a year below Kai, their schedules almost mirrored each other, so they will go to school together.

"Kai, want me to sneak some of these into your lunch?" Hiyyih asked, voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. He glanced over to see her holding up rice balls shaped like hearts and little animals, clearly proud of her handiwork.

"No, thank you," Kai replied, his tone flat but amused.

"Killjoy," she muttered, giving him a mock glare before returning to her task. He watches as she carefully places a tiny heart-shaped piece of seaweed to form a cat's nose. Something he did not understand.

Why go through all that effort?

The three of them make their way to their mom’s old car, a little worn but still reliable. Kai slips into the passenger seat, and Hiyyih climbs into the back, fussing with her hair even though she just brushed it a minute ago.

“Why don’t you let me drive?” Kai asks as the car starts rolling through the neighborhood. “That way you don’t have to keep going back and forth from school to home.”

His mom glances at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Son, just because you turned 18 last summer doesn’t mean I’m handing over the keys. Besides,” she adds warmly, “I want to do this for you and Hiyyih.”

Kai leans back in his seat, nodding. She’s right. And anyway, it’s not like they head home together after school. His afternoons are spent in the band room while Hiyyih flits between her own plans, always busy with something or some girlfriends.

The car rolls up to the massive school grounds, Kai glances out the window. The sight of students milling around, the towering building ahead—it’s the same as always. He exhales and starts gathering his things.

He steps out, the crisp air latch on his face. With a quick ruffle of his hair, he pushes his longer bangs away from his eyes, though they fall back almost immediately. The strands at the back have grown out too, brushing the collar of his jacket. Slinging his backpack over his right shoulder and his guitar case over his left, he adjusts the weight and sets off toward the main building. Black—headphones rest around his neck.

He’s barely made it a few steps before he feels it—the stares. The whispers.

“Isn’t he one of the handsome seniors?” “The main guitarist of TXT.” — “He’s so tall. And cute.”

Kai shrugs it off, keeping his focus ahead. He’s used to it. Beside him, Hiyyih is already swept up by one of her friends, her laughter fading into the background after she’s pulled in another direction. His feet carried him down the well-worn hallway, a path he didn’t even have to think about. He could probably make the walk blindfolded. The band room.

When he reached the door, he grasped the doorknob and paused, a small smirk tugging at his lips as the low, bassline thrummed from inside. Peeking inside, the sight was just as he expected—home.

“Yo! Huening Kai!” Beomgyu’s voice rang out, bright and animated, as he set his bass down. His grin widened as he crossed the room in a few quick steps, pulling Kai into a hug before he could dodge. “How was your summer?”

Kai let out a soft laugh, prying Beomgyu’s arms off him. “It was fine. I went shopping with Taehyun a couple of times,” he said, making his way toward his guitar shelf. “Watch it.” he added, shooting Beomgyu a look as the other trailed dangerously close behind.

Beomgyu’s eyes landed on the guitar case Kai was carrying, and his grin turned sly. “What’s this? A new baby?”

“Yeah,” Kai replied, carefully unzipping the case and pulling the guitar out as if it were a fragile treasure. “Dad brought it back from abroad.”

Beomgyu snickered, reaching out to pinch Kai’s cheek. “You’re absolutely smitten, aren’t you?”

“Would you stop?” Kai swatted his hand away, but there was no hiding the small, proud smile tugging at his lips.

Before Beomgyu could tease him further, the door swung open again. Taehyun stepped inside, clipboard in hand, expression calm and no-nonsense as usual. “The new auditionees are here,” he announced, motioning to the two figures who followed him in.

“This is Heeseung,” Taehyun said, gesturing to the taller one. “He’s here to audition for piano. And Jay—he’s trying out for drums.”

Kai glanced at the newcomers, giving them a polite nod as Beomgyu rubbed his hands together, mischievous grin returning. "Alright," Beomgyu said, "let’s see what they’ve got."

The next hour flew by with skills checks, and it didn’t take long for them to see that Heeseung and Jay were solid. They were skilled, sharp, and seemed to fit right into the gaps left by Soobin and Yeonjun. It felt like they could pick up the left space and carry it forward without missing a beat.

Afterwards, Taehyun waved them off, heading to his next class, while Kai and Beomgyu walked in the opposite direction. They shared the same class, while Taehyun, ever the academic overachiever, headed to the advanced one.

“Only the brainiacs go there,” Beomgyu says, nudging Kai with his elbow.

Kai shook his head. Taehyun’s class was famous for being perfectly orderly—a stark contrast to theirs, which was noisy and chaotic on a good day. Their room always felt like the epicentre of the school’s commotion, every day.

The rest of the hours passed in a blur of introductions and meetings with their new advisors. And, of course, Kai’s least favourite math teacher made his return, every bit as strict as before.

Kai slouched in his chair, barely stifling a groan as the teacher droned on about equations and formulas. His mind drifted—Why do he even need this? Is he going to calculate the quadratic formula to buy chips at the grocery store? No.

He glanced down at his hands, the faint calluses on his fingertips from hours of guitar practice catching his eye. He’d much rather spend his time until his hands were sore than trying to decipher problems that made no sense to him.

Beomgyu leaned over, “I think your brain just checked out.”

Kai grinned, giving him a light shove. “Math checked me out first.”

The two of them exchanged quiet laughter, abruptly stopping when the teacher eyed them down.

By the time the last class wrapped up at 4 p.m., Kai found himself right back where he’d started his day: the band room. He and his four bandmates were deep into their after-school practice, bestowed in instruments, time slipped by unnoticed.

“Shoot,” Jay muttered, his gaze snapping to the wall clock. 7:30 p.m. Thirty minutes past the curfew for club rooms.

The realization hit them all at once. If the guards caught them here, it would mean one thing: detention.

“Pack up. Now,” Taehyun said, already slinging his bag over his shoulder. The others scrambled to gather their own gear.

Everyone slipped out into the dark, quiet halls, trying to move as silently as possible. The sound of their footsteps seemed louder.

“Hey! Who’s there?” A booming voice cut through, and suddenly, ta flash of light caught them mid-step.

“Go!” someone hissed, and chaos erupted. The guard started running toward them, and they bolted in every direction. Beomgyu let out a panicked squeal as he sprinted with his bass case clutched in one hand.

Kai didn’t have time to think—he just ran, heart pounded as his legs carried him blindly through the halls. He rounded a corner, only to see another guard up ahead. The group split, scattering.

He can’t get detention on the first day. His lungs burned as he pushed himself further. He kept running, not even sure where he was going, until his body… gave out.

Panting, he slumped near the wall, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He glanced over his shoulder and froze. A flashlight beam swept the hallway behind him. His pulse quickened as he realized he was at a dead end.

Frantically, his eyes darted around, then saw a room ahead. Kai’s brow furrowed at the sight of the mop propped against the door handle, clearly used as a makeshift way to keep it shut. Weird.

He hurried over, carefully removing the mop, and slipped inside. The room was pitch dark, save for the faint glow of light spilling in from the high windows. It cast eerie shadows on the walls, but he didn’t care. He just needed to hide.

Kai tried flipping the light switch, but nothing happened. Figures, he thought bitterly. He shut the door as quietly as he could, pressing his back against it to steady his breathing.

“Anyone there?” The sound of footsteps echoed outside. The guard’s flashlight swept across the small window in the door, and Kai instinctively slid to the floor, curling himself. He crawled, akwardly, backwards, toward the corner at the far end of the room, hoping to make himself as invisible as possible.

But something bumped against his foot. He whipped his head around, his breath catching in his throat. Sitting in the corner was someone else.

You.

Your legs were drawn up to your chest, wide eyes staring right back at him.

“Shi—” Kai started to curse but stopped himself, clapping a hand over his mouth—heart hammered in his chest, not sure if it was your unexpected presence in the room that caused it—or the way your wide, startled eyes locked onto his in this small space.

Chae-won, like you, is in her final year of high school, while Yun-jin is a year below. Your stepsisters.

When they first moved in, your twelve-year-old self had hoped you could be... friends. You had imagined shared secrets, laughter, and maybe even sisterly bonds. But the moment your father’s attention shifted elsewhere, it was clear that your stepmother’s whispers had already planted seeds of resentment in their hearts.

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started. When did it all go wrong? Was it because you were the only biological daughter in the house? Because your father, despite his best intentions, never really connected with them either? Or was it simply because you couldn’t speak?

The inability to communicate fully, to bridge the gap between your world and theirs, seemed to widen the chasm. You often wondered if things would have been different if you could—if words could have built a room where silence had only erected walls.

After years of trying, of reaching out and being met with cold indifference or outright hostility, you gave up. You stopped hoping for understanding, stopped yearning for a connection that seemed impossible. The effort of trying to be part of their society when they wanted nothing to do with yours had only broken your heart.

"Watch where you're going, fucking weirdo," Chae-won sneers, her foot juts out, sending you stumbling. The water bucket you were carrying—filled with the murky grey water of used paintbrushes—tips forward, dousing your chest. You don’t hear the laughter, but you can feel it, buzzing around you in the painting room.

You look up, your gaze darts to Yun-jin. She leans against the counter, arms crossed, her painted red lips curved into a smug smirk. She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to do something about it.

You’re in your school's art room, surrounded by the faint smell of turpentine and dried paint. Art has always been your peace. But your love for it didn’t go unnoticed by your stepmother.

It wasn’t long before she pushed her daughters into it too. You’re not sure if it was to force some kind of twisted togetherness between you, or if it was her way of ensuring they would always outshine you, in everything—even this.

You push yourself up, your clothes clinging to your body, damp. Your eyes narrow as you stare at Chae-won. You want to tell her off, to demand an apology, to ask why she does this—

"Cat got your tongue?" she taunts, her lips curl into a cruel grin. "Oh, wait. You can’t speak. Poor girl. That’s what you get for being such an attention seeker."

Your breath hitches as your brows knit in fury. You can’t reply with words, but actions—actions—will do just fine.

As she turns to leave, you grab her hair, yanking it back with all the frustration and hurt bottled up. She shrieks, spinning around to claw at you, and soon you’re both tangled in a fierce struggle.

The others jump in.

Someone grabs your arm, wrenching it back. Another slaps you hard across the face, the sting reverberating through your skull. A foot connects with your leg, sending you buckling. You hit the ground again, tasting blood on your lips as they shove you down.

Your things are heartlessly thrown at you—your bag, your books, your sketchpad—hitting you like stones. Footsteps retreating, laughter echoing in their faces. They close the door before you can even blink.

You force yourself to your feet, every movement a struggle against the ache in your body. You stumble to the door, testing the handle. It doesn’t budge. Of course, it doesn’t. They’ve done this before.

Silence.

You sink back down onto the hard floor, your chest heaving as tears spill freely down your cheeks. Trembling hands reach up to the corner of your lips, fingers brushing the split skin. The sting makes you wince.

The clock ticks on, indifferent. 4:50 p.m.

You take a shuddering breath and wipe your tears with unsteady hands. You smooth your hair, trying to tame the mess they made of it. With a quick swipe, you clear the blood from your mouth, leaving behind only the faint metallic taste.

All you can do now is wait. Alone—praying—that someone will come and find you in this empty room.

What you didn’t expect was that someone would come—three hours later, long after the sun had set. You’d been staring at the door for so long that when it finally creaked open, you were already halfway to your feet.

But then you froze.

It’s him.

Of all people, it’s him.

You swallowed the surprise in your throat, pulse-quickening as you watched him slip inside, crouching low, moving backward like he was avoiding something.

He was hiding. From what, you didn’t know—not until a beam of light swept across the windows above, brushing against the walls like a searching hand. Your body stiffened, instinct telling you to stay still.

You weren’t sure you could.

When his gaze finally landed on you, the shock in his expression was unmistakable—and you knew yours mirrored his. Suspended in that shared disbelief.

“Quiet, please,” his lips shaped the words. His hand rose, a single finger pressing against his mouth. The dim light barely reached him, but you caught the faint pink of his lips.

Minutes passed. Neither of you spoke, just staring at each other like you were both trying to figure out something. He shifted, his eyes widening in alarm.

“B-blood,” he stammered, pointing at your forehead.

Your hand shot up instinctively, fingers brushing against the skin there. When you pulled it back, you saw it—smudges of red streaking your fingertips.

He's as startled as you, he tapped his chest, like he was trying to centre himself, and quickly rummaged through his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief, holding it out to you with a slightly trembling hand.

You didn’t take it. You couldn’t. It must be the ache in your bones, the hunger in your stomach, the blood still fresh on your hands—or maybe... your mind was still catching up to the fact that he was here, standing this close to you.

When you didn’t move, he took another step forward, hesitating only briefly before carefully pressing the cloth to your forehead. His touch was cautious, you could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric.

From this close, you could smell him. Clean, with a faint trace of musk, and something sweet underneath. You hated how your chest tightened because of it.

“What happened? Why are you here?” he asked, his fingers were steady as he wiped the blood from your skin. His brow furrowed as he inspected the small cut, his concern written plainly on his face. “Did someone lock you in?”

You shook your head, hesitant. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you let your gaze fall somewhere—anywhere—but on his eyes.

He didn’t press for more. “Let’s get out of here.”

His hand found yours. All you could do was stare at your entwined fingers. You can feel the tip of your ears go warm. He gave it a gentle squeeze before he stood and pulled you up from the cold, unforgiving floor.

The boy who had only ever been a distant figure to you. The boy you’d sketched on countless pages, the one whose smile crinkled his eyes so perfectly it made your chest ache. The boy you were sure didn’t even know you existed.

He pulls you out of this suffocating room. His tall, sure figure led, guiding you as you ran. Every so often, he glances back, his eyes searching yours and for a fleeting moment, you glance down and see your shadows on the wall—together. His hands never let go of yours until you weren't in the dark anymore.

Huening Kai.

Kai slouches in his seat, letting out another heavy sigh. His body’s in class, sure, but his mind? It’s stuck somewhere else—somewhere back last night.

He can’t stop thinking about you. And he's not sure why.

You both made it out of the school grounds safely, and he even helped you gather your things from your locker. He stood there awkwardly, watching when you downed a bottle of water in one long gulp like your life depended on it. His suspicions were confirmed—someone did lock you in that room.

How long had you waited, sitting there in the dark? His stomach churned at the thought. What if he hadn’t been hiding that way? What if no one had found you? The idea of you spending the entire night in that empty space until a teacher or janitor happened upon you made his heart race. It’s… eating him alive.

But the thing that gets him, the part he can’t stop replaying, is how… quiet you were. No explanations, no complaints—just a nod here and there, avoiding his eyes the whole time. Did he cross a line? Say something wrong? Overstep somehow? Did he offend you without realizing? Or worse—do you just not like him?

He rubs the back of his neck. And yet, despite all that, he also can’t stop thinking about how your eyes seem soft under the moonlight, making them look so—

“Dude.” Beomgyu’s voice cuts, “What’s with the brooding? Bell rang.”

Kai glances around the classroom. Almost empty. “Oh. Right. Nothing,” he mumbles, grabbing his bag.

Beomgyu narrows his eyes. “You’ve been sulking like my dog when I don’t share my snacks.”

Kai remained silent, pouting and followed Beomgyu out of the classroom. It’s lunch now, and as usual, they’re headed to meet Taehyun at the cafeteria. Heeseung and Jay will probably join them too.

Walking through the hall, Kai forces a polite smile at the people who greet him. Beomgyu, on the other hand, is his usual exuberant self, grinning and dapping up every other guy who greets him as they pass.

The two make their way into the cafeteria, people stared. They walk toward their usual spot, a table near the centre of the room. No one ever sits there. Everyone knows—it’s their table. Yeonjun made that mark. It's an unspoken rule.

Kai drops into his seat, setting his bag down and pulling out his packed lunch. The cafeteria food doesn’t really do it, not when his mom’s food is always better.

“What do you have?” Beomgyu asks, leaning over.

“Tempura and some beef,” Kai replies, popping a piece of shrimp into his mouth.

“Give me some,” Beomgyu demands, already reaching for his chopsticks. Kai rolls his eyes but slides the container a little closer, watching as Beomgyu happily steals a piece.

Taehyun walks in, weaving the crowded tables with his usual stride. “You're early,” he greets, his seat across from them. "That's a record."

Kai’s eyes flick toward the entrance, catching sight of you slipping. You moved slowly, clutching your tumbler. You keep your head low, glancing around as if to make sure no one’s watching. Kai stands, pushing his chair back abruptly. He can't miss this chance.

Beomgyu pauses mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “What’re you doing?”

Taehyun gives him a sideways glance. “Kai?” Kai ignored them. He just heads toward you.

“Hey,” he calls out, but you don’t turn. Hesitating for only a second, he gently taps your shoulder.

You whirl around. Your grip tightens on the water bottle, and your eyes widen slightly when you realise it’s him. Around you, a few people glance over.

“Hey,” he says again, softer this time. “How’s your head?” He tilts his own slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the bandaid peeking out near your hairline. “That looks better,” he murmurs.

“Would you like to join us for lunch?” He points behind him toward his table when you don't answer, where Beomgyu and Taehyun are undoubtedly watching. As he expected, you shake your head quickly, almost instinctively, avoiding his eyes.

The small rejection stings more than it should. Kai nods, trying to hide his disappointment. “Alright,” he mutters. Then, before he can second-guess himself, he gently takes the tumbler from your hands.

He heads to the water station, fills it to the brim, screws the cap on tightly, and hands it back to you. “Here,” he says simply. It's small. But he wanted to do it for you.

You nod, a small, polite gesture, and turn to leave without a word or a backward glance.

Kai watches you, chest tight. When he trudges back to his table, Beomgyu’s smirk is already waiting for him.

“What was that about?” Taehyun asks, leaning forward.

“I was just checking on her,” Kai mumbles, slumping into his seat. “She never talks to me. I don’t get it.”

Taehyun’s gaze sharpens, and he studies Kai for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “She can’t,” he finally says, voice calm but firm.

Kai blinks, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“She can’t hear you.” Taehyun explains, his tone softening. “She’s deaf, Kai,”

Taehyun filled Kai in, sharing what he knew about you.

Kai was surprised to learn that you were in the same advanced class. As always, you kept everything to yourself. Taehyun admitted he had tried reaching out to you before—once or twice—but even he hadn’t gotten far.

“She’s… just quiet,” Taehyun said with a shrug. “Not just because she’s deaf, either. I’ve tried writing things down for her, you know? Like, in a notebook, to make it easier. But she only ever gives one-word answers. A ‘yes’ here, a ‘no’ there.” He sighed, “It’s hard to get through to her.”

Kai leaned back in his seat, dragging a hand through his hair. Guilt tugged at him. He��d been so quick to assume you were ignoring him, brushing him off on purpose. But now?

Now, he couldn’t stop imagining what it must have been like for you that night. Locked, no way to call for help, no way to know if anyone was coming. Alone. Not even the sounds of footsteps approaching to give you hope.

He swallowed hard, his chest tightening. Would he have been able to handle that? Sitting there for hours, completely cut off from the world? Probably not. He’d have broken down.

That's why Kai finds himself walking in the opposite direction of his classroom, away from Beomgyu’s puzzled stare. He doesn’t look back. His feet carry him toward where Taehyun had gone—toward where he knows you are.

The hallway buzzes with life. Groups of students linger outside classrooms, laughing and chatting, their voices blending into the hour of lunch break. A few glance his way as he passes, curiosity in their eyes.

Kai’s steps slow as he approaches the room. The back entrance gives him a clear view inside. His eyes scan the rows of desks. Someone calls his name. Heads turn, smiles and greetings thrown his way.

But not yours.

You’re sitting in the front row, by the window, farthest from where he stands. The sunlight filters through the glass, casting a soft glow over you. There’s a sketchbook open on your desk, the pages large and blank except for the lines you’re drawing with practised ease. The way your hand moves—purposeful—tells him this is second nature to you.

You’re so focused, so completely lost, that you don’t notice the subtle breeze dancing through the window. It catches your hair, making it sway just enough to draw his attention.

He watches as you pause, tucking the stray strands behind your ear before continuing with your sketch. You look just like him whenever he's with his guitar. Kai feels something tighten in his chest.

You look beautiful.

He doesn’t even know your name. But now, he wants to. More than anything, he wants the honour of knowing you.

It’s free time now, and the history teacher had just left. Most of the class scattered—some heading out to the grounds, others roaming the halls for a little fun. But you stayed. You always stayed.

The thought of running into your stepsisters made your stomach turn. They acted so innocent the night you came home, as if they had nothing to do with your wound. Your stepmother, of course, scolded you for being late, hurling her usual cutting remarks, but she didn’t dig any deeper. Sometimes you wondered if she knew—if she already suspected it was her daughters who had done it and simply chose to stay oblivious.

You sighed, flipping another page of your book, trying to block out the noise in your head.

The sudden sight of a chair being pulled up in front of your desk jolted you. You look up.

Huening Kai.

He was sitting right there, a small, easy smile on his face. His eyes held a kind of softness you weren’t used to. And then, he waved.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and instinctively, you turned your head to check if he was talking to someone else. Surely, this wasn’t for you. But the room was nearly empty. The only other person was fast asleep at the back.

Kai watches as you glance around nervously, he might have thought how beautiful you were from afar, but sitting this close now—you’re breathtaking.

When your eyes meet his again, questioning, he clears his throat and speaks. “Hi.”

You nod, silent—attentive. His voice softens, deliberate as he says the next words slowly, “Can I have your name?”

It takes a moment for the meaning to click, and then you’re reaching for your bag, fingers fumbling slightly as you pull out a notebook—the one you use to communicate.

Kai watches as you flip through the pages, landing on a blank one. You jot something down quickly and then turn it toward him.

Y/N.

He reads it, and a smile breaks across his face, his dimple appearing. You notice for the first time the delicate constellation of beauty marks scattered across his skin. How it suits him.

“Y/N,” he repeats, your name rolling off his tongue like he’s trying it out for the first time. His gaze lifts to meet yours. “That’s a pretty name.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and heat rises to your cheeks. You look away—embarrassed. His fingers tap lightly on your desk, drawing your attention back.

“How are you?” he asks.

You write, I’m okay.

Kai reads it, his brows furrowing slightly. Without hesitation, he leans in, his voice low but insistent. “Does anyone bother you? You know… when I found you that night. That wasn’t an accident, was it?”

You stare at him, lips parting slightly in surprise. Kai thinks for a moment that maybe you didn’t catch what he said. But then, slowly, you lift your pen: Why?

Just as he opens his mouth to explain, you’re already writing again.

Is it because you pity me? You’re looking at him now—directly, unflinchingly.

He doesn't want you to misunderstand anything. So he gently takes the pen from your hand, his fingers brushing yours for a moment. Without saying a word, he leans down and writes his response in your notebook.

Because I want to be your friend...

Your breath catches as you read his words. He adds another line beneath it, the letters a little bolder this time.

And because no one deserves what happened to you.

Kai looks at you then, his expression earnest and open, waiting. The notebook sits between you, and the sound of a new bridge forming in the back of your mind.

When you didn't write anything back, he glances down and picks up the pen again, his handwriting slow and deliberate.

By the way, my name is—

Before he can finish, you reach forward, your hand brushing his ever so slightly making him freeze. You write, finishing it for him.

Kai. Right?

The faintest flicker of surprise crosses his face when he sees what you’ve written. His lips twitch into a small smile, trying his hardest not to let out a wide grin.

You look up, meeting his gaze again, and shrug lightly as if to say, Of course, I know who you are.

Everybody knows you.

The words hang there on the page, Kai blinks, processing your response, and then lets out a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking gently, lips slightly apart.

You watch him, a strange ache tugs at your chest. You wonder, How does his laugh sound? Does it sound as pretty as he looks? Now, you're wishing for something you’ve trained yourself not to want—a window into the world you’ve long been shut out of.

It'll be nice to hear his laugh.

The two of you spent the rest of your free time in that same spot. You talked—or rather, wrote—filling the pages of your notebook with conversation. He was surprisingly talkative, and before you knew it, you'd used up two blank pages. When the conversation naturally faded, you went back to your book, but this time, you pulled another one from your bag and handed it to Kai. He took it with a small smile and began to read as well.

There you were, two students, sitting across from each other, lost in your own worlds yet somehow sharing the same one. The room felt warmer, leaving just the two of you in the bubble. You were aware of the flush in your cheeks, the way it stubbornly lingered, but you didn’t mind.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you noticed classmates filtering back into the room. Their steps slowed as they took in the scene—Kai, the school’s band guitarist, slouched in front of your desk, reading quietly across from you, the school's outcast. The deaf girl. His long legs stretched out under the desk, almost touching yours.

He didn’t bother to look up. He didn’t greet them or acknowledge the weight of their stares. Instead, his eyes stayed on the page, though every now and then, they flickered back to you. Each time, he’d give you that same small, reassuring smile—the one that made your heart flutter.

He snapped out of it when your foot gently nudged his leg. The classroom was full now, with students bustling back to their seats, most kept stealing glances at Kai. Their eyes darted back and forth, curiosity written all over their faces, as if trying to make sense of why he was here with you.

Out of the corner, you saw Taehyun make his way over. You couldn’t catch their conversation—Taehyun’s body was turned slightly away—but it was clear from his expression that he was asking why Kai was here. Kai gave him a brief nod, and after a moment, Taehyun returned to his seat, still throwing occasional glances in your direction.

You glanced at the clock. Five minutes left of free time. Before you could process it, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. Kai stood, waving a quick goodbye. He slid his hands into his pockets, all eyes on him as he walked out.

He had just spent his entire free time here. Here, with you.

You swallowed hard, your heart thudding in your chest. Your gaze drifted down the newly etched words he left in your notebook.

See you later :>

You found yourself smiling at nothing, the memory of your afternoon with Kai playing over and over in your mind. Back home now, the evening settling around you, it felt.. warm.

With a watering can in hand, you moved through the small garden—your mother’s garden. It was one of the few things left untouched by your stepmother, a living memory of the woman who once nurtured it with care. What had started as a modest patch of green had grown into something more of a sanctuary.

Your gaze fell on the cornflowers nearby, their vivid blue seeming to shine a little brighter today. Maybe it was the light, or maybe it was the joy still bubbling in your chest, making everything around you seem more… alive, more beautiful. You crouched, fingers brushing gently against the petals, and it felt like your mother was right there, as if she, too, could sense the happiness blooming inside you.

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off by an icy cascade of water, soaking you from head to toe. The coldness stole your breath, bit into your skin and you let out a shriek, the shock more than you could bear. Spinning around, you found Chae-won standing there, a smug grin plastered on her face, the empty bucket tossed carelessly to the side. Behind her, Yun-jin stood with her arms crossed, her glare sharp.

"Are you a witch now, too?" Chae-won sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. Her eyes locked onto yours, glinting with cruel satisfaction. "For someone who's deaf, you're pretty damn loud."

Before you could react, she grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you down with a force that sent you stumbling. Your knees hit the ground hard, the sting of the impact mixing with the cold that seeped into your clothes. You trembled, pain and humiliation washing over you.

"Kai? What did you say to him?" Chae-won continued. "What the fuck did you say to make him hang out with trash like you?"

Tears welled up in your eyes. You tried to stand, but Chae-won shoved you back down, making you cry out in frustration. You reached for her, desperate to defend yourself, but Yun-jin stepped in, pulling Chae-won away, smirking and enjoying your helplessness.

Chae-won then dusted off her shirt as if your touch had soiled her, letting out an exaggerated huff. "You better not think about—"

Her threat was cut short by the arrival of your stepmother. "Chae-won," She approached, her eyes sweeping over your sodden form with a detached disapproval. "Her father might come home today."

That was enough to make Chae-won and Yun-jin roll their eyes, angrily retreating into the house, but not before casting you one last withering glare.

Your stepmother's gaze lingered on the garden, then flicked back to you, her expression unreadable. "Fix yourself," she said coldly before turning away, following her daughters inside, as if she just didn't witness them assault you.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand. The cold water seeped into your skin, its touch biting deep, while the chill of the night’s wind wrapped around you, amplifying the discomfort.

When—when—would they ever stop? When would they finally fail to crush anything close to the hope you dared to feel? You swallowed hard, heart hurt when you saw one of the cornflowers crushed, the delicate blue petals were bent and broken, scattered across the dirt like they didn’t matter.

Just like what they did to you.

Kai thrummed his guitar, his head bobbing in time with the beat as Jay kept pace on the drums. A wide grin spread across his face as he glanced at Jay, impressed. That guy could really play.

The upcoming festival had everyone excited, especially since their band was set to perform. It wasn’t just their idea; the school had practically begged them to be part of the lineup. Naturally, everyone agreed.

As the final song ended, Kai slung his guitar strap off and gave Heeseung and Jay playful pats on the back. “Good session,” he said, voice light. Taehyun had already disappeared for some student council meeting, and Beomgyu crouched near the amp, fiddling with the cables.

As Heeseung and Jay left the practice room, Beomgyu glanced up, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “So… you caused quite a stir yesterday, huh.”

Kai paused, brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Beomgyu leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. “Everyone’s talking about you and… the deaf girl. How you were hanging out with her.”

Kai’s hand stilled on his guitar case. “Don’t call her that,” he said sharply, “She has a name.”

Beomgyu blinked, taken aback by the intensity of the glare Kai shot him. He raised his hands in mock surrender, smirk faltering. “Whoa, okay. Chill, man. That was disrespectful of me. I'm sorry.” Kai didn’t respond, his focus shifting back to securing his guitar. The other could tell he was still irritated.

“So,” Beomgyu's tone was now more careful. “What’s her name?”

Kai hesitated, his fingers pausing over the latch of the case. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, “Y/N.”

Beomgyu caught it—the way Kai’s whole demeanour shifted, softening just at the mention of your name. He grinned knowingly, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Oh, man, you’ve got it bad, huh?” Kai didn’t answer, but the way he bit his lip, was enough. Beomgyu chuckled, shaking his head as he stood. “You’re in deep, dude.”

The two of them walked out of the band room, sunlight streaming across the school grounds as they headed toward their next class. Kai’s guitar hung over his back, his steps light with anticipation. He had a plan for today’s free time—he was going to show it to you.

Then he froze.

“Why’d you stop?” Beomgyu asked, frowning at his friend’s sudden halt.

Kai’s gaze was locked on you. You were walking across the yard, a book clutched in your hand. But something was off. Your steps were uneven, almost shaky, like you were struggling to keep your balance. His chest tightened as he noticed you blink rapidly, expression dazed.

A cold knot of worry tightened in Kai’s chest.

Kai bolted toward you, his long strides eating up the distance between you in moments. The world around him blurred—voices, students, the sun—all of it drowned out by the urgency pounding in his chest. He reached you just as your legs gave up. You fell into his arms.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, voice shaking. His hand settled on your face, and the heat of your skin sent alarm bells ringing in his mind. Scorching hot. A fever.

Your eyes fluttered closed, forehead creased, and face was pale. Too pale.

“What the hell happened?” Beomgyu’s voice came from somewhere behind him, but Kai barely registered it. "Is she okay?"

Without thinking, Kai shrugged off his guitar, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. “Help me,” he said quickly, his voice tight. He grabbed your arm, trying to shift your weight. Beomgyu caught on immediately, stepping forward to assist.

Together, they managed to lift you onto Kai’s back. His arms hooked under your legs, his grip firm but gentle as he adjusted you. “Hold on,” With you securely on his back, Kai broke into a run, his breath coming in quick.

“Slow down, man! You’re gonna trip!” Beomgyu followed close behind, clutching the guitar Kai had abandoned without a second thought—because of you.

The school nurse moved quickly, her practiced hands checking your temperature and administering care as Kai stepped back, his chest still heaving from the run. He stood there, hands on his hips, watching you, his heart refusing to slow down. Beomgyu excused himself, talks about getting water, leaving Kai alone.

His eyes fell on the notebook you had been clutching, which fell on the floor. He reached for it carelessly—a loose page slipped free, back to the floor. He crouched to pick it up, and the moment he turned it over, his breath caught.

It was a sketch. Of him.

Every detail was there, drawn with painstaking precision—the dusting of freckles on his cheeks, small moles he often forgot about, his jawline, his hair. The lines were sure, as though you had poured hours into capturing him just… right.

His throat tightened as he stared, unable to tear his eyes away. Was this really how you saw him?

Kai swallowed hard, and glanced at the rest of the page. Small sketches of cats bordered the margins, their playful forms lightening the otherwise focused artwork. A soft smile enters his lips when his eyes also land on your pen, its barrel adorned with tiny cat designs. His fingers touch the paper, careful not to smudge your work.

You're perfect, he thought, the words echoing in his head, shouting like a whispered confession. How could someone be so perfect?

Kai had to leave you at the clinic to attend classes.

He hesitated, lingering by the door, his eyes darting back to your still form on the cot. You were fast asleep, but the colour slowly returned to your cheeks. He wanted to stay, to make sure you were okay, but he knew he couldn’t. With a defeated sigh, he left. And you were gone when he returned.

"Someone came to fetch her," the nurse explained when he asked. He's still bothered. You were home now, he told himself, safe and resting. Right?

The next morning came, he sat at the kitchen counter. What he wanted to do first thing, was to see you. "Hiyyih,"

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her brow raised. "Yeah?"

"Can you, uh… can you make my lunch today?" Hiyyih stopped, turning fully to face him. "What? But I always make your lunch."

Kai shifted in his seat, awkwardly. "I mean… could you make it like yours?"

"Like mine? What do you mean, like mine?"

Kai hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. Finally, he blurted out, "The cat rice balls. Can you add those?" There was silence as Hiyyih stared at him, her lips tight. Then, she broke into a slow, knowing smirk. "Cat rice balls, huh?"

Kai felt the heat up his neck, and he quickly averted his stare. "Just—just make them, okay?" He groaned, dropping his head onto the counter.

Hiyyih burst out laughing, her teasing ringing through. Oh, he's sure. This was going to haunt him for days.

Kai spent the day in restless anticipation, his usual self replaced with something far more jittery. Even his friends couldn’t ignore it. He fidgeted during class, zoned out at times, and seemed to barely hear what anyone was saying.

It was all because of you.

When he saw Taehyun at band practice earlier, the first words out of his mouth weren’t about music. “Is she coming today?”

Taehyun had nodded, confirming you were attending class, and Kai had been trying—and failing—to calm his racing thoughts ever since. By lunchtime, the decision was made. He slung his bag over his shoulder, he turned to Beomgyu. "I’m skipping the cafeteria today."

Beomgyu just gave him a knowing look, his smirk light, teasing. "Didn’t think you needed to explain," he points out. "Your face already did."

Kai didn’t even bother denying it. Instead, he took a steadying breath and headed toward the one place he knew he’d find you. Your classroom.

His steps slowed when he spotted you inside, seated at your desk. The heaviness in his chest lifts. You were pulling open a lunch box, carefully arranging everything, your expression calm and focused.

He stepped inside, and when he was almost infront of you, you glanced up, your eyes widening slightly when you saw him.

"Hi," Kai said, a small, nervous smile sitting on his lips. You blinked, surprised, but a faint smile broke through as you set your chopsticks down.

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling warm under your gaze. "I, uh… I figured I’d check on you. Make sure you’re okay, you know… after the other day."

You nod, reaching for your notebook to write a reply, but Kai gently stopped you with a small shake of his hand. “You should eat first, okay?” he said softly, his lips forming the words carefully for you to read.

Your response was simple—a quick thumbs-up—but it was enough to make a boyish grin spread across his face.

Pulling out a chair, Kai sat across from you, his movements just a little nervous, though he tried to hide it. He set his lunchbox on the table, the bright cat decorations catching your eye. It's hard to really miss how much effort had gone into it—cat-shaped rice balls, tiny details, and colourful accents that screamed effort.

Kai caught your expression. "Hiyyih made it," he admitted. What he didn’t mention was how he’d spent an entire morning persuading her to make it perfect, offering bribes, doing her chores, and enduring her teasing, all just to get her to agree.

He opened the lid and carefully moved a portion of the food into your lunchbox. "Here," he said, nudging it toward you.

You glanced at him in surprise, then back at the food, your lips parting slightly before they curved into a smile—a real smile. Not the polite, hesitant ones you used to give him, but a full, bright smile. It reached your eyes, crinkling them at the corners.

Kai froze for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. You’d smiled at him before, but not... like this.

He had never quite understood why his sister went to such lengths with these little creations—why she got up before sunrise to shape rice into animals or why her mood seemed to brighten whenever someone praised her work. But now, watching the way your face softened, the way your smile seemed to linger longer than usual, it all started to make sense.

If something as small and silly as this could make you look at him like this, if it could bring you even the smallest bit of joy, then he thought to himself—he’d start doing it too.

Swallowing, he picked up his chopsticks, forcing himself to eat even as his appetite felt oddly… irrelevant. He stole glances, and it struck him how happy you looked. The memory of when he’d first met you flashed in his mind, alone, wounded and withdrawn. And yet, here you were now.

His stomach fluttered, suddenly feeling full—not from the meal but from something that only your smile seemed to give.

After lunch, Kai didn’t get the chance to spend his free time with you. Beomgyu practically dragged him to practice, which he didn’t resist—especially since seeing you healthy and smiling had already lifted his spirits. His energy during practice was unmatched, his fingers flying over the guitar strings with a renewed vigour. For once, it felt effortless, like his heart was finally in sync with the music again.

When the day wound down, he found himself waiting by the school gates. A few students greeted him as they passed, and he returned their smiles politely, though his attention remained elsewhere. His heart leapt the moment he spotted you walking toward him, your steps purposeful yet light. His lips curved into a small smirk before he could help it.

"I wanted to see you before you went home," he said softly.

Your smile in response made his chest tighten, and you pulled a small notepad and pen from your pocket. After a brief moment of scribbling, you held it up for him to read:

Thank you for everything, Kai.

The simple words hit him harder than he expected, and a warm smile tugged at his lips. “You waiting for your sisters here?” he asked, but as soon as he mentioned them, your smile faltered slightly, and something shifted in your expression.

He remembered Taehyun mentioning that you had two sisters at school, but nothing beyond that. He didn’t press. All he knew was that you usually arrived and left together in the same car.

You scribbled another note. They went home early. Shopping, I think.

Kai’s brows furrowed slightly. Why didn’t they wait for you? Before he could ask, you were already writing your next reply.

I’ll take the bus today.

“Let me take you home,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

The bus was packed, and you followed Kai closely as he led the way. He glanced back, his eyes searching for something until they landed on an empty window seat. With a small nudge of his shoulder, he gestured for you to take it.

Sliding into the seat, you couldn’t help but notice how his arm brushed against yours as he stood beside you, gripping the rail overhead. He leaned down slightly, reaching for the notepad in your hands. His handwriting was a little crooked, he had written quickly, but his message was clear:

Are you okay?

You nodded and took the pen to write your response. Yes.

Satisfied, he smiled. He reaches out, hooking his pinky finger to yours. It stays there, throughout the ride. One that you wished that didn't have to end.

Kai’s eyes widened when you gestured toward your home.

Sure, his own house was comfortable—his family could provide everything he needed—but this? This was on another level. Massive gates, the sprawling estate beyond them, the kind of place that practically screamed wealth, grand estate that made him feel like he’d stepped onto the set of a drama. His thoughts stumbled over themselves as the realization hit: you were a chaebol.

And yet, the thought lingered in his mind: how could they leave you to manage on your own, just because your sisters decided to go out? The question sat uncomfortably in his chest, though he kept it to himself.

You turned to him, drawing his attention back to you. Standing there, you looked up at him, your figure small against his tall, broad frame. He looked so effortlessly handsome it made your chest ache. You wished, fleetingly, to reach out and run your fingers through those dark locks, to feel their texture beneath your hands. He had done so much for you today—more than you could put into words.

See you later?

Kai read it, his lips quirking into a gentle smile.“Go inside,” he said, tapping your head softly. “See you later.”

As you turned and walked toward the house, he stayed rooted to the spot, watching your retreating figure until you disappeared through the gates. He let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his heart beating steadily against his ribs.

He could do this every day, he thought. Waiting for you, walking you home, making sure you were safe. He wanted to do this every day, however many days, as long as you’d let him.

After sending you home, Kai steps into a familiar bookstore, and the scent of old paper hits his face.

The owner greets him, casually mentioning the new volume of Slam Dunk just released, but Kai doesn’t even register the words. He’s already moving past, heading toward the back of the store where the shelves are less familiar.

He stops in front of a section—far away from the music books, the theory guides, and mangas. He picks it up.

Beginners: Sign Language.

You closed the door behind you, the weight in your chest heavier than it should’ve been. Dinner was supposed to be a happy time, right? Eating with your family, sharing moments. But it never felt like that for you. Not in this house.

Your eyes caught the sight of the fax machine on the side table, a piece of paper hanging loosely from the tray. You walk over, your steps slow, uncertain. Only two people know your number: your dad, and… Kai. You grabbed the paper, the handwriting unmistakable.

Come out. Will be there in 20 mins. —Kai.

Your breath caught. Dinner had taken longer than that. You scrambled to the window, heart pounding, and there he was—a silhouette against the dim streetlights, a mess of dark hair leaning casually against the gate.

You didn’t hesitate. Grabbing your pen and notepad from the desk, you ran. The startled looks of the housemaids blurred past you, and even the sharp, judgmental gaze of your stepmother from the couch—teacup poised mid-sip—couldn’t stop you. She doesn’t matter right now. Nothing does but getting to him.

You burst through the front gates, your eyes locking with his. His face breaks into a soft, immediate smile when he sees you, the sight of you in your loose shirt and pyjamas makes his heart skip a beat.

You raise your notepad, writing quickly, then holding it up for him to see. What are you doing here?

You reach for your notepad and pen, the confusion evident on your face as you extend them toward him. But instead of taking them, his hands move, and the world around you seems to pause.

"Hi." His fingers shape the sign, hesitant, uncertain. Your heart stumbles as you watch his hand move again, spelling out your name, letter by letter, in sign language. It’s slow, almost clumsy, but every movement is intentional. He’s trying, and it sends your heart racing.

"How was your—" He falters mid-sign, his hands falling to his sides. You watch as he digs into his pocket, pulling out a small book. The title catches your eye, and your chest tightens. He scratches the back of his neck, looking at you with an embarrassed sort of determination as he mouths, Wait.

And then he tries again, repeating the signs, "How was your dinner?" His movements are a little smoother this time. The question lingers in the space between you, and you feel your throat tighten as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It feels like you can hear—his voice.

Your body moves before you can think. You step forward and wrap your arms around his neck. Your head presses against his chest, and you feel the slight hitch in his breath before his arms slide around your waist, holding you close. His warmth steadies you as a single tear slips free, trailing down your cheek.

No one had ever done this for you before. No one had ever tried to meet you in your silence, to understand the world you lived in. At home, they’d dismissed sign language, rejected it, treating it like some kind of shameful reminder of what they wanted to ignore. They’d made you feel like you were something to be hidden, something that's less.

But here he was—a boy who, just weeks ago, had been a stranger—bridging the gap, pouring himself into learning just to reach you. Crossing the distance to meet you where you were alone.

For the first time, you didn’t feel stranded on an island of your own.

Kai spent the next few minutes basking in the warmth of your presence. When another tear slipped past your eye, he reached out, his thumb brushing it away with the gentleness of someone afraid to break something precious. His attempts at signing sentences were clumsy at best, and your happiness marked your face—something that made his heart do flips.

"Yah, I'm trying, you know," he huffed, feigning indignation as he stomped his foot playfully. His pout only deepened when you smiled at him, and he could feel the heat crawling up his neck to his cheeks. He wanted to tease you back, but the words caught in his throat when you raised your hands.

It was the first time you signed in front of him. The motion was small but deliberate, the flick of your hand touching your chin before extending toward him. Kai’s eyebrows knit together, his mind scrambling to catch up. He flipped the pages of his book, muttering, “Wait, what does that mean?”

You reached for your notepad, scribbling the word: Thank you.

Before he could process the words, you signed again, your hands moving with a fluidity that stopped him in his tracks. The glow of the moon and the faint light from the lamppost illuminated your every move, casting soft dancing shadows across your face. And Kai—he forgot how to breathe.

You looked… different. You were stunning. Not the shy, hesitant version of you he’d grown used to, but confident and sure. Each gesture was almost poetic, and he was utterly mesmerized. The way your fingers moved felt like a song without sound—it suited you in a way words never could. He didn’t even want to blink, because he was afraid he’d miss something.

All he could do was watch, completely captivated by the real you.

"You didn't really have to. But thank you… for learning it for me."

The moment was shattered by the loud creak of the gates swinging open. Kai turned, his gaze meeting a woman’s sharp, glaring eyes. He opened his mouth to bow in greeting, but he quickly realized her scowl wasn’t for him—it was directed squarely at you.

Confused, Kai glanced back at you, his eyes scanning your face. Panic was written all over it. You hastily scribbled on your notepad, the letters uneven and rushed: Step-mother. Go home now, Kai.

He read the words and nodded, even if he didn’t fully grasp the situation. When your eyes met his again, there was something pleading in them. Turning back to the woman, Kai mustered a polite bow. “Good evening,”

She didn’t acknowledge him. “Go inside or we’ll lock you out here all night.”

Kai froze, the words almost too cruel to believe. He remembers you being locked up that night at school. His jaw clenched, but he kept his expression neutral, eyes flicking back to you. You were already scribbling again: Good night. Be safe travelling home.

He noticed something then—why hadn’t you signed it? He’d learned those words, and he knew you knew them too. But he didn’t ask, didn’t want to add to your distress. Instead, he nodded silently, stepping forward to close the distance between you. He bent down and pressed a light, lingering kiss to your hairline. A small gesture to remind you that he was here, even if he had to leave now. "See you later."

When he straightened, he turned to your stepmother, who was staring at him with thinly veiled disdain. Kai met her gaze, nodded politely, and then stepped back.

He didn’t look away until he saw you retreat inside.

The gates slammed shut with a force that rattled him. Your stepmother's tone echoed in his ears, harsh and dripping with contempt. He hated the way she’d spoken to you, the way her eyes had looked at you as though you did something so wrong.

He walked away, fists clenched at his sides. The thought of you living in a house with someone like that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Kai reunited with you the next day.

He carefully tried to bring up the encounter with your stepmother, but you avoided the topic entirely. He didn’t push, though. Instead, he quietly accepted it when you told him you lived with her, your stepsisters, and that your father was out of town on business. He said he’d wait—that he’d listen when you were ready to open up, when you felt comfortable.

Now, he’s on his way to the band room, arriving half an hour early for practice. His hand is wrapped around yours as he pulls you along. The soft warmth of your fingers in his feels just right. Students pass by, glancing your way, but Kai doesn’t care. Not when you’re here with him.

You agreed to come, though you weren’t sure what to expect. When you step into the room, your eyes widen. Trophies line the shelves, instruments are arranged neatly against the walls, and there’s a large, inviting couch in the corner. There's also a small door that must lead to a private bathroom.

Kai settles you on the couch, his lips curving into a gentle smile as he pulls his guitar out of its case. He tells you he wanted you to see this. He also mentions the upcoming festival in two days—a subtle invitation in his words.

As he strums the first notes, your eyes are drawn to him. The memory of the first time you saw Kai surfaces—your second year of high school. That day, he was being calmed down by Soobin, the band’s previous genius pianist. Even then, he left an impression so strong that you couldn’t forget him, no matter how much time had passed.

Now, sitting here in the band room as he plays his guitar for you, it feels surreal. If someone had told you back then that this would happen, you’d have laughed it off or called it impossible. But here you are, and he glances up, his eyes flickering between the strings and your face.

"I like it," you sign.

Kai’s face lights up. He reaches for something—your eyes are drawn to his hands. There, faint guitar scars run across his fingers, etched into his skin like a map of all the hours he’s poured into his craft.

An idea enters your mind.

Two days later, the school day comes to an end. You quietly pack your belongings, slipping books and papers into your bag as the chatter of students fills the room. The festival is less than an hour away. You’re just about to zip up your bag when movement near the doorway catches your attention.

Choi Beomgyu steps into the classroom, his eyes scanning the room like he’s on a mission. You glance at him curiously as Taehyun notices and stands up, greeting him with a nod then points in your direction. Beomgyu makes his way over with Taehyun trailing behind him. "Hi, Y/N," he signs, the motion catching you completely off guard. Your eyes widen in surprise. Did Kai teach him that? Did he teach both of them?

Before you can even process the thought, Beomgyu hands you a folded shirt. You take it hesitantly, inspecting it as the fabric unfurls in your hands. The moment you see the name Huening Kai printed boldly on the back, your heart skips. It’s his band shirt.

“He’ll love it,” Beomgyu says, a small grin tugging at his lips and winks. He reaches out, lightly tapping your head like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Without another word, he throws an arm around Taehyun’s shoulders, and the two of them leave the classroom together. Some girls in your room look at you with dirty looks. It matters not, you'll have to change your shirt first.

Kai’s eyes catch on your shirt almost instantly, his pace slowing as he closes the distance between you.

Confusion flits across his face, but then realization dawns. His band shirt. His name, his number on your back. His eyes widen in disbelief, and he lets out a laugh.

When you’re close enough, he reaches out, gently turning you around so he can see the full print. His fingers linger lightly on your shoulders. His grin widens, a mix of pride and something softer that you can’t quite name.

“You’ll watch, right?” he asks. His throat feels tight, and it’s not just the sight of you in his shirt—it’s everything it means.

You nod, slowly reaching into your pocket, pulling out a small gift box. You hold it out to him, “For me?” he asks softly, taking it with both hands.

When he opens the box, his breath catches in his throat. Inside are guitar picks, each one smooth and carefully chosen, but what draws his attention is the tiny, handwritten phrase etched onto them. He squints, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tilts the pick closer to the light.

See you later.

The phrase so familiar, a staple in all your goodbyes. It’s what he always waits to hear from you, what he secretly pouts about if you forget to say it. It’s a simple phrase, used by so many people in passing, but between the two of you, it’s different—reassurance that you’ll always find your way back to each other.

His chest tightens, emotion welling up in a way he hadn’t expected. He steps forward, pulls you into a hug, holding you close, his chin resting on your head. "What do I do with you?" He whispers to himself. He finally pulls back, his hands linger at your elbows, eyes searching yours. You lift your hands to sign, your movements slow.

"Good luck, rock star."

Soobin’s hand rested on your back, touch steadying as the crowd began to thicken around the stage. Kai had entrusted you to him and Yeonjun, and though the absence of Kai’s presence made you nervous, Soobin’s calm demeanour offered an unexpected sense of safety.

Yeonjun had gone to grab water, leaving you and Soobin to hold your place by the barricade. The festival was just moments away from starting, with students from your school, other schools, and alumni who had come back for the event. You found yourself gripping the metal tightly, the unfamiliar place… overwhelming. It's your first time to even attend one.

Soobin noticed immediately. He tapped your shoulder gently, “Are you okay?”

You turned to him, his concern reflected in his face. You nodded, returning a small smile. His kindness felt natural. You could see why Kai spoke of him so fondly.

You barely had time to respond before you were pulled into a sudden hug. The embrace was tight, and a sweet floral scent filled your senses. You froze in surprise, but when the person stepped back, the grin on her face was so bright and genuine that you couldn’t help but soften.

“Hi! I’m Hiyyih!” she exclaimed, her face full of excitement, her eyes shining like she’d been waiting forever to meet you. Her name made you pause, recognition flashing through your mind. Your eyes widened slightly, but you smiled back at her, quickly scribbling in your notepad.

Y/N. Nice to meet you, Hiyyih.

She read it, and immediately squealed, her reaction so heartfelt and full of life that it drew laughter from Soobin. “How did my brother pull you, huh?” she teased, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, with mock irritation, she turned to Soobin and added, “Seriously, how?”

Soobin chuckled, clearly amused. “I know. She's too pretty. Magic, maybe,” he offered casually, and Hiyyih groaned dramatically. She hooked her arm through yours, as if you’d known each other for years. You're glad they didn't mention the blush evident on your cheeks.

Yeonjun returned, handing you a cold bottle of water. “You okay?” he asked, his tone just as kind and considerate as Soobin’s had been. You nodded again, clutching the water tightly as you looked between them all—Hiyyih’s bright enthusiasm, Soobin’s quiet reassurance, and Yeonjun’s laid-back charm. It feels nice to be surrounded by people you want to be with.

You could get used to this. Being with people who made you feel like you mattered—more than your own family ever had.

It was dark now, the festival lit only by the vibrant glow of stage lights, casting shifting colours across the crowd. The ground trembled beneath your feet as people jumped and swayed, their cheers blending with the music in an electrifying symphony.

Your eyes scanned the stage, searching—and then you saw him. Kai. There he was, guitar in hand, lost in the music. The way he moved was effortless as if the instrument was an extension of himself. His face was lit up, not just by the stage lights but by a joy that radiated from within. He looked alive. Happy. He belonged there. He owns it.

And then his eyes found yours.

The chaos around you seemed to fade. Slowly, you signed, "You look cool," your hands steady even as your heart raced. You watched as his gaze followed the movement of your hands, his eyes softening with every word you formed. You didn’t need to be close to him. You didn’t need to hear his voice. As long as you could see him—and he could see you.

His lips curved into a smile, and he winked, the playful gesture making you smile back, heart swelling with pride.

The performance was incredible, each member of the band owning their moment, their energy filling the space and igniting the crowd. When the last song ended, the crowd erupted into cheers, and the band bowed together, camaraderie evident even from a distance. But before you could fully take in the scene, Kai was running.

The moment he stepped off the stage, his eyes searched for your face. His shoulders eased as soon as he saw you, surrounded by people he trusts. He loves performing—he truly does. But the thought of returning to you, is louder than any applause. His feet move before his mind can think.

Straight to you.

He reached you in seconds, his chest heaving, adrenaline still coursing through him. "I can't stop looking at you,” he said, his voice low, the words had been waiting to escape all night. His hands cradled your face, calloused by the guitar scars. "I need to kiss you right now or I'll go crazy."

You barely noticed the stares of the crowd or the murmurs of those nearby. All you could see was him. He leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, and his lips brushed against yours in the softest kiss. You’d always known his lips looked soft, but they still managed to surprise you—how perfectly they fit against yours.

When he pulled back, his grin was so wide. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as if you were the only thing that mattered. Around you, his friends clapped him on the back, their faces proud with congratulations.

“See you later?” Kai signed, his movements fluid, more confident. You nodded with a smile, waving as he stepped back. His grin widened, and he watched you enter the gates of your home.

That smile lingered on your face, carrying you all the way inside. The front doors opened for you, the maids greeting you with quiet bows, and you headed for the staircase, ready to retreat to your room.

But before you could take the first step, a hand seized your wrist and yanked you back. The slap came next, sharp and sudden, leaving a sting that spread across your cheek like fire. Startled, your hand flew to your face, and your wide, disbelieving eyes met the furious glare of your stepmother.

“You skipped your painting lesson,” she hissed, face trembling with anger, “and came home late without even telling me.”

“And what for?” she spat. “To loiter with boys? To parade yourself in public, chatting in sign language for the entire neighbourhood to see? What else do you have left to ruin? Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for the family?” Her voice grew louder, shriller, her hand resting on her hip as she glared at you like you were something she could barely tolerate.

You noticed your stepsisters standing just out of the line. Equal anger on their faces. It was clear—they had told her. Once, their expressions had the power to make you shrink, to make you doubt yourself. Now you felt nothing but disdain. Family, you thought bitterly, scoffing as you turned your head away.

Your stepmother’s hand shot out, grabbing your chin and jerking your face back toward hers. Her nails bit into your skin as she snarled, “Did you laugh? How dare you laugh at me?”

You shoved her hand away. “Don’t touch me,” you signed, your movements sharp, gaze unwavering. You didn’t care that she couldn’t understand. This was the only way you could speak, and you were tired of swallowing your voice.

Her face twisted with fury. “I said stop using sign language!” she barked.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you signed again, your hands trembling. “I’m not alone anymore,” you told her, the tears burning at the edges of your vision. “You can be the queen of this house, control everything and everyone under this roof. But there’s a world outside these walls. And out there, I have friends. People who see me. People who care.”

“Talk! Talk like a proper person! I told you to talk!” The slap came hard and fast, snapping your head to the side. Your cheek burned with the impact, but this time, you didn’t freeze. You pushed her. Hard.

The room erupted with a collective gasp.

“Touch me again, and you’ll see your name in the newspaper.” Your glare shifted to Chae-won as she stepped forward, her mouth opening to speak, but you didn’t wait to hear what she had to say.

You bolted up the stairs, your heart hammering in your chest, panic fueling every frantic step.

The space felt thick as you threw yourself into your room, slamming the door shut behind you. You moved toward your desk, your hands shaking as you tore your bag open, yanking out a piece of paper. You didn’t have time to think, only enough to scrawl a desperate message, the words barely legible through the blur of your haste.

The door creaked open behind you. Panic surged. You turned, your pulse pounding as you spotted them—the maids stepping into the room. You bolted to the fax machine, shoving the paper in and frantically typing his number. You had to send it. You had to.

The machine whirred, halfway through sending, when two pairs of hands grabbed you, one on each arm. You thrashed and kicked, trying to wrench free, but their grip was too strong. Your stepmother appeared in the doorway, her smirk was cruel, triumphant, and your stomach churned with dread.

And then you saw it—the glint of metal in her hands. Locks.

"Get her upstairs. Now." Your breath caught in your throat. The room seemed to tilt as a memory surged forward, unbidden and suffocating. The attic. The last time she locked you up, you were fifteen. Your skin crawled at the thought of being trapped there again. You were dragged out, your feet sliding against the floor, your cries echoing down the empty hall. It took three of them—three people to overpower you, until the door loomed.

They shoved you inside, your body hitting the floor with a dull thud. You scrambled to your feet, lunging for the door, but it slammed shut in your face. You pounded on the door, fists aching, tears burning behind your eyes. It was harder for you to breathe.

This was her punishment—her way of crushing you every time you dared to fight back, dared to speak your truth.

She’d leave you here, in the dark, in the suffocating silence, until you broke. Until you admitted she was right. Or until your father’s nearing return forced her to let you out, pretending everything was fine.

You had tried to tell him before. Slipping notes into his pockets, scribbling messages when she wasn’t looking. But her eyes were always there, sharp and watchful, snatching away every chance you had. You can’t help but wonder—if you hadn’t stood up to her, if you hadn’t accepted that small, fleeting chance to feel alive, would you still be here right now? Or would you just be trapped in another kind of prison, shackled to the cycle your stepmother has forced you into?

Dust coated every surface, the faint light that seeped through the cracks wasn’t even enough to pierce the gloom to give you hope. You curled up against the wall, knees pulled to your chest, fingers trembling as they pressed against the cold floor. It was something that you had to endure before.

For years.

Kai was running.

He didn’t care about the stares from strangers or the disapproving grunt as he ran the streets. He didn’t care about his mother’s worried gaze when he bolted out the door or the sting of his lungs from sprinting so fast. None of it mattered. All that mattered was getting to you.

The fax had come just minutes ago. He had been half-asleep when the machine whirred, spitting out a crumpled piece of paper with words that sent a shrill down his spine.

Kai, pick me up. Come get me, please. He knew it was you.

His heart pounded as he reached your gates, the mansion unwelcoming under the grey sky. He rang the door frantically, and when a maid opened the door, her polite greeting barely had time to escape her lips before Kai pushed past her.

“Sir, what are you doing?” she cried, alarmed. But Kai didn’t stop. He pushed through the grand double doors, his eyes scanning the room wildly. His gaze landed on a young woman, about his age—your stepsister, he realized with a flare of anger.

“Where’s Y/N?” he demanded, his voice booming through the space. The room fell silent. The maids froze, glancing at one another nervously, while your stepsister stiffened, her lips tightening into a scowl. “Where is she?” Kai shouted again, taking a step forward. A timid maid finally cracked, her wide eyes darting toward the stairs before quickly looking away. It was all he needed.

Kai took off, his legs carrying him up the staircase two steps at a time. As he neared the top, he heard it—a faint pounding, far but desperate. His blood ran cold as realization struck.

The attic.

Kai’s chest tightened as he reached the door. His fist slammed against the wood, the sound reverberating down the hall. The pounding on the other side grew more. His heart felt like it might tear itself apart.

“Open this door!” he says, spinning to face the maids who had followed him upstairs. “What the hell is wrong with you people? Do you want to go to prison for this? Do you want to be accomplices?” The maid who’d glanced upstairs earlier flinched, her hands shaking as she fumbled with a key.

Finally, the lock clicked, and he shoved the door open. His breath caught as he saw you huddled on the floor, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, your face streaked with tears. “Y/N,” he breathed, rushing to you.

"You found me." You signed, eyes locking on his. He crouched, his arms wrapping around your trembling frame. He pulled you close, his hand smoothing over your hair as he held you against his chest.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m getting you out of this place.” His eyes darted around the attic, taking in the oppressive walls, scattered drawings—sketches you must’ve made. Some looks old, others newer. They had been locking you up here. Trapping you.

Kai stood, pulling you with him, “Come on,” his hand tightened around yours, and you nodded.

He led you down the stairs, his grip never faltering. At the bottom, your stepmother appeared, her expression twisting into one of fury the moment she saw him.

“Do you even realise what you’re doing right now?” she demanded, her voice sharp and grating. “This is kidnapping. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

Kai didn’t flinch. He didn’t hesitate. His voice was steady, cold, and razor-sharp. “Not as serious as imprisonment. Or abuse.”

Her lips curled into a mocking sneer. “I’m disciplining her,” she spat, as if the word justified everything.

Your stepmother’s eyes flicked to you as your hands moved, signing. “You’re hurting me.”

Her face darkened. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop signing?”

Kai froze, his mind reeling at her words. “What?” he said, voice low. His jaw tightened as he stared at her, fury building in his chest. “How do you expect her to communicate if she can’t speak?”

She sneered. “Return her inside while I’m still asking nicely,”

“No,” Kai snapped, he turned to her fully, standing tall and unyielding. “I’m not talking to you. Tell her father, when he finally gets home, to come find me personally if he wants to see his daughter again. And don’t even think about stopping me. My mother knows I’m here.”

Your stepmother opened her mouth to argue, but Kai didn’t give her the chance. He turned away, tugging you along behind him as he strode toward the door. His glare silenced any maids who dared step forward, daring anyone to challenge him.

“If you walk out that door,” your stepmother hissed, “you’ll regret it.”

Kai didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back.

The cool night air hit your skin as he pulled you through the gates and into the street. He didn’t care about her threats. He didn’t care about what came next. The only thing he knew was—he would regret it far more if he didn’t leave with you tonight.

When the two of you arrived at Kai’s home, his mother was already at the door, her face filled with concern. The moment she saw you, her eyes softened, but they couldn’t hide the shock and sadness she felt at your condition. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said gently, ushering you inside with open arms. “Let’s get you settled.”

She led you to a spare room, “This was Lea’s room,” she explained with a small smile. “Kai’s sister. She’s away at college now, so it’s all yours for as long as you need.”

Kai, stepped outside, pacing the front yard. His hands clenched and unclenched, breathing unevenly as he tried to calm himself. “How could they do that to her? As human beings?” he spits, in disbelief. “Even animals wouldn’t treat someone like that.”

His mother followed him out, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Kai, breathe,” she said softly. “She needs space to process everything right now.”

Kai shook his head, “What you did was good,” his mother continued. “Let her stay here for now. She’s safe with us.”

“And what happens when her father comes back?” Kai snapped, “What then? She just gets sent back to that place?”

His mother sighed, her grip on his arm steady. “Kai, it’s obvious he doesn’t know what’s been happening. Do you think any father would knowingly allow this?”

“That man, he lives in the same house as her. How does he not know? He’s either blind or he doesn’t care because all he does is make money and turn ignorant to everything else.”

His mother stepped closer, pulling him into a hug before he could spiral further. “It’s not your place to decide what kind of father he is, or if she should forgive him. That’s up to her. Right now, she needs rest.”

You sat curled up on the edge of the bed, knees pulled tightly to your chest, your back pressed into the corner. Your fingers picked at your nailbeds. Every breath you took felt shaky, like you were on the verge of falling apart.

It was the first time you’d ever stood up to them—to that whole oppressive house. The weight of it settled heavily on your chest, but more than that, you worried about Kai. About his family. Would they be okay with you here? What if they went after Kai or his family for taking you in? Would your presence bring trouble to their door? You felt like a curse, dragging misfortune wherever you went.

The sight of the door sliding open startled you. You looked up to see Kai’s mom stepping in, her form soft in the dim light. She carried a stack of clothes in her hands, a small smile on her face.

“Hiyyih’s already asleep, so I had to grab these for you,” she said, setting it down in front of you. “These are Lea’s—Kai’s sister. I’m not sure if you’ll like them, but I thought these might fit you.”

You nodded silently, your heart pounding as you glanced at her. You could not shake the fear that she might say you’d put Kai in danger, that bringing you here was a mistake. Or how much trouble you might’ve caused him. The guilt plague, making your stomach turn.

She didn’t say anything at first, just sat there, her gaze soft and thoughtful. Then her smile widened, and her eyes crinkled at the corners like Kai does. “Gosh, you’re so pretty,” she said, as if she was stating the most obvious fact in the world. “Look at your eyes—they’re so clear, so bright.” Her words made your breath hitch.

“Not being able to talk must be so hard,” she continued, face replaced with sadness. “You must’ve felt so upset. So frustrated.” She moved closer, her hands reaching for yours. Her touch was warm, and something about it made the tears in your eyes sting even more.

“But you did such a good job, honey,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “Growing up into such a beautiful, strong young lady.” Her thumb gently brushed the back of your hand, and she smiled again, “I’m proud of you.”

Her words shattered something inside you, breaking through the walls you’d tried so hard to keep up. You bit down on your lip, but it was no use. The tears slipped free, rolling down your cheeks.

“If anyone ever hurts you again, if anyone tries to trap you, you come here,” she said firmly, her tone shifting to one of conviction. “Don’t ever put up with it. Just come back here. Or stay here and live with me." She grinned at the thought, expression animated, like it was the simplest solution in the world.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You cried, your shoulders trembling as the sobs punished your body. All the days you had endured in silence. The days they made you feel invisible, like you didn’t matter. The way they looked at you, spoke about you, treated you, as though you were something other, something different. Not belonging. Not normal.

"Don't cry," She pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as she rubbed your back in soothing circles. You were starting to see it wasn’t true. Starting to believe. And her embrace is so… familiar. It was like holding onto a memory you’d been too afraid to revisit—the one you’d clung to as a lifeline but had started to fade, little by little.

It felt like you were eight again, back in time—cradled in your mother’s warm arms.

Kai stood at your door, it's been an hour when he saw his mother leaving, her eyes red from crying. She had tried to reassure him to give you space, to let you be alone tonight—but Kai's heart couldn’t rest. He knocked softly before slipping inside.

You were facing away from him, the sheets pulled up high against your body. He walked over, unsure of what to expect, and tapped a single finger on your shoulder to check if you were awake. You shifted and glanced back at him, your face still soft with the remnants of tears.

He offered a small smile, his hands signing softly, “Hi.”

You didn’t respond with words instead, you scooted over, making room for him on the bed. He slid in beside you, leaving just enough space between you both. “Are you okay?” he signed, his face filled with concern.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, your fingers moving slowly, tracing the air. “Because you always come whenever I need someone.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Anything for you,” he whispered, gaze never left yours. "I'll do anything for you,"

His fingers slowly lifted to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and Kai could feel your breath hitch. You shifted closer to him, pressing your head to his chest, seeking his intoxicating smell.

He tucked you in carefully, his arm lying beneath your head as his head rested gently on top of yours. His touch was warm and soothing as his hand trailed down your back, the warmth from his skin seeping through the fabric of your clothes. You closed your eyes, feeling the calm settle in your chest, until a small movement in his chest caught your attention.

You pulled back slightly, confusion in your eyes. His face was soft, but his eyes shimmered with tears that hadn't yet fallen. His lips parted, searching for the right words. “How did you put up with all of that?” he whispered, a tear slipping down his right cheek. His chest seemed to tighten with the weight of the question. “What they did to you, it was the worst. I— should've found you sooner. I promise… you will not be alone anymore, okay?”

You nod, tearing up at his words. It was the first time someone made a promise to you that you knew he wouldn't break. A small smile found its way to your lips. His hands moved, fingers gently pressed against your palm as he spelled out.

"You're safe now,"

You wake up slowly, your eyes squinting as they adjust to the soft morning light spilling into the room.

Kai's arms are still wrapped around your waist, his body pressed against yours, his face nestled against your chest. You gently trace the lines of his face with your fingers, captivated by the details you never want to forget—the way his freckles and moles give his features a softness, an angelic quality. He's so beautiful. The light in a world that once felt so dark. In a life that’s often felt like a nightmare, he’s the one thing that pulled you into the almost impossible daylight.

You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He murmurs in his sleep but doesn’t stir. You smile softly at his innocence, feeling your heart flutter. You try to untangle your legs from his, hesitant to leave the safety of his embrace, but you slowly make your way out of the bed.

As you step into the living room, the smell of breakfast makes your stomach rumble. You find Kai’s mom and Hiyyih already in the kitchen. The latter smiles warmly at you. “Good morning,” she greets, and you return the smile.

Breakfast is simple but comforting. The food amazing, your appetite comes back little by little with every bite.

When you’re finished, Hiyyih looks at you with a bright smile. “Want to help me with the lunch boxes?” she asks, and you nod eagerly. She helps you slip on an apron, her fingers fumbling with the straps as she giggles. It's contagious, and makes you smile.

She pulls her hair back into a ponytail, a few strands fall loose, and you reach for your notepad. You quickly scribble, Let me braid your hair?

Hiyyih’s eyes widen with delight, and she nods. You gather her hair gently, carefully weaving the strands together. A soft smile spread across her face at the comforting touch of your hands.

Kai stretched his arm to your side, but the space was empty.

His eyes snapped open, sleep quickly fading as he registered the absence of your presence. He sat up abruptly, fumbling to slide his feet into his house slippers, the soft padding of his steps barely audible as he hurried out of the room.

Where could you have gone? Has someone come to take you home? His thoughts raced, each one more frantic than the last. He barely noticed the cold air of the hallway as he hurried toward the kitchen—then he stopped, heart halting in his chest.

There you were.

The tension melted away as he took in the scene. You stood at the counter, laughter spilling from your lips as you helped Hiyyih pack three lunch boxes. The soft fabric of an apron hugged your frame, and his mother moved gracefully beside you, pouring cups of steaming chocolate milk, a soft smile gracing her lips as she watched the two of you.

Your eyes found his, and the world seemed to slow. A smile softened your features as you raised a hand, signing a simple "Hi," and motioning for him to come closer.

"Good morning," Kai murmured. His heart swelled at the scene before him—three women who meant the world to him. "Morning, Mom."

The two watched as Kai closed the small distance between you and him. He softly placed his hands on your shoulders, the touch gentle. Then, he leaned down, pressing a light, quick kiss to the top of your head. His small act makes you blush.

"Good morning, Son," his mother interrupts warmly, passing him a plate of pancakes and sausages. "Y/N and Hiyyih have already eaten. Here’s your breakfast."

Kai took his seat, the clatter of cutlery mingling with the soft sounds of your and Hiyyih’s giggles. His mother, ever attentive, placed a notepad on the counter, making sure nothing was lost in translation as she communicated with you.

If you truly want to express something, you’ll find a way. And if you want to say even more, you’ll learn, until your heart speaks louder than words ever could.

It was the first time you were in a car, heading to school, and there was a grin you couldn’t wipe from your face.

Everything felt lighter today—the warmth of Hiyyih’s arm gently looping around yours, and every now and then, Kai’s glance in the rearview mirror caught yours.

Last night seemed to burn away, slipping from your mind like smoke on the breeze. The car pulled up, and you all said your goodbyes to Kai’s mom, her lips warm against your cheek as she kissed you. “What food would you like later?” Her question made you pull her into a tight hug, surprising her with the warmth you hadn’t known you had in you. It's true, that if you surround yourself with better people, you'll be better too.

It felt like everyone in school was watching, but you didn’t mind. Kai’s hand in yours felt so right, and Hiyyih was chatting away beside you, making everything feel like a dream. When the time came for Hiyyih to part ways, she also kissed your cheek with a smile, waving goodbye.

Kai’s eyes were on you, a smirk tugging at his lips as you laughed softly. He loved seeing you so light, so happy. When he walked you to your class, you bumped into Taehyun, who ruffled your hair with a grin and a gentle pat on the head. You felt like he already knew, given that his stare much more concerned than it ever was.

Is this what it feels like to be part of something? What a family is supposed to feel like?

You washed your hands in the sink, the corners of your lips still tugged into a faint smile. But the moment was cut short when a splash of cold water hit you, soaking your uniform. You gasped, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin. You only know two people who find joy in these acts. Turning quickly, you saw Chae-won and Yun-jin standing there, flanked by three other girls whose names you didn’t even know but who were always with them.

“Are you done living your life like a victim?” Chae-won’s voice rang out, sharp and biting. A few other students in the bathroom froze, unsure of what to do, before slipping out the door, desperate to avoid being caught in the middle.

“Go home,” she spat, her glare searing. “I’m not letting my mother deal with trash like you.”

Your chest tightened, but you refused to show it. You held her gaze for a beat longer than you thought you could, then turned to leave. The quicker you got out of their sight, the better. You don't want to waste your energy on dealing with her. But before you could make it to the door, two of them grabbed your arms roughly and shoved you back.

“Go home now,” one of them hissed. “Or I’ll make sure everyone knows just how pathetic you really are.”

Something inside you snapped. The words stung, but your hand moved faster than your thoughts. The slap echoed in the tiled bathroom. Chae-won’s face twisted in shock before anger overtook her features. She lunged, pushing you into a cubicle. Her hands tangled in your hair as you tried to fight back, her nails digging into your arm as you struggled to block her strikes.

They always kept it hidden, their cruelty tucked away in the shadows—behind the closed doors of your home, in the quiet corners of the art room, places where no one else would see. Never here. Never out in the open like this. These were the same people you once looked at with longing, the ones you dreamed would someday call you their friend.

Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to catch your breath. The sharp ache in your scalp subsided when Chae-won was suddenly yanked off you, her grip torn away by a rough hand.

Hiyyih. Your eyes widened as you saw her, fierce and blazing with anger. “Get the fuck away from my sister, bitch!” she screamed, face cracking with rage. Before Chae-won could recover, Hiyyih kicked her hard on her thigh, her fury igniting as she saw the blood smeared across your arms.

Another girl was with her, someone you vaguely recognized, stepping in to help. Suddenly, it was three against five, chaos erupting in the cramped bathroom.

Hiyyih glared daggers at Yun-jin, voice trembling with raw emotion. “You think you can just hurt people? You think you’re strong because you can?”

The bathroom erupted into noise—shouting, scuffling, and the sound of feet scrambling for safety. Students crowded at the doorway, peeking in with wide eyes, while others bolted to find a teacher. You stayed close to Hiyyih, your chest tight with fear. What if they hurt her the way they hurt you?

You felt yourself shoved against the counter in the commotion, your pulse pounding in your ears. And then, cutting through the chaos, you saw them. Three figures pushed their way through the crowd, pushing onlookers, unconcerned that this was a girls’ bathroom.

Kai. Beomgyu. Taehyun.

Everything seemed to blur as Kai desperately reached you, pulling you close against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, steady and protective, shielding you from anyone.

“Enough!” Beomgyu shouts. “This ridiculous cat fight ends now.”

Kai’s hands cupped your face, his touch trembling as he scanned your cuts and bruises. His jaw tightened, his eyes dark with anger and fear. His eyes check his sister, now standing between Beomgyu and Taehyun. He exhaled sharply, pulling you behind him, his body a wall between you and the rest of the room.

“Stop this,” he said coldly, his words directed at Chae-won, who was fixing her hair with a smug expression. "This is your last warning—stay away from her.”

Chae-won sneered, venom dripping from her voice. “Why do you keep protecting that… thing?” she spat. “She’s abnormal. She can’t hear. She made us miserable. She’s selfish, always making everything about her. She plays the victim like it’s a sport.”

Her words made Hiyyih surged forward, ready to strike, but Taehyun held her back with a firm grip.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Chae-won blinked, startled by the harshness in Kai's tone—a tone so unlike the boy known for his warmth and kindness. “She’s the best person to ever walk these grounds,” Kai adds, eyes locked on Chae-won. “She’s everything you’ll never be.”

You tried to step out from behind him, to meet Chae-won’s glare head-on, but Kai’s arm gently stopped you, keeping you behind him, his body a wall between you and her cruelty.

“If anyone here isn’t normal, it’s you. Never her.”

For the first time, Chae-won’s smirk faltered, her confidence visibly shaken. Her eyes dart between Hiyyih, Beomgyu and Taehyun. They all look at her in disdain.

Her mind raced, her thoughts spiralling back to the words her mother had drilled into her—how you were less, how people would never care about you. But now—these people—they were standing with you, like they would shield you from anything that came your way. It made her gulp. She bolts outside, Yun-jin was hot on her heels, matching her pace. The other girls had already disappeared.

For the first time, she was afraid—of the consequences that might happen if she ever dared to hurt you again.

“You don’t have to forgive them, you know?” Kai says, his shoulder brushes against yours, as you both sit, legs dangling off the edge of the makeshift bench in the yard. The watermelon ice cream in your hand drips slightly, the heat of the sun melting it. His sister and mother are out of the house, shopping for tonight's supper.

“It’s okay to take your time,” he adds, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Or never forgive them at all. You can stay here with us for as long as you want. There’s no rush to figure everything out.”

You shift your feet, wiggling your toes against the warm wood beneath you. Both of you are still in the loose, comfortable clothes you threw on after rolling out of bed. No shoes, no plans—It’s a Saturday—your first weekend here.

You look at him, and the light catches his face. A small smile tugs at your lips as you sign, “You know, I’ve never given you a proper nickname.”

Kai pauses mid-bite, blinking at you in surprise at your random words. “Huh?” he mumbles around the end of his ice cream. “What do you mean?”

You let out a soft laugh, your hands moving fluidly as you explain, “Since calling out your name in sign language takes a little more effort, it’s better to give you a nickname. Something simple but special, something that means ‘you.’”

Kai’s heart stutters in his chest. How was it possible that every time he saw you sign, it felt like the first time all over again? "Wha- what would you call me?"

You smile, a little shy. You’d thought of this nickname days ago, waiting for the right moment to share it. “Diamond,” you sign, your hands forming the shape—your thumb and index finger meet to form the letter D, before tracing an elegant upward motion, like a sparkle.

Kai’s breath catches. His chest feels tight, like his heart is swelling too big for the space it’s in. Diamond. The way you did it, the way it looked—it felt intimate. "It’s beautiful."

You smile softly at him, and his entire world shifts. “I can’t hear your voice, but I see it. You shine the brightest when you’re making music. That’s when you look the coolest, like you’re untouchable… like a diamond. But even then, I don’t feel left out when I’m with you. I never felt I don't belong when I'm with you.” Your hands falter slightly, your eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Kai watches every movement, every micro-emotion on your face. He understands every word.

He’s in love with you. Completely, helplessly.

He doesn’t need to be the doctor to diagnose his own symptoms, a teacher to put his feelings into words, or to be the scientist to prove his theory. None of those roles matters because—these things will never speak as loud as his heart. He loves you. And with every moment he spends knowing you, he finds himself falling even deeper.

And now, he can give you his music—something he once thought was beyond him. Loving you has been the easiest thing he’s ever done.

Kai's desperate need consumes him as he grabs your face, his heart racing with aching desire to kiss you. His lips crash onto yours, devouring the sweetness of your watermelon-flavoured mouth. You moan, a little sound that only fuels his need as he leans back. "You're so beautiful. I need you, please." He pulls you closer and kisses you again once you nod, unable to resist his sweet kisses. He breaks away and takes your hand, leading you. Like he always does.

You let him pull you into his room, the scent of him wrapping around you like a quiet embrace. The space feels personal—lived-in. It feels like... him.

Before you can say a word, his arms encircle you from behind, holding you close as his lips brush softly against the side of your head. His hands move slowly, sliding from your waist to your stomach. With a gentle tug, he lifts your shirt just enough to reveal the bare skin beneath. His touch is tender as his fingers graze over you, tracing delicate patterns, and caressing. Kai turns you around.

Kai's mind swirls with uncertainty. He stares into your eyes, and he signs the words that he has been holding back. "I love you." You respond by pulling him close, kissing him fiercely and tangling your fingers in his hair. Your mind is consumed by his confession, and his touches.

He pushes you onto the bed, flooding your senses with his smell. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, surprised at yourself for doing something naturally you haven't done. You're craving his touch.

"I need you," His voice is low, repeating the words. He wants to know. He wants to make sure that you're alright with this. You give a slight nod, granting him permission. He eagerly accepts, his lips crashing against yours in a frenzy of need. His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire as he hungrily kisses down your neck. He goes down, he bites down on the fabric covering your nipples, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you.

He gingerly lifted your shirt over your head, revealing your flushed skin. He took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth and gently sucked, watching closely as your face contorted in pleasure and your eyes fluttered shut.

He slides his hand under your silk pyjama top and gently traces the curve of your back with his fingers. He settles himself beside you, leaning as he reaches your waistband. His long fingers slip inside and finds you already wet, he spreads your lips apart and expertly flicks his finger over your clit. He adds another finger and watches your face for any signs of discomfort, peppering kisses along your cheeks as you shake your head in pleasure. Slowly, he inserts them deeper, making you grip his shoulders tightly as he stretches you.

He rolls his knuckles over your sensitive clit. With a swift movement, his hand opens like scissors, his thumb teasing your swollen nub. You let out a gasp and clutch onto his now longer hair, pulling him closer as he continues to pleasure you with his skilled fingers. Your mouths meet in a passionate kiss, his hot tongue brushing yours as he works his fingers in and out of you.

As he pulls out, you can feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing every inch of your body. Every part of your body is beautiful.

You try to reach for his pants, but he shakes his head with a small smile. "This is all about you." He whispers, and places a kiss on your lips.

He slides into you, causing tears to escape from the corners of your eyes as you feel yourself being stretched and filled. He's so big, hot inside you. "Baby, I got you," He leans in close, his warm breath mingling with yours as he gently wipes away your tears.

Kai searches your eyes and waits for you to signal him to move again, you hummed nodding your head. He presses deeper, and the sensation makes your whole body tingle. With each thrust, he presses you further into the mattress, leaving hot kisses along your skin as his other hand finds its way back to your clit.

His lips found your ears, and he left traces of kisses. The overwhelming pleasure builds and builds until finally, you can't hold back any longer and release with a shudder. But he doesn't stop there; he continues to move inside of you groaning, pulling out before his release, he fists his erection and hot white cum comes undone on his hands. He leans down to give you a quick kiss on your forehead, smirking at your fucked out face.

Kai's touch was careful as he ran the cloth over your skin, wiping away, and cleaning you up. He worked slowly, keeping one of his hands holding your own.

When he was done, he looked up at you with that same soft smile. You feel your lips curve in response, reaching out to touch his flushed cheeks, your fingers brushing against his warm skin. The simple touch makes his smile widen into a boyish grin. You see his mouth open, saying "I love you." The same words he kept repeating over and over again even without you knowing it.

It feels unreal, like a fragile dream stitched together by your desperate mind to escape the torment of your reality. Kai doesn’t seem real—a fleeting fever dream you’re terrified will vanish the moment you wake. Your hands move almost on their own, signing the words your heart refuses to deny. "I love you too."

A floor table is set up in the yard, resting on a wide blanket with soft cushions scattered around it. Plates of food and side dishes fill the table, the space alive with chatter and laughter.

Kai sits beside you, his knee brushing yours beneath the table his hands caressing your back when no one's looking, Hiyyih is in the center, her laughter bright and infectious, while Taehyun and Beomgyu are across from you, locked in their usual back-and-forth.

Or rather, Beomgyu trying to bait Taehyun into bickering, and Taehyun rolling his eyes with amused restraint.

The sliding door opens, and Kai’s mom steps out, balancing a steaming pot in her hands. “Here comes the ramen!” she sings. The broth makes you realise just how hungry you are.

She begins ladling out bowls, and the clinking of utensils signals the start of the meal. As the first bite warms your throat, the cold night seems to retreat, replaced by the simple joy of being here, with them.

You reach out toward the dessert—ripe, glossy strawberries—but your hand freezes as you see Beomgyu grab the last one. He pauses mid-bite when he catches the longing look in your eyes. “Oh,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips. Slowly, he pulls the fruit away from his mouth, holding it out to you with his chopsticks. “Because I’m a good guy, I’ll let you have it.”

Before you can protest, Kai reaches over with his own chopsticks and snatches the strawberry back. He shoves it into Beomgyu’s mouth, earning a muffled yelp. “You can keep it,” Kai says flatly, shooting a half-hearted glare at his friend.

Taehyun bursts out laughing, pointing at Beomgyu’s shocked expression. “He’s jealous,” he teases, his grin wide.

“I am not,” Kai snaps, cheeks betraying by giving a soft pink hue. “I just don’t want his germs spreading to Y/N.”

Beomgyu, finally swallowing the strawberry, points a dramatic finger at Kai. “You little shi—”

You laugh as Beomgyu leaps to his feet, determined to catch Kai, who’s darting away with that grin that melts your heart every time. Kai—the one who didn’t just save you from your own darkness, but who opened up his world and invited you in, piece by piece.

You sigh, not out of sadness, but happiness—a feeling slowly becoming familiar. It doesn’t feel impossible anymore.

You avoid your father’s gaze, his concerned eyes scanning you with a frown etched deep into his forehead. You shift, positioning yourself behind Kai’s broad back. You can still see your father, but having Kai in front of you makes it all feel bearable—almost safe.

Your father arrived first thing in the morning, dressed sharply in his suit, as though he hadn’t wasted a second to come get you ever since he came back.

He explained everything in a rush—what he’d done back at the house. Your stepmother was gone, and she’d taken your stepsisters with her. Without a marriage binding them, he ended it quickly, as swiftly as he’d once welcomed her into your home, believing she could be a solution, a saviour for you.

The maids who had turned a blind eye or worse—enabled the abuse—were fired on the spot. And now, he was determined to make things right—determined to press charges, to hold accountable anyone who had ever hurt you. His voice cracked when he spoke of it, the guilt etched deep into his expression.

"Would you mind if I speak for a moment?" Kai asks stance proud, and unwavering. Your father looked at him, taking in the way he stood in front of you, protective. It reminded him of the days when he had stood like that for your mother—the only woman he had truly loved.

“My mom doesn’t know any sign language,” Kai begins, “But she still talks to Y/N all the time. They understand each other perfectly.” He pauses, letting the words settle.

“That’s when I realized something,” Kai continues, his gaze unwavering. “You can say anything—anything at all—if it comes from a willing heart.” He pulls out a book. It’s a little worn around the edges, its cover creased from being used so often. It’s the same sign language book he’s been studying with you, the one he’s cherished so much.

He holds it out to your father, “I thought this might help. It’s a good place to start, so you can reach her too.” Your father takes it, his fingers brushing against the cover. His lips part, voice thick with emotion, “Thank you, Kai.” He extends his hand, and Kai shakes it firmly, a quiet understanding passing between them.

Then Kai turns to you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His mom and Hiyyih wrap you in tight hugs, their warmth lingering long after they let go. You haven’t even stepped outside the gate yet, but they’re already asking when you’ll come back.

You smile, trying to give them an answer, but the truth catches in your throat. The truth is, you don’t know if you can live your life without them anymore.

The trip back to your house was quiet.

You opened the doors, but no one was inside. No one inside, yet it felt more… welcoming than it ever had. You walk into your room, and are about to reach to close your bedrooms behind you. But before it shuts, your father steps inside.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, “For everything.” All you can do is nod silently, feeling the sting of tears welling in your eyes. You’ve thought about this moment a thousand times—how you would say everything you’ve kept inside, how you’d finally tell him that his silence and distance hurt more than the physical abuse they gave.

You wanted him to know what his absence caused, how it made everything worse. You wanted to shout, to let him feel the anger you’ve carried for so long. But as you hear his apology, you find yourself lacking the heart to do so. Because this moment—it’s the one you’ve been waiting for your entire whole life. For him to finally come back to you.

He takes a hesitant step closer, his hands trembling as they reach up to cup your face. His eyes that screams nothing but regret. “You’re the only one left who matters to me,” he says, “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I promise—I’ll make it up to you. Somehow, I’ll make it right.” Before you know it, he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go.

The two of you cry, clinging to each other in the quiet of the house. No other words are spoken. The walls that once held the echoes of your pain now bear witness to something… starting to heal.

The horrors of the past don’t, won't disappear, but they begin to blur, fading as you melt inside your father's arms. You close your eyes as you cry—broken sobs, like a child needing comfort after a big bad nightmare, tasting the salt of your own tears as they fall.

It tastes like forgiveness.

"Do you want to come with me on my next business trip?" your father signs, his hands moving carefully beside you in the car. "New York."

You smile at his effort, the clumsy yet intentional movements making him seem more approachable—so different from the figure you once knew.

"I'd love that, dad." His face lights up with your response, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. He looks relieved, maybe even proud, that he's able to communicate with you more clearly now. Your gaze drifts to the newspaper folded in his lap, the bold numbers marking the year—1996.

The car slows to a stop, signalling that you've arrived. Your father leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "See you daughter,"

You wave goodbye, stepping out onto the pavement, watching as the car pulls away. You clutch your shoulder bag, a soft smile playing on your lips—one that seems to have taken permanent residence these past few months. Your steps are light, your eyes brighter, and your heart hums a melody only you can hear.

Community for the Gifted: Advanced Sign Language

The words on the board seem almost dreamlike. A reminder that you're here. Everything that happened wasn't just a dream.

Before you can dwell on it, your bag is gently lifted from your hands. You turn, meeting his eyes—warm, full of affection. He dips his head, pressing a sweet, fleeting kiss to your lips, followed by another on your nose, and your brows.

"Hi, pretty girl," He says softly, shifting your bag to his other hand. He reaches for your free hand, fingers intertwining with yours. He squeezes it three times.

I love you.

Together, you step through the doors, hand in hand with the boy who loves you in ways you didn’t think anyone ever could. The boy who simply found you in your silent world. It amazes you—how one person can make life feel so undeniably worth living.

Huening Kai, who learned to speak your language, so you won't have to spend your lifetime translating your soul.

THE END.

taglist: i love you @.beombunni @.hyukascampfire @.yunverie @.gyu-tori @.bamgyuuuri @.saejinniestar @.xylatox @.lovingbeomgyudayone @.virtaideen @.hyunelixbun @.brrytears @.fancypeacepersona @.tyunningstar @.kejingken @.usuallyunlikelyfox @.ode2soob @.beomieeeeeeeeeeees @.lilbrorufr @.vicurious28

#txt #txt imagine #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt x y/n #huening kai #hueningkai #huening kai x reader #txt angst #txt smut

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hoonieangel · 17 days ago

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get his ass girl 🙂‍↕️

⟡ ݁₊ .

falling out of love with mark

a/n: dropping this right before the firstfruit comes out is a little evil of me but oh well 😋

#nct #nct texts #nct fake texts #nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct angst #nct x y/n #nct x you #mark lee

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hoonieangel · 20 days ago

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but can this ai "generate" you some bitches? lol.

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hoonieangel · 21 days ago

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you plus me | heeseung

SUMMARY: it's been six years since heeseung stopped being your friend and the thought of him tagging along an annual camping tradition makes you feel like the world is crashing around you. one misunderstanding and one trip later makes heeseung re-evaluate all he knows, and it makes you believe there might be life after love.

NOTES: first full length fic!!!!!!! enjoy :) x

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader (featuring enhypen)

PLAYLIST: added march 17 - find it here

WORD COUNT: 34.1K

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, mentions of poor relationships with parental figures, mentions of infidelity, bad friendships, smut in the form of: fingering, oral (f. receiving), creampie.

***

“Please don’t make me go.”

“Y/N, you already said yes. We’re only gonna be gone for a week.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Jungwon. You just said that Heeseung is gonna be there.”

Your best friend sighs and sits down on your bed, inspecting the duffle bag you have that’s half-packed. Your clothes are haphazardly strewn all over your bedding while you plead with him to no avail. You’re so desperate that you consider getting on your knees to beg.

“I’m sorry for telling you now, but he was able to get people to cover his shift last minute and paid for a spot on the kayaking rental.”

“If he’s going, I’d rather save us all the trouble and stay at home.” Jungwon watches you cross your arms over your chest. “Every time we’re in the same room, it’s just a matter of time before things become awkward.”

“We’ll be outside in the suuuun,” Jungwon says, tilting his head to the side and giving you those amused eyes that he always gives you when he’s trying to convince you to do something with him. You scoff and look away. It almost works.

“I bet that it’ll be worse since we have a few things planned with the guys already.”

“So what? You two don’t get along. Big deal. We’ve already made reservations to secure a spot on the campsite and set a deposit for kayak rentals.”

“Won, I think you and I view Heeseung very differently. He doesn’t just not like me. He hates me.”

“Hate is a wrong word.”

You huff. “I don’t think you grasp just how weird it is every time we’re together. You could cut the tension with a knife.”

“Seriously, Y/N. It’s one week. I’m sure you can survive that. You’ve never missed a camping trip and it’s the first time all of our friends are coming.” Jungwon deadpans and throws a shirt towards your chest, which you hastily grab after being startled by his sudden movement. You know better than to argue with him when he gets like this. “Just help me pack your clothes, dude. Jay’s gonna be here to pick us up tomorrow morning, and you don’t want to be under-packed.”

You relent and grumble. “Are you still staying over?”

He nods. “My apartment’s in the opposite of where we’re going, and I didn’t want to make him drive an extra twenty minutes since he needs to pick Riki up. Just need to drop Maeumi off at my mom’s before coming back here. ” Your eyes fall for a flat second before you squash that feeling down.

“I didn’t invite you over, you know.”

“No, but don’t pretend like you’re not excited,” Jungwon says with a laugh as he pulls your clothes out of the bag and starts to readjust the clothing you’ve folded poorly. Seeing your best friend smile tugs a bit at your heartstrings and you can’t say that you aren’t happy to have him with you. “We should get you packed now so you don’t stress out later.”

Begrudgingly, you allow Jungwon to sort out your clothes for you and pull last minute items you’ve yet to pack. It annoys you watching him be so calm when you’re simmering with worry. But you know he’s right—you’ve invested some money into this getaway, and it’ll be the last big outing before you move away from Korea for a year-long job opportunity in Okayama before pursuing your Master’s degree. Jungwon knows you a little too well, and sometimes it irks you.

The end-of-summer camping trip is always one for the books. For as long as you can remember, the two of you have been going camping just before everyone goes back to school to celebrate the beginning of a new academic year with your families. But this time, the trip wasn’t just about continuing an annual tradition. It was also to commemorate a new chapter in your life.

You’re a year older than Jungwon. He’s known you since you were obsessed with learning how to double dutch, and you’ve known him since he first learnt how to ride a bike. The two of you started out as neighbors when you moved into the house next to his, and his family had adopted your own like old friends, eventually inviting you and your parents into their annual camping tradition. Even when dynamics changed and people left, the tradition was the only thing that remained a constant for you.

This is the first summer that your loved ones announced they wouldn’t be coming along. They all thought it was time for you to embark on new traditions with new people, and nobody seemed to mind the change that much except for you. Jungwon had been ecstatic about it since he invited his friend, Jake, to the camping trip last year. You’d been wary at first since Jake is friends with Heeseung, but he never brought up your confusing arch-nemesis and chose to have a great trip before you all started university again.

Sure, you had a lot of fun. You might even consider last year’s trip as one for the books. But your mom pulling out of the camping trip and everyone around you agreeing that it was for the best made you feel like your world was crumbling around you.

When you graduated university three months ago (Jungwon swears he didn’t cry, but you know better than to believe him), the weight of leaving your home started to sink in. In the blink of an eye, Jungwon wouldn’t be a twenty minute drive, and hanging out with all of your friends wouldn’t be as easy as it once was. You’d be in Japan all alone.

This past summer has been a whirlwind as you tried to do everything under the sun, savoring each moment until you wouldn’t be able to anymore. Jungwon’s been a good sport about it, never once complaining when you drag him to your latest adventure. He deals with your sudden shift in mood from happy to sad, letting you cry on his shoulder and braving the cliche words you say when telling him you’ll miss him a lot.

Unlike past seasons, this is the first summer you haven’t seen Heeseung very often. Lee Heeseung, who usually keeps his head down and minds his business, always seems to have a bone to pick whenever his eyes settle on you. It confuses you to no end, and he keeps his quips to a minimum when your mutual friends are around, but it doesn’t stop you from wondering what you must’ve done to make him act like that towards you. It’s a shame because that small childhood crush you always had on him was squashed the first time he ignored your presence.

None of your friends comment on it much. They’re used to the dynamic between the both of you because it's been years of this. Elementary school saw the two of you become friends for the first time and middle school brought more friends into the group. It was in high school that things changed and Heeseung started ignoring you out of nowhere until one Thursday afternoon when he’d told you to leave him alone after pestering him about his change in behavior.

The odd tension followed you into university and continued to seep into your life. You don’t think you’ve ever been in a room with Heeseung where he’s been anything but nonchalant towards you, often acting like you aren’t there to begin with. You do your best to put up with it and plaster a smile on your face, but six years have gone by, and you don’t think you can handle a seventh. All of your friends seemed to have moved past it. You don’t know why you can’t.

“Don’t think about Heeseung,” Jungwon says with a sigh. “In fact, don’t think at all. Let me handle everything and enjoy this trip before you move to Okayama, okay?”

“Okay, fine. But I want to see Maeumi.”

Jungwon snorts. “She’s gonna be real pissed when she doesn’t see you for a year, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Jungwon knows you like the back of your hand and has seen what you bring on these trips enough to know what you like to have in your duffle. He packs things you neglected to pull out because your mind has been elsewhere. As much as he wants to flick your head and tell you to quit overthinking so you can help him, he did tell you to let him handle everything.

Your best friend makes you triple check that the two of you didn’t miss anything before heading back to his apartment to fetch Maeumi. She jumps into your arms when you squat to pick her up and won’t allow Jungwon to pet her white fur body while she’s nestled against you. This fondness and the familiar jab of Jungwon’s elbow to your ribcage make your heart ache despite the sweet moment. You’re really going to miss home.

Ever the concerned mothers your mom and Jungwon’s are, they send you with a tray full of sweets for the road. They make you tell them exactly when you’ll be picked up and by who (“Jongseong, Eomma,” Jungwon says for the umpteenth time) and when you plan to come back. His dad gives you a spare bucket hat for when you’re on the water and an old sweater from his college days when Jungwon complains about how you never pack enough layers. The gesture feels warm since you consider his father to be somewhat of your own.

Leaving them to go back to your house feels a bit bittersweet. A lot of your belongings sit in storage boxes in the garage from when you moved out of your campus apartment upon graduating. Jungwon decided to get an apartment for himself with the money he saved from his part-time job as a busboy at a local chain restaurant. Staying over with you makes it seem silly when you remember he used to live next door.

It’s nine in the evening when the two of you get ready for bed. Jungwon puts your bags by the front door so neither of you would forget while you finish brushing your teeth. He grabs extra blankets from the linen closet and settles onto your L-shaped couch, pulling the fabric just underneath his chin. Your heart feels like it’s sinking in on itself when you think about how this might be the last time you’re able to be so casual around him.

“Stop overthinking,” he says in the quiet of the night, as if he can hear the thoughts in your head. The living room lights are off and the moonlight is what’s responsible for illuminating the space.

You refrain from throwing your pillow at him. “I’m not overthinking. You’re overthinking.”

Jungwon snorts. “We both know that’s not true. I know you’re scared about Okayama and I know that’s why you’ve been on edge about Heeseung. You’re usually never this loud about it.” Like always, your best friend is right.

“It’s hard not to.” Your meek voice makes Jungwon’s heart lurch. “Everything’s changed so fast. I feel like I didn’t get enough time to properly say goodbye to everyone.”

“You’ll be in Japan, not America. It’s not like we’ll never see you.”

“Yeah, but I won’t be able to annoy you for boba and you won’t be coming over to have dinner with my mom and me." Jungwon frowns. Too caught up in making sure you were happy this summer, he hadn’t given it that much thought. “I know I won’t be far, but I’m scared that things will change too much.”

For the first time today, Jungwon doesn’t know what to say to make you feel better. “I’ll miss you a lot.”

“I know that, dummy. I guess…I feel like I’ve been dealing with a lifetime of shittiness and the universe wanted to throw another curveball at me.” Jungwon’s heart softens at your confession. He’s used to your quick jabs and sarcastic humor. Knowing you’ve more afraid than excited makes him upset.

“The universe sucks,” he says, happy that it pulled a laugh out of you. “I’ll always be a phone call away and you’ll never have to worry about me ignoring you because we both know I’m gonna blow up your texts anyway.”

“I can always count on you to annoy the hell out of me.” You can’t see his face, but no you already assume Jungwon’s sporting a shit-eating grin. Even if you both know the main reason why you’re afraid of living in Okayama, neither of you say it. You’re grateful that Jungwon doesn’t bring it up. “Still, though. You know how I am with change. I’m really scared that I’m going to hate it there and not have you to keep me company.”

“Life is crazy and unpredictable but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be miserable. I mean, you did a pretty good job of making sure both of us had happy childhoods even though I know you were hurting when we were younger.”

“It’s really hard not to have expectations or think badly about the future when I feel like I took everything for granted.”

“I know, Bug,” Jungwon says, using a nickname from your childhood he reserves for when he thinks you need an extra bit of comfort. “But you’re the best person I know. You didn’t do anything wrong. Life just…gets in the way.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Jungwon is quiet for a moment. “Just please promise me you’ll try to have fun, okay?”

“I know I’ll have fun, Wonnie. I’m scared that I’ll have too much fun and be a sobbing wreck when we get back.”

The two of you share a laugh. “Alright, fair. Promise me you won’t let Heeseung get under your skin.”

You groan. “If he doesn’t like me, that’s fine. I don’t need everyone to like me. But why go out of his way to act like I’m scum of the Earth?”

“Just ignore him, okay?” Jungwon pleads. “I know it’s uncomfortable but he paid for a last minute spot. I’ll tell him to be mature about it too.”

And, well, part of you believes Heeseung will listen to Jungwon. Despite being on the younger side in your shared friend group, everyone seemed to listen to your best friend most of the time. Jungwon has an authoritative aspect to himself when he’s refrained from being the silly, happy-go-lucky guy you all know him to be.

It’s quiet for a brief moment with the wind gently tapping on the windows behind you. “I don’t know why he doesn’t like me.”

Truthfully, neither does Jungwon. “I’m sorry he’s putting you in a tough spot.”

“Won, sometimes I really wonder if he hates my guts. He doesn’t talk to me and he never replies to my messages in the group chat. It’s like I don’t exist to him.”

“I think that might be a little extreme.”

“It’s not and you know it.”

Jungwon hums. “Well, at least you’ll get away from him when you move to Okayama.” Just like that, all of your worries come flooding right back.

“Yeah,” you say meekly. “I’ll have Okayama.”

You don’t see him, but you know Jungwon’s smiling since you agreed with him for the first time tonight. “That’s more like it. You have your whole future ahead of yourself, dude. Heeseung is just a blimp. In three weeks, he won’t matter because you’ll be having fun in Japan. Just think about that.”

You try not to think about the fears and hesitations you have about starting anew. This time, you wouldn’t be going back to university after the camping trip. You’ll have a week and a half back home before you’re boarding your flight and saying goodbye to the place you’ve called home for the past two decades. Thinking about the future keeps you up until you hear Jungwon’s snores from the other side of the couch.

Unsure of when your mom will be coming home, you snuggle further into the cushions and curl yourself into a ball before falling asleep.

***

The next morning, Jungwon wakes up just before you do and you see him and your mom talking before they see you sit up. Barely noticing their hushed tones, you find yourself yawning more than normal and force the blankets off of your body. Your mom fixes you a cup of tea while Jungwon finishes packing, leaving you to freshen up and do the same.

“You know, this trip will be good for you. I can feel it,” your mom says when you sip on your tea. It’s hot and nearly burns your tongue, but you don’t mind. Somehow, that sharp pain makes you feel even more alert than the strong brew.

“You say that every year.”

“Yeah, but this time I won’t be with you.”

She laughs when she hears you huff. “Baby, I know you love it when I come on these trips but we’ll always have other ones. We’ll have next year too.”

“I just don’t get why you and Jungwon’s parents don’t want to come on this one.”

“Like we said all those months ago–it’s time for you guys to break tradition and spend some time with your friends before you move to Okayama. Next year, we can rent out the whole campsite if it means we can accommodate us, the Yangs, and your friends.”

Frustration bubbles within you but you’re quick to shut that feeling. “I guess. It won’t be the same.”

“Jake’s going this year, right? You guys had a lot of fun last summer.”

Well, she isn’t wrong. “Sure, yeah. I had fun with him.” Motherly instincts kick in and she bumps your hip with hers.

“I know you’re scared about moving and seeing Heeseung. But you’re much braver than you give yourself credit for. Sometimes people are meant to be lessons and maybe Heeseung is the biggest one of all.”

You throw a fake-disgusted look at her. “Did Jungwon put you up to this?” She laughs and shakes her head, bringing you into her arms. Her lips on the crown of your head feel warm and you don’t shy away from her embrace.

“No, but I carried you in my stomach and brought you to term. I like to think I know you pretty well.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you do. I’ll try not to let Heeseung bother me too much.”

“Jungwon’s pretty worried, even if he won’t say it. I told him to relax a little. This trip isn’t supposed to stress anyone out. It’s supposed to be a nice getaway before you go back to your normal life.”

“I feel guilty for making Jungwon worry about me. I know he’s still friends with Heeseung, somewhat, even though nobody can figure out why he doesn’t like me so much.”

“That old saying about boys being mean to their crushes is bullshit.”

You pull away and gasp when you hear her swear. “Eomma!”

“I used to swear like a sailor before I became a mom, you know.” Her eyes light up when she watches you giggle and from the corner of her eye, she can see Jungwon walking back into the living room.

“Jay’s almost here,” he says, shoving his phone into his back pocket.

“Does he want a cup of tea?”

Jungwon shakes his head. “I think it’s better if we head out as soon as possible. We still have to pick up Riki and then we have a four hour drive to the campsite.”

She looks at the two of you like she has stars in her eyes. Wordlessly, your mom pulls Jungwon underneath her other arm and kisses his forehead before kissing yours. “When did you two become so grown up, huh? It feels like just yesterday that Y/N stopped crying whenever she got papercuts.”

Jungwon snickers. “She still does.”

“Hey!”

“And it feels like just yesterday that Jungwon stopped needing to sleep with a nightlight.” Jungwon’s cheeks turn pink and you snicker at him.

“Time flew by fast,” says Jungwon. She lets the two of you go and the doorbell rings. “That must be Jay.”

Indeed, Jay is standing behind the door and bows at your mom before she offers to help you both carry things to his car. They make small talk while the two of you put them into the trunk (he loves to cook while she loves to bake. Likewise, they enjoy talking about this with each other). Jay’s Jeep is far too expensive for you to wrap your head around, but you don’t complain when he offers to drive you in it. A yellow rubber duck sits on his dashboard and it never fails to bring a smile to your face whenever you see it. You wave goodbye to your mom and stick your body halfway out the window until you’re restricted by the seat belt.

“Can we get coffee on the way?” you ask, yawning into your palm. It’s eight o’clock and everyone’s agreed to arrive around noon for lunch and to relax before sleeping.

“Yeah, good idea. Let’s pick up Riki and then stop somewhere.”

Jay plugs his phone into the aux cord at a red light and turns on some music. You like driving with him because you always discover new songs you obsess over for the next few days. It brings a pang in your heart when you think about how this will have to stop when you move to Japan. The two of you have created many playlist blends and he’s curated a few for you. While you’re not as musically inclined like your friends may be, Jay is the only person who’s willing to break things down for you in depth so that you can understand them too. It’s nice, especially when he talks about his own musical talents. You can see why he loves music so much and you don’t mind if he sends you a million songs to listen to. He turns onto the freeway and you know you’re about to see Riki soon.

He’s about to be a first-year in the university you graduated from. He moved to Korea from Japan a few weeks prior to get a lay of the land and become more comfortable in his surroundings. Originally planning on enjoying your summer until he reached out to you, your mother chided your decision and told you to help Riki move into his new dormitory.

It was the least you could do for your half-brother.

Begrudgingly, you spent a lot of time making sure Riki felt comfortable and settled in when you could’ve been soaking up the sun. Maybe that’s why you were so adamant about hanging out with Jungwon whenever you could. Being around Riki made you feel drained because his mere presence was enough to remind you of why you started losing faith in people.

The dorms aren’t too far from your house. The drive there is silent, save for the music coming from Jay’s stereo. It gives you plenty of time to think about what the next week or so might look like. Avoiding Heeseung is out of the question since there will be eight of you participating in the same activities together. You’re not worried about having to watch over Riki too much either. Before moving to Korea, he met Jungwon the first summer he spent a few weeks vacationing here and they instantly became friends. He introduced Riki to the people you’d be camping with too. Without fail, the seven of them were always up to no good when he was in town.

Spending three weeks with him in your neighborhood felt like someone was trying to set your life ablaze. He was so young back then, barely speaking Korean until you had to translate conversations into Japanese for him. You tried to mask disdain for having to help him, but even then, Riki understood why you were hesitant to have him in your life. If he were in your position, he’d probably feel the same way about you.

He didn’t come to Korea very often but started to when he had school recess for the holidays and summer breaks. Since he expressed an interest in attending university in Korea, it felt like the right decision to send Riki whenever school wasn’t in session. He’d stay with his paternal grandparents and saw you every so often when you were both invited to the same place. Neither of you made a real effort to keep up with each other on social media or over the phone. At this time, Riki followed you on Instagram and you hadn’t bothered to follow him back. In all honesty, you didn’t see the point.

You held a lot of resentment over Riki for things you know you can’t blame him for. But with new life changes that came your way, Riki seemed like the perfect scapegoat. He feels it sometimes, the way you pull him in just to push him away when the moment gets too familiar. He shoves down his feelings, choosing to treasure when you laugh with him.

The two of you are doing somewhat better nowadays. You followed him back on Instagram the night after you dropped him off at the airport at the behest of your grandparents. They insisted Riki arrive at the airport four hours early despite the flight’s duration equating to two and a half hours. You suspected they wanted to force you into spending a little bit of alone time with your half-brother and get to know each other.

To your surprise, the two of you got along pretty well. Riki was a dweeb trying to mask himself as cool. You bought him ice cream (pretending like you didn’t see him smiling so hard that he forced it off of his face) and sat in your car for two hours to talk. He found out you were a genius when it came to mathematics, a subject he did not excel in, and you found out he’s in a hip hop dance crew and wants to study dancing in Korea. Riki showed you a few clips of him dancing and from the corner of your eye, you could see how happy he was to be sharing this moment with you. It made your heart twinge and guilt crept up your spine when you think of all the times you’ve blown him off. You said goodbye to him at the gate and he surprised you with the first hug he’s ever given you.

Still, it’s a bit awkward when the two of you spend any time together without your friends acting as buffers. It irks you that Riki and Heeseung get along so well because they share similar interests and are often awake at the same time, especially during the midnight hour. Part of you wondered if Heeseung would tell you all about your “rivalry” and how the two of you didn’t get along. If he did, Riki never let you know it because he’s been the same Riki you’ve known since you first met him three years ago.

You can tell Heeseung is a bit irritated, too, that your half-brother still chooses to be nice to you. In fact, you realize he’s annoyed at everyone about this, especially Jungwon. You don’t call him out on it because you know it’ll spark a useless argument that makes you and everyone else feel upset. How Heeseung has the energy and stamina to avoid you for hours on end is strange to you.

You and Jungwon meet Riki at the front door while Jay gets out of the car to make room for his belongings and the lawn chairs his grandparents dropped off for this specific trip. There’s exactly eight of them and they somehow all fit into the rear with all of the other cooking gear he’s packed. You assume the other car has everything needed for pitching tents and fishing.

“Hi,” Riki says before you can acknowledge him. He steps forward like he’s about to throw his arms around you but stops himself. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Riki,” you say while grabbing the duffle bag from his shoulder. “Let me put this in the car. You and Wonnie can load the chairs.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

It’s Riki’s first time on the camping trip and you find yourself a bit more nervous with him coming. He’s not someone who’s been camping before and you wonder if any of the other guys are going to look out for him. Jungwon, for as responsible as he is, tends to turn into a younger version of himself when he’s with your half-brother. You furrow your eyebrows when you put his duffle bag in Jay’s trunk as he rearranges and waits for the two boys to load everything in before settling back into the car.

Riki and Jungwon immediately hop in the backseat and you’re quite pleased that you don’t have to call shotgun. They talk about things you don’t understand while Jay starts the car and resumes manning the aux cord. That strange feeling of nervousness creeps back into your stomach. You turn around and startle Riki when you look at him.

“Do you have everything you need?” you ask him.

“Yes,” Riki says with a nod. “I have my water bottle, my Swiss army knife, and sunblock.”

“Bug spray?”

“Jungwon says he’s bringing a few bottles.”

“Swimming trunks?”

“C’Mon, Y/N. We’re gonna be camping by a lake. That’s the first thing I packed.”

“Toothbrush?”

“Second thing I packed.”

“Enough shirts and socks?”

“Okay,” Jay says, pulling your wrist to get you to look at the road. “Riki’s got everything he needs and if he doesn’t, I’m sure someone else would let him use or borrow it.”

“I’m just making sure he’s got everything so we don’t need to stop somewhere,” you mutter, slinking into your seat while Jay sighs. You don’t catch it, but Riki sits behind you with a happy smile on his face.

“Relax. We’re trying to make the most before summer ends. You deserve that too.” You know Jay’s right. He smiles when you fix your posture and hands you his phone. “You know my passcode. Queue up whatever you want.”

You do just that, especially since Jungwon and Riki are engrossed in a conversation about God knows what. You think of interrupting them to ask what they want to listen to but ultimately decide to play a few songs you and Jay could jam out to and some from Jungwon’s playlists. You also try to remember the songs Riki has danced to in his Instagram videos and the musicians he posts on his stories and add them to the queue too.

“Thanks for letting us come on this trip,” Jay tells you with chatter in the background, not once taking his eyes off of the road. “I know it’s a thing you and Jungwon do with your families.”

“Eh, it was bound to happen anyway. Jake was the only one here last summer and I knew it was a matter of time.”

“Still, I know how you’ve been feeling lately and it must be overwhelming to have so many people around you right now.” Damn. Jay is almost as receptive as Jungwon is.

You don’t bother lying to him. “Yeah, I think I’m just scared about starting my life in Okayama. I know a few people but it’s not like here. I thought it was what I wanted to do when I accepted the position but now I can’t help but feel like I made a mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake if you believed in it enough to do it all those months ago. I mean, there’s a reason why you’re moving.”

“I guess.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, dude. You’re like, a fucking wizard when it comes to numbers and even Jake is speechless. You know how he feels about math and physics.”

That makes you laugh. “It feels kinda nerdy to love math so much but fuck it. It got me a paid year’s worth of employment before I earn my Master’s.”

“See? Not so bad, isn’t it?” You suppose it’s not. “Junwon, can you please tell the others that we’re about to stop for coffee then be on our way?” You see the notifications on your phone.

wonton: we just picked up riki

jaeyunnie: who’s we

wonton: me jay and yn

jaeyunnie: AYOOOOOOO YN

you: JAEYUNIE :DD

jaeyunnie: idk why i thought jay was driving alone. whatever this is about to be the best camping trip of my Life. even better than last year

sun sun: is it just me or is jake always really fucking dramatic. also i’m lowkey offended i wasn’t invited last year …

jaeyunnie: shut Up u know nothing about me sunoo. and u were in bejing how tf could you have gone with us

sun sun: so much attitude 🙄

fanghoon: yn save me PLEASE. i’m in a car filled with animals

sun sun: HEY

jaeyunnie: who are you calling an animal big guy ?

you: sunghoon what makes you think i can do that

you: jk come over here ~i will protect you~

fanghoon: Thank You. It’s Literally 8am

jaeyunnie: u guys need to become morning people

you: pass

sun sun: PASS

sun sun: noona we are the same 🙂‍↕️

you: i know that’s right

wonton: we’re gonna stop for coffee before heading to the campsite

jaeyunnie: oh shit we should make heeseung stop for coffee too

wonton: jay says to stop blowing up his phone in the group chat. we’ll text you when we stop for gas and when we’ve arrived. bye!!!

***

After one stop to fill up Jay’s gas tank (you paid for him as a thank you) and a snack run (Jungwon and Riki split the cost), the four of you are at the campsite in no time. You’re all somewhat grateful that it’s a little bit cloudy outside because the sun was killing you on the two-hour mark of your road trip. The weather is a little cooler and you tug on the sweater that Jungwon’s dad gave you.

You see your other friends park just after you do. Jungwon and Riki are first to get out of the car and greet them like they haven’t seen the group in years while you and Jay take your time getting out of your seats. Since when did your joints become so stiff? You blame it on the fact that you woke up from a nap just a few minutes before you arrived.

“This place was hard to find,” you hear Heeseung say from a distance. You try not to let it dampen your mood.

“Where’s Y/N?” You’re sure that was Jake.

“Waking up, probably,” says Jungwon. “She took a nap in the car and we just woke her up.”

“The drive wasn’t even that long.” You assume your best friend gives Heeseung some kind of reaction before the latter apologizes quickly.

Jake is by the passenger door as you open it and looks at you like a dog who wants to be taken out on a walk. He holds the handle to the door and bounces in his shoes until you push yourself out of the car. The loud slamming of the door behind you makes you wince. Jake pulls you into a hug faster than you can process.

“I missed you dude,” Jake says. He puts his arm over your shoulder and slowly leads you to the group. “Did you have a good summer?”

“You know, despite the incredibly hot weather that made me feel like I would sweat to death, summer wasn’t so bad. How was Brisbane?”

“I missed the heat,” Jake says with a pout. “But it was pretty good to be back home for a month. I really missed my parents and my brother.”

“I’m sure they missed you too.”

Jungwon spots you. “Your eyes are so puffy.” He takes his thumbs and tries to put more color underneath your eyes and onto your cheeks. Riki, Sunoo, and Jay have slipped away to start setting up camp.

Jake laughs beside you when you swat Jungwon’s hands away and lets his own arms fall when you lurch forward to give him a taste of his own medicine. He always liked that Jungwon was able to bring out a childish side to you because he’s always seen you carry yourself like you had to shoulder the weight of the world. Watching you chase Jungwon as he tried to escape your pinching fingers made him a bit more happier knowing you’d have friends like him to return to when you came back from Japan.

Heeseung, however, rolls his eyes and speaks low. “She’s so childish.”

“Dude,” Sunghoon sighs in exasperation. “We’re gonna be with her for a week. You need to quit making those comments.”

Heeseung shrugs. “What? It’s not like she can hear what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, but we can. We’re friends with her too, Heeseung.”

The eldest tries to hold in his disdain. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll keep shit to myself.”

“Just for now,” Jake encourages. “Y/N never starts anything with you but sometimes you say something that goes a little too far. No one is asking you to be her best friend.”

“Just remember it was Y/N’s mom and Jungwon’s parents who invited all of us,” Sunghoon reminds his friend. “We wouldn’t be here without them and if I recall correctly, you really wanted to come when you found out we were all planning to go.” Heeseung wants to argue and justify why he’s annoyed but can’t find a good enough reason.

“You’re right,” he relents. “I’ll make nice but do not expect me to do shit for her.”

“We aren’t.” Sunghoon pats Heeseung’s back. “You’ve got this. It’s supposed to be a fun trip before we all go back to reality. All we want is one week where you two don’t create tension.”

“I can do that.” Jake and Sunghoon share a look between the two of them when Heeseung isn’t looking and pray that he means it.

When Jungwon decides he’s out of breath, he accepts his fate and runs into Sunghoon’s arms when you outstretch your arms to pinch his cheeks and pull them apart like he’s made out of dough. The broken laughter coming from your best friend makes you laugh too. Everyone, save for Heeseung, laughs when Jungwon’s face becomes distorted due to your fingers.

Eventually, you pull away from him and he starts to grab his duffle bag and the lawn chairs. The three of you follow suit once you realize you’re missing a few people. You lift your duffle over your shoulder and put on your hiking backpack while trying to hold more lawnshairs than you can carry.

“Woah,” Sunghoon says as he catches a falling chair. “Let me help.”

“Thanks, Hoon. I don’t know why I thought I could carry two chairs at once.”

“You’re strong but you’re also carrying a fuck ton of things.”

He smiles at you and it makes you laugh. You haven’t seen much of Sunghoon over the summer because he’s been working nonstop at a local ice rink, teaching kids how to skate in back to back summer classes. Sunghoon is sometimes too tired to hang out after work or falls asleep on your couch whenever he hangs out with you to watch movies. Your mom thinks it’s a bit endearing and never has the heart to wake him up. Between Sunghoon’s impromptu sleepovers, Jungwon and Sunoo’s unannounced visits, Jay’s cooking and baking sessions in your kitchen, and Jake appearing out of nowhere every few nights for dinner, you’re starting to think your house might have an unspoken open door policy.

Heeseung is the only one who doesn’t frequent your house if you don’t count Riki, who doesn’t spend enough time in Korea to become a permanent fixture. The only time Heeseung has been to your house is when he dropped Jungwon off after he had one too many to drink and he’d been adamant about going to your place because it was closer to the bar in comparison to your apartment. One awkward conversation later and Heeseung was out of your driveway. Jungwon woke up with a hangover the next morning and you were grateful your mother chose that weekend to take a girl’s trip with her best friends.

You don’t invite Heeseung over like you do with the others. The only reason why you haven’t deleted his phone number is because of the big group chat you’re in to discuss plans. He never responds to your texts in it and you don’t respond to him unless absolutely necessary. Sometimes you catch him laughing at your messages only to retract it when he realizes it’s you who sent it. It’s been six years of dealing with this and as much as it confuses you, part of you has learned to tune out this behavior and focus on the other friends you do share.

Sunghoon must know you’re thinking about his friend because he looks at you like he’s been trying to get your attention. “Sorry,” you apologize. “What did you say?”

“I said thanks for letting us crash your trip. I know this is something you and Jungwon do with your families every year. Can’t help but feel a little special that we get to come along.”

You coo at him. “Do you remember when you could barely look me in the eye, let alone tell me something as sweet as that?” Sunghoon rolls his eyes.

“Oh, shut up. You know I’m an introvert.” You bump your hip with his.

“I’m just messing with you. But in all seriousness, it’ll be fun having you guys around.”

“I’m excited to see what you and Jungwon do every year.”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary. Swim, eat a lot of food, kayak, hike, the usual. But there’s one spot we usually go to, just he and I, that’s away from the main spot on the lake.”

“How’d you find it?”

“Jungwon found it by accident when we were younger. He said it was gonna be our secret spot and told me not to tell our parents. I think the whole campground panicked for an hour or so until somebody found us in the clearing.”

Sunghoon snorts. “Yeah, that sounds like you two.”

“They told us to tell them where we’d be and promised to leave us alone if we gave them a heads up. It’s not really noticeable if you don’t know where to look, but it’s so beautiful. It leads to another part of the lake and it’s always so peaceful and quiet.”

“In that case, I’m honored that you’re showing us.”

“Eh, it’s about time we add new members to the club.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrow. “There’s a club now?”

“Mhm. Gotta pay me two fish to join.”

“Like you know how to fish.” You bump your hip with his again.

“There are things you guys don’t know about me, Park. Just wait and see.”

Sunghoon lets the conversation end when he finds himself at the campsite where Jay and Riki have started to organize things and make spots for tents. It’ll take a few trips for all of the supplies and camping gear to be fully unloaded so you each take turns until everything is sitting in a big pile, waiting to be sorted.

“Okay, I’m a bit out of my depth,” says Sunoo, who kicks around a rock as he speaks. “I, for one, will need help pitching a tent.”

“I’ll help you,” you say, nodding for him to come over.

“You can pitch a tent?” Heeseung asks like he doesn’t believe you.

You nod and pick up a bag. “Yeah. I do this every year.” You don’t say it with any bite in your tone but Heeseung, who forgot this fact, feels like an idiot for making a fool of himself in front of his friends. He chooses to look away from you for now.

“We have three tents we need to put up,” Jay says. “I’m thinking we pitch those now, have a snack and water break, and then start to organize before we eat lunch.”

“Sounds good.” You agree. “I’d rather have everything set up so we can enjoy our evening. Besides, we should do this before it gets dark.”

“Right.” Jungwon clears his throat and hands out each bag, assigning your friends based on the size of the tent. Everybody gets to work, clearing the flat ground of rocks and debris before deciding where your tents will go. You all hammer the groundsheet into the dirt before assembling the poles.

You teach Sunoo the basics and give him pointers when he struggles to connect the joints. He’s learning much faster than he gives himself credit for because in no time, he’s jumping for joy when he finally manages to grasp what he’s supposed to be doing. It’s nice to watch him be so happy over this, as Sunoo originally declined the invitation to go camping since he isn't a huge fan of the outdoors. But now it’s like you would’ve never guessed that because he’s pretty quick to pick up your lessons.

Your tent is pitched up in no time. You roam around like a camp counselor to see if anybody needs help. Jake, Heeseung, Jay, and Jungwon seem to know what they’re doing and have the biggest tent halfway set up. Sunghoon and Riki look like they need a bit of assistance. Sunghoon’s figuring it out quickly while Riki fumbles with his fingers.

“You have to do it slowly,” you say from beside him. Riki hands you the attachments when you beckon him to hand it over and show him slowly. “Like this. See? If you do it slowly, they’ll catch easier and it’ll be smoother when we feed them into the tent.”

“Oh.” Riki nods when your trick works. “Thanks, Y/N.”

The three of you pitch up your tent too, with Riki handing you the pegs to hammer them into the ground after zipping the door. Sunghoon dusts off his hands on his shorts and takes a big gulp from his water bottle. Sunoo’s mom packed enough fruit and onigiri for a midday snack, and all eight of you feast quietly after exerting more power than anyone anticipated. You really need to start working out again.

“Before we clear out and organize everything else, we should probably figure out who sleeps where,” Jungwon says. “That way, we can put our stuff in our respective tents and have that out of the way.”

“Good idea,” Jake says. “How should we do this? Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Sure, but I think Y/N and I should share a tent.” Heeseung rolls his eyes at Jungwon and you see it from the corner of your vision.

“What?” Riki asks. “Why?”

“Because all of you get too comfortable around her and forget she doesn’t want to hear you snore or see your boxers in the morning.” Jungwon laughs. “It’ll be easier since we’ve been camping together anyway. She’s used to rooming with me and I’m used to waking up next to a Zombie.”

“I hate you.” Jungwon merely smiles at you.

“You just want to get out of sharing a tent with three people,” says Sunghoon. Jungwon nods.

“That too.”

“Rock, paper, scissors it is,” Sunoo says, getting his hands ready.

They all battle one another until the rooming situation is sorted. You and Jungwon will share a tent while Sunoo and Jay share the other smaller one. That leaves Jake, Sunghoon, Riki, and Heeseung sharing the big one. You all throw your belongings in before helping Jay organize the portable stove, chairs, and other things that need to be stored properly.

When all is said and done an hour later, Jay and Sunghoon start a barbecue. All of you are spent, sagging your bodies in the camping chairs that are positioned around the campfire. You know you’ll need to fetch some wood from the outpost if you all want to have a bonfire. But that can be a task for later.

“Your mom makes the best onigiri,” Riki groans as he shoves another bite in his mouth. “It reminds me so much of home.”

Sunoo smiles proudly. “She’s the best, isn’t she?” Jake, who is busy stuffing his face with sliced watermelons, agrees. They pick at the leftovers from snack time and Jay chides them for it.

“Don’t spoil yourselves too much or you won’t have an appetite for lunch.”

“He’s so bossy,” Riki says as he leans over towards you. “But it’s kinda nice having someone who does shit and takes charge.”

You nod. “Mhm. Usually Jungwon and I are the ones spearheading everything but Jay’s got some camping experience. I’m fine taking the backseat.”

“Do you camp a lot? Besides this tradition, I mean.” Riki watches you shake your head.

“No, not really. This is as much as I can handle. It’s more like a gigantic lake house with hot showers and a few convenience stores miles away to replenish food if we run out of anything.”

“It looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“That’s because I do, Riki.”

He blushes. “Right. Thanks for helping me with my tent earlier.”

“Don’t sweat it. You’ll be able to do it without my help in no time.” That brings a shimmer of hope to the younger boy sitting next to you.

Heeseung avoids looking at you when Riki purposefully sits beside you on the empty lawn chair. He doesn’t completely understand why the younger boy likes you so much. Heeseng thinks you’re a nuisance and that you overstay your welcome at hangouts. But Riki clings to you like you’re his lifeline and he gets that you’re his half-sister and all, but you weren’t the most welcoming to him when he started hanging out in Korea more often. Riki would never tell Heeseung the details about his past and he never tried to pry past what the youngest would reveal. Six years of avoiding you made him forget every single detail he once knew about you when you’d both been somewhat friendly towards one another.

There were some days when you wouldn’t make room in your schedule to see Riki as often as he’d wanted you to and he lamented that to Heeseung. But every time he’d start to talk about how unfair it was for you to pick and choose when you got to see our younger brother, Riki would defend you every time. He didn’t get it, feeling the frustration bubble to the surface before realizing that it wasn’t his place to question why Riki acted the way he did. Sure, he was younger than Heeseung, but he respected family matters and didn’t care about you enough to figure you out anyway.

He keeps these feelings to himself mostly. The friends you share don’t really understand why he has a distaste for you and he refuses to elaborate because the memory is too painful, and instead chooses to bury these feelings. It’s nobody’s business anyway. He certainly doesn’t want to start anything with Riki involved because he would feel guilty for putting him in an uncomfortable position, and because he knows he’d defend you regardless. Even though you’ve made progress to open up yourself to Riki, Heeseung still scoffs whenever he sees the two of you together.

By the time lunch is done, all eight of you are crowded around a table built into the ground, feasting on meat and vegetables. Everybody thanks Jay for cooking and the seven of you agree to clean up after every meal so Jay doesn’t have to work twice as hard. You’re not sitting too far from Heeseung (to both of your dismay). Sunghoon purposely sat in between you both when he realized the other empty spots were filling up and didn’t want to chance an uproar during mealtime.

“So,” Sunoo starts to say after closing the bottle cap on his cola. “What’s on the agenda for today? Personally, I think we should take it easy until tomorrow.”

“I agree.” Jungwon nods. “We’ve done a lot and drove for a while. I say we relax and do whatever until dinner.”

“I’m going to nap, that’s for sure.” You all snicker at Jay. Typical.

“Me too,” says Riki.

“Is anyone up for walking around the lake?” Jake asks.

“I could go,” Sunghoon says from next to you.

“Sure,” you finally say, “why not.”

“I think I’ll hang back here.” Heeseung says it almost immediately and it stings a bit. “I’ll probably nap too.”

“I want to read.” Sunoo changes the direction of the conversation before anyone can pick up on the awkwardness and you throw him a smile.

“I think I’ll join you.” Jungwon pulls a book from his backpack and the pair begin to brainstorm where they should sit. Natural chatter falls back into place and you focus on eating, as your stomach has been grumbling pretty loud.

Heeseung breaks the silence. “Can someone pass me the pineapple?” You don’t register that your arm has moved on its own accord and pass the container to him. Heeseung gives you a look you can’t decipher and it’s only then you realize what you’ve done. Sunghoon gulps.

“Thanks,” Heeseung mutters, taking the pineapple from your hands. You’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t make a comment about how he isn’t craving it anymore and watch him eat some from the corner or your eye.

By nightfall, all of you are too exhausted to sit around the campfire. The hot shower stalls provide the kind of warmth you would go crazy without and you find yourself contemplating underneath the water longer than you’d like to admit. A plethora of thoughts run across your mind and they drift from the events of today, Riki, Heeseung, and moving to Okayama. Your friends don’t bring up the move and you’re grateful for that.

When you return from the shower and from brushing your teeth, Jungwon asks if you’re okay. You lie and say you’re fine but exhausted and he lets it go, too tired himself to pry the truth out of you. The last thing you think about is Heeseung. You send a silent prayer out into the universe and ask that the two of you are able to make nice during this camping trip. Then, you fall asleep.

***

Everybody is up bright and early after a good night’s sleep. All of you agree today’s the best day for a short hike to get used to the terrain before you explore harder trails. You and Jungwon know the hike like the back of your hand and lead the group expertly through trees and dirt pathways. All of you have a backpack for your essentials, and each of you has packed a portable lunch for when you reach the top of the peak at the end of the trail.

Halfway into the hike is not as uphill as you recalled it to be. The scenery is still breathtaking and you temporarily forget that Heeseung is burning eyes in the back of your skull. Last night’s prayer seems to be working, as he hasn’t said a word to you or argued with you when you started leading everybody towards the start of the hiking path. You’re not sure whether his feelings about you changed or if he knows you’re the literal expert since you grew up here, but you don’t think you care either way.

Heeseung makes a false step and twists his ankle. You hear the commotion behind you and turn around. He stumbles and a sharp edge of a branch catches his thigh, creating a gash that starts to bleed. Everyone crowds around him when they realize it and make him sit on a large rock and he feels like shouting at you to back away when you start to walk towards him.

“Guys, I’m fine. It’s not that bad.” He feels more embarrassed than hurt.

Jake looks concerned. “Dude, your leg is bleeding.”

“It’s just a cut.”

“Let me inspect it.”

You pull your backpack off of you and take out your water bottle and first aid kit. You drop to your knees to inspect the wound and Heeseung refrains from coughing at the awkward position from where he’s sitting. You don’t seem phased by it, however, as you push up the fabric of his shorts and use your water bottle to clean the dirt from his wound.

Your face is somewhat close to his leg and he jumps when your hand touches his thigh. The guys mistake his sudden movements as pain and rush to help stabilize him. Heeseung insists that he’s fine and brushes them off of him. He won’t admit that his fidgeting is because the last thing he expected you to do was patch him up. He figures Jungwon would be good at that kind of stuff, not you.

Heeseung winces at the sudden contact of water in his wound. “Okay, maybe it hurts a little.”

“You won’t need stitches or anything, but I should get you cleaned up and put a bandage on it.”

Heeseung watches as you do your best to clean it with the wipes you have and ointment that will keep any debris out. The wound isn’t too gnarly but it’s no small papercut either. He watches as you expertly deal with the wound and keeps quiet, even though he feels uncomfortable and wishes he could turn back time to avoid any of this. It’s awkward to know your hands are on him because he feels like ants are crawling up his leg.

“I think we should probably go back and rest a little,” says Jungwon. “We can eat lunch there and maybe hang out for a bit.”

“Good idea,” Heeseung mutters when you’ve stepped away from him. Sunghoon and Riki each help him up and allow the eldest to use them as crutches as he limps back to the base. He mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ in your direction and doesn’t pay attention to see your reaction. You feel like you got your hopes up for nothing because he turns his back towards you before you can smile at him. Defeated, you try to put your best self on display and follow everybody back to your tents.

Heeseung decides to rest on the chairs and eat his lunch there. You aren’t particularly eager to spend any time with him and figure he’d appreciate it if you weren’t around while he recovered. You take your sack of lunch and tell Jungwon you’ll be walking around the lake like you did yesterday. He tells you to be safe and then you’re on your way.

“Hey, wait up!” You turn around to see Jake running until he’s caught up with you. It’s a bit unfair how he barely runs out of breath when he jogs. It’s definitely because he’s an athlete, but it’s still unfair.

“Care to join?”

“Can’t a guy accompany his friend on a nice, brisk walk?”

That makes you laugh. “Yeah, sure.” You fall in a quiet tandem enjoying the silence and the environment for a while. “I had a lot of fun camping last year. I think my favorite part was kayaking or when Jungwon accidentally dropped his entire s’more in the fire.”

You snicker at the memory. “His mom was so mad that he kept eating the marshmallows.”

“Yeah, it was pretty funny. I still feel kind of embarrassed that I managed to flip over in my kayak somehow.”

“Eh, it makes for a good story.”

“It’s not my fault Jungwon slammed into me!” Jake defends when you begin to laugh. “Seriously, Y/N. How the fuck do you put up with that menace?”

“The same way you do, dummy.”

Jake bites into his sandwich. “I love Jungwon.”

“Me too.”

“Our parents loved having you come too. Jungwon’s dad loves fishing with people.”

“I still can’t believe how many we were able to catch. I’m sad the guys weren’t there because they keep shitting on me for not being able to catch any when we go together.”

You bump your shoulder against his. “They don’t know what I know. I’m sure my mom has pictures somewhere.”

“How is she, by the way?” Jake asks.

“Eomma’s doing alright. She just got a huge bonus at work for managing a really difficult client and completing this campaign she’s been working on. It stressed her out for months but I’m happy if she’s happy.”

“That’s awesome. I’m happy for her.”

“How are things with your family? How’s Layla?”

“My parents are actually on a trip to the States to see some family and my brother just got promoted at his job. I’m super proud of him. He worked really hard for it. Layla’s doing okay too. She’s staying with my cousin until I come back.”

“I miss her.”

“She probably misses you too.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable pace and eat your lunches. There are no awkward moments with Jake. Something about his personality makes everyone around him divulge their deepest secrets and he always seems to know what to say, too. You haven’t been close to him for very long but you know him well enough to know that he’ll keep anything you say between the two of you.

“I know you probably feel a little awkward with Heeseung around but you’ve been handling it really well.” Jake’s tone softens and he looks straight ahead as he talks, breaking the temporary silence. “I don’t know what goes on in his head half the time.”

“I just wish I knew what I did so I can apologize and fix it. He gets mad every time I ask and accuses me of bringing up bad memories for him. I don’t know what to do, Jake. It feels like he gets along with everybody in my life but me.”

“We all know Heeseung’s been through a lot and has trouble talking about them sometimes. He’s been in therapy but we had to really convince him to set an appointment.”

You scoff. “Sounds like him.’ Jake doesn’t disagree.

“I guess I understand that having to deal with shitty cards makes a person go insane.”

“Sure. I just wish I wasn’t the scapegoat.” Jake winces but tries not to let you see.

“Sorry you’re going through this. Sunghoon and I made him swear to be on his best behavior.”

“It’s a little awkward still but at least he isn’t picking a fight with me. Although, who knows how long that’ll last.”

“Have a little more faith in him, Y/N.” You deadpan and he holds his hand up in mock surrender. “Okay, next topic. How are you feeling about Japan?”

Your shoulders slump. ”Awful.”

Jake’s head quirks like he doesn’t understand. “What do you mean? You were really excited when you got the job offer.”

“I know but…it doesn’t feel right anymore. My whole life is about to change and I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“You don’t have to know anything. In fact, I’d be a little worried if you had your shit figured out.” You punch his arm. “It’s really cool that you’re leaving Korea to pursue your dream. I know how hard it is to leave everything behind for a better opportunity.”

You look at him softly and nod because you know he empathizes with you. Back when you first met him, he’d moved from Australia to Korea because your university had one of the best physics programs in the world. He knew how to speak your native Korean but wasn’t confident in conversing back then, and you had your fair share of mentoring him in formal greeting and the basics when it came to interacting with people. Jake definitely understands where you’re coming from and doesn’t want you to feel alone.

“We’ll always be here for you too,” he reassures. “We won’t be too far away and you can come home whenever you have the time and aren’t working.”

“I know, but it feels like everything in my life is changing at the same time and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I wish I was a freshman again. I wish I could turn back time and really enjoy my life before I make a life changing decision.”

“You’re really torn up about this, aren’t you?”

Nodding, you look at the ground beneath you. “There are so many things I’ve been dealing with over the past few years or so and it feels like I’m giving up on things if I just leave. Everything feels so scary, you know? I feel like I’m being suffocated every time I open my eyes.

“On top of starting a new job in a place I’m not that familiar with, I’m leaving my mom behind. I’ve never lived farther than an hour away from her and I hate knowing that I won’t be able to see her whenever I want. Not to mention Riki studying in Korea means I’ll be spending even more time with him.”

Jake chooses not to comment and nods with his lips pressed into a thin line. He doesn’t know what’s going on between the two of you but has his suspicions after hearing your hushed conversations with Jungwon. Even before the two of you became as close as you are, Jake has always looked out for you because he knows Jungwon loves you like a sister. It was easy to tell that you’d fallen into some sort of depression as you graduated high school and barely managed to pull yourself out of it before graduating university.

Riki has always been a sore subject for you. Jake doesn’t bring him up unless you do, no matter how much he adores the younger boy. The relationship you have with him is complicated but it tears him up inside to see Riki longing for you when the two of you are together. Jake knows there’s a great deal of tension that follows both of you too. He could feel it the first time you brought up having a half-brother and started to put the pieces together.

“I love that Riki’s more comfortable in Korea. I really do,” you confess. “I love that my friends get along with him too, but part of me is scared that you’ll all forget about me since he’ll be here to take my place.”

“You are not replaceable.” Jake looks at you when he says it. “You’re about to chase your dream, Y/N. None of us will throw our friendship down the drain just because we won’t be able to see you everyday. Riki is great but he’s not you.”

He’s pleased when you lift the corners of your mouth into a small smile. “Thanks, Jake. I don’t know where this fear came from.”

“You’re dealing with a lot. It’s understandable. I don’t know much about what’s going on between you and Riki, and you don’t have to tell me, but you should know that he loves you a lot and would never think about dishonoring you while you’re gone.”

“I know. I have a lot of pent up emotions and therapy feels like it isn’t working. I guess I should give myself some more time. But with the move, it’s been hard to focus on anything. I don’t want Riki to feel like I don’t want him in my life but it’s hard to make room for somebody you didn’t know existed until a few years ago.”

Jake nods. “Yeah, I get that. It feels a bit weird making space for someone who calls himself your brother, isn’t it?”

“He has every right to. I mean, he’s my half-brother. But I don’t know…I want to be at a place where I can look at him and not see how much my life has changed for the worst. He’s such a talented kid with a bright future and I hate that I project my feelings onto him.”

“Baby steps,” Jake reassures. “You’ve been through a lot of shit. Both you and your mom have and you've both handled it really well.”

“I’m glad it looks that way because I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread.”

“Well, that’s what it means to be in your early twenties.”

The two of you decide to head back to the campsite when it starts to get warmer. You throw your trash in garbage bins before trotting back and see that Sunoo and Jay have left to go back hiking on the trail that you were on earlier in the day. Heeseung seems to fare better with his wound, which you see he’s managed to replace (thanks to Jungwon, no doubt). But his mood seems to worsen when he sees you and Jake walking side by side towards the group.

“How was the lake?” Jungwon asks, sipping on a cola.

“Pretty,” Jake replies. “There weren’t that many people there so it was a little empty.”

“We should probably discuss what we want to do for the rest of the day and plan some stuff for later this week. It’ll be a little warmer later in the week so I think we should save that. There’s a great spot where Y/N and I go fishing. We could do that later in the morning.”

“Y/N, fishing?” Heeseung laughs. “I’d pay to see that.”

“What, you don’t think I can fish?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t know you were a fan of the outdoors. You always had a nose in your textbooks so I thought that was it for you.”

“Well, Heeseung, it’s not like the two of us know each other well enough to know these types of things.” He doesn’t seem to like that answer.

“Fishing tomorrow it is!” Jake interjects.

“I haven’t gone fishing in a long time,” Riki laments. “It’ll be nice to have trout for dinner.”

“I think Jay brought a lot of seasoning and sides,” Jungwon says to the group. “We can always go to the market a few miles down for anything else.”

You tune out the rest of the conversation, feeling a bit tired from the walk and the heat that’s starting to make you sweat. You’re eternally grateful that your tent is covered in shade and contemplate on taking a nap when Jungwon waves at you.

“You good, Y/N? You seem a little out of it.” You nod at Jungwon and take a seat next to the closest camp chair. You can feel Heeseung watching you and try not to slip as you sink down into the seat, crossing one of your legs over the other.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just have a lot going on in my head. I think I’m a little tired, too”

Heeseung scoffs quietly. “We’re camping. What could you possibly be thinking about that’s making Jungwon worried?” You curl into yourself as Jungwon chides his friend.

“I’m moving to Japan soon,” you tell him. You’re not even sure that he knows this about you, figuring that one of your friends would tell him to you at some point. Neither of you communicate with one another unless you absolutely have to. You didn’t see the point in telling him. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that, I guess.”

An array of emotions seems to wash over him and, as always, you have a hard time trying to figure out what he’s feeling and thinking. “Oh. So you’ll be out of Korea?”

“Yup.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Don’t seem too excited,” Sunghoon says underneath a cough.

“In a couple of weeks. I leave a little after we get back home.” Heeseung merely nods. He doesn’t ask you why you’re moving or what part of Japan you’ll be living in and you don’t offer that information, feeling awkward with the tension ever since you and Jake arrived back at the campsite. Riki finishes eating and stands up to throw his trash away, providing something to look at in order to forget that Heeseung keeps trying to look away from you.

“Y/N’s gonna be an engineer,” Jungwon brags on your behalf. “She’s taking a year off to work before getting her master’s degree.”

“Damn,” Riki whistles. “You’re so smart.” You try to hide a smile.

“What are you gonna be working on?” Sunghoon asks.

“I’ll be assisting other researchers in software development, particularly for space and aeronautics.” You nod once, feeling tense underneath everyone’s stare. “I don’t know what I’ll be doing specifically but that’s why I’m moving to Okayama.”

“That’s so cool!” Jake exclaims. Heseung rolls his eyes at his excited outburst and tries to avoid your eye. “You’re gonna be amazing.”

“I hope so. It’s a great opportunity to work in my chosen field before I decide to continue in this career when I go back to school. I have so many interests within mathematics but this seems like the right place to start.”

“Shit,” Sunghoon says as he slowly claps for dramatic effect. “I knew you were smart but you’re a fucking genius.”

“I wouldn’t say genius–”

“You are, though.” Jungwon smiles at you and gives two thumbs up. “You’re the smartest person I know, dude. This company is lucky to have you.”

“So cool,” Jake says again. He bumps Heeseung’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Isn’t that right, Heseung?”

“Yeah, totally,” he says carelessly, giving you a half-hearted smile. His mouth doesn’t quite reach his eyes and you refrain from audibly sighing.

“Don’t you think Y/N was always the smartest person in our year?” Heeseung nods. Jake nudges his friend again.

“Yes,” Heeseung says with a great amount of venom in his tone. He shakes off Jake’s hand from his body abruptly, causing the younger boy to take a step back in shock. He looks at you and musters an insincere smile when he notices the rest of your friends watching. “Y/N is so smart.”

His sarcasm deafens your ears and makes your blood feel like it could be boiling beneath your skin. The atmosphere around you changes. Riki and Jungwon try to pretend like everything is normal while Jake and Sunghoon give Heeseung wide eyes as if to tell him to knock it off. You look at your lap, uncomfortable with the silence that washes over.

“Why’s it so quiet?” Sunoo asks from behind you. The group collectively sighs and you’re all thankful that he and Jay returned from their hike to cut the tension.

“We were just talking about what we wanted to do for the rest of the day,” Jungwon says before anyone can speak. “Let’s take it easy tonight and go fishing tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jay takes a seat and takes a big gulp of water. “Let’s heat up some kimchi jjigae for dinner because I don't feel like cooking. Jake’s mom made enough for all of us to have seconds.”

None of you disagree. Feeling yourself grow more tired the more your friends converse with one another, you manage to catch Jungwon’s eye and nod at him before heading inside the tent.

***

It’s not unusual for you to wake up with what feels like a heavy heart but you’re having a hard time pushing yourself off of the uncomfortable ground to get ready for the day. Jungwon is asleep beside you with his knee digging into your side but even that isn’t enough to motivate you to leave the tent.

You mourn the loss of your mom and his parents accompanying you on this trip. As fun as hanging out with your friends are, having Heeseung constantly avoiding eye contact and muttering things underneath your breath has you feeling more on edge than you anticipated. It always feels like he’s waiting for you to mess up so he can get a word in or wait for the perfect moment to drop a subtle insult that only you can catch. Sunghoon and Jake in particular try their best to restrain him but that doesn’t do much. Eating dinner was awkward and you blamed your quiet nature on sleeping too deeply.

Finally, you sit up in your spot and rub the sleep out of your eyes. It doesn’t seem like any of the other guys are up and you pull a clock out to read the time. It’s still early and the people around you are still waking up as well. Your movements seem to have woken up Jungwon, who yawns when he opens his eyes.

“Morning,” he croaks. “Did you sleep okay?”

“It was fine. Woke up a few times because of people stepping on twigs, though.”

“Yeah, same. I think Jake got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Woke up to him walking by the tent.” Jungwon sits up and brushes the hair out of his eyes. “I’m so hungry thinking about all the trout we’re about to eat tonight.”

“If you catch any.” He swats your arm.

“I alway catch more than you.”

“Nuh-uh. Last year I beat you by two fish.”

“Y/N, I’ve caught more fish than you every year before that.”

“Shut up.”

You hear Jungwon laughing as you exit the tent to freshen up at the bathhouse. There are a few people milling about when you walk towards the structure. Your mouth feels a bit grimey from your morning breath and the cold water that hits your face wakes you up immediately. When you turn around after you’ve finished your morning routine, you collide right into Heeseung.

“Watch it.”

“I didn’t see you. Geez.” Your heart continues thumping as you grip your toiletry bag. Heeseung rolls his eyes and slips past you. Anger rises within you but you decide that it’s not worth getting so worked up over at this hour.

As time ticks by, the rest of your friend group emerge from their tents and gather around the campfire. You all wait for everyone to wake up and prepare themselves for the day, enjoying a nice breakfast with a cool breeze until you’re all ready to go fishing. You secure the bucket hat Jungwon’s dad gave you until it fits snugly over your head and forego a jacket, only packing the necessities while you wait for everybody else to gather their belongings before you’re all walking to the boathouse.

The instructors are the same from last year. You and Jungwon make small talk and explain that neither of your parents are here on this trip and you tell them about Japan when they ask you about life after college. Each of your friends introduce themselves and after a quick introduction, they’re leading all eight of you out onto the dock.

There are enough boats for two pairs of three and one for two people. It seems as though you were too preoccupied talking to the employees because you realize the only boat left is one shared with Heeseung and Riki.

“Oh,” comes your meek voice in realization as you watch the two step onto the boat.

“You should man the engine,” the employee says as the two men get on before you. “You’re more familiar.”

“I can steer,” Heeseung says. “I’ve done it before.”

“I’ve watched Y/N steer these boats for a decade, son. You’ll definitely want her to do it.”

Heeseung relents. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless,

You step onto the boat. Heeseung sits at the far end while Riki sits in the middle, holding onto the seat as you get your bearings. The three of you wave goodbye to the employees at the dock and you start to drive the boat out into the lake to catch up with the rest of your friends.

The open clearing away from the port is more beautiful than you can describe. With open waters and enough room to roam around, there’s an array of directions to catch the most fish. The water is fairly calm with the exception of the ripples your boat makes. Riki and Heeseung don’t say a word as you steer them towards a clear path with minimal boats and see the other guys scattered around the large body of water.

Neither of them argue with you about where to go, even though Heeseung is holding himself back. Bitter over having you steer, he knows it’s the logical answer since you know this place like the back of your hand. He instead chooses to bask in the sunlight and welcomes the spray of water on his face and body. The cool splashes are a nice contrast to the warm sunlight.

When you start to slow the boat down, the water around you becomes still as well. You turn the engine off and wait for the contraption to settle beneath you. The sound of water rippling against itself is enough to make you feel more at ease and you don’t mind it when you see Heeseung start to assemble bait on the fishing poles.

“Why’d you pick this place?” Riki asks.

“I caught a lot of fish here last year. I hope we can catch more this year.”

“More than Jungwon?”

You smile. “Yeah. He and I have this unspoken competition.”

“What’s the prize?”

“There’s not really a prize. It’s just something we do.”

“What’s the point of competing if there’s no prize?” Heeseung interjects. You shrug.

“Dunno. It’s fun for us.” He doesn’t say anything after that.

It’s quiet for a while. The sound of birds chirping and faint chatter in the background fill the atmosphere but the three of you silently agree to refrain from talking once you’ve all casted your reels. Riki, who is a bit excited to catch some fish, anxiously peers at the water below him every few minutes or so. He pulls back with a pout when he doesn’t feel a tug on his line. The awkward tension somewhat dissipates and you’re able to forget that Heeseung is a few feet away from you. He angles his face towards the water and seems to be in his own bubble as you hold your fishing rod.

Growing up on this campsite means learning the virtue of patience and willing yourself to become more in tune with your surroundings. It was your father that first taught you that the most important rule to fishing was patience. He’d tell you the fishes could sense urgency and impatience from underneath the water, and therefore they knew not to take your bait. It made sense to you at a young age. Every time you’d be on the water with him, you’d force yourself to slow down and calm your thoughts until the silence felt like a welcomed embrace.

That mantra of practicing patience seeps into your life now that your dad isn’t in it anymore. Jungwon’s father had volunteered to go fishing with you the first year your own chose not to go on the annual camping trip. Everyone could tell how difficult it was for you and your mother to attend, but despite hardship and the change in dynamics, she didn’t want either of you to lose any semblance of normalcy. You’d argue that was the hardest week of your life. Jungwon, who is usually very organized and detail oriented, chose to let you lead the trip activities between the two of you and didn’t complain once.

The two of you were in high school when your father left and Jungwon swears it was like somebody stole the sun from your eyes. Your studies became the sole focus of your life and even Heeseung was barely at the forefront of your mind anymore. He’d watch you become detached from everything that didn’t have to do with academics and extracurriculars. Focusing on college applications was the most important thing for you back then.

Of course, Jungwon and all of your friends gave you a bit of space to process new feelings and the change in household. Your father moved away and wasn't living in the house anymore. It started to become an empty shell, where neither you nor your mother could stand eating at the dining table because it brought up unwanted memories. Your dad wasn’t here to help you with homework anymore and you could no longer hear your parents talk outside of your door until you fell asleep. The complete silence startled you. It still does sometimes, but you’ve learned that grief is about facing your hardships until it isn’t so scary anymore.

These trips are bittersweet every year. Fishing is a reminder of everything you’ve lost. But lately, you’re starting to think about it as everything you could gain and then some.

“The more you look down, the more the fish are gonna be scared,” you say, breaking the quiet atmosphere. Riki looks at you quizzically.

“Really?”

“No, but you’re not gonna catch anything faster just by looking down.” His shoulders sag.

“We’ve been here for so long and nothing has tugged on my line.”

“Fishing is a game of chance. The fish choose to take your bait if it feels enticed enough.” As if on cue, your fishing rod starts to move. Riki watches you latch onto it while Heeseung turns back when he feels the boat rock underneath him and observes you too. You wrestle with it for a short while before reeling the fish above water and proudly hold it beside you. “Patience is the most important part of fishing. The fish finds you when you least expect it.” Heeseung snorts when you put the fish in the bucket. It takes a great deal out of you not to roll your eyes.

“You’re so wise,” Riki mutters.

“I don’t think I’m wise, per se. I just think there’s nothing else you can do when you’re in open water with nothing to distract you.”

“I’m working on my patience. Moving to Korea made that pretty difficult for me.”

“Well, you’re moving to a new country. It’s something you’ve never done before, you know? I bet packing was stressful.”

“I hated every second of it,” he says as he rolls his eyes like you’ve brought out an irritating memory. “I triple checked everything before leaving. I hope I didn’t forget anything back home.”

“Are you scared to start the semester?”

Riki thinks about it for a second. “Kind of. My Korean is okay, but I still have trouble saying certain words. The culture is different, too. I need to get used to that more. I guess I’m a bit sad that I had to leave my friends and family behind but it’s for the best, isn’t it? I wanted this.”

You find yourself nodding in agreement. “Yeah. It’s hard to leave everything you know behind.”

“I cried when I said goodbye to my dance teachers,” Riki admits with a laugh. “I think it was the first time I did that in front of them. We kept bowing to each other until I had to go. It’ll be weird finding a new studio in Seoul but I’m excited about it.”

“You’re an incredible dancer, Riki. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll thrive here.”

He tries to hide his blush. “Thanks. I’m happy that I know some people already but it’s not the same, you know?”

“That’s how I feel about moving to Okayama. I know it’ll only be a year, but it feels like I’ll be there for a lifetime.”

“Do you ever get scared that everything back home will change?” Heeseung, too, is curious about your answer.

“Honestly? Yeah. Sometimes it feels like everything’s gonna change completely the second I step on that plane. I feel like everyone will forget me and move on.”

Riki looks back at the water. “I wonder if people back home think of me.”

“They do.” He looks back at you.

“Everyone here will think about you too.”

A beat passes between the two of you and you start to see Riki for what he is: a smart, sensitive person who disguises himself as somebody who can mask his feelings. What you learn is that your half-brother wears his heart on his sleeve but is careful about who he gives himself too. It’s something you’ve noticed in the time you’ve known him, but this trip is starting to make you think you two are more alike than not.

“What about you, Heeseung?” Riki asks, turning to look at the eldest. “What are you gonna be doing now that you graduated?”

“I, uh, start working at a record label pretty soon.” He clears his throat. Knowing you’re looking at him makes this boat feel smaller all of the sudden.

“You majored in music production, right?” Heeseung nods.

“Yeah. I’ve always had an interest in music so I learned how to produce during freshman year and started taking it seriously.”

“I’ll bet your perfect pitch helps you a lot.” Heeseung whips his gaze over to you when you speak and you feel your skin burn. You don’t know if you should’ve contributed to the conversation or not.

“Sure does,” he says awkwardly, looking at the fishing rod between his legs. Heeseung remains quiet when Riki doesn’t prod him further and looks back at the water in front of him. Even in the forced proximity, you still can’t figure out why he chooses to be avoidant.

Heeseung, on the other hand, finds that there’s much to contemplate about. His life has barely begun and yet he feels the weight of his future hanging in the balance. He’s just moved into his first apartment and will need to furnish it when he gets back from the camping trip. He’s got a mattress with no bed frame and a single loveseat his parents gave him. Aside from his gaming setup, Heeseung’s one bedroom apartment is completely bare.

Looking at it makes him worry for his future and being around you. You, someone he’s always assumed had it easy because you were academically gifted, makes Heeseung feel like he’s got to step up his game. He hasn’t liked you ever since high school for reasons he justifies as perfectly valid. But high school was years ago and some of his anger has subsided. All that’s left is a faint annoyance and he'd rather be anywhere than next to you. He only said yes to this trip because of the other people who were going as well.

He’s kept his feelings simmering beneath the surface and chooses to focus on anything but you when he hears you talk. It’s frustrating enough knowing you share a lot of mutual friends, even worse when some of his best friends are people you consider family. He hates that Jake is comfortable enough to hang out with you without anyone else present and loathes that Sunghoon actively wants to become closer to you after he realized the two of you share the same taste in cinema. He especially despises the fact that Riki looks up to you even though, in Heeseung’s eyes, you’ve done nothing to earn it.

The young teenager met the eldest of the bunch at a bonfire the third time he came to Korea after your mom had forced you to bring him along. You told him absolutely no alcohol no matter if anyone else was going to be drinking and to say no if your friends offered him a beer. He watched you that night, the way you periodically looked at your half-brother but made a lame attempt to include him in conversation. Riki found fast friends in Sunoo and Jungwon after messing around in the shallow waters of the ocean. Heeseung decided that you didn’t deserve that type of respect from Riki at that moment.

It’s been years since then and he’s seen the two of you grow, albeit slowly. Even in his blind hatred for your existence, Heeseung has always wondered why Riki vies for your attention. In fact, what is it about you that makes everybody fawn over you? Why do you always seem to be the center of attention? Does nobody care about what you did to him all those years ago?

It keeps him up at night to know that nobody around him understands why he’s so angry at you. Above the root cause, you have everything you could ever want. You were the smartest girl in high school and university, and it was no question about what your future would look like. You’d accepted a job opportunity right after graduating and it seemed as though things were merely handed to you without you working that hard for it. You didn’t have to ask for anything. It always seemed as though people could read your mind and always gave you what you wanted.

Maybe coming to the camping trip was a mistake. He’s been walking on eggshells around you this entire time and feels like he’s suffocating every time his friends laugh at your jokes. Heeseung bites his tongue when he feels himself getting worked up and finds that nothing can get his mind off of you no matter how hard he tries.

He wonders if you remember that day all those years ago. He wonders if you know just how hurtful words can be and how awful it is to be on the receiving end of utter despair and desperation. Heeseung has always known you to be somebody who knows exactly what you want, too. Teenage angst never stopped you from pursuing higher education. It seemed like you threw everything you had into academics and everyone rewarding you for it made Heeseung want to crumble. Nobody else thought of you the way he did.

But this is something he’d rather keep to himself. For as much as he refuses to be your friend, he knows nothing good will ever come out of trying to convince everyone you aren’t someone who they should be friends with. After all, you’ll be working in Okayama and with any luck, you’ll make a permanent residence out of Japan.

Heeseung is distracted from his thoughts when Riki manages to catch a rather large fish. With your help, he’s able to reel it in and watches the younger boy become awestruck at its sheer size. Heeseung watches you congratulating Riki and celebrates this excitement with him as you put the fish in the bucket for safe keeping. It should warm his heart to see a friend of his so happy, but seeing you smiling next to him makes Heeseung feel all the more irritated. The three of you head back to the dock after another couple of hours and a few more dishes later.

Jungwon catches more fish than you do. All eight of you manage to acquire enough for dinner and breakfast in the morning. Jay and Jake have volunteered to help with cooking while the rest of you prepare side dishes and talk about fishing adventures from your time apart. You smile at the group halfway through the conversation, fondness blooming in your chest when everybody is laughing after having eaten dinner.

“God, I swear I almost fell into the water trying to wrestle with the trout!” Jake shouts amongst the chaotic laughter. “It felt like I was about to become one with the fish.”

“I almost pushed his ass into the lake,” Jay snorts. “It was so fucking funny.”

“I’m surprised Sunoo caught the most fish out of all of us.” Jungwon shrugs and bites into his s’more.

“You’re telling me,” Sunoo replies as he wipes chocolate from his lip. “That’s my quota for this trip, though. Don’t expect me to go fishing again.”

“I’m not ready for this trip to end,” Riki says with a mixed sigh. “We’ve already been here for a couple of days and it feels like time is going by so fast.”

“I start that consulting job the Monday we go back and I’m excited for it, but I’m also nervous. It hit me on the way back from the lake.” Jay rubs his face with his hands. “This adult shit is scary, man.”

“Do you guys remember when we were all freshmen and had that awful orientation leader?” Heeseung asks. Those who were in the same year as him nod. “That felt like just yesterday and now we’re about to be real adults.”

“Jay’s going to become a financial consultant, you’re working at a record label, Sunghoon’s going to open up his own cafe someday, and I’m about to start a fellowship at a research lab.” Jake shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “Not to mention Y/N’s moving to Japan for work. If you told me four years ago we would talk about the future like this, I would’ve laughed.”

“It feels a bit weird knowing we aren’t going back to school.” Sunghoon looks at the younger boys and laughs. “Well, sorry to you guys.”

Sunoo speaks up with a pout. “It’ll be weird not seeing you guys around campus. I’ll miss running into you on my way to class.”

“Sometimes I wish we could stay in college forever.” Jay reaches over and picks out another marshmallow to put on his stick. “It sucked ass but it was nice living close to you guys.”

“I’m scared to go out there alone.” You tug at the zipper on your jacket and stare at your hands. “I feel like I’m going to mess everything up and fail. I’ll come home and have nothing to show for myself.”

“Couldn’t have said it any better.” Sunghoon finishes off his s’more and wipes the crumbs off of his lap. “I wish everything was simple and easy. We really had it good back then, didn’t we?”

“Don’t get too caught up in growing up too fast,” Jake says as he pinches Riki’s cheeks for dramatic effect. The latter tries to dodge his touch but fails. He points to Jungwon and Sunoo. “You guys need to make every minute count.”

Jungwon laughs. “You sound like a Hallmark card.”

“Yeah, but one day you’ll be saying the same thing. You’ll go back to campus and you won’t see us walking around.” Jungwon remains quiet after that.

“You’ll all be fine.” Sunoo nods once and it feels like he’s smiling at everyone individually through the fire. “Life is scary but there’s a reason why we believe in you.”

Jay nudges Sunoo with his knee. “Since when did you get so wise?”

“You could learn a thing or two from me.”

The tension dissipates. Everyone finishes up their desserts and helps tidy up the campsite. Jake and Sunghoon put out the fire while the rest of you put the chairs away and throw out any leftover trash in the nearby garbage bin. One by one, the eight of you start to grow sleepier as time ticks by. You all let your younger friends wash up first as you stifle yawns and prepare your makeshift bedding while you wait.

It feels like forever to wait with Heeseung close to you. Everybody else bids you goodnight as you brush your teeth in the wash station and rinse your face of dirt and debris from earlier in the day. Heeseung is standing just a few feet away as he waits for you to finish up but knowing he’s watching you makes your heart rate increase. Your hands tremble as you turn the faucet off and it’s just your luck that you trip over yourself and hold onto Heeseung when you turn around to exit the washroom.

“Watch where you’re going, Y/N,” Heeseung snaps. He shrugs your hands off of him and pushes you away from his body.

“What the fuck is your problem with me?” If Heeseung is surprised by your sudden outburst, he doesn’t show it. Your typically calm, non-confrontational demeanor is nowhere to be seen.

“Why can’t you walk properly?” he mocks.

“You have been so passive aggressive towards me this entire trip. Hell, you’ve been that way since we were in high school. What the fuck is your deal and why can’t you man up and tell me why you hate me so much?”

His expression sours. “You have some nerve asking me that.”

“Why?! You won’t tell me what your deal is and I can’t fix it if you don’t communicate that with me. We have so many mutual friends who want us to get along and it’s fine if we’ll never be friends, but really, Heeseung, you’re acting like a child.”

Heeseung’s nostrils flare and it feels demeaning the way he has to look you down in order to meet your eyes. The twinge in your heart flares when he makes no effort to talk to you further. The tension in his shoulders rises and falls with every second that passes by and you’re starting to wonder if there’s any way you can leave the trip early.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Heeseung pulls away from you and enters the washroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the sound of water running. Years of pushing aside your feelings for the greater good of preserving the peace feels like they’re suffocating you with every step you take as you talk back to your tent. The cold chill of the night bristles through your hair and your watery eyes make you stumble before unzipping your makeshift bedroom.

“Y/N?” Jungwon asks, half-asleep. He sees you wipe your eyes as you turn away from him and put away your dirty clothes and toiletries. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He pushes himself up and hears the clip in your tone. With his eyes softening, Jungwon gently touches your shoulder and realizes that your eyes are red before you shut your flashlight off. “Come here.”

It’s somewhere between a command and a plea. Jungwon doesn’t force you to speak as he pulls your body into his. He doesn’t care that your tears are falling onto his arm and he doesn’t mind that you’ve settled your weight onto his chest. Your silent hiccups make his heart lurch and the best he can do is let you cling onto him in your time of need.

You don’t get like this often. The last time he remembers you letting him hold you like this was a few days after your parents’ divorce had been finalized. The tangerine-shaped pillow you had was the only thing keeping Jungwon’s back from aching as you spent what felt like hours sobbing between his arms, dirtying his shirt with your hot tears. His heart broke back then, too. He’s not used to seeing you without a smile on your face and every crack in your demeanor lets him know you’re a dam that’s about to burst.

It can’t be easy to live knowing your father willingly left and chose to leave you behind. Nearly two decades of saying ‘I love you’ and championing his only daughter to be the best version of herself felt like it was all for naught the night he told you he wouldn’t be living with you anymore. You could barely stand watching him pack his belongings and take everything valuable with him. You were unusually quiet during this period of time, too scared to make a sound and make things worse than they already were.

Jungwon knows you keep your heart locked away in a cage these days. Your friends know you like the back of their hands but it’s been getting harder and harder to coax you out of your shell. He knows it hasn’t been easy with Heeseung within your main friend group and wishes he could do more to quell your anxieties about spending time with him, even if your other friends are there to shield you from his silent torment.

Your best friend softens a bit when you cling onto his arm, holding him like he’s your lifeline. He pushes his fingers through your hair the way he’s seen your mom do countless times and rocks your body back and forth until you’ve started to calm down. He hears your shallow breaths and holds onto you for the fear that you’ll think he doesn’t want to comfort you if he lets you go.

“Sorry.” Your voice is brittle and it makes his heart break.

“You never have to be sorry, Bug. Are you okay?” You shake your head. “Is it something one of us did?” You nod. “Was it Heeseung?” He hates that you start to tear up again. “I’m sorry, Bug. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand why he doesn’t like me,” you hiccup. “I don’t know what I did. How can I apologize when I don’t know what I’ve done?”

Jungwon sighs. He’s with you on this one. “You’re right. I don’t know what’s gotten into him recently but I’m fed up with it too.”

“We don’t need to be friends but I want him to stop pretending like I ruined his life.” Your best friend nods against you and pushes his cheek against the crown of your head. “Sorry that I woke you up. I feel like a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, Bug. You’ve been tied together with a smile for so long. It’s only natural that you break down every once in a while.”

“You’re very smart, Wonnie.”

He laughs. “I know. Do you want to cry some more or go to sleep?” Jungwon’s tone lacks any humor tonight. He’s concerned about you in a way that makes you feel like a porcelain doll and while you appreciate it when he pokes fun at you to show how comfortable he is with you, this feels just as nice.

“I’m ready to sleep.”

You pull away from him and settle in your sleeping bag, welcoming the calmness that washes over you. Jungwon chooses to stay up just a smidge longer until he’s certain that you’re asleep before he closes his eyes, wishing for better days ahead of you.

***

The trees always seemed taller when you were younger. They stretched for miles and touched the sky from your point of view, almost as if they could reach the heavens above. You always wondered what it must be like to have lived as long as nature around you. The leaves and branches see all walks of life, from humans to animals, and keep many secrets hidden underneath its shaded areas. It almost feels like they whisper stories back to you when the wind shakes the weakest branches. You always try to listen.

When you find yourself hiking on another path around the lake, it becomes easier for you to clear your mind and think about all that lies before you. The sounds of birds chirping amongst the blue sky make the environment around you seem picturesque. In all of your ears camping here, you don’t think you’ve ever appreciated it the way you are at this very moment.

Your friends are scattered in front and behind you, each of them wrapped up in their own conversations. You can feel Jungwon look at you periodically but you silently let him know that you’re doing alright. He worries about you a lot and he has every reason to. Sometimes, you wonder if any part of you is holding him back because he spends so much time looking after you. It used to be the other way around with you watching after him at playgrounds and on your walk home from school. But with your father leaving as soon as you started trying to figure out who you were, it was like a switch had flipped.

Your best friend has had a few girlfriends here and there but none of them ever lasted long. He reminds you that he’s young and isn’t looking for a life partner at this stage in his life, but you know he worries about you ever since the news of your dad leaving and Riki entering your life turned your world upside down. You wonder if you’re causing him too much stress.

He always reminds you that you’re the reason he has so many people that he loves. You introduced him to the majority of your friends on this camping trip. You were the one who introduced him to his first girlfriend and why he finds so much hope in all of the small things. Jungwon admires your resilience and ability to stand on your feet after you’ve been knocked to the ground by an unseen force. Your tenacity pushes him to be a better person towards others and to himself, and he’ll remind you every chance he gets. Jungwon believes that you’re okay for now. You know he’ll be there to pick up the pieces if you need him to.

It brings you back to your future and how Jungwon won’t be physically present when you move to Japan. You’ve spent so much time with him and it made you happy when he was accepted into his bachelor program at your university. The two of you have always been close, whether it was because neither of you had siblings and found solace in each another or because of forced proximity from being neighbors, you don’t know. It feels like you’ll be saying goodbye to somebody who you’ve always leaned on. It feels like you’re leaving him the way your dad left you.

Dealing with the overwhelming guilt of moving to Okayama, the city your father moved to when he left you and your mom, digs a hole deep inside of your chest every time you think about it. It’s probably why you push off discussions about moving whenever you can and change the subject when other people bring it up. You try not to get too irritated whenever your mom talks to you about packing and everything else that’s important when settling in a new country, like a work visa or financial burdens. But every conversation with her about your eventual move feels like a million needles are slowly pricking your skin. Every step feels heavier than the next.

There’s Heeseung, too, who has been plaguing your mind ever since you awoke. It’s not unlike him to be cold towards you. In fact, you’ve dealt with tuning him out and learned to ignore his quiet scoffs, paying attention to anyone who would give you some of their attention. The accumulation of life stress and the inevitable move has made it so your heart rate can’t seem to be still at any time in the day. Heeseung doesn’t make it any better by snapping at you for treading carefully. This feeling reminds you of the time you tiptoed around your father when you found out about his infidelity being the reason why he chose to leave you and your mother for Okayama. It feels like anticipating a bomb going off. It’s never a matter of if, but when.

You don’t remember when things changed but you remember it was abrupt and unannounced. One day, the two of you were laughing with bologna sandwiches for lunch and the next, Heeseung was ignoring you like the two of you had never been friends. His stare was just as cold as his tone when speaking. You could never catch his eye when you were with your group of friends and he refused to be alone with you. The hurt that came with his actions felt like a punch in the gut with all you were dealing with back home.

The reason why it was easy to tune out his friendship was purely because of prioritization. Dealing with empty rooms and the house feeling like a ghost was haunting the walls was by far a greater sadness than losing a friend. But even so, seeing Heeseung laugh with your friends and watching him excel in everything you used to support him in made you feel like you were being left behind. It hurt to attend his basketball games because he no longer looked for your eyes in the stands. He didn’t acknowledge you when your group of friends would head to the nearby diner for a celebratory meal, and he didn’t call you to say goodnight and to thank you for coming to his games and open practices anymore.

The ghost of your friendship lingered over you like an unwanted guest. It followed you into university after you committed to the same one and it seemed like neither of you could escape one another. Seeing him live a life that you weren’t a part of made your reality sink in–the few years he spent distancing himself from you wasn’t merely a fluke or teenage angst. Heeseung wanted nothing to do with you. You had to learn how to be okay with that.

Still, you wish you were as tall as the trees around you. Maybe then Heeseung would tell you why he didn’t like you anymore.

“Y/N, watch out!”

The warning nearly comes too late. You don’t register a hissing sound until you see a reflection of scales and stumble backwards into somebody who seems to be caught off guard as much as you are. Jake’s warning saved you from a nasty bite from a snake that has slithered away back between the trees but your heart stammers in your chest as you curl yourself further deeper into the person behind you.

You hate snakes. You’re petrified of them

Heeseung, to his misfortune, is the person you’ve bumped into. He saw the snake just before Jake said his warning and felt his body freeze in the way yours didn’t. He didn’t have time to move aside and let Sunoo, who he was talking to, move to grab your body and pull you out of harm’s way. He feels your beating chest against his and looks down at you. Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever seen you like this before. It makes his stomach fall.

“Y/N is really scared of snakes,” Jungwon says as he walks up to the two of you, offering a quick explanation before Heeseung could say anything about you clinging onto him. “She got bit by one as a kid and it scared her pretty bad.” Heeseung doesn’t push you away. Instead, he lets Jungwon pry you off of his body until you’re able to blink and come to your senses.

“Sorry.” You throw an apology his way when Jungwon rubs your back. The rest of your friends, who seem to know about your fear, try to give you some space instead of crowding around you. A part of him wants to scoff. The other part of him feels bad for you. It almost makes him feel guilty for being so short with you last night.

“We’re almost at the end of the trail anyway,” Jungwon says. “Let’s finish it and get some lunch.”

When you all arrive back at the campsite, Jake pulls your water bottle out of your backpack and stands with you while Jungwon lets you stand right beside him in an attempt to calm yourself down. Jay and Sunghoon, not wanting to impede and make things uncomfortable, decide to go on another short hike and let you rest. The sight is a bit unnerving for Heeseung, who has generally only ever thought of you as this self righteous, confident person, to see you in such a state of shock that you could barely look him in the eye like you did the night before. He’s used to you avoiding and ignoring him but he isn’t accustomed to you scurrying away from anything or anyone.

He’s a bit confused as to why he feels a little guilty for how he spoke to you last night. You were his friend before he decided you weren’t and that feeling of concern is starting to creep back in. Heeseung watches the way you flinch when Jake tries to rub your shoulder and how Jungwon is the only person who seems to know how to get you to relax after the snake incident.

“Is she really that scared of snakes?” Heeseung asks Sunoo, who stands away from you to give you space. He pretends to be busy picking at his nails to let you have peace and not make you feel overcrowded with two of your friends already by your side.

“If I tell you, are you going to use that against her?” Sunoo doesn’t typically question Heeseung like this. It startles him but he shakes his head anyway.

“No,” says Heeseung. “I’m not. I’ve never seen her act like that.”

Sunoo must think the elder is telling the truth. “When Y/N was very young, a snake bit her ankle when her parents weren’t looking. She got scared and tripped over a rock or something, and her entire leg started to bleed and got a pretty bad gash from it. They rushed her to the emergency room and panicked because her leg was covered in blood.”

“That’s it?”

Sunoo glares at Heeseung. “It might not seem like a big deal to you, but that kind of stuff leaves an impression on you when you’re a kid, Heeseung. She’s been pretty terrified of snakes and blood ever since.”

“Huh. I never knew that.”

“Don’t go barking up that tree. It’s bad enough that you hate her for no good reason.”

Heeseung looks at Sunoo quizzically when he hears his friend’s harsh tone. “What’s the matter with you?”

Sunoo scoffs. “Me? What’s the matter with you? I heard you and Y/N last night. You were an ass to her. She’s right, too. How can she apologize for hurting you if you never talk about what she did?

“Sunoo–”

“Save it, Heeseung.” He straightens his posture. “You’re my friend and I love you, but you’ve been really harsh on Y/N for the past few years. I thought the two of you drifted apart but you clearly have a vendetta against her.”

“I do not have a vendetta against Y/N.”

“Sure. Whatever you say. Just remember that Y/N’s the reason why you’re on this trip. One veto from her and Jungwon would’ve kicked your ass to the curb. You’re lucky she doesn’t say this shit to anyone.”

Heeseung looks at his shoes, feeling the heat in his body creep up his neck. He knows Sunoo’s somewhat right. You’re half the reason why this trip exists at all. Even if Jungwon brought the friend group along, it’s you who this campaign tradition belongs to as well. Heeseung bites his tongue and tries his best not to argue with Sunoo. Deep down, the elder knows that he’s been a bit harsh to you and sometimes finds himself regretting the venom he aims directly at you. But then he remembers that incident from all those years ago and feels his anger bubble up inside of him. He pulls his friend away so that none of you hear him.

“I have a reason not to like her okay?” Heeseung whispers through his teeth.

“What reason could you possibly have that justifies how shitty you’ve been?”

Heeseung looks around like he’s afraid someone’s listening in. “Second semester, sophomore year of high school. You and Jake were with me doing homework right outside the front gate. We were waiting for my brother to pick us up from school when Y/N told Kim Chaewon that I would never amount to anything because I didn’t have any talent and had to flirt with girls to get them to listen to my music.”

Sunoo looks at Heeseung like he’s sprouted a second head, who looks at the younger boy like he’s waiting for confirmation or validation of sorts with his eyebrows raised as if expecting a certain outcome. Instead, Sunoo slaps him on the back of his head with his palm and scowls.

“You are so stupid, Heeseung.”

“What the fuck did I do?!” Heeseung soothes the spot where Sunoo hit him. “It was messed up for her to say that. Why are you calling me stupid?”

“Y/N didn’t say that about you. Chaewon did.”

Heeseung’s eyes grow comically wide. “I know what I heard.”

“No, you don’t. I remember the moment you’re talking about. You left so fast and didn’t stop when Jake and I called out for you. Chaewon couldn't get another word out because Y/N tore her a new one. Why do you think they aren’t friends anymore?”

“Well…Because Y/N said that about me. Chaewon was my friend, too.”

Sunoo shakes his head. “Chaewon said that about you. Not Y/N.”

“That’s not possible…”

“How would you know? You weren’t there. You left before you could hear the full argument.”

“Sunoo,” Heeseung says, voice quivering from a mixture of guilt and embarrassment. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

“Do you know how stupid you look knowing you blew off Y/N, the person who defended you, and still talked to Chaewon?” Sunoo shakes his head at Heeseung. “You ended your longest friendship over a misunderstanding and then got closer with the person who actually said those things about you. Imagine how Y/N must’ve felt.”

Heeseung’s mind starts to recount the days after your argument with Chaewon and how he’d gone out of his way to ignore you in the aftermath. He never gave you an explanation about his absence and why he pulled away, citing that incident as the reason why you didn’t deserve to know in the first place. He thinks about Chaewon and how he didn’t think twice about it because his mind had already been made up. He was still friends with Chaewon, taking pictures with her at parties and talking to her whenever their friend groups hung out together. Not once did he spare a glance to you.

As his mind starts to wander into nostalgic territory, Heeseung feels his stomach plummet. The sudden urge to rectify his actions overwhelms him and he’s fighting tooth and nail not to cry on the spot.

When he looks at you now, quiet and hidden within your shared friends, Heeseung can’t help but feel a bit guilty. He suddenly remembers the few moments where you showed a vulnerable side of yourself and allowed him to see you cry after a bad grade or when your middle school friends were being mean towards you. Heeseung recalls all the times he’s ever thought of you as somebody who puts on a brave face and stands back up after feeling the weight of the world crush you to the ground. He thinks about all of the times he’s ever made you feel insignificant to him and feels pins and needles in his footsteps. Heeseung finds himself walking towards you as he’s contemplating his feelings and Jungwon guards you, pushing you behind him.

“Hey,” Heeseung says awkwardly. He tries to peek at you but doesn’t like seeing you look so helpless. Pathetically, he offers a meek apology. “Sorry about the snake.”

“It’s fine. Sorry I grabbed you.” For the first time in a long time, Heeseung doesn’t feel annoyed by the thought of you latching onto him.

“It’s okay. I, uh…wanted to know if you were fine.” Heeseung clears his throat. “Is there anything I can do?” His unfamiliar kindness confuses you and it confuses Jungwon too.

“You know, maybe it would be a good idea if you left the campsite for a while,” Jake suggests from beside Heeseung. “You’re a bit shaken up and you could probably use a change of scenery.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Jungwon agrees. “You could leave for a few hours and come back once you’ve calmed down, Bug.”

You pick at your fingernails. “I feel so stupid for being so scared.”

“It’s not stupid, Y/N.” Jake tilts his head and looks at you with a pout. “It’s something you’re scared of and with good reason. I would’ve been scared shitless if it was closer to me.”

“You could go into town and get some ice cream,” says Jungwon. “You should go to the beach by the highway for a little bit and get your mind off of it.”

“I-I don’t really want to go alone.”

Heeseung speaks before he can even think about what he’s saying.

“I’ll go with you.” Jungwon and Jake whip their head to their friend.

“Heeseung–”

“I can drive us,” he says, mouth moving faster than his brain. “I won’t say anything, I swear. I’ll take her to the beach and ice cream if she wants to.”

Jungwon hesitantly looks at Heeseung. “Are…Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He lies straight through his teeth. He doesn’t know if he can sit with you when his whole life has been turned upside down. But it’s too late to backtrack. “I’ve been feeling a little restless here anyway.”

“I don’t know…”

“Jay isn’t here and he has his keys.” Jake looks at you and nudges your shoulder. “What do you want to do, Y/N?”

You look up at Heeseung for the first time and he sucks in a breath. It’s like you’re devoid of yourself, fear and anxiety clouding your eyes like you’re petrified to even speak. He watches you lick your lips slowly as if contemplating carefully. “I want to go.”

“Bug, you don’t have to.”

“I know, Wonnie.” You touch his arm and he relents. “I think I need to leave for a little bit and calm down. I should walk on the beach, or something.”

“I can come with you guys.” Riki, who has been silent during this ordeal, speaks up and appears to the other side of Heeseung. “I saw the beach just before we got here. It looks pretty.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jake nods, looking at you. He softens his tone. “Would that be alright with you?”

You hum .”Mhm. Yeah, that’s fine. Let me get my wallet.”

When you leave for your tent, Jungwon looks at Heeseung and stares at him with an expression he can’t read. The silence is deafening and he awkwardly coughs, looking away from his younger friend.

“Don’t fuck this up,” says Jungwon with a clipped tone. “You’ve been a dipshit and she’s been putting up with it for the sake of everybody else. The last thing she needs is for you to make fun of her and make her feel even worse than she already does.”

“I won’t, Jungwon. I swear.”

“I’m choosing to trust you because you’re my friend too, despite everything you feel towards Y/N.” He nods at Riki. “You, keep an eye out for them.”

“I won’t do or say anything,” Heeseung promises for a second time. You come back a moment later, oblivious to the tension.

“Be safe, yeah?” Heeseung hears the change in Jungwon’s tone when talking to you. “Call me if you need anything. Your phone’s charged from the portable, right?”

“Yeah.” You hold up your phone to show him. “I’ll let you know when we’re coming back.”

The beach itself is nestled towards the end of the highway where the sand meets the trees. The small shops around it bring a sense of nostalgia, especially when Heeseung parks in front of a large, tattered orange sign that says “ICE CREAM SOLD HERE.” The three of you walk inside and Heeseung watches you look over the flavors.

“They change the flavors all the time based on the season,” you say absentmindedly. The three of you are the only customers and he figures the employee must be in the back.

It’s a bit strange to be spending time with you apart from everybody else. Even though Riki’s accompanying the two of you, he hasn't been alone with you like this in years. You seem to be doing a little better with distance put between you and the campsite. Heeseung hopes the drive wasn’t too terrible. His knuckles turned white with the grip he had on the steering wheel, too afraid to look into the rearview mirror for the fear of catching your eye. He wonders if you’d be able to read his mind in the way you once did.

You make small talk with the owner of the shop who recognizes you before ordering. Riki and Heeseung follow too, the youngest trying a few flavors before settling on one. You go to pay for your own until Riki pulls out his wallet and pays for the both of you. Heeseung watches the two of you argue before the owner accepts Riki’s card. He’s pulled out of his thoughts before paying for his own cup.

The beach is right next door and the three of you leave your shoes inside Heeseung’s trunk before stepping onto the warm sand. The sun’s high in the sky and Heeseung’s grateful that he chose to put on extra sunblock before leaving his tent. Riki follows you towards the water. He chooses to stay behind and give you both space even though his heart is telling him not to.

Heeseung has always believed in telling the truth because it’ll always see the light at the end of the day. He’s a fan of honesty and it’s something he values in all of his friends. He thought he’d found that in you ever since the day the two of you started becoming friends and felt his world shatter around him when he thought you were making fun of his aspirations to become a music producer. You’d spent countless hours in his bedroom with him as he learned how to use proper equipment and went so far as to buy him a few things here and there disguised as birthday and Christmas gifts. You spent so much time listening to him grow as a musician in the comfort of his bedroom. The thought that you were pretending to care about him made Heeseung feel sick to his stomach. It wasn't hard for him to cut you off when he thought you betrayed him.

But now, life feels like it’s at a stand still. You stand before him and Heeseung’s throat closes up like he’s lost the ability to breathe. You might not even know that you’re the reason for his inner turmoil. You probably don’t care. Why would you when he’s pushed you so far from arm’s length? Heeseung sighs to himself and replays every single interaction he’s ever had with you after deciding to cut you out of his life. The guilt piles up on him before he can stop it from stacking until it eventually makes his skin feel like it’s been set on fire. He’ll have to sit with the fact that he’s made you out to be a cruel, terrible friend instead of the person who would defend him to hell and back.

What must you think of him now? For a long time, it took Heeseung great strength to push you into the far corners of his mind and stop seeking you out whenever you were near him. He trained himself to look away from you, the weight of your alleged words playing in the back of his mind whenever he felt the urge to talk to you like old times. Heeseung stopped communicating with you altogether, unfollowing you on all of your social media and physically removing you out of his life so he wouldn’t have to see your face when he least expected it.

But now it feels like the last six years of his life have been a lie. He’s been living in his own world, wrapped up in a delusion that only he was able to clearly see. The memory was too painful to say out loud let alone tell a soul. Heeseung kept his heart guarded and offered a brief explanation whenever your mutual friends asked why the two of you weren’t close anymore and he’d shut you down if you tried to talk to him until your efforts ceased.

When he looks at you now, all he feels is regret.

Riki walks back towards Heeseung, who’s perched on a bench right on the sand. His ice cream is discarded in the nearby trash can and Riki eats whatever’s left in his cup before tossing it away. The two of them sit in silence. Riki basks in the salt air and relishes in the sound of birds chirping and waves crashing onto the shore. Heeseung can only hear his heart beating in his ears.

“She’s doing okay,” Riki says, breaking the silence. “I think her shock and adrenaline are wearing off.”

“Good,” Heeseung nods. “That’s really good.”

“I could tell she wanted to be left alone after a little while. I hope she’ll be fine when we go back.”

“I’m sure she will be.”

Riki nods and looks back at you. “Have you ever seen her get like that?”

“Maybe once or twice. We stopped being close in high school.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

“But she always bounced back,” Heeseung adds quickly. “Like you said, she’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t even know she was scared of snakes.”

Heeseung laughs. “Me either.” The silence permeates until Heeseung speaks again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Since when have you ever asked me if you could ask me something?”

“Fair point.” Heeseung rubs his palms against his thighs. “I don’t really know where to start.”

“The beginning is usually the best place.”

“You know how I feel about Y/N. How I felt about her. I told you so many times to stop expecting people to treat you the way you want to be treated if they didn’t put in the effort to make you feel welcomed.” Heeseung looks at the younger boy. “Why did you keep defending?”

“Are you asking me because you’re worried about Y/N or because you have some weird thing with her?”

“I’m asking because I’m starting to think I was wrong about her.” Riki must think Heeseung is telling the truth because he nods after a moment.

“How much do you know about Y/N’s family life?”

“I know she has a mom and that Jungwon’s parents are like her own. I also know her parents got divorced and that her dad left just before she graduated high school.”

“Right.” Riki coughs nervously. “How much do you know about our relationship?”

“You two are half-siblings.”

“That’s all?”

Heeseung shrugs. “I never questioned it.”

“Okay, yeah. That makes sense.” Riki looks down at his lap like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “I don’t really know if this is my place to say it but I want you to know so you can stop thinking Y/N’s the Devil.”

“I don’t think she’s the Devil.”

Riki chuckles. “Sure. To put it simply, she's my half-sister because her dad cheated on her mom with mine. He’d go on business trips to Japan a few times a year and they hit it off after they met. One thing led to another and they started meeting up whenever he was back in town.

“They had me a year after they first started their affair and I guess he was able to keep his life in Japan a secret until Y/N found pictures on her dad’s laptop. She saw pictures of us on vacations when her dad was supposed to be on work trips. I think she told her mom about it and that’s around the time I found out he had another family too.”

“What was going through your head back then?”

“Well, my mom told me my dad had to live in Korea for work. I believed it until I was seven, maybe? I’d always ask her questions as I got older but she either brushed me off or told me things that didn’t add up. He’d come more frequently the older I got. We didn’t talk on the phone much when he was over in Korea, though, so seeing him in person used to be extra special.

“Then I found out that he had an affair because he came to live with us full time when I was twelve. My mom told me everything when he moved in and I felt like my entire life was a lie. I couldn’t look at either of them the same.”

“Wow…I can’t imagine going through that.” Heeseung’s words hang in the air.

“Yeah. It was hard. I hated Y/N for a while. I hated that she got to see my dad more than I did when I found out. My friends used to make fun of me because he wasn’t around for my dance competitions and showcases. I always defended him and said he was working in Korea to make a better life for us. It’s what I believed at the time.”

“And your mom let you believe all of that?”

Riki shrugs. “I guess so. She hated Y/N and her mom. She always talked down on them when my dad moved in and I felt that my anger was justified too. My mom hated the fact that my dad still wanted to keep Y/N in his life and wouldn’t fully abandon her the way he did hid with his ex-wife. Some of his paycheck would go towards Y/N’s college fund and my mom tried everything in her power to stop him from giving her money but he gave her an ultimatum, so she stopped complaining.

“He took me to Korea once. I was fourteen, I think. I met my dad’s parents and we stayed with them for a while. I don’t know why he took me there since I could barely speak the language but he said he wanted me to get to know where he grew up and integrate myself in the culture since he was trying to be a present father. That was the first time I met Y/N. I had my mind made up and decided I hated her the first time I saw her. She couldn’t have been older than seventeen. I hated that she looked just like me.

“When we met for the first time, we didn’t really get along. Both of us didn’t talk and our dad tried so hard to form a bond between us but it didn’t work. I didn’t want anything to do with her because all I could think about was how she got to spend so much time with him while I only got to see him for a week or so a few times a year.”

“What made you change your mind?” Heeseung asks.

“When we got back to Japan, my mom kept saying all of these mean things about Y/N and her family,” Riki continues. “I wasn’t her biggest fan but the stuff she was saying was cruel and untrue. I knew it was pure jealousy and realized that my mom helped break up a perfectly good family. I mean, I knew it was my dad’s fault for cheating on his wife and leaving Y/N also, but coming to that realization made me think about how Y/N must’ve felt when she found out.”

“Wow…I didn’t know any of this.”

“As far as I can tell, Jungwon’s the only person she’s told.” Riki sighs and pushes his fingers through his hair. “Anyway, at that point, neither one of us cared to keep the relationship going. I didn’t call her and she didn’t call me. But the more my parents started living their lives like they hadn’t made two people fall apart, the more I started to feel sorry for Y/N. I can’t imagine finding out your dad cheated on your mom and then willingly left you for another family. Our dad brought me back to Korea a few times after that for winter and summer breaks to stay with his parents. He said he wanted me to experience life abroad. He’d bring me to family events and I always felt so out of place.”

“Wait, seriously?” Heeseung asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, if you can believe it. I felt so guilty coming to these things. It was actually Y/N’s mom who told her to start being more open to me. I can’t explain how awful I felt when I realized she was making an effort to include me even though I was someone from her ex-husband’s affair. When my dad was trying to get back in everyone’s good graces, Y/N’s mom was making sure I had enough food and water.

“I slowly started to realize that Y/N was hurting too. She had everything I wanted but it felt like I was the one who took that away from her. I thought, maybe if my mom wasn’t pregnant with me, her dad would’ve never continued the affair and she would’ve never found out he cheated.”

“That’s why you defend her, isn’t it? Even when I thought she was being unfair?”

Riki laughs. “Yeah, man. I’ve known about her longer than she’s known me and I’ve known about the affair longer than she has. I’ve had more time to get used to it. I don’t blame her for pushing me away. If I found out I had a half-sibling because my dad cheated on my mom, I think I’d react the same way.” Heeseung’s heart feels much heavier than it did prior to this conversation. “We’ve been getting better. She texts me first every now and then and she keeps up with my dancing stuff. It’s not like we’re total strangers anymore. I mean, she likes me enough to let me be friends with you guys. It’ll just take some time.”

“Do you want her to be in your life? And do you want to be in hers?”

Heeseung watches Riki nod without a second doubt. “Absolutely. I love Y/N now. She’s my sister even if she only thinks of me as her half-brother. I know we’ve had it rough in the past but she looks out for me. Y/N’s smart and confident in all the ways I wish I could be. I love listening to her talk and I love learning new things about her. I always wished for a sibling and even though this isn’t how I imagined it going, I’m happy.”

The two of them sit in another round of silence. Heeseung does his best to process everything Riki has just told him but it feels like there’s too much information for him to digest all at once. He never knew any of this about you, too caught up in his own feelings about the misunderstanding. While he was giving you the cold shoulder, you were crumbling apart because your dad left for another family. If he knew any of this back then, Heeseung thinks he would be sympathetic. But he can’t turn back the clock. He watches you stand by the water with your empty ice cream up in your hands and wonders what you’re thinking about.

“Wait,” Heeseung says, cutting the silence for the umpteenth time. “You’re from Okayama.” Riki nods. “You’ve lived in Okayama until you moved here.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“And Y/N’s moving to Okayama for work.” Riki nods solemnly. “You’re telling me Y/N’s moving to the city your dad moved to when he left her?” The younger boy nods again. “Shit.”

“With everything going on in her life, I don’t expect her to have it all figured out. Sure, it hurt when she didn’t want to spend time with me but I don’t think I can really be mad at her when this is how her life is. Okayama is a big city but the world is pretty small.”

“That’s fucked up. That’s really, really fucked up.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s scared about running into our dad. Lord knows I came to study in Korea because I didn’t want to be around him anymore,” Riki scoffs. “I know that I have my own shit to deal with and that I’ll probably need to find a therapist when I start school but for now, I’ll focus on Y/N. I’m happy she let me come on this trip because I know how much camping with Jungwon means to her. I can somewhat empathize with her about moving to a place that didn’t feel like home because of your dad.”

Heeseung looks at Riki and doesn’t expect him to look as tranquil as he does, but he looks at you like you’re the person giving him this grace and maturity. “Fuck, Riki. I’m really sorry that you had to deal with this. Do the other guys besides Jungwon know?”

“Not as much as you do, they just know something happened with my parents and that’s why I don’t want to go back to Okayama. I don’t think Y/N’s told anybody else, so please don’t tell her you know.”

“I won’t,” Heeseung promises. “I swear on it.”

“Good. I trust you and you’ve been a good friend to me.”

“Sorry for giving you a hard time about her too.”

“It’s fine now. Just…promise me you won’t be so harsh on her. She’s been through a lot and I can tell she’s really not happy about the move even though the job opportunity is really good for her career.”

“Of course.”

You walk back towards them and the two boys stand up and pretend as if they weren’t speaking in depth about you. Heeseung, for the first time, smiles at you without restraint and it makes you feel confused as you shake off the sand and head back into his car.

On the entire drive back to the campsite, Heeseung lets Riki control the music and thinks about their previous conversation. He had no idea this is what you were dealing with and always thought you stopped talking to him because you didn’t think it was worth being friends either. He doesn’t remember much about the last few years of high school, apart from avoiding you when you were around, but now he wishes he would’ve paid more attention. Even though what’s past is past, Heeseung wishes he could turn back time and stop himself from making a false assumption.

He parks the car sooner than he realizes and Riki hands Heeseung back his phone. You step out of the car and look far better than you did before the impromptu trip. Heeseung can’t help but jog after you.

“Hey,” he calls out. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear his voice and look at him, perplexed. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Um, yeah.” You look at Heeseung like you don’t know what he wants from you and he’s starting to hate that he’s made you feel this way for so long.

“Good. That’s good.” Heeseung clears his throat. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said to you last night. That was out of line. I’m really sorry.” The gears turn in your head and he can see you processing his apology slowly.

“Yeah, well, if you have a problem with me then you should either tell me why or leave me alone.” Your words lack any venom like they did last night but they’re replaced with something more raw and callous. He almost wishes you would yell at him.

“I know.” He really does. “But I really am sorry. For everything.” Heeseung can’t find the words to elaborate how he feels, not when he sees your shared friends in front of him.

You look at him and he feels like you might as well be looking into his soul. Without another word, you leave him with his thoughts and rejoin the rest of the group.

***

It’s nearing the end of the trip and Heeseung feels like he needs to get you alone to apologize for a million things. Guilt courses through his body when he’s awake and it only ceases when he’s asleep. He does his best to keep a straight face when he’s around everybody else and he’s sure they’re all picking up on the fact that he hasn’t been avoiding you like he did when you all first arrived.

But it’s hard to get you alone. He knows you likely wouldn’t hear him out if he asked you to talk. Even so, he doesn’t know if he knows everything he wants to say. Heeseung is sure everyone else will want to know why he asked to talk to you and make a big deal out of it too, but he can’t say he blames them when he’s the one who has put so much tension between the two of you. Being nicer towards you with intention is not normal for Heeseung. He wishes that weren’t the case.

It’s a warm day outside and everybody’s agreed to go kayaking in the lake. The water is calm and there are a few families and groups who’ve decided to do the same thing. Everybody fastens life vests and hops into their own kayak before setting out on the water.

Heeseung wants to enjoy being out on the water but his mind keeps coming back to you. He wonders deeply about the past he shares with you and what would’ve been if he hadn’t made those assumptions all those years ago. He knows he’s always been a bit too prideful for his own good, putting himself above the opinions of others without thinking twice. He’s got tough skin and likes that he’s developed a sense of confidence and identity, especially because he wants to pursue a career in music, but now he wonders if he’s too confident.

The reason why your words hurt more than he’d care to admit is because he harbored a pathetic crush on you ever since you wrote him a letter for his thirteenth birthday. He’d just gotten the hang of making music on GarageBand and by the time his birthday rolled around, Heeseung wanted to show some of his friends what he’d been learning after school. October came quickly and he invited his closest friends to his house for some cake and to jump in the large bouncy house his parents rented for him. The warm afternoon is forever etched into his memory because everyone Heeseung cared about in his first year being a teenager was there to support the beginning of his music interest.

Heeseung remembers the gift he unwrapped from you and your parents. It was a CD of his favorite album and one of those plastic statues with an award title etched into the base. It read “BEST MUSIC PRODUCER” on it and Heeseung thought it was the best gift he received that year. What made that warm afternoon even more special was when you pulled him aside to give him a handwritten note. He remembers your shy voice telling him not to open it until everybody was gone and said you wanted to give the letter to him in private when nobody else was looking because your parents didn’t know you’d done this. He kept that card on his desk until everybody left, promising to read it as soon as he was alone.

You wrote to his yearning heart, the side of him that wanted to make music so badly that he’d sit in his room until the late hour with a lamp shining over his desk to write songs until his hand hurt from holding his pen. Heeseung would hunch over his desk during school and scribble down lyrics in the margins of his assignments. It always felt like he was the only person who felt this way most times and felt like his peers couldn’t understand why he loved making music so much. Reading your letter made Heeseung feel less alone, as if you were always watching over him and seeing his passion when he thought nobody else could.

That note alone solidified his blooming crush and suddenly, every love song he wrote was dedicated to you. Details about you were weaved into his songs–the sound you made when you laughed, the stickers you used to collect, and the number on your childhood home–it all became important to him. It was almost like Heeseung could talk to you through his music without saying a single word. He could let his songs do the talking for him.

Of course, thinking you were the one who said he didn’t have any real talent made his hopes and dreams shatter into a million pieces. He always felt like your champion and that pursuing his passion wasn’t so scary if he had you by his side. The world felt like it was crashing all around him to the point where he considered giving up on making music altogether. For that, he would never forgive you. But it’s different now. Heeseung knows you’re not to blame. The culpability doesn’t lie on your shoulders, even if that’s what Heeseung thought for all these years.

Heeseung roams around the lake in silence, letting the birds chirp uninterrupted. The sound of his boat sailing against the water beneath him does something to soothe his aching heart for the time being. He sees you not too far ahead with Sunghoon a bit behind you when he sees you reach for the paddle that fell from your grip. His heart stops when your kayak tips over when you've reached too far.

He wastes no time and rows his boat with all his might after hearing your yelp. His arms burn as he pushes through the water but before he can get any closer to you, Sunghoon has jumped out of his kayak to help you back to the surface. He’s able to drag you to the shore nearby and takes off your life jacket when the two of you are sitting on the edge of dry land. Heeseung manages to haul your kayak and paddle while Jay, who also saw the incident, grabs Sunghoon’s. The two of them wordlessly make their way to you and Sunghoon.

Heeseung sees and hears you coughing but he’s also aware of the fact that you’re situated between Sunghoon’s arms. He’s got you securely wrapped between him as you regain your breath. It’s selfish to even consider the idea that he might be jealous but he can’t help it, especially since you’re gripping onto his arms like he’s your lifeline.

“Shit, Y/N,” Jay says as he takes his life jacket off. Heeseung does the same and parks his boat to get out of the water. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you mutter, catching your breath from the water that’s still lodged in your throat. “Jesus, I didn’t think that would happen.”

“You gave me a heart attack.” Sunhoon laughs from behind you but doesn’t push you away just yet. Heeseung watches you.

“I got your boat and paddle,” he says pathetically, feeling awkward when the three of you look at him. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.” You cough when you speak and Sunghoon rubs your back gently. “Why does this shit keep happening to me?”

“Maybe Heeseung’s bad luck,” Sunghoon snickers. There’s no real animosity in his tone but Heeseung feels upset nonetheless.

“Sorry,” he finds himself apologizing.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you tell him, leaning back against Sunghoon as you catch your breath. “I think that’s enough kayaking for today, though.”

Jay laughs. “Yeah, you can say that again. I’m getting hungry anyway. Sunoo and Riki are probably complaining about that too.”

At dinner, the eight of you sit around the fire as Jay, with the help of Riki and Sunoo, prepare and serve the food. The warm food satisfies everyone and everybody takes turns swapping stories about kayaking, and everybody laughs when Sunghoon recounts the story of you tipping over your boat. Riki keeps your plate full and tries to give you more meat but you shake your head. He pouts and you eventually relent, and that makes Heeseung smile.

He can feel Jungwon looking at him. The younger boy sits next to Heeseung and looks at him every so often, especially when you start talking or when the topic of discussion falls onto you. He ignores it to the best of his ability because he’s sure his friend has picked up on the fact that he’s not acting like he’s not interested anymore. When Jungwon pulls him aside when everybody leaves to get ready for bed, he isn’t surprised.

“What’s up with you?” Jungwon asks quizzically. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean either, Heeseung. You were acting weird at dinner.”

“To make a long story short, the reason why I didn’t like Y/N all this time was because I thought she was the one who said I would never make it in music. Sunoo told me it was Chaewon, not Y/N.”

Jungwon’s eyes open comically. “That’s the reason you didn’t like Y/N?!” Heeseung smacks his shoulder and shushes him. “You know if you just, like, told any of us why you were so mad at her, we could’ve solved this and you wouldn’t have lost a friend.” Ouch.

“Yeah,” Heeseung replies, looking at the ground below him, “I know. I feel like an idiot and I feel guilty. I want to make it right with her but I’ve acted like such an ass. I told myself it was for the better.”

“You really were an ass,” Jungwon agrees. “Did you know she almost pulled out of this trip when she found out you were going?”

Heeseung’s shoulders slump. “I fucked up, Won. You’re her best friend and I put you in an uncomfortable position too. I’m sorry. I want to make things right but we haven’t had a real conversation in years.”

“You’re going to have to do a lot more than apologize.” Jungwon sighs and beckons Heeseung to sit down on a log next to him. “She doesn’t hate you, Heeseung. Y/N’s sensitive, you know? She’s sensitive in the way that she feels things pretty deeply and doesn’t push things aside anymore. Back in high school, she went through something pretty life changing that forced her to shut down and all she wanted was to reach out to you but you iced her out.”

“I feel awful. She has every right to hate me.”

“That’s the thing, Heeseung. Y/N doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t understand what she did that made you pull away and she’s hurt that you won’t talk to her about it. She’s done all she can trying to get through to you but she’s given up because that didn’t seem like it was going anywhere.”

“Can I ask you something?” Jungwon nods. “If…If I talked to her, apologized and tried to tell her what was going on at the time, do you think she’d forgive me?”

Heeseung waits for his friend to answer. “I think she would appreciate that you put in the effort to be there for her. She still cares about you even if she says she doesn’t.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do. I’m her best friend, Heeseung.” The elder nods. “What I’m saying is this: All Y/N has ever wanted was for you to make an effort for her. When you stopped being her friend, she wondered for months if she was a bad person because you didn’t talk to her about why you pulled away so suddenly. Apologizing doesn’t mean the two of you will go back to the way you used to, but she’ll appreciate that over distancing yourself because you feel guilty.”

That last part hurts to hear but he understands. “Do you think Y/N and I could ever be friends?”

Jungown nods. “Yeah, actually. I can tell that you’re being upfront with me right now. You know how she is. She values honesty and loyalty. Of everyone in our friend group, Y/N is the one who’s really good at communicating and giving advice about that kind of stuff. She doesn’t need you to go above and beyond for her. It might take time but I know she’d appreciate it if you at least made an effort to talk to her and clear up some stuff.”

Heeseung is lost in thought and barely hears Jungwon tell him he’ll try his best to let the two of you talk tomorrow night after dinner. He doesn’t know how to thank him other than to pull him into a tight embrace and cling onto the younger boy like he’s got something to lose. Jungwon seems to understand where Heeseung is coming from–he, too, has had his fair share of arguments with you–so he hugs him back as if to say everything will be alright.

When you wake up the next morning, a weird feeling settles in your chest. Jungwon is fast asleep when you leave the tent to get ready for the day after failing to fall asleep. The sun is already up and you don’t know what time it is, but the morning is cold and the sweater you have on protects you from the chill nicely.

You see Heeseung at the wash station and grip your toiletry bag when he spots you. Awkwardly, you step into the bath house and turn the faucet on as he brushes his teeth, motioning yourself to do the same thing. He watches you from the mirror as you keep your eyeline straight in front of you. He wants to say something to you, perhaps “good morning” or “how did you sleep?” but nothing seems good enough. You, on the other hand, feel like Heeseung may as well put you under a microscope.

“Can I help you?”

He looks at you as if he’s been caught with his hand down the cookie jar. “N-No. Sorry.” You sigh and resume brushing your teeth when he spits and rinses his mouth of the toothpaste. “I mean what I said I was sorry. I really am.”

“For which part? Cussing me out or avoiding me since high school?” You sound tired.

“All of it,” he says quietly. You keep your head straight while he looks at you. “I have no excuse. I’ve been acting like a dick towards you and I feel awful.” You don’t say anything. “I…I thought you were the one who said I wouldn’t make it as a producer. I didn’t know it was Chaewon who said it and that you were the one who defended me. I was stupid and angry, and I took it out on you without knowing the whole truth.

“I didn’t find out until Sunoo told me yesterday. I didn’t talk about that with anyone since we were friends, you know? I was so hurt but I didn’t know that it was my fault for making myself feel like that…And in turn, I made you feel like you didn’t have a place in my life. I’m so, so sorry that I treated you like you didn’t mean anything to me when you did.”

You don’t look at him as you finish your morning routine. He stands there awkwardly, waiting for you to say something.

“I went through a lot of shit back then,” you say, turning to face him. “My dad left just after you stopped talking to me and all I wanted to do was talk to you about it. You always knew what to say to make me feel better but then you started ignoring me like I never mattered to you. Do you know how badly that hurt to have one of my best friends stop giving a shit about me?

“I watched you hang out with our mutual friends. I watched you do really cool things with music but I did all of that on the sidelines because you never included me, even though I was the only person who really supported you., I don’t think you really get that there were so many people back then who just wanted to be your friend because a few of your songs blew up on the internet. I watched you keep them close while you pushed me aside without giving me the chance to make up for whatever I did to make you upset.

“I’ve spent the last few years trying to be okay with the fact that you didn’t want to be friends anymore. I tried so hard to accept that you and I would only be people who saw each other in passing. But that hurt. It hurt so much to think you didn’t care about me for one second and didn’t care that I was upset too.”

Your confession hangs in the air and Heeseung feels like crying when he sees that you’ve started to tear up. You wipe them away aggressively, too embarrassed to be seen weeping in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” Heeseung’s voice cracks. “I am, Y/N. You were so good to me and I took that for granted.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“I can’t make excuses for myself back then but I want you to know I own up to everything. I’m sorry that I let you feel like that and wasn’t mature enough to talk to you. I know I’m too late, but you deserve an apology. You deserve more than that.”

Heeseung thinks you’re going to storm past him like he did a few nights prior. He thinks you might spit in his face and tell him to go to hell. But all you do is stare at him in silence.

“I’ve wanted to hear you say that for a long time,” you tell him. “So thanks for that. I feel beyond hurt by everything you did and everything you’ve ever said since we stopped being friends. All I have ever wanted was to be in the same room and not worry about if you wanted me there or not. This entire trip has felt like walking on eggshells around you.” He lets you step around him and out of the bath house.

“I don’t hate you either, Heeseung. I know you probably think that I do but I don't.”

***

The rest of your friends can tell something’s going on between the two of you but choose not to comment on it. Everybody is off doing their own thing, as today is the last day of camping, and nobody wants to accidentally spoil it. You and Jungwon decide to head over to your “secret spot,” just the two of you, for old time’s sake.

“I’ll miss you when I leave Korea,” you say as the two of you sit on the ground. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do any of this without you, Wonnie.”

“I know you’re scared of the future and about your dad asking to see you, but you’ve got to know that you’re stronger than any of us. You’re like, a superhero, or something.”

“Now you’re just being corny.”

Jungwon laughs. “Yeah, maybe I am. But seriously, Y/N, I’ve always liked that you were able to find some of your optimism again. You make me feel like things will get better for me too. I can’t sit here and pretend I know what you’re going through, but I’ll always be here for you. My parents will too.”

“I still remember the look on their faces when my mom broke the news,” you snort. “They looked like they were ready to go to prison for murder.”

“I’ve never seen them so angry. I felt like castrating your dad.”

“Didn’t we all?”

“But at least we got Riki out of it.” You smile fondly. Jungwon wants to tell you he’s proud of how far you’ve come, but decides to keep that to himself for now.

“I love him, you know. Even if I don’t really say it. I think it was hard for me to be able to say I loved him without feeling guilty. I thought I was betraying my mom if I gave Riki a chance and seeing her step up to be a parental figure when my dad was too busy mingling with our side of the family was hard. We’ve never talked about it but I know she doesn’t hate Riki. She wouldn’t have forced me to spend time with him if she did.

“He’s such a bright kid and he’s so talented. It makes me happy when people recognize that too. He taught me a lot about prioritizing my feelings. Learning to re-evaluate my life when Riki showed up made me feel, I don’t know, more mature? Like, I can be upset and still care about people because we all make mistakes and none of us asked to be here.”

Jungwon lets a beat of silence pass before speaking. “Did Heeseung talk to you?”

“This morning. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I saw him acting a bit different at the bonfire last night and asked him if anything happened. He told me why he was so mad at you for so long and said he wanted to apologize.”

“Men are so fucking stupid,” you sigh, bringing your knees to your chest. “I don’t understand why he didn’t talk to me in the first place.”

“Me either, honestly. But at least he’s making an effort. Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

You nod. “Yeah. Feelings are complicated. I’ve been angry for so long. I always thought I’d yell at him and give him a piece of my mind, or something. I thought I would hate him and tell him to forget about me. But when he apologized, he said it in a way that made me believe he meant it. It didn’t feel like he was bullshitting me. I felt stuck.”

“What did you end up saying?”

“I told him how hurt I was during that time and said I wished he was there for me like I was for him when I was dealing with my dad. I told him how I wished we could’ve talked it out.”

“That’s a good start.”

“I don’t think we’ll ever go back to the way we were but I also know Heeseung. I know it took a lot out of him to set aside his pride and put somebody else first. I don’t really know what I’m gonna do now. All I know is I’m tired of being upset and I want to feel okay.”

Jungwon nudges your shoulder with his. “You’ll be just fine. The universe moves for you, Y/N. There’s no way you won’t have a happy ending.” He watches you hide a smile.

“You are such a sap.”

“It’s what you love about me.”

“Unfortunately.” You’ll really miss him. “I gotta take it one day at a time, right? Heeseung is going to be in my life for a long time since we share so many friends. Riki loves him too, and I guess I can’t hate Heeseung too much for looking out for him. I don’t think I have any room to think about it when I get back because I’ll be doing some last minute packing and getting ready to move.”

“It’ll be over before you know it. But even then, you’re going to have the best time in Okayama. Fuck your dad and all of the bad shit.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Fuck my dad.”

The end of the trip is bittersweet. You start to tear up when you see the campsite completely empty and move slowly to pack everything in the cars. Heeseung notices but doesn’t say anything, offering to grab whatever’s in your hands when he sees you looking out into the clearing for extended periods of time. He doesn’t pretend to know what you’re feeling but he knows he doesn’t like it when you cry.

He watches you get into Jay’s car and wishes that you could be comfortable sitting alone with him. While Jake mans the aux, Heeseung thinks about what might happen when you move away. Will the two of you remain how you are or will you grow apart? Is there any room for him in your life now that you’re off to explore a different part of the world? Will he ever be able to push past the gnawing feeling of pushing his pathetic crush on you down until he no longer thinks of you like that?

He’s never admitted it, but those feelings he had towards you all those years ago never really went away. Heeseung doubled down on his irritation because doing otherwise would allow all of those romantic feelings to overwhelm him. He kept his head down around you because he knew one look at you would be enough to throw his inhibitions away and he was afraid he would risk everything he’s ever wanted just for you to tell him you love him too. Now that he knows everything was a misunderstanding, the grave loss weighs on him. He’s got a million thoughts running through his mind and none of them seem to make any sense. These romantic feelings didn’t lie dormant for all of these years, right?

The next week and a half feels like it passes by too quickly for the both of you. You finish packing the morning of your going away party that everyone helped set up and plan. Your mom, along with Jungwon’s parents, all of your friends and their parents, and Maeumi, presentes you with the kind of happiness you never want to forget. Even Heeseung, who shows up and gives you a letter when no one else is looking, makes you feel like you would be dearly missed. You’re not sure that you enjoy being the center of attention, but everybody’s kindness makes you feel like you deserve to be.

It’s late when they leave and socializing makes you feel far more exhausted than you anticipated. Your flight is midday tomorrow but you try not to think about that. Heeseung’s letter sits on the edge of your bed and the green envelope–your favorite color–stares at you like it’s begging you to open it. And open it you do.

Y/N–

I don’t know where to start. I’m sorry, first of all, for treating you the way I did. I was a sorry excuse for a friend. I should’ve talked to you instead of jumping to conclusions and it doesn’t matter that we were both young. Friends annoy each other but they don’t disrespect one another. I’m so sorry that I made you doubt yourself.

I’ll miss you a lot when you’re in Japan. We didn’t get the chance to talk it out and I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me after you leave. You deserve people who will be there for you. But please know I’ll always be rooting for you.

Lastly…I don’t know if this is my place to say this but here goes nothing. Back when we were close, the one thing I loved about you was how passionate you were about life. You loved to learn and explore new things, and you always made me feel like I could feel that way too. I know you’re scared about Okayama for a number of reasons but you’re the strongest person I know. You’ll be just fine, even if you don’t feel like you will be. I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. I mean it.

- Heeseung

For the first time in a while, you allow yourself to cry over Lee Heeseung and surprise yourself when you realize that you want him back.

***

At the airport, your mom helps you check in your luggage and asks if you’ve got everything you need and makes you double check everything. It’s reminiscent of the way you did with Riki before the camping trip. You’re happy despite feeling a bit annoyed that she’s making you take off your backpack. You don’t totally mind it, though. She gives you a hug that feels like it could last a lifetime and letting her go is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

Everybody else gives you love, too. Sunoo is the first to hug you and makes you promise to bring him back some skincare and souvenirs the next time you’re able to get back to Korea. Jake embraces you next and gives you some words of encouragement while Jay does his best to pretend like he isn’t sad by complaining about how there will be one less cook in the kitchen. You throw your arms around him anyway and pretend not to hear him sniffle. Sunghoon traps you in a bear hug and makes you promise to take as many photos as possible and says he’ll look forward to seeing them. He, too, pretends like he’s not about to cry. You push your head onto his shoulder and give his hand a squeeze before he lets a few teardrops fall.

Jungwon is the most emotional of them all. He wipes away his free falling tears and crushes you in a hug, burying his head in your neck. “You better come back, asshole. I can’t believe you’re gonna leave me to chase your dreams. That’s so selfish of you.” You think you might cry too but laugh anyway.

“I love you so much, Wonnie.” He squeezes you like he’s afraid he’ll forget what it feels like to be in your embrace until Jake pries him off of your body.

Riki stands awkwardly with his eyes to the floor and his hands in front of him. The taller boy feels as though his shoes are glued down but you see the way his gaze flickers as if he’s trying to figure out what to do next. It doesn’t take much out of you to throw your arms around him and push yourself into his chest.

“I’m going to miss you a lot, Riki,” you tell him.

“Really?” You nod.

“I know I haven’t been the best towards you but you need to know that I’m so proud of you, okay? I loved getting to know you. I loved that you came on the trip and I’m so fucking happy that you’re my brother. Out of everybody who could’ve popped into my life, I’m so glad it was you.”

Everybody watches Riki melt in front of them as he envelopes you right into him. You feel the weight of his shoulders relax and for the first time, you feel like you’re starting to wonder if this is what it feels like to have everything figured out.

“I’ll come visit you,” he promises. “I’ll come home for winter break.”

“Stay with me. We can do all of the corny shit siblings do. I’ll even pay for everything.”

Riki laughs but doesn’t let you go. “You’re the best, you know that? Even though it took you some time, I always thought of you like my sister. I’m really happy to be around you.”

The waterworks begin and Riki does his best to comfort you when he feels tears on his shirt. He feels somewhere in between empty and fulfilled knowing the two of you have made amends, but knowing you want to work towards the future is enough to make him confident that everything will be alright. He lets you go when he feels your arms loosen around him and aggressively wipes his own tears away.

When you look at Heeseung, the last thing he expects you to do is acknowledge him. He came to the airport because he wants you to know he meant everything in the letter he wrote. He stayed up all night to check for your texts but you hadn’t said anything, and while he knew it was an emotional day for you because of all you were dealing with, a selfish part of him wanted to know what you thought about it.

You surprise Heeseung and yourself by engulfing him in a hug. The familiarity of his embrace makes you feel nostalgic and you can’t help but cry right into his chest. Heeseung doesn’t hesitate and brings his arms to wrap around your fragile body as you silently weep against him. He holds you tight and gently rocks your body like he used to all those years ago. You don’t fight back either. Instead, you push your head deeper into him and hold him until your tears have stopped.

“I read your letter,” you say quietly. “We have a lot to talk about but I appreciate everything you said, Heeseung. I tried to hate you but I could never bring myself to feel that way about you.”

“I’m really going to miss you. Can I be selfish?” Heeseung asks with a sob in his throat. “I wish I apologized sooner and I wish we had more time. But please, promise me that you’re going to try to have fun in Japan, okay? You’re the best person I know, even if I didn’t make you feel like it. I’ll always live with that regret but knowing you’ll forget about me and make a life for yourself is enough.”

“I could never truly forget about you, Hee.” That nickname you used to call him makes Heeseung’s heart beat faster. “I don’t want you out of my life. All these years I felt like that’s what I wanted but I don’t want that now. Be happy without me too, okay? Forget about me and follow that dream of yours.”

Heeseung laughs sadly. “I don’t think I could ever forget about you.” You step away from him and wipe your eyes for the umteenth time.

“Write a song for me, then. And don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Okay.” Heeseung swears on it. “I won’t.”

A beat of silence passes before all seven of your friends push you into the middle of their group hug. It brings another round of tears to your eyes and Jungwon’s the one who lets you cry into him until your mom tells you it’s time to start boarding. Everybody gets one final goodbye before you disappear into the plane.

You smile at your phone when you settle into your seat.

lee heeseung: I miss you already

You miss him too.

***

Okayama is a dream until it isn’t. You settled into your apartment and had one month before you started your job and went to all the places Riki recommended. You started to understand him a little better after moving and both of you find it hilarious that you two ended up living in each others’ hometowns. You can’t choose your siblings but you’d choose Riki in every lifetime.

You call your mom every so often and update her on life. Your friends keep you in the loop and FaceTime you when they’re out together. It makes you feel like you’re back in Korea and while it isn’t the same, you appreciate the effort anyway. You’ve made friends with your neighbors and a few girls you met when you went out drinking with your cousin the week you moved and it made braving a whole new country feel less daunting. Jungwon calls you everyday and you tease him for being such a clingy friend, but you both know you love it. You inform him about everything from the boring details to juicy work drama, and it feels like you’re sitting in his bedroom wearing face masks and eating junk food.

Heeseung has been a constant fixture in your life, too. You texted him the moment you landed and he kept the conversation going. You talk about everything, the past especially, and start to feel like things might be okay. Those butterflies that you had for him in high school made an appearance after three months in Japan and part of you wondered if you were a fool for bringing him back into your life after everything. All of your friends back in Korea tell you Heeseung is miserable without you and when they tease him in the big group chat, he doesn’t deny it.

The friends you made seemed divided–one half thought you should leave him in the dark while the other half swooned over his dedication to making things right. You don’t really know what to think or how to feel, but you know you’re happy. Between phone calls and late night texts, you were always left with a smile on your face before bed.

Riki came back to Okayama for winter break and spent two weeks in your apartment. When the two of you weren’t bickering as siblings do, you both stayed up way too late watching anime and watched him dance at his home studio. Riki even got you to attend a few classes (he tried not to laugh at your poor coordination skills but appreciated the effort anyway). You prefer to be in the audience.

Life seemed great until your dad made an appearance just before Christmas. He knew you were here from a single text message he never responded to before you moved to Okayama. The weight of his silence prepared you to be in Japan without him but his sudden appearance made you feel like everything changed for the worse. Riki went back to his childhood home to see his family and asked you to come with him after your dad had forced him. Your brother knows the intricate dynamic and you don’t blame him for anything. Seeing your dad with his new family after sparse texts since he left felt like a punch in the gut. It soured your holidays and Riki spent the rest of his trip apologizing even though you told him there was no reason for him to be sorry. You dropped him off at the airport and told him you’d see him in the summertime.

The holidays came and went but the feelings you’ve carried since then haven’t disappeared, which brings you to the present. Heeseung is standing in the doorway of your apartment in Okayama, looking at you with those big, round doe eyes you always loved.

“Hi,” he says breathlessly.

“Heeseung…What are you doing here?” He scratches the back of his neck.

“You’ve been going through a lot, you know? Every time we talked on the phone, you sounded like you were a thousand miles away and it killed me to know I couldn’t do anything to make you feel better after the holidays with your dad. Jungwon and I have been talking about how much of an ass he is and how much we wish we could be here for you and the next thing I knew, he was encouraging me to buy the next flight out to see you,” Heeseung says in a single breath. “But honestly? I just really, really fucking missed you.”

“You flew all this way here? For me?”

“Yeah.” Heeseung says it like it’s a no-brainer. “Although, now I feel kinda stupid. I realize I’m putting you in a tough spot. But you know what? I think it’s worth it to know that you’re okay.”

He looks at you but you don’t say anything. Heeseung can see the gears turning inside of your head while you process his arrival. You look so cute in your sleep shorts and oversized shirt. He loves it when you call him via FaceTime because he gets to see all parts of you–getting ready for work and winding down as you are now. It makes him feel like you’re pulling him right back into you.

You don’t really need to say anything. You lurch yourself onto him and press your lips against his like it’s something you’ve been waiting to do for the longest time. You probably have. Heeseung wraps his arms around you and lets his mouth melt against yours and doesn’t complain about your boldness either. He welcomes it, even.

“You’re so stupid,” you mutter against him, pulling him into your apartment and locking the door behind you. You kiss him repeatedly and he puts his hands on your waist as if to let you know he’s right there with you.

“Why am I stupid, baby?” Heeseung’s voice paired with that nickname makes your knees buckle.

“You can stay with me.” He feels you smile against your lips. “Please just…stay here and don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Heeseung drops his backpack onto the floor and lets you capture his mouth again. You taste so fresh with your cherry lip balm. He moans right into your mouth when you push him against your countertop and the feeling of his hands on your body makes you grow hotter as the seconds pass by. The ache between your legs starts to overwhelm you as his plump lips kiss you over and over again before he pushes them against your neck. It’s too much in all of the right ways and you’re too aroused to even think straight. You start to pull yourself away from Heeseung and he’s about to ask if he’s going too fast when you grab your hand and lead him to your bedroom.

“Y/N, wait,” Heeseung tries to say in between kisses. He loves the feeling of your warm mouth against him and feels himself starting to get worked up but he doesn’t know if you’re thinking straight. Even though the two of you have talked nearly everyday, Heeseung doesn’t know if this is moving too fast.

“I’m done waiting.” You pull away from him and reach for his hand, pushing his lengthy fingers past your shorts and underwear until he feels the wet slick starting to pool at your folds. Your hand moves his back and forth as he looks at you like you’ve stunned him with a laser gun. Heeseung’s dick jumps in his pants and it takes him a second to move his fingers on his own accord. “I want you, Heeseung. Don’t you want me too?”

His resolve crumbles. Heeseung nods with his mouth parted as he pushes his fingers inside you, your wetness allowing him to reach your depths immediately. You push yourself on your toes and put your hands on his chest, clinging onto him like you’re afraid he’d let you go if you don’t. He thrusts his fingers with intention and hears your quiet whimpers when he leans his head down next to your mouth.

“Yeah,” Heeseung says, lips touching the shell of your ear as his voice ripples through your body. “I want you.”

He pulls his hand away from you and smiles at the short whine from the loss of his touch. Heeseung loves how much you need him and he’s sure you can see how much he needs you too. A surge of confidence jolts within you as Heeseung looks down at your body like he’s ready to eat you alive. You peel off your shirt and shorts, leaving you in your underwear as Heeseung pulls his shirt over his head with a single hand.

“Lie down,” Heeseung beckons. You do as he says and he sinks down to his knees and pries your legs apart, looking directly at you as he speaks. “Good girl.” He pulls your garments down your legs and the cool air hits your center as Heeseung looks down at you.

You don’t have time to think about anything when he peppers soft kisses on your skin. His lips journey from the inside of your knee and he presses one small kiss to your slit before repeating the process on your other leg. Heeseung allows himself to get lost in the way your body reacts to his feather-like touches before descending down onto your folds.

Heeseung’s tongue feels like the closest thing to magic. He takes his time when licking you with his warm and wet muscle, canvassing every ridge with expert movements. You rake your fingers through his hair and tug gently at his soft roots, pulling a moan out of him that delivers a delicious shock up your spine. He puts your feet on his shoulders and plunges his tongue inside of you and grips your flesh with his fingertips until you’re coming undone on his mouth.

“So fucking good,” he mutters to himself more than he does to you. He laps up your release and you find yourself a bit embarrassed that you were able to come so quickly, but the way he touches you makes it seem as though he already knew how to push your buttons. “You’re so sweet, Y/N. I could eat you all day if you’d let me.”

Heeseung trails his lips up your stomach and kisses you so tenderly that you feel as though your body must be made out of soft cotton. His lips find your left nipple and lets his tongue swirl over the bud before sucking on it with a gentle motion. He repeats the process on the other nub and flicks it, enjoying the soft sounds that come from you. Heeseung buries himself right into your neck but he doesn’t kiss the skin like you think he will. Instead, he kisses you twice on your open neck before moving his body so that he can look down at you.

He bites his lip. It makes you feel exposed but somehow, it makes you feel all that more confident. It’s like Heeseung is looking right through you with all of your worries and faults laid out for him to reject. But he doesn’t. Likewise, Heeseung allows you to see him in his vulnerability and he’s ready to pack up his things and leave if you tell him you don’t want this anymore. But you don’t.

He descends on you once again, this time his lips pushing against you in a slow and sensual kiss. You feel the way he moves against you and savor the sounds your mouths make together. Heeseung brings his hand to brush strands of your hair away from your face as he kisses you and the gentle touch of his fingertips feels like it was always meant to be there.

“I need you.” Your back arches right into his chest as you speak. “Don’t make me wait, Heeseung. Please, I just…I need you.”

“I’ll never make you wait. Never again,” he promises. Heeseung manages to rid himself of his pants and boxers and pushes himself between your legs until his dick is situated between your folds. Your arousal, paired with the precum oozing from his slit, provides the perfect balance of wetness that coats the entirety of his cock as he glides himself against you.

When his tip catches your hole, the sounds of your moans overpowers his refrain. He pushes inside of you slowly inch by inch, savoring the way you feel for the fear that he might never be able to do this again. You look so beautiful underneath him with his dick completely sheathed inside of you and when your legs wrap around his body to encourage him to move, Heeseung doesn’t deny you of your pleasure.

Neither of you have ever had sex like this–the feeling of pure rawness echoes throughout the room between your breathy moans and the sound of skin pushing against one another. Your body is warm in the way he always imagined and his hands touch every inch of you as if to commit your silhouette to memory. In this moment, Heeseung feels as though the two of you are kindred spirits who found each other.

“You’re so good for me,” Heeseung whispers into your neck as he thrusts into you. “So fucking tight and wet.” He feels your arms wrap around his shoulders to keep him trapped between you but he can’t say he minds all that much.

“I-I’m so close,” you say in a broken moan.

“Already, baby?” Heeseung says to tease you as he brings his head up to look down at you again. He pushes his hips against you faster and that surprised gasp you let out makes his balls clench.

“S-Shut up.”

Your arms fall to the mattress as you claw at your sheets. Heeseung plans his elbows on either side of your head as he focuses all of his willpower towards fucking you with fast deep strokes, loving the way your mouth parts slightly and how your eyes are closed shut. His muscles flex as he pushes himself until you’re coming with a loud moan, and finds himself releasing inside of you the moment he feels you gushing around him.

You feel Heeseung press his tender lips against your forehead as you come down from your high while he continues to rock you through your release. Your cheeks are hot from the pleasure and the room is suddenly too warm with Heeseung on top of you. When you open your eyes, he’s looking at you like he’s seen a halo above your head. He can’t really help it. Heeseung leans down to press a soft, gentle kiss against your lips to convey a job well down.

“I came so fast,” you whisper bashfully. You bite your lip but Heeseung tugs it away from your teeth to kiss you again.

“Me too.” Heeseung kisses your nose and relishes in the way you scrunch your face. “But it’s okay. You deserve to feel good. I don’t care how long or short it takes.” He places his hand on your face and rubs the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I really missed you.”

“I missed you too, dummy,” Heeseung says before flicking your nose. He holds your jaw in place before kissing you again.

“We’re gonna have to do a lot of making up, you know,” you mumble against his lips with a smile.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” You push against his lips. Heeseung pushes his half-hard dick inside of you as your back arches right into him. He’s there to catch you this time, his arm supporting your spine underneath you. “Fuck!”

“My baby,” he whispers into you. “Let me make it up to you.”

You let him.

***

EPILOGUE: THE FOLLOWING SPRING

“For fuck’s sake, get your big ass head out of the way.”

Jay smacks Jake’s shoulder. “You can see just fine, stupid.” Sunghoon hits both of their shoulders.

“Both of you, stop moving so much. You guys almost knocked my camera.” They mumble a quick apology before finding another thing to discuss.

“I feel like I’m surrounded by children.” You sigh as Heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and lets his chin sit atop the crown of your head. He feels your body relax against him and smiles.

“Well you are, technically. Riki just stopped wearing diapers.”

“I hate you so much, Heeseung,” the younger boy whines without any true malice. You laugh and squeeze Riki’s hand. He can’t find it in himself to be too mad at either of you.

“Do you guys see Jungwon and Sunoo?” Sunghoon asks with his camera at the ready. “I want to make sure I take as many pictures as possible.”

“I don’t think they’re coming out yet,” says Jay.

“Duh.” Jake provokes him in a way you missed while you were in Okayama. It brings warmth to your heart when you see them bicker.

Jay turns to you. “Y/N, have you given a second thought about moving in with Jake when you come back? I think you’d be better off if you kicked him to the streets.”

“Hey!” Jake tackles Jay until he’s got his older friend’s neck between his arms. None of you pay too much attention and choose to wait for Jungwon and Sunoo.

“Our friends are another breed,” Heeseung mumbles against you as he kisses your cheek. “Are you sure you want to move back and be roommates with Jake and Jungwon?”

“Mhm. I miss you guys so much.”

“But you miss me the most, right?”

“Yes, baby.” You bring his hand up to your lips and kiss the back of it. “I missed you the most.”

“There they are!” Riki shouts.

Jungwon and Sunoo, clad in their caps and gowns, saunter their way out of the stadium before spotting your group. They make a run for it and push past the onlookers who search for their loved ones as well. Sunoo clings onto Jake while Jungwon finds his perch in Riki’s arms as Sunghoon captures the beautiful moment on his digital camera.

“We fucking did it!” Jungwon shouts as he pulls away. “Sunoo, we did it!”

“About damn time,” Sunoo replies as he rolls his eyes with a smile. “I felt like I’d be there forever.”

“We’re so proud of you both.” Jay smiles and moves to hug each of them. “You guys are amazing, seriously.”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” Riki bumps hips with Sunoo. “That seems unfair.”

“Life is unfair.” There’s no real bite to his tone, just a bittersweet future. Sunoo hugs the taller boy.

“Oh my God,” Jungwon says with his hand pressed to his mouth. “Y/N is crying.”

“No I’m not,” you say, even though you definitely are. Heeseung squeezes you tighter against him. “Shut up, Jungwon. I’m not crying.”

“You so are!” Riki shouts.

“I’m not crying. Seeing my best friends graduate college is not a good reason to cry, okay?!”

Jungwon and Sunoo sport shit-eating grins. Heeseung lets you go as they engulf you in a hug while the younger of the two feels your hot tears on his cheek. He laughs and this moment starts to feel a bit nostalgic to him, as he acted the same way you did upon seeing you in your cap and gown.

“Hey,” he says in a softer tone, pulling away from the two of you. “Thanks for being here. I know taking time off was a little hard but we’re so happy you could come.”

“Yeah,” Sunoo agrees. “Talking to you over the phone isn’t enough. We missed you, you know?”

You tear up again and wipe your nose before falling into them again. “I missed you too.”

“Oh God,” Sunghoon laughs. “If Y/N’s crying then I know we’re in for it.”

“Hey!” Heeseung jokes, nudging his friend with his shoulder. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” Although, he can’t really disagree with Sunghoon.

“You’re all so stupid for making me cry in public,” you say as you wipe your tears from your eyes. “I’m gonna look back at these pictures and my eyes will be all red and puffy.”

“I feel like you and Heeseung might as well be our parents,” Sunoo says as Heeseung pulls him into a hug.

“Wait, you guys should totally take a family photo.” Jake steps forward to arrange the four of you like a family portrait with Jungwon and Sunoo between you and Heeseung. “There. Sunghoon, take a picture. This is so going on the fridge when we move in together.”

Heeseung moves back next to you as the rest of your friends look at the photos on Sunghoon’s camera and take turns taking pictures of him with the graduates. He kisses your cheek and pulls you back into him.

“You ready to come back to all this chaos?”

“More than ready,” you affirm. “I loved Okayama, even though I had to deal with my dad and all of that stuff. But I missed my life here and the masters program over in Seoul is a good fit for me, you know? Plus, your apartment isn’t too far from mine.”

“I can’t wait for you to move back.” Heeseung kisses your cheek again. “Your mom and I talked logistics about helping you move into the new apartment. Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll have another suitcase coming back with you.”

“Shut up.”

“You know I’m right.”

You blush and mumble. “Yeah…You’re right.”

“Your mom and Jungwon’s parents talked about renting a bigger camp space this year, too. I think they’re planning on having one huge trip this year now that most of us have graduated.”

“I can’t believe our last trip was almost a year ago. That’s insane because it feels like I moved to Japan just yesterday.”

“I solemnly swear I will never be as stupid or dense as I was back then.” When you turn around to look at Heeseung, you know he’s telling the truth. You don’t answer him verbally and choose to silence him with a pretty kiss. It’s enough for the two of you.

“Oi, love birds,” Jake calls, looking at you. “We should find their parents. Your mom called me and I think she was crying.”

You frown. “Why didn’t she call me?”

“She said you were probably crying too,” Jake snickers.

“Is it too late to back out of being roommates?”

“Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

Heeseung squeezes your hand.

“And me.”

As you look around, you can’t help but feel as though this was always how it was meant to be.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! xx

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hoonieangel · 21 days ago

Text

THANK FUCK SHE LEFT SO GOOD OML

was it casual? — lhs

SYNOPSIS: Let’s play “Casual” by Chappell Roan. How far can you sink for a guy who only sees you as a bed warmer? Somewhere between the silences, you start to wonder. If it’s just casual, why does it feel so real? And if it means nothing, why does it hurt so much?

content tags: angst, fuck buddies, heeseung is an asshole (his friends also), reader is a sucker for bare minimum, smoking, contains 2nd hand smoke too, mention of pregnancy, sad and kinda happy ending (if you squint), lots of crying and self sabotage. no part 2 :)

warning: profanities, explicit content (smut) unprotected sex, pussy eating, mention of squirting, blowjob, shower sex. WC:12.3K

note: damn 233 followers already? thank you so much! here's some angsty heeseung fanfic for y'all

"Why are you so dumb for crawling back to that man? We all know you're just one of the girls he likes to bang."

The words hit like a slap, burning through your chest, Your fingers clenched around the edge of the table, nails digging into the cheap wood, the pressure grounding you as frustration bubbled in your throat.

You shouldn't care. You shouldn't. But fuck, it hurt.

Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck everything about him.

You knew his reputation. Everyone did. He was the guy people whispered about in dimly lit hallways, the one whose name was laced with envy and lust.

Lee Heeseung wasn't just wanted—he was craved. His sharp cheekbones, the way his thin upper lip curled when he smirked, the small face that somehow made his presence even more intimidating. And that nose—slightly arched, just perfect enough to make your stomach twist when he looked down at you. He wasn't an academic genius, far from it, but intelligence was never his selling point. It was the way he carried himself, the lazy confidence, the quiet arrogance that made people flock to him like moths to a flame.

And you? You were just another moth.

But no—no, that wasn't true. You were different, weren't you? Heeseung doesn't fuck twice. That was his rule. One time, one night, then you were nothing but a name on his list, a passing memory in his beautifully wrecked life. Yet with you... it wasn't just once. He kept coming back, kept pulling you in with his heated stares, his late-night texts, the way he said your name like it meant something.

And maybe that's why you let yourself believe—just for a moment—that you were special.

But were you? Or were you just another girl foolish enough to think she mattered?

Your breath hitched, throat tightening as the weight of it all pressed down on you. You were exhausted. Exhausted from convincing yourself that he was just "figuring things out." That he was complicated, not careless. That maybe, just maybe, he wanted you the way you wanted him.

But he didn't. He never did.

And you were done.

Fuck him. Fuck his stupid, perfect face.

You were going to leave. You are going to block him, ignore him, and dragged him out of your heart with bloodied hands if you had to. It was what you deserved.

Sike, bitch.

"Heeseung!" You screamed his name, fingers twisting into the sheets as he drove into you from behind, your body arching under the force of his thrusts.

"Fuck, you're always so tight," he groaned, voice wrecked, half-laughing like he knew exactly how weak you were for him.

His grip on your waist tightened, his hips snapping against yours with punishing speed. Every thrust sent a shockwave through your body, pleasure and frustration tangling into something dangerous, something that made you forget why you wanted to leave in the first place.

His hand slid up your back, rough fingers ghosting over your spine before settling around your throat.

He forced you down, pressing your chest into the mattress as he continued to drive into you, deeper, harder, making you feel every inch of him. Your breasts bounced with each movement, and then—fuck—his other hand found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that made your legs tremble beneath him.

"You're shaking already?"

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape, but then he tightened his grip on your throat just enough to make your head spin.

"Hee—fuck—" Your voice broke as the pressure coiled inside you, too much, too fast, overwhelming.

"Come for me," he ordered, his breath hot against your ear.

And you did. Hard.

Your orgasm hit, your body clenching around him as pleasure crashed through you in dizzying waves.

Heeseung groaned, his pace faltering, and then he was spilling inside you, his hips jerking as he buried himself to the hilt. His lips found yours from behind, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, claiming kiss, the kind that made your heart stutter even as you hated yourself for it.

The both of you collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavy, bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.

Heeseung didn't move immediately. Instead, he slid his fingers through your hair, tugging lightly as he kissed the back of your neck—slow, lazy.

Your chest tightened.

Was it casual?

Your brain screamed yes.

But the way your heart fluttered said otherwise.

Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck him for making simple things feel intimate.

Fuck him for always making you stay at his place, for the way he hugged you from behind in the morning, lips warm against your neck as he whispered a sleepy "Good morning, baby." Like you were his. Like this was more than just a cycle of fucking and pretending it didn't mean anything.

And fuck him—most of all—for never wearing a condom when it came to you.

Your legs shook as you sat on the edge of the bed, his cum dripping down your thigh. The room still smelled like sweat, sex, and Heeseung—faint cologne mixed with something distinctly him. Your chest rose and fell unevenly, fingers clutching the sheets as you glared at him.

"I told you not to cum inside me," you snapped.

Heeseung, fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low around his hips, only grinned as he reached for you, spreading your legs with ease. He looked down, watching the way your swollen cunt twitched, still messy from him.

"I always thought you weren't the type to let that happen," you muttered, frustration bubbling in your chest. "I heard you always wear a condom with other girls."

His smirk deepened. "Maybe you're not like other girls."

Your stomach twisted. You hated how easily his words got to you, how they made your heart stumble, made you want to believe you were different—even when you knew better.

Before you could snap back, Heeseung licked his lips, then slowly, wiped the mess between your legs with a towel.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, the rough fabric making you flinch. "I told you to take a pill," he murmured, his voice half-amused, half-serious.

Your glare hardened. "Fuck you? You're the one who needs to adjust, bitch. If I get pregnant—"

He cut you off smoothly, not even blinking. "It won't be a problem." He looked at you, eyes dark and unreadable. "I'm ready to be a father, babe."

Your whole body locked up. What?

Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing as you raised your hand to slap his shoulder. He laughed, dodging easily, catching your wrist in his grip before kissing your knuckles.

"You're so cute when you get mad," he teased, leaning in, his lips barely brushing against yours.

Your heart stupidly skipped a beat. He kissed you again—gentle, slow, as if this wasn't just another night of mistakes. As if he meant it.

"I'll buy you Plan B tomorrow," he murmured against your lips.

You swallowed hard, fingers curling against his chest.

Was it casual?

Fuck him for ghosting you after spending the whole weekend in his bed.

You stared at your phone, fingers tightening around the device like you could crush it, like that would somehow erase the ache in your chest. The message you sent two days ago still sat there, unread. Or maybe it was read, and he just didn't care enough to reply.

And screw you—screw you for being so fucking stupid. For always checking your notifications like some pathetic, desperate girl waiting for scraps of attention. For letting your heart lurch every time your phone vibrated, only to sink when it wasn't him.

"Just get over him already," your friend sighed, sipping her iced coffee as she leaned back against the café booth. "He's not worth it."

How could you?

How could you just get over the way he kissed your forehead in the middle of the night, the way he pulled you closer in his sleep, like he needed you there? How could you forget his sweet smile, his stupid Bambi eyes, the way he looked at you like you were something special—only to turn around and act like you didn't exist?

And screw you—screw you for being a fucking loser.

And that's why you were here, drowning in cheap alcohol, trying to forget him.

"God, I really need a drink." You muttered, rubbing your temple as the bass of the club pulsed through your skull.

Your friend side-eyed you, unimpressed. "It's fucking Wednesday, babe. Middle of the week. Calm your ass down."

You ignored her, slamming back another shot.

"Fuck Lee Heeseung!" you suddenly shouted, voice slurred, drawing a few stares from nearby tables.

Legs swaying, balance unsteady, you barely noticed when someone grabbed your waist, steadying you before you could fall flat on your face.

A familiar grip. A familiar presence.

Your blurry vision focused just enough to make out the sharp jawline, the messy dark hair, the annoyingly pretty face you spent too much time thinking about.

"Ohhh, it's you—Lee Heeseung!" You pointed at him, laughing as if this wasn't a complete fucking disaster. "What ya doin' here?"

His jaw ticked, eyes dark as they scanned over you—messy hair, smudged lipstick, a dress that rode up dangerously high on your thighs.

"I'm here to pick your drunk ass up." His voice was flat, irritated, but his hold on you was soft and steady. He slid your arm over his shoulder, gripping your waist tighter as he started leading you toward the exit.

You let him, but only because walking felt impossible.

Then, with a giggle, you leaned in, breath warm against his skin. "Ohhh, was it casual for you to pick me up at 3 AM because I'm sooo drunk?"

Your voice was teasing, but underneath it—hurt.

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening around your waist for a brief second before loosening again.

"Shut up." His voice was quieter now, almost strained. "Let's go."

"No!" You ripped your arm from his grasp, stumbling back, your vision spinning.

"Why are you always like this, Heeseung?" Your voice cracked, but you didn't care. You jabbed a finger into his chest. "You fuck me on the weekends, make me feel like I actually matter, and then act like I don't exist after? You cuddle me, you kiss me, you hold me like—like I mean something! And then suddenly, you're back to being a complete dick?!"

You let out a bitter laugh, raising both middle fingers at him. "Fuck you! You couldn't even text me. Couldn't even take me out on a proper fucking date. What am I to you, huh?"

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a scoff.

"Is that the reason you got yourself wasted here?" His voice dripped with condescension, his lips curling in amusement like this was all some fucking joke to him. "Because I didn't text you? That's pathetic."

His words stung more than they should have. Your nails dug into your palms.

"Why do you even care about how I act?" he continued, "We're not even together, so you don't get to tell me what to do or what not to do."

You stared at him, breath shaky, chest tight.

"Not together." The words felt like poison in your mouth. "Right. That's your excuse for treating me like shit, huh?"

His eyes flickered with something more, but his face remained impassive, like he wasn't affected at all.

"I never made you any promises. You're not getting attached, are you? I just want to fuck you." he said simply, and somehow, that hurt the most.

Your throat burned. Fucking bastard.

"Right," you whispered, voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. Your nails dug into your palms so hard it hurt. "So I guess I was just some easy fuck to you, then?"

His expression didn't change, not even a flicker of guilt. His gaze swept over you lazily, bored, like he was already done with this conversation.

You could feel your resolve crumbling.

You wanted to slap him, to scream in his face, to put a fucking ax in his head for being such a heartless asshole. But you never did.

"You know what, Heeseung?" You took a step back, blinking away the sting in your eyes. "I actually thought—fuck, I actually thought you gave a shit about me." You let out a breathless chuckle, shaking your head. "But you don't, do you? You never did."

"God, I was so fucking stupid." You wiped at your face angrily. "Waiting for you to text me back like an idiot, hoping that maybe—maybe this time, it meant something." Your voice wavered, but you kept going. "But nah, right? It's just sex. Just another girl warming your bed. Just another weekend before you move on to the next."

"Fucking say something, Heeseung!" you snapped, stepping closer, shoving his chest. He didn't even budge. He just looked down at you, dark eyes blank.

And then—finally—he spoke.

"What do you want me to say?" His voice was low. "You knew what this was. I never lied to you. Whatever what's happening between us, it's just casual fuck."

Your stomach twisted. Right, casual.

"Fuck you." Your voice cracked.

You turned your back on him, forcing yourself to walk away, each step heavier than the last.

And the worst part? He didn't even follow you.

No "wait." No "don't go." No "I'm sorry."

Just silence.

The street felt too empty, the cold night air biting at your skin, but nothing compared to the hollowness settling deep in your chest. You had thought—no, you had hoped—that maybe Heeseung saw you as more.

But he didn't.

Because Heeseung wasn't the kind of guy to need anyone.

Not the way you needed him.

And you were done.

You were going to free yourself from this. No more late-night texts that made your stomach flip. No more rearranging your plans just to see him. No more pretending that his touches meant something when, in reality, they meant nothing.

You weren't going to be his puppy, following him around, saying yes to every last-minute "come over" text like some desperate loser.

You were leaving.

Right.

...

So why was it so fucking hard?

Why, after days of stubborn silence, after forcing yourself not to check your phone, were you back here again?

Why were you in his fucking passenger seat, his fingers buried inside you, his mouth pressed between your thighs, making you fall apart like the past week never even happened?

And why—why—did it still feel so fucking good?

You hated this. Hated him. Hated yourself more.

"That's it, baby. Moan for me." Heeseung groaned against your soaked folds, his voice low, dripping with hunger. His hands were everywhere—one gripping your thigh, keeping you spread open, the other palming your breast, his thumb lazily flicking over your nipple.

It felt so good, so maddeningly good, and that made you want to fucking cry.

"More—please, please." Your voice came out breathless, a plea wrapped in desperation.

Heeseung let out a low groan against your cunt, the vibration sending another shudder down your spine. "Can't get enough of you," he muttered, voice wrecked, needy—but you knew better than to believe it.

Because Heeseung never needed anyone.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, teasing strokes before dragging it down, tracing messy patterns over your entrance.

Then—his fingers. His hand slid down, tracing along your slit before thrusting inside suddenly, stretching you open, curling perfectly to hit that spot that made your legs tremble.

"Fuck—Heeseung!" You gasped, hips bucking, your back arching off the seat.

He was too good at this—too good at knowing your body, too good at making you fall apart, too good at breaking you down piece by piece until you forgot why you were mad, why you ever wanted to leave.

Your hands tangled in his hair, your fingers twisting at the roots as your legs shook. Heeseung groaned at the sting of your pull, pushing his fingers deeper, his tongue working faster, dragging you closer to the edge.

"Heeseung," you whined, voice high, breathless. "Getting close—please—"

And this was why you kept coming back. Because he knew you. Knew your body. Knew exactly how to ruin you.

Because the way he touched you—the way he kissed you, the way he fucked you—it felt too real.

Heeseung was right. He never made you any promises. Never gave you any reason to believe this was something more than sex.

You were just a dumb, stupid girl who kept misreading his actions. Who kept thinking she was special. But you weren't.

And yet, despite knowing all of that, despite the anger twisting in your chest, your fucking heart fluttered when he pulled himself up, his lips crashing into yours while his fingers still worked inside you. And you hated it.

Hated how he kissed you so slow, like he was savoring you.

Hated how he moved his fingers just right, drawing out every last wave of pleasure, dragging out your orgasm until you were crying against his mouth.

Hated how he made it feel intimate—

And hated yourself the most. Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how many times he ghosted you, ignored you, acted like you were nothing—

You knew you'd still come back.

Like a fucking idiot.

And you really were stupid. Because after everything—after the nights he spent inside you, after the way he kissed you like he meant it—Heeseung was still the same.

Still cocky. Still stupidly attractive as he leaned against the lockers in the university hallway, a lazy smirk on his lips, talking to some girl. Did it shock you? No. Did it hurt? Absolutely.

The lump in your throat grew heavier, thick with something you refused to name. You forced yourself to walk past him, shoulders stiff, steps quick—like he was nothing to you. Like last night, when he had you moaning his name in his passenger seat, never happened.

But he didn't even look at you. Didn't glance up. Didn't acknowledge you.

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you swallowed the sting.

Because that's what you were, right? Nothing.

Not his girlfriend. Not someone he cared about. Just another name on his list, another girl who meant nothing the second he zipped up his jeans.

And yet, you still hated the way your stomach twisted when the girl he was talking to giggled, leaning in closer. Hated the way he smirked, tilting his head like he was already picturing her naked. The same way he did to you.

Your chest ached.

You felt the bed shift, the mattress sinking under his weight. Then, warm hands—his hands—sliding over your waist, fingers pressing against your bare skin.

Soft lips ghosted along your neck.

"Who the fuck let you in?" Your voice was flat, uninterested, even as your grip on your phone tightened. You didn't turn to face him.

"Natty."

You scoffed. "Ha. I doubt it."

"Swear on my life, baby." Heeseung's voice was low, teasing, the way it always was when he wanted something.

You laughed, sarcastic.

"Missed you," he whined, arms tightening around you, his tongue flicking out to lick the sensitive skin just below your ear. That spot he knew drove you crazy.

"What happened to the girl you were talking to yesterday?" you asked, voice dripping in bitterness. "Couldn't get into her pants?"

Heeseung laughed—laughed—like this was all some joke to him. His hands slipped under your shirt, palms gliding up your stomach, his breath hitching when he realized—

"Fuck, no bra?" He cursed under his breath, squeezing your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple.

Your body arch, you hated it, but still reacted.

"Nah," he continued, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. "Just... nothing compared to you."

You almost wanted to choke him. But instead, you swallowed the frustration bubbling in your chest and forced your voice to stay steady.

"Your sister told me you should come home this weekend." You changed the topic, ignoring his fingers still lazily squeezing your chest.

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh against your neck, completely unfazed.

"Huh? You guys always talk." He sounded amused, like this was cute to him.

You rolled your eyes. "Because you're not replying to their messages. Your mom worries about you."

His hands didn't stop. Of course, they didn't. He was still kneading, still playing with you, his thumbs rolling slow, lazy circles over your nipples as if you weren't trying to have a serious conversation.

He hummed in response, shifting slightly to lie back against your bed, tugging you against his chest.

"Hmm, okay." He finally said, completely casual.

You swallowed, your heart thudding stupidly at the way he pulled you in, the way he tucked you against him.

"Want to come with me?"

Your breath hitched.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him over your shoulder. A small smirk tugging at his lips as if he was already expecting your reaction.

Wide eyes. Stupidly hopeful heart. Fucking idiot.

"Why?" Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

Heeseung's fingers trailed down your stomach, dipping just under the waistband of your shorts, making your breath hitch.

"What do you mean why?" he murmured, lips brushing against your shoulder. "Wouldn't it be fun?"

You clenched your jaw, fingers curling into the bedsheets.

"Right," you muttered, looking away. "Just fun."

And of course, you still said yes. Because who wouldn't want an instant vacation?

At least, that's what you told yourself. That this was just a trip. Just an escape. Not another excuse to be near Heeseung. Not another way to keep fooling yourself.

So you ignored the nagging in your chest, ignored the way he carried your bag.

Ignored how fucking easy it was to slip into the illusion of being his as both of you stepped into the small, cozy house.

The moment the door swung open, a woman who looked exactly like him rushed forward, eyes bright, a tearful smile on her face.

"I missed you, my boy!" She practically tackled Heeseung, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that even he seemed a little surprised.

He scoffed but hugged her back, his usual lazy smirk softening just a little. "Ma, I told you I was gonna visit soon. Tell Haneul to stop bothering us."

You blinked, shifting awkwardly as the woman—his mother—finally pulled back, wiping at the corner of her eyes before her gaze fell on you.

And before you could react, she hugged you, too.

Your whole body stiffened. What the fuck.

"You must be the girl Haneul keeps talking about," she said warmly, stepping back just enough to study your face. "Is Heeseung treating you right?"

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You had no idea how to respond to that.

Your eyes flickered to Heeseung, who had already dropped both of your bags onto the couch, watching you with a raised brow, completely unbothered.

You swallowed, forcing out a tight, awkward laugh.

"We're not actually together, madam." You admitted, your voice stiff, uncertain.

His mother blinked, the warmth in her eyes faltering just slightly. "Oh."

You could feel Heeseung's eyes on you, but you didn't dare look at him. Your fingers twisted in the hem of your shirt, heart hammering in your chest.

And then, his mother smiled. Soft. Knowing. "I see."

You spent your days with his family wearing a smile, pretending it didn't hurt to exist in this space that wasn't really yours.

His sister, Haneul, was a breath of fresh air—constantly chattering about life, relationships, and the latest dramas, seamlessly pulling you into conversations that felt easy. She told you how glad she was that you were here, that someone like you was easy to talk to, unlike her emotionally constipated brother.

"Heeseung doesn't get it," she had said with a playful eye roll, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I swear, he's impossible to talk to sometimes. But you... I can tell you actually listen."

Her words made something warm stir in your chest.

His mother, on the other hand, couldn't stop talking about him—stories of him as a child, wild and reckless, stubborn and free.

"You should've seen him," she laughed, eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "Always climbing trees, always getting himself into trouble. One time, he fell and scraped up his entire knee, but do you think he cried? No. He just looked at me and said, 'It doesn't hurt, Ma,' even though his leg was bleeding like crazy."

His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Stupid boy still complains like hell when he stubs his toe, though."

You laughed along, your chest tightening as you glanced at Heeseung, waiting to see how he would react to their teasing. But he only sighed, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

Later, at the sea, you sat on the warm sand, toes buried in the grains, watching the waves crash against the shore. But your eyes weren't on the water. They were on him.

Heeseung was playing with his younger cousins, his laughter echoing through the salty air as he ran across the sand, chasing after them with an easy, boyish grin you had never seen before.

His usual cocky, indifferent mask was gone. No teasing smirks. No smug glances. No careless words designed to keep you at a distance.

You watched as he scooped up one of the kids, tossing them playfully over his shoulder while they shrieked in laughter. Heeseung's eyes crinkled at the corners, his shoulders shaking with amusement as he spun them around before dropping them gently back onto the sand.

He was so different.

This version of him—the one who smiled without arrogance, who laughed without restraint, who looked so effortlessly warm and real—was a version you had never been allowed to see before.

Then, as if feeling your stare, his gaze flicked up to meet yours.

Your breath caught.

His lips curled into a familiar smirk, the mask slipping back into place, and suddenly, he was walking toward you.

Your pulse spiked.

Oh, fuck no.

You scrambled to stand, to put distance between you before he could ruin you any further, but you had barely taken two steps when strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking you off the ground.

"Heeseung!" you shrieked, kicking your feet as he lifted you effortlessly, his grip firm.

He laughed, breath warm against your ear. "Where do you think you're going, huh?"

Your stomach twisted.

You should be mad—and you were—but the way he held you, the way he pressed his forehead against your temple as he spun you around, made something deep inside you crumble.

"Put me down, you asshole!" You squirmed, trying to sound pissed, trying to ignore the way your heart was slamming against your ribs.

But Heeseung only grinned, holding you tighter.

"Not a chance, baby."

As the days of your so-called vacation slipped by, you found yourself in Heeseung's bed, again, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting shadows across his face.

Both of you lay tangled in the sheets, talking, laughing—about nothing, about everything.

You stared at the ceiling, heart pounding a little too fast, stomach twisting a little too tight.

Was it casual for the both of you to stay up until 4 AM, talking shit about the people you hated, exchanging knowing glances as you made fun of your professors, the fake smiles of people you both barely tolerated?

Was it casual to hear him laugh—really laugh—not that cocky, arrogant chuckle, but something softer?

Was it casual that he traced lazy patterns on your bare thigh while he talked?

One second, you were talking. The next, his lips were on yours, hungry, as if he couldn't help himself.

What was supposed to be one last fuck before sleep turned into something more, something too much. The way he touched you was different tonight, his fingers coaxing sounds from you you didn't even recognize as your own. The way he fucked you was relentless, teasing, overwhelming, pushing you past your limits until you squirted—until you were too tired to move, too weak to even change the sheets.

So you stayed there. In the mess of it all.

The damp sheets clinging to your skin, the scent of sex still lingering in the air, the weight of him pressed against you.

His arms draped lazily around your waist, pulling you close. His head resting on your chest, his breath warm, steady, as he slept so soundly—like he didn't just ruin you all over again. Like this wasn't killing you inside.

You lay there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the way his fingers twitched in his sleep, the way his breathing hitched slightly before evening out again.

On the last day of your stay, the two of you sat at Heeseung's childhood hideout—a small, secluded clearing behind his house, nestled between overgrown trees and old memories he never talked about. The sky was dark, the moon barely peeking through the leaves, and the only sounds were the distant hum of cicadas and the soft crackle of burning cigarettes between your fingers.

Heeseung exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his head tilted back.

"I hate my father for always shouting," he muttered, his voice flat, detached.

You watched the cigarette between your fingers, tapping off the ash, not saying anything. Just listening.

"My mother always tolerated him. Always crying, always forcing a smile, pretending he didn't just spit the ugliest words at her."

You nodded, silent, because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?

"She wasn't any better, though." He let out a humorless chuckle, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. "I love her, but I can't fucking stand how she talks about everything I should be doing. Like I'm still some little kid who needs to be told how to live my life."

You took a drag, the bitter taste settling heavy on your tongue.

"That's why I'm not fond of visiting this place."

You hummed, watching the way his fingers twitched slightly as he took another drag, like this conversation was pulling things out of him he wasn't used to sharing.

"Your sister misses you, y'know." You finally spoke, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "She told me she kinda hates you for leaving her alone."

That made him pause. His lips parted slightly, brows furrowing, before he shook his head with a laugh, blowing out another cloud. "God, I forgot you two are close."

You smiled faintly. "We always talk on the phone. She said she found me through some Facebook post where your arms were around me. She probably assumed we were friends and added me. Then the first thing she messaged me was, 'Tell your ugly-ass boyfriend to text me, or I'm disowning him.'"

Heeseung let out a real laugh at that, shaking his head. "She actually called me an ugly dick once."

"She's not wrong." You snickered, inhaling the last of your cigarette before pulling it away. "Shit, that fast?" You huffed, flicking away the short remains.

"Come try mine."

Before you could react, Heeseung took one last drag, then leaned in, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers warm against your skin.

You froze as his face came closer, his lips parting slightly, and then—he exhaled.

The smoke passed between you, warm and heady, sinking into your lungs as your lips hovered inches from his.

His nose bumped yours, eyes dark and lidded, waiting.

Your mouth opened, your lips brushing against his, and then—he kissed you. Tilting his head, as he deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours, tasting of smoke.

As you broke the kiss, your fingers ghosted over his, plucking the cigarette from his grasp. You kept your eyes locked on his, refusing to look away.

You took a slow drag, letting the smoke settle in your lungs before exhaling, the faint haze lingering between you.

"I love you, Heeseung."

The words left your mouth like a gunshot.

His smile faltered.

"Not just love that wants to fuck." Your grip on the cigarette tightened. "I want to date you. Take me on a date. Buy me flowers. Be my boyfriend."

Heeseung just stared at you.

"Let's go back." No hesitation, no acknowledgment, like you hadn't just laid your heart out in front of him.

He stood up, grabbing your hand as if nothing had happened, pulling you up without meeting your eyes.

"Heeseung, I love you." Your voice was firmer now, but he walked faster, avoiding it, avoiding you.

Your stomach twisted. Your fingers curled around his wrist, trying to stop him from running away.

"Heeseung, I said I love you." You said it louder this time, forcing him to hear it, forcing him to acknowledge the words that hung between you like a curse.

Heeseung let out a sharp exhale, pushing the house door open.

His parents looked up as you both entered, his mother smiling sweetly.

"Oh, I was just about to cook your favorite—" she started.

"I'm gonna go shower," he cut her off, already heading toward the stairs.

"Okay, come down after," his mother replied, still warm, still gentle, still unaware of the way her son was running from you.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile at them before following him upstairs, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Heeseung entered his room without a word, shrugging off his jacket, then his shirt. You watched as he stripped without hesitation, his toned back flexing before he disappeared into the bathroom.

"Heeseung, say something." Your voice cracked,

He turned on the shower, stepping under the stream of water, not even looking at you as he finally spoke.

"I'm gonna take a bath. It's either you leave—" He finally turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours, voice dropping lower. "—or I'll be fucking you."

Your breath caught.

There it was.

The only thing he could offer you.

Your fingers trembled at your sides. The ache in your chest was unbearable, clawing at your ribs, threatening to break you apart.

You should leave. You should. You should turn around, walk out, let this be the moment you finally let him go.

Your vision blurred. You felt the hot sting of tears slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.

Fuck it.

Before you could think, before you could let the pain settle, you reached for the hem of your shirt, tearing it over your head. Then your shorts, your underwear—every piece of clothing stripped away, tossed carelessly onto the floor.

When you looked up, Heeseung was staring.

The steam from the shower curled around him, water sliding down his bare chest, dripping from his hair. His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of you.

You stepped forward, your skin meeting the warmth of the bathroom air, your bare feet silent against the tile. Heeseung didn't move, didn't pull away as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his.

His skin was hot, wet from the water, his breath shaky as your lips brushed against his.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers slipping into his damp hair as you tugged him down, your lips brushing over his—soft at first, then deeper, needier.

Your toes curled against the cool tile, your body tilting, stretching to reach him, but he was too fucking tall.

He let out a quiet chuckle at your struggle, hands sliding down to your waist, gripping tight as he adjusted, leaning lower to meet you, kissing you back.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his tongue tangled with yours, deep and slow, tasting of heat. Your body burned as his hands roamed freely.

His fingers slid up, trailing to your breasts, squeezing, kneading, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, arching against him.

Your hand slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his hardened cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly.

Heeseung groaned, his grip on your breast tightening for a moment before his head dropped against your shoulder, breath heavy, unsteady.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice wrecked, his hips twitching slightly into your touch.

Your lips curled, satisfied, pressing kisses along his jawline, teasing nips along his skin. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, the way his breathing hitched as you kissed your way lower, lower.

Until you were kneeling in front of him.

Face to face with his cock, thick and throbbing, precum already dripping from the flushed tip.

His hand curled into your hair, you look at him with your eyes before slowly putting his tip on your mouth. Then—slowly—you parted your lips, letting the flushed tip press against your tongue before taking him into your mouth.

Heeseung groaned, his grip tightening, his hips giving a slight, involuntary jerk forward as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper. The warm water from the shower dripped over both of you, rivulets sliding down his abs, over the flex of his thighs.

Your tongue dragged along his shaft, tracing every ridge, every vein, before pressing flat against the underside as you swallowed him further. His breath came out in a shudder, his jaw clenched as he watched you—watched the way your lips stretched around him, the way you let him slide deeper, let him use your mouth the way he wanted.

His hips began to move, slow at first, then rougher.

"Fuck—" He sucked in a sharp breath, his voice wrecked as you took all of him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You choked, eyes watering, but you didn’t pull away.

One of your hands slipped between your own legs, fingers pressing against your aching cunt, rubbing slow circles over your clit as you lost yourself in the mix of pain and pleasure.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered down, and the sight of you touching yourself while sucking his cock had his restraint snapping.

"Shit, you’re too good for me." His voice was nothing but a rough whisper, barely audible over the sound of the water hitting tile.

His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, forcing you to take all of him, tears spilling at the corners of your eyes. He stopped suddenly, backing away.

You gasped for air, lips swollen, throat raw. But before you could process the loss, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you to your feet.

Your back hit the cold, slippery wall as he spun you around, his chest pressing flush against you, trapping you there.

The heat between you was suffocating.

You moaned as his cock slid between your thighs, not inside you yet—just teasing, just rubbing against your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness. He moved slow, dragging himself along your entrance, letting you feel every inch before he pushed in.

You gasped, your nails scraping against the wet tile as he filled you completely, stretching you, stealing the air from your lungs. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you still as he buried himself inside you to the hilt.

"Fuck—" Heeseung panted against your shoulder, his breath hot, ragged, his body shuddering at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

He started slow—savoring it, dragging it out, rolling his hips in deep, deliberate strokes that had you clenching around him, your legs trembling.

His pace quickened, his thrusts growing harder, needier, the sound of skin against skin mixing with your ragged moans. Your knees buckled, your body going weak, but his arm wrapped around you before you could collapse, pulling you closer.

Then, without warning, he hooked one arm under your thigh, lifting your leg, changing the angle.

You cried out his name, your head falling back against his shoulder as he slammed into you deeper, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

"You sound so good moaning my name—fuck—but keep quiet for me, baby, hmm?" Heeseung whispered against your ear.

You tried—tried to muffle your moans, biting your lip so hard you nearly drew blood.

But when his hand slid up, fingers tweaking your nipple, and his other hand dipped lower to rub slow, cruel circles over your clit, you couldn’t hold back.

"C-close," you choked out, pressing your forehead against the wall, your body tightening around him. "Can I? Please, please—"

His fingers moved faster, his thrusts turning relentless, dragging you to the edge.

"Shh," he hushed, his free hand moving from your breast to cover your mouth, muffling the desperate sounds spilling from your lips.

Your orgasm ripped through you, your body trembling violently as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls fluttering around him as you came hard, legs shaking.

But Heeseung didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

He spun you around effortlessly, lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slammed you against the wall, thrusting up into you with reckless abandon.

You were whimpering, your body too sensitive, too raw—but the way his cock hit all the right spots had you falling apart all over again.

"Fuck, take it," Heeseung groaned, his grip on your hips bruising.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but feel.

Your hands slid into his wet hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands as you pushed it back, forcing yourself to look at him—really look at him.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, his lips parted as he moaned your name.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, forcing his gaze onto you.

So close. So yours.

Then, with a sharp gasp, his hips stuttered, his cock twitching deep inside you.

And as your walls tightened around him once more, dragging him over the edge, his mouth met yours in a desperate, messy kiss, swallowing each other’s moans as he spilled inside you.

His grip on you tightened, his thrusts faltering, his body shuddering as he rode out his high.

You stayed close for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling in sync.

Heeseung let out a soft exhale before slowly lowering your feet to the ground, his hands slipping from your body.

You blinked up at him, searching for something—anything—in his face. But he was already turning away, reaching for the soap, brushing his hands over his own body as if nothing had just happened.

A pang of disappointment settled deep in your chest.

Your thighs trembled, his release still dripping out of you, and without thinking, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. Holding onto him like he wouldn’t slip away.

But he froze.

And then—slowly, carefully, deliberately—he peeled your arms off of him.

Your throat tightened.

Heeseung didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at you. Instead, he grabbed the soap again, rubbing it between his palms before sliding his hands over your body—cleaning you.

You wanted to say something. Wanted to break through whatever invisible wall had gone up between you.

But the only sound was the running water, washing everything away.

That night, you sat beside Haneul at dinner, forcing a smile, forcing yourself to act normal even though everything inside you was crumbling.

Heeseung didn’t look at you. Instead, he shoveled rice into his mouth, nodding along as his parents talked.

You forced yourself to eat, each bite turning to sawdust in your mouth. Forced yourself to laugh at his father’s jokes. Forced yourself to swallow the bitterness burning in your throat.

And when it was time to leave, Haneul hugged you tightly, her shoulders shaking as she clung to you.

"I’m gonna miss you so much," she sniffled, pressing her face into your shoulder.

You hugged her back, blinking rapidly, trying not to cry too.

You felt so loved in this house—by everyone except the one person you wanted it from the most.

The train ride back was worse.

Heeseung sat beside you, but he never looked at you. Never spoke.

It was like you were nothing more than a stranger sitting next to him.

You swallowed the ache in your chest and slowly lifted your hand, brushing your fingers over his, searching for something—anything.

His eyes flickered down, annoyance flashing across his face as he pulled his hand away like your touch burned him.

You felt your stomach drop. You turned your head, staring out the window, your fingers curling into your lap as you fought the stupid tears stinging the back of your eyes.

But at least you confessed, right? At least you let your feelings slip through the cracks. As long as Heeseung kept coming back to you, it had to mean something.

Right?

The following days were harder.

Because you were the one who kept coming back.

You were the one who kept bothering him, knocking on his door late at night, spreading your legs for him just so he would let you stay.

You were the one whispering soft "I love yous" against his skin, hoping—praying—he’d say it back.

But he never did. And every time you tried to reach for him—tried to hold him, tried to kiss him just because, not just when he was fucking you—he would sigh, irritated, pulling away with that same tired look in his eyes.

"Go bother someone else."

But you still stayed. Because you told yourself that this was enough. That loving him, even like this, was enough. That if you gave him more time, if you loved him hard enough, he would eventually love you back.

But then—why did it feel so awful?

So fucking awful knowing that he was only good to you when he wanted something?

So fucking awful when you reached for him, only to be pushed away?

So fucking awful when he sighed every time you whispered "I love you," like you had ruined the moment?

You kept crying at night.

At first, it was quiet—silent tears soaking into your pillow, muffled sobs that you convinced yourself were just temporary. But the more the days stretched on, the worse it got. The exhaustion, the emptiness, the way everything felt so fucking heavy.

You were barely sleeping. Barely eating.

By the time you dragged yourself to class, you were nothing more than a walking corpse—a ghost of yourself, barely functioning, barely holding it together.

Julie and Natty tried to pull you out of it. They dragged you to cafés, talked about mindless things, gossiped about the latest drama, hoping it would distract you.

But nothing worked. Your mind was always somewhere else. On him.

And when that didn’t help, when you couldn’t sit still in a crowded café pretending you weren’t falling apart, you found yourself outside. Leaning against a streetlamp, standing in the corner of an alley, a cigarette dangling from your lips as you smoked, staring blankly at the city around you.

You had never been much of a smoker before. But now, it was routine. Now, it was something to do when you didn’t know what else to do.

Because Heeseung wasn’t in his dorm. Because Heeseung wasn’t texting you back.

You stared at your phone, debating whether or not to message him again—just one more time, just to see where he was, just to make sure he wasn’t with someone else.

But you already knew the answer. Sunghoon told you he had been partying. Of course, he was.

Drinking, dancing, probably fucking someone else—living his best fucking life while you were here, wasting away in your own misery.

You were miserable, weren’t you? Pathetic.

In love with a guy who never gave a shit about you, who only saw you as another body count—another name in his phone.

Fuck him.

"You need to get over this, babe," Julie said, dragging you into the mall, her fingers gripping your wrist like you might try to run.

"Stop acting like your whole life revolves around some asshole." Natty huffed, shoving a pile of clothes into your arms. "Try something new. Get a haircut. Get a piercing. Do something instead of moping around like this."

So you did.

You let them drag you from store to store, let them pick out outfits you barely looked at. You even sat through a piercing appointment, letting them stab metal into your skin—a new helix, a capital piercing, even one in your septum.

But none of it helped. Not really.

You still looked like someone who had stopped caring.

Your hair had grown wavier, messier, tangled from nights spent tossing and turning in a bed that still smelled like him. Your makeup was smudged from crying too much, sleeping too little.

And now—here you were. Sitting in a restroom stall, your fingers fumbling with another cigarette, the cold metal of your piercings pressing against your skin as you exhaled shakily, trying not to break down again.

But the tears came anyway.

You curled over yourself, palm covering your face, inhaling deep, shaky breaths as the nicotine burned down your throat. Why him? Why did you let yourself get so lost in someone who only reached for you when it was convenient?

Why did you still miss him—even now?

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to push the thoughts away—

"Okay, okay, I'll send you the links we need to order. Stop being stupid and listen to me! It’s a birthday party, okay? Not a damn Halloween—God."

Your head snapped up. A voice that is sharp and masculine.

Wait—

Did you just walk into the men’s restroom?

"Agh, what the fuck, it reeks of cigarettes in here."

Your stomach dropped.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to put out the cigarette as quickly as possible, waving away the lingering smoke. The last thing you needed was some random guy judging you for being an emotional wreck in the bathroom.

You waited. Listening.

When silence stretched, you assumed he was gone.

But the second you stepped out of the stall— You froze.

And so did he.

Standing at the sink, washing his hands, was a guy you had never seen before. His dark hair was down, strands still damp from the rain outside. His skin was pale, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. His nose was sharp, lips plump and pink, his hooded eyes watching you with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then, his gaze flickered to the restroom sign by the door.

Then back to you.

He grabbed a napkin, drying his hands before picking up his phone, ending the call mid-conversation.

"Are you a trans man?"

Your face burned.

"No!" You blurted out quickly, biting your lip in embarrassment. "I—I’m sorry, I thought this was the female restroom, and—uh—sorry about the smell."

The guy in front of you let out a small, amused hum, his lips twitching, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he dug through his bag, fingers searching for something until he finally pulled out a small candy, offering it to you with an outstretched palm.

"Here. Eat this."

You blinked, staring at him.

"Not judging or anything," he continued, shrugging, "but cigarettes smell disgusting in your mouth. What if there’s an emergency and you need to kiss someone?"

A small, breathless laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it.

"There’s no someone," you muttered, taking the candy from his hand. The moment it touched your tongue, the sharp sweetness cut through the bitter taste of nicotine.

The guy tilted his head, watching you with a slight smirk before rummaging through his bag again. A second later, he held out a small travel-sized bottle.

"You need perfume?"

You frowned. "Do I smell that bad?"

"Hey, I’m just offering," he said, grinning.

You sighed but took it anyway, spraying a little on your wrist before rubbing it against your neck. The light, citrusy scent replaced the stale stench of smoke.

Both of you walked out of the restroom together, passing by an older man who had been about to step inside. The second he saw you, his eyes widened in horror, and he muttered something under his breath while making the sign of the cross.

"God forgive these teens," the old man whispered, shaking his head as he entered the restroom.

The guy beside you rolled his eyes. "Drama queen."

You laughed, and he turned his head slightly, studying your face.

"See you later," he muttered before walking away, but then he hesitated for just a second, throwing a look over his shoulder. "Oh, and don’t smoke."

Soon enough, you were right back where you always were.

In his dorm. In his bed. In his arms, like nothing had changed.

The second you saw Heeseung, you collapsed onto his bed, clinging to him, hugging him tight like you hadn’t been falling apart for the past few days.

"Where have you been?" you asked, burying your face into his chest.

You felt his body shift slightly as he looked down at you, eyes scanning your face.

"What happened to you?" His voice was unreadable.

His gaze flickered to the piercings on your ears, your new septum, the slight dark circles beneath your eyes that no amount of concealer could fully hide.

Suddenly, you felt exposed.

"O-oh," you stammered, reaching up to tug at your hair. "I got piercings… out of boredom. Do they look good?"

Then, Heeseung’s eyes dropped back to his phone, completely ignoring your question.

The air shifted. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to swallow it down.

So, instead, you talked. Told him about the past few days, about nothing and everything, about all the things you wished he had cared enough to ask.

And just like always—it ended the same way.

Him, thrusting into you like he needed you to break.

Your nails, clawing at his back like you needed to hold on.

Your legs, wrapped around his waist like you were scared he would disappear if you let go.

Your body, begging for something your heart already knew you would never have.

"I love you," you whispered into his ear, voice trembling, breath shaky.

Heeseung’s movements slowed for half a second.

You held onto that second like it meant something.

"You know it’s not just casual for me," you whispered again, pressing your lips to his shoulder, desperate for him to understand. "I feel it. I know you do too."

And then—he slipped his hand away from your body. The loss of warmth was instant, suffocating, unbearable.

"Fuck, here we go again," Heeseung muttered under his breath, exhaling sharply.

You swallowed, suddenly cold, suddenly empty.

"Did you really not feel anything?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. "How do you keep coming back if it’s nothing?"

He ran a hand over his face, groaning in frustration.

"God, because your pussy is good!" His voice snapped, sharp and cruel, piercing straight through you. "You’re being so fucking clingy, it’s pathetic! I don’t want a fucking romantic relationship with you! I just want to fuck! How long are you gonna make me repeat that?!"

"What about the times we cuddle?" Your voice cracked. "The way you take care of me after? You even invited me to meet your family! Was that all just—casual? Just fucking?! How long are you going to deny this?!"

Heeseung’s eyes flashed.

"Deny?!" He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Do you think any of that was special? I was just treating you with basic fucking human decency! Stop being so fucking delusional!"

The words hit harder than a slap. This was dumb love. This was pathetic love.

This was you, being fucking stupid.

Because even after all this, even after every horrible thing he had just said—you still loved him.

And he still treated you the same.

"Fuck, I miss those days that you were feisty and wild, not this annoying bitch who cry about everything."

Your vision blurred. You barely felt yourself move as you ripped yourself from his bed, scrambling to collect your clothes, your hands shaking so violently you could barely pull your shirt over your head.

You just needed to leave. Needed to breathe.

By the time you reached the door, your entire body was numb.

The only sound was the sharp echo of your footsteps against the floor as you stormed out of his dorm, not daring to look back.

Sunghoon was in the kitchen when you passed, leaning against the counter, a drink in his hand. His head lifted slightly at the sight of you—disheveled, eyes red, breathing uneven.

You ran. Ran until your lungs burned, until the cold air stung your skin, until the only thing you could hear was the echo of your own footsteps against the empty streets.

And then you screamed. Loud. Raw.

Kicking a nearby trash can with all your strength, watching as it toppled over, spilling its contents onto the pavement.

You wanted to rip yourself apart. Wanted to tear out the part of you that still loved him.

By the time you stumbled into a small convenience store, your body was trembling—anger, exhaustion, heartbreak—it all blurred into one.

You didn’t even look at the shelves. Your hands reached straight for the pack of cigarettes, slamming it onto the counter.

"Not getting anything else, ma’am?"

The voice made you freeze. Your gaze lifted, meeting a pair of soft, knowing eyes behind the register.

Oh.

The same guy from before. The one who had given you candy in the restroom.

Your eyes flickered to his name tag.

Sunoo.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle, careful, like he could see right through you.

You swallowed, your throat dry. "You told me not to smoke, but here I am buying." You forced a smile, but it felt fake, hollow—like you were trying to convince yourself that you weren’t falling apart.

Sunoo didn’t look judgmental. He just tilted his head slightly, watching you.

"It’s okay." He shrugged. "It’s not healthy, but if that’s what you need to cope, then let yourself be. I just said that before because, well… I don’t think smoking is good for you."

You let out a small breath, setting the pack aside. "Well, what do you suggest?"

Sunoo hummed, tapping his chin in thought. "Maybe cutting your hair? Adding another piercing? Listening to music, crocheting, doing your makeup, reading books, watching movies—there’s a lot you could do instead."

You blinked.

"You really think cutting my hair is gonna fix this mess?" You gestured vaguely at yourself.

"No," he said, grinning. "But it’s a start."

You laughed. It was small. Short. You reached for a pack of bubble gum instead, placing it on the counter. "I’ll take note of that. Just punch this in instead."

Sunoo smiled, ringing up your item. "I’m Sunoo, by the way. If you ever need someone to talk to, I can give you my number."

You hesitated. And then—you pulled out your phone. Because God knows you needed it.

Turns out, Sunoo was one year younger than you—a sophomore at your university, but an irregular student, which explained why you had never crossed paths before.

And somehow, in the span of a few weeks, he became the one person you could be completely honest with. You told him everything. Everything about Heeseung.

How you loved him stupidly, blindly, recklessly. How he used you, broke you, ignored you—but you still kept coming back.

Sunoo never judged. Never told you you were dumb for loving the wrong person. He just listened. And when you cried, he let you.

Sometimes, he would visit your dorm just to sit with you, listening as you let it all out.

You tried not to feel guilty about dumping all your burdens on him, but every time you apologized, he just waved you off.

"It’s fine," he said, "I’d rather listen than see you destroy yourself over someone who doesn’t deserve you."

And maybe that’s what finally pushed you forward. What finally gave you the courage to do what you should’ve done a long time ago.

You blocked Heeseung’s number.

At first, it made your chest feel tight, like you had just slammed a door shut on something that had been part of you for too long.

But as the days passed, the feeling of relief started to outweigh the ache.

You even made a bigger decision.

You moved. Packed up your things and transferred to a new dorm—closer to Sunoo, further from Heeseung.

When you told Natty, she cried, whining dramatically about how you were replacing her.

But deep down, she understood. She understood that if you stayed, if you kept yourself in the same routine, the same dorm, the same hallways that led you back to him, you’d never really escape.

So she helped you pack, helped you move, hugged you so tightly before you left, whispering, "You deserve better."

You changed. Not overnight. Not all at once.

But slowly, little by little, you found yourself again.

The clothes you used to think weren’t your style? You started to love them.

Sunoo helped you with your hair, trimming it, dyeing it a new color every week just because you could.

"New hair, new era," he declared, dragging you into the bathroom with a towel around your shoulders. "We’re bleaching this shit."

You let him. Because why the fuck not? It was just hair. It would grow back, just like you would.

You started going out more. Not to drown yourself in cigarettes or alcohol, not to forget, but to exist again.

You filled your days with movies, books, stupid little hobbies that made you feel something.

And little by little—you learned how to breathe again.

"Are you ready?"

"No."

"Too late, babe."

Sunoo laughed, gripping your hand as you sat in the piercing studio, white-knuckled and nervous as hell.

"I swear to God, if I pass out, you better not record me."

"Mmm… no promises." He smirked, already holding up his phone, camera locked on you.

You groaned, gripping his hand like you were giving birth as the piercer prepped the needle.

Your heart pounded. You had watched so many videos of girls fainting from navel piercings. It was supposed to hurt like hell, right?

"Okay, deep breath in," the piercer said.

You inhaled. And then you felt the pain, the sharp stabbing pain.

"FUCK, IT HURTS!" You screamed, throwing your head against Sunoo’s chest.

He cackled, arms wrapping around you dramatically, rocking you back and forth. "You’re doing amazing, sweetie."

His other hand? Filming.

The needle went through. Your stomach tightened.

The world spun around you and just like that, you fainted.

When you woke up, the first thing you heard was Sunoo’s wheezing laughter.

"Dude." He was crying, clutching his stomach, shoving his phone in your face. "I got the whole thing. You looked like you died for a second."

You groaned, pushing him away, only to catch sight of your new silver barbell piercing your navel.

…Holy shit.

You sat up, poking at it carefully. "Fuck, that was traumatic," you muttered.

"But look at you now," Sunoo grinned, helping you stand. "A hot, bad bitch. I mean, you already were, but now you’ve got a belly ring to prove it."

You rolled your eyes. "This better not get infected, or I’m haunting your ass."

Sunoo winked, linking his arm through yours. "Worth it, babe."

People stared. Everywhere you and Sunoo went, heads turned.

And who could blame them?

Sunoo? A walking crayon, decked out in loud colors, funky sunglasses, and accessories layered on top of accessories.

And then there was you. A full-on emo resurrection—black on black on black, nails painted, piercings gleaming, boots stomping against the pavement.

The two of you together?

You looked like complete opposites, but somehow, it worked. Sunoo owned the rainbow, and you owned the night.

"People are staring." You whispered as another group of girls side-eyed you both, whispering amongst themselves.

"Good." Sunoo grinned. "Let them stare. They wish they were us."

Healing cost a lot. Like, a lot. You hadn’t realized how expensive self-care actually was.

But fuck, it felt good. Manicures. Hair dye. Jewelry. Perfume. Clothes you never thought you’d wear.

You spent shamelessly, like you were trying to buy yourself back, piece by piece.

And maybe you were.

Because with every little change, every small act of putting yourself first, you started feeling lighter.

The wind tugged at your short bangs as you sat on the bench, silver headphones snug over your ears, blocking out the world.

Your fingers moved over your notebook, writing something important—or maybe not important at all—but either way, it kept your hands busy. Kept your mind quiet.

"Holy shit."

The words were barely a whisper, but the sound of your name following after made your stomach drop. Your brow furrowed, fingers tensing against the page. With a sigh, you slid your headphones to the side, glancing up.

And that’s when you saw them.

Sunghoon. Jake. Some other guy you didn’t care about.

And behind them, standing slightly apart—

Heeseung.

Your throat went dry.

"Is that you?! Holy fuck." Sunghoon gasped, eyes wide, his gaze flickering over your appearance like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

You swallowed, feeling uncomfortably exposed under their stares.

"Long time no see," Jake chimed in, taking a seat beside you without invitation. "You’re not attending parties anymore."

"You look quite different," he added, voice slow, dragging his gaze over you—your ears, your nose, your shirt—lingering a little too long on the details.

"She became an emo, bro!" One of them laughed, the word emo rolling off their tongue like an insult.

"Yeah, but she looks totally hot." Jake grinned, elbowing Sunghoon with a chuckle.

You clenched your jaw. The way they were talking about you like you weren’t even here.

The way his eyes hadn’t left you since the moment you looked up.

You hadn’t looked at him once. But you felt him.

"You moved dorms."

You finally looked at him. And regretted it immediately.

Heeseung stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, staring straight at you.

His gaze was intense, his jaw was tight, his eyes dark, scanning you in a way that made something deep in your chest twist. Fuck this.

You pulled your headphones back on, drowning him out as you started shoving your things into your bag.

"Man, she’s back to being feisty. Heeseung’s gonna like her again."

The words were casual, amused, careless, but they made your blood fucking boil. Like you were some challenge. Some toy for Heeseung to get bored of, then chase again once you pulled away.

Fuck them for thinking you’d ever let yourself go through that again. Your movements were quick as you snapped your notebook shut, yanking your bag over your shoulder.

You stood up. Didn’t look at them. Didn’t say anything. You just turned on your heel, ready to leave.

But before you could take a step, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

"Why the fuck did you move dorm? Why the fuck did you block me?"

His voice was tinged with anger and frustration.

You ripped your arm away, glaring at him like his touch had burned you. Heeseung felt his chest tighten at the way you looked at him.

"Our last conversation answered that." You huffed, slinging your bag over your shoulder, walking away without looking back.

But of course, he followed. Ignoring the way his friends laughed behind him.

"Playing hard to get." One of them snickered. You didn’t even hesitate—you turned, raised your middle finger, and kept walking.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened.

"Fuck, that alone made you switch dorms?" His voice was sharper now, almost accusing. "Where are you staying? Why didn’t you tell me?"

You snapped.

"I don’t want any fucking contact with you anymore, Heeseung. Go to hell."

His steps faltered, eyes flickering across your face.

You had never talked to him like this before. Not when he ignored you. Not when he ghosted you. Not even when he broke you.

His fingers twitched.

Then—he moved faster.

Easily catching up, stepping in front of you, blocking your way.

"You told me you loved me, and now you’re acting like this?" You scoffed.

"And you have the fucking audacity to throw that in my face—when all you ever did was make me feel like shit?" Your laugh was bitter, broken, a sharp edge of something cruel underneath it.

"Yeah, Heeseung. I loved you." You spat the words like they disgusted you. His chest tightened.

"I loved you—so fucking much. Even when you treated me like I was nothing. Even when you acted like I didn’t exist until you were hard and lonely."

His lips parted. But you weren’t done.

"But I’m done. I’m fucking tired of this casual bullshit. I’m tired of pretending like this didn’t fucking break me. I don’t want you, I don’t need you, so do us both a favor—leave me the fuck alone and go find some other pussy to bury your dick in."

The words hit Heeseung like a gut punch, knocking the breath from his lungs before he could even process them. But the sting of your voice—sharp, raw, final—was nothing compared to what you did next.

You spat at his face.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

The warm, wet impact landed just below his cheekbone, sliding down his jaw, and Heeseung stood there, frozen in place, feeling the slow, humiliating trickle of it. It should’ve pissed him off. He should’ve been angry, should’ve sneered at you, should’ve thrown some cruel words back in your face just to get the last hit in.

But he couldn’t.

Because you didn’t stay long enough to see him break. Didn’t look back to see the way his entire world fucking shifted.

Didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, didn’t do any of the things he was used to. No regret, no second guessing, no lingering in the space between leaving and staying—just walking away.

That’s when he saw another man.

Heeseung watched, breath stuck in his throat, as the man approached you, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, like it was natural, like he had been doing it all along. Then, before Heeseung could even begin to comprehend what was happening, the man pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours. Right in front of him.

Heeseung’s stomach twisted into a tight, ugly knot. His vision blurred at the edges, not from tears, fuck that, but from something far worse—a feeling he didn’t want to name. His hands clenched at his sides, nails pressing deep into his palms as he tried, really fucking tried, to convince himself that he didn’t care.

And what made it worse—what made his entire body fucking ache—was the way you let that man touch you, let him kiss you, let him hold you.

Like you weren’t thinking about Heeseung at all.

You looked happy.

Not forced. Not pretending. Not putting on some fake smile to get through the moment. Genuinely happy. Like you had been set free. Like the months you spent wrapped up in his sheets, tangled in his arms, breaking apart at his hands had been nothing more than a phase—a mistake you had already wiped clean from your memory.

Sunoo turned slightly, just enough for his gaze to land on Heeseung.

The look in his eyes wasn’t smug. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t the expression of a man who had stolen something from someone else.

Heeseung hated him for it.

His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, but he forced his body to stay still, forced himself not to move, not to react, not to pull you away like he so desperately wanted to. He had no fucking right to do that. You had made your choice, and for the first time in his entire life, Heeseung was the one being left behind.

This wasn’t some game anymore.

This wasn’t like all the times before, when you would tell him you were done, but then come crawling back the second he called. This wasn’t like the fights in his dorm, when you would cry and yell and break your own fucking heart, only to kiss him breathless later that night.

This was real. You had actually left.

And the worst part was, you weren’t hurting.

You weren’t looking over your shoulder, weren’t hesitating at the door, weren’t giving him a single chance to fix this. You were just gone.

And Heeseung had never felt so fucking lost. He told himself it didn’t matter.

You were just another girl.

He could go out tomorrow, find someone new, wipe you from his body the same way he had done with every other girl before you. This was nothing. You were nothing.

Then why—

Why the fuck did his chest feel so tight?

Why did he feel like he had just been ripped open from the inside out?

He lifted a hand to wipe his face, expecting to feel the lingering wetness from where you had spit on him, but instead—he felt something else.

A single tear, slipping down his cheek.

He let out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head at the memory—at all the things he told you, the rules he set, the lines he swore he’d never cross.

Was it ever really casual?

perm taglist: @won4me @ikaw-at-ikaw, @kristynaaah, @fancypeacepersona @tunafishyfishylike @vvenusoncasual

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #heeseung angst #heeseung smut #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung angst

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hoonieangel · 24 days ago

Text

so so good 😽😽😽

room(hate) | L.JN (M) — part II

SYNOPSIS: all you wanted was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital. All you needed was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital, but even that was considered a luxury in these trying times. A luxury blatantly stolen by your roommate, Jeno Lee, who seemed to have an endless line of bodies to fuck preventing you from getting at least an hour of shut eye. It was annoying. It was disrupting and you seriously hoped that Jeno's dick falls off one day.

PART I | PART II (you are here)

[AO3 link]

GENRE: roommate au, non-idol au, slice of life-ish, unrequited hate, roommates with benefits, domesticity, porn with plot, fluff, comedy, crack treated seriously.

WORD COUNT: 31.1K out of 50K

NOTE: ever love someone so much that you pumped out a 50K long two-parter fic? yeah me neither LMAO anyways… this has been a loooong long time coming and I’m just really glad I’ve seen through the end of this fic that has been in the works for more than a year now? My sincerest thanks goes to those who have been patiently waiting bc I wasn’t patient and wanted to finish this so bad but life had suddenly gotten in the way that it took so much of my time 😭 anywho, you might want to grab a snack and/or drink bc this one is loooong long! Lemme know what you think <3 likes and reblogs are much appreciated !

If you're tuning in from part I of room(hate), the long awaited continuation is here! And if you're new and seeing this, I highly suggest jumping to part I to have more context! It's a great read, entertaining even, I promise 🤞🏼

CONTENT WARNINGS: egregious use of the em dash and the comma, pregnancy mentioned (but no one is pregnant lol), feelings realization. sooo so much feelings it’s kinda dramatic really. Miscommunication (haha-funny kind). Jeno being the sweetest guy it’ll give you cavities I think. Idiot being idiots but they’re in love, so. [smut warnings underneath the cut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

SMUT WARNINGS: (some of the sex scenes aren't as graphic btw) car sex, mild exhibitionism, Jeno has a thing for glasses, face-fucking, couch sex, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex (PLEASE practice safe-sex unlike these two), MC cries during sex at some point (overwhelmed).

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken." — The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis

"There are times when my longing for you overwhelms me, so often I can think of you only with teeth clenched." — Franz Kafka

"I look out the window longingly. I was never this type. All along, I had it together" ... "It's annoying. Barely had any sleep but. Just pretending to be strong" — Crazy by Jinnie.

IV.

“Call it what you want it, darling.”

You were operating under a time crunch, but God forbid you’d pass this up.

“What happened to sex being a one-time thing?”

“Really? You say this now after the many times we’ve fucked so far?”

Jeno wrinkled his nose. “Could you be less crass?”

You rolled your eyes, held his face and kissed him, barely giving him any time to adjust the driver’s seat.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but when you were cursed with the knowledge of having what was essentially the human form of sexual relief residing just across your room—yeah, one could already tell where this was going.

Likewise, Jeno was just as willing as you were in seeking out for any form of release which really didn’t help your case at all. There were a handful of alternatives out there, let’s say, Pilates, when taking into consideration the numerous benefits your roommate had achieved from the consistent gym visits to dead-lift double (maybe even triple?) his body weight. But was it really worth the couple bucks you’d be spending—much less the extra energy and travel time—if you signed up for classes when you could get the same results from getting railed until you forgot what set you off at work?

Probably not.

Definitely not.

Fool you once, shame on him. Fool you twice, shame on you. Fool you thrice… well, you weren't a stranger to being shamed for the bad decisions you’ve made thus far. Fucking around with the same guy your complaints revolved around was a different ballpark, however, and the thought should have humbled you. Stopped you, even.

Really, it should have.

Though it became crystal clear that your intentions made a gradual shift when ‘this is the last time I’m letting you fuck me’ had gotten demoted to merely a thing you’d say to cancel out your conscious choice of falling into Jeno’s arms again. Defending yourself was as useless as a broken umbrella doing fuck all but shield you from the pelts of rain, and it was especially useless when getting pelted by Jeno’s thick load was just another Tuesday for you.

There was no point in it now when you’re about to ride the guy in his own car parked in the most secluded part of the hospital’s parking lot.

“Fuck,” you hissed, lowering yourself onto his cock. “You’re too fucking big, I swear. Dick so big and for what?” you said like it was the biggest inconvenience you’ve ever encountered in your life.

“You say this every time,” Jeno laughed, breathless, and pleased by the looks of it before his face scrunched up the moment the meat of your ass pressed down onto his thighs, moaning quietly at the tight squeeze of your pussy. “Shouldn’t—shouldn’t you be used to it by now?��

With his obscenely large size? It’s a miracle you hadn’t split into two through a fucked mitosis process, actually. “Do you really want an anatomy lesson until you go soft?” you ground out. “Or would you rather get fucked before I clock into work?”

“Mm, I think you know what I want.”

He was looking up at you with a deceptively sweet smile. Leering, if anything, with pupils blown out so wide that they were as dark as the cup of coffee that waited for you every morning without fail.

Jeno’s eyes were one thing. Usually soft and contrasting the hard angles that make up the handsome face haunting both your dreams and more so your reality. There were no traces of the gentleness you were acquainted with as his heavy gaze raked over you, trying to peel away the soft cotton covering your skin with it alone. The mean grip he had on your hips was enough to tell you how badly he wanted this.

And you knew it was bad when you were actually looking forward to whatever Jeno’s cooking up in the more depraved parts of his brain.

A creature of habit is what you were. Staying true to a routine you’ve aged with was what you preferred, and sticking close to what you knew had less consequences to deal with in the long run. Change to you had always been a daunting idea right from when you moved to this city for your father’s job at the tender age of six and up until you shared a living space with anyone that wasn’t Mark Lee. So it really came as a shock that adapting to this arrangement with Jeno had been quick and painless.

Then again, you supposed the benefits greatly outweighed the very grievance of it being with Jeno helped. Shutting him up has been the easiest it’s ever been, for example, especially when you took the reins. Sometimes.

“That was our best one yet, don’t you think?” Jeno said once both of you recovered enough brain cells to hold an actual conversation. Unsurprisingly, he fared better than you did, insane stamina and all, though the second you picked up the barest smugness leaking from what Jeno probably thought was an unassuming sentence, you sobered up in record speed and almost smashed your skulls together when sitting up straight to scowl.

“Is it because we’re in your car? ‘That enough to stroke your ego?”

Jeno raised a manicured eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one who jumped me?”

Well, yes, but being reminded of your oversight was so unnecessary.

“Get out of me,” you took a deep breath and let it out, “right now.”

Although he pulled out without any follow up witticism, you did clock the satisfied stretch of his lips, Jeno chuckling when you gave his arm a light swat. You tried not to react much towards the emptiness as he carefully removed the filled condom, tied it up and threw it into the small waste bin stuck in the driver’s side’s door pocket. Cleaning the interior of his car sounded like a great bonding activity.

Just like how the joint effort of cleaning each other up in silence was. Wet wipes swiping here and there, you even made Jeno swear up and down that no marks were left on visible places, but it’s whatever. With how things were lined up today, everyone will be too busy with their own agenda instead of debating whether or not one of you got some that morning.

That’s what you hoped for at least. You never knew with your coworkers, honestly. They were like vultures when it came to gossip, so you’ll have to rely on your few lucky stars that they won't smell it on you.

Then again, would it really be that big of a deal? People changed their minds—like, all the time, and it wasn’t like treason was being committed canoodling with the person you had once hailed as the villain of your story. Sex was simply another thing added to normalcy, going at it like horny teenagers on nights where you should have been catching up on sleep. Which was like, most nights—if you had to be truthful—that condoms had to be strictly implemented despite your consistent ingestion of birth control. Anything to prevent unwanted miracles.

(Jeno’s hand that held the whiteboard eraser immediately shot out to shamelessly erase the word ‘condoms’ from the grocery staples list.

“I may be a slut, but I take safety very seriously,” Jeno insisted, pouting when you still wouldn’t budge, hip checking him to re-write ‘condoms’. “I get tested, like, every week. I’m as clean as a celibate!”

“Hearing ‘celibate’ coming out of your mouth just sounds so wrong.” But you’d still give him his flowers for exercising caution for both his and your health. You smacked his hand away. Half for another attempt at erasing the word ‘condoms’ and half for reminding you of his wide pool of sexual partners. “We’re still stocking up on condoms.”

‘Lube’ was also scrawled underneath. Better safe than sorry and you would like to avoid any sexual mishaps if you could).

Jeno never asked questions. Never became a point of conversation when you had unanimously claimed one side of his bed for yourself. When it was where you ended up on a frequent basis, you supposed it was way past being questioned, but accepted, that you were beginning to forget what your own bedroom looked like besides your closet and desk. Like the more you veered away from the comfort of your own room, the more you got to find out just what made Jeno tick and how much of a freak he actually was.

You’ve come to find out that prescription glasses in particular could rile him up. Tried and tested by accident.

When you had taken your attention away from your iPad and honed it towards the direction of Jeno's sharp intake of breath, you found him staring at you from where he stood underneath the awning, pink-cheeked and mouth slightly agape with his windbreaker half-way off. A disheveled version of him; a frequent result of coming back from a two to three-hour long gym session, minus the blatant ogling. Seriously, why was he looking at you like that?

You tilted your head in question, eye-glasses sliding down your nose. Jeno made a wounded noise and stumbled his way closer, almost tripping over his discarded shoes.

You narrowed your eyes at the urgency in his movements. “…what is it?”

“Glasses,” Jeno said in a way like it was punched out of him, “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Oh, these?” Your knuckle pushed them back up into place and for some reason, this caused Jeno to bump into the side table with an aborted curse. “Probably because I don’t wear them often? I wear contacts, but they get uncomfortable for a while. I could get my eyes fixed with LASIK—or something else invasive, but I have this irrational fear of getting it so… I’m stuck with these.” You explained, ending it on a coy note as you fluttered your eyelashes for shits and giggles then followed up with: “I think I look cute. Don’t you think so?”

Oh, Jeno for sure thought so. More than he should, actually, or else he wouldn’t have ended up jerking off right in front of your face. On top of you, rather.

They were the very last thing you’d think would grant you an exclusive straight out of a porno, but this was Jeno. A kink that involved you wearing glasses was probably just the tip of the iceberg concerning Jeno’s lore, and that wasn’t to say that the absolute desperation to make himself cum was any less hot. To add on that sentiment, you have never expected being used—somewhat—would be this enticing either.

Or maybe it was just Jeno and the way he made everything he did ten times more appealing for what it actually was. As one does when you’re that hot, unfortunately.

Either way, Jeno managed to tote around this artful carefulness with him even in this unhingedly horny and desperate state, making sure you were comfortable and that he wasn’t crushing you with his weight. He sat on his haunches, muscular thighs on either side of your torso to keep himself upright while tugging on his cock. And to further solidify the perfect picture of desperation he posed for, he had his dri-fit shirt rucked up high enough to sit under his armpits while biting down onto the bottom hem, tampering down most of the noises he made and exposing the milky, dewy flushed skin.

That quickly became useless the moment you thought to help him out a little; nails lightly scratching down the outrageous rack of abs just to feel him twitch underneath the pads of your fingers. The whine that followed was add bonus. Flicking your tongue against the underside of his cockhead to hear his guttural moan and letting the cloth fall from his wet mouth, his legs squeezing you until the shallow rutting of his cock in and out of the heat past your parted lips made him cum. Some of it pooling onto your tongue and the rest of it lewdly marking your face in white.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “you got cum on my glasses.”

“‘M sorry,” Jeno murmured, hastily reaching for the box of tissues. It was easier to breathe, now that he was off your chest and in between your thighs. Jeno in general made it hard to breathe sometimes, but he also knew how to ease you from it. “Sorry. I’ll clean them for you.”

You hummed your appreciation, one hand running through his hair that’s due for a cut soon and smiling when Jeno pushed himself higher to kiss you. Like he couldn’t help himself with how urgent it felt that you could taste the salty muskiness of his release, your tongue sliding against his.

The thought of getting off yourself was forgotten in the midst of the torrid kissing you were subjected to, completely content with being smothered by Jeno until he offered. Wanting to return the favor, and that’s another thing you’ve come to find out about him. Jeno liked giving more than the average male would. A giver and always eager to please. At least that’s what you thought, or it was simply a Jeno-exclusive thing.

Then again, were you really going to complain when that’s all Jeno wanted to do?

Evident in the way he clambered over you, pushing you into the plush confines of the couch that had seen way too many things to the point you had conned Jeno into getting it steamed cleaned at his expense. Thick fingers worked their magic, sinking deep into your sopping cunt, the squelching sounds becoming nastier than the last as Jeno swallowed every noise you made with each kiss.

“You’re crazy,” you said, breathless and staring in wonder when Jeno seemed just as blissed out as you felt, your thumb gently swiping over his lips. You were so deep in the troughs of post-orgasmic bliss that you didn’t have the heart to push him off of you. “Insane.”

Jeno laughed, soft and sweet, his eyes turning into gentle crescent moons, pressing a kiss to the pad of your thumb. “Thirty percent crazy to your seventy percent. Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He kissed you again. “You make me crazy.”

That’s fair. You were aware of your own bouts of insanity when in a rush and you supposed the frantic pitter-pat of your heart was one of the handful of quirks that came with it.

“...right?”

You blinked back into present time, finding yourself still perched on his lap, but a lot more decent compared to when you were getting your morning fill of everything Jeno and completely missing what he just said.

“Say that again?”

Jeno’s pout didn’t last for long—though long enough that you fought the urge to coo—gazing up at you with big, almost wet eyes.

“This,” he stressed, gesturing half-heartedly between you, “It’s good, right?”

The sex? Well, yes, though ‘good’ was severely underselling it. Jeno knew that. You knew that. What you didn’t know was why he was bringing up the unspoken arrangement you decidedly have now and questioning whether it was adequate or not.

“Good as in..?” you trailed off, leaving an open for him to latch on and speak.

Jeno's lips flattened into a thin line with his gaze straying to the side.

You let out a puff of breath. Cute. “C’mon, Jen,” you said almost in a crooning manner, tipping his chin up with a brush of your fingers so he would look at you. “Work with me here.”

“Good as in—I wouldn’t mind if we become exclusive,” Jeno said, shy and making an effort to keep the eye-contact, but as soon as the pink dusted the tips of his ears, the faded graphic on your T-shirt became the most interesting thing to him.

Exclusive fuck buddies? Not a terrible proposition, you might say, and it wasn’t like you had people lined up like he did, so that left you with very limited options. Option being limited to the lone man acting as your seat and currently trying his very best to not look too eager while you internally weighed your options.

One less thing to be dealt with if you’d say ‘yes’ would be the loud noises that had disturbed your night. Instead, the noises would be coming from both you and Jeno which was already the reality anyway as he hadn’t brought anyone home for a while now. Why would he when he had you? So the answer was pretty obvious, you told him, which granted you an oddly ecstatic Jeno; capturing your lips in a quick but searing kiss the moment you made your decision explicit before you rushed out of the car when you caught sight of the time on your smart watch.

The TL;DR version of it was, ever since the coffee table incident, things have been relatively smooth sailing. It’s been an easy ride with Jeno. The roommate thing, sex and even more sex.

It had gotten to the point where your peers could tell that something was up, too.

Nothing too drastic to write home about. At least that was what you thought as the change was evident enough to some, where passing comments—mostly directed towards how you appeared more well-rested than what they were used to seeing—also took a slot in what to expect from days to come post getting dicked down by your roommate. How your mood had drastically improved that smiling had been at its easiest no matter the grueling working conditions, which was completely mutually exclusive to you sleeping like a baby, by the way.

That’s what you liked to tell yourself. You know, like the awful liar you were.

“You’re also glowing,” Yizhuo added more to the pile of observations while flipping through a chart, then froze to stare at you in alarm. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“No. I am not with child—don’t you have to play nurse elsewhere?”

She scanned the chart with a hum. “Not until one-thirty.”

“No need to be defensive. We all know having children is the last thing on your mind right now,” Renjun chuckled, slowly spinning on an office chair he had claimed for the day. He stopped, narrowing his eyes towards your direction in appraisal and a smidge teasing. “But for real though, you’re looking good lately. Less tense, Less stressed—no gray hair in sight—and like Yizhuo said, glowing.” He shrugged. “It’s just nice to see our headstrong nurse finally living her life outside of the hospital.”

You winced. “You make it sound like I’m a workaholic.”

“Who says you aren’t?” Renjun smiled sweetly—disarmingly, because he knew the advantage of having a pretty face. You’re less likely to get pissed off with what left his mouth whenever he did that. “What’s changed?”

You lift a shoulder to shrug. “I dunno. I’m getting laid on the regular—yeah, surprising. I know—I’ve been catching up on sleep. Life’s… good right now.”

As good as it could be, and it’s more than you could ask for, really.

“You’re ‘getting laid on the regular’?” A new voice chimed in. “I just saw pigs fly.”

Renjun threw his head back from a belly-deep laugh as a vein pulsed on your temple.

“Can I have one day—one day—without you pissing me off?”

“No can do.” There was a smile on the newcomer's face. A smile equal parts charming and grating as the current bane of your existence sauntered over with the edge of his clipboard resting on one of his broad shoulders. “So who’s the poor piece of meat stuck with you until you spit ‘em out?”

That caught your coworkers’ attention again.

“Is it someone we know?” Yizhuo pushed, with Renjun honing in as both leaned in closer, expectant.

Eh… kind of? Jeno had been an on-and-off issue you had whinged about when someone cared enough to listen. There’s this distant image of him you’ve placed in their heads that would, for the most part, make it easier for them to sympathize why his promiscuous nature was such a problem for you. And they did, considering it wasn’t a difficult choice when they were also your friends outside of work.

Coming clean with the damning fact that you slept with the very same man that had made a portion of your life hell was completely off the table. You’d never hear the end of it and public shaming wasn’t really your thing.

Sungchan, to your dismay, was a little different, delighted that you kept your mouth shut rather than providing anyone the inside scoop of a train wreck you called your life.

If there was one nurse that could take your Nurse of The Month spot, it was fellow nurse Sungchan “Channie” Jung. With impeccable bedside manner and an endearing megawatt smile, he was considered an angel and was notoriously loved by many patients who had had their hand in luck being tended by him. It wouldn’t even be a surprise if there were only good things said about him on RateMyNurses.com.

That’s what public opinion hailed him as, but to you, he was simply Sungchan—a nurse a year your junior who had somehow managed to weld himself to your side back when he was still an intern; your personal annoyance, and a hundred times worse when it came to sticking his nose into someone else’s business for his entertainment.

You rolled your eyes when he closed the distance and slung a toned arm around your shoulders with a smile far too bright for anyone to have at this time of day.

“Mind if I steal her for a bit?"

“You slept with Jeno, didn’t you?”

“What?” You exclaimed, almost breathless as you sputtered a laugh that was neither convincing to you nor to your current interrogator. Still, you might as well try and hope that God was on your side today. “In what world would I fuck the guy I don’t like?”

Sungchan, who had been pacing back-and-forth with a gait that distantly reminded you of a harrowed father coming to terms that his only daughter got knocked up, stopped dead in his tracks right in front of you, staring you down with doe eyes lacking their usual friendly sheen.

You grew more uncomfortable the longer he looked at you. “What.”

His a-hundred-and-eighty-something tall self leaned in to get a good whiff of you, face screwing up in distaste. “You reek of sex,” he supplied before you could even ask what the fuck was that about. “You smell like a man. You smell like Jeno—did you guys fuck before clocking in?”

“Quit it! What the hell.” You pushed his face away. You were sure the scrubs that you washed all to hell would mask the evidence of your morning rendezvous. “How do you even know what Jeno smells like?” You were pretty sure Jeno wasn’t the only man who douses himself in Ferrari Light Essence whenever he leaves for an errand or two.

Sungchan arched an eyebrow. “So you did, then.”

“Answer the question.”

“I’ve been to your apartment,” Sungchan answered with a shrug, which directly translated to ‘I’ve snooped around. You can’t fool me. I know all’. “He’s used up, like, half of his Ferrari Light Essence. The one on his drawers,” he explained with an almost detached cadence, like he was simply talking about today’s weather.

You frowned. “That’s an invasion of privacy,” you hissed, but Sungchan barely looked chastised by that, something your eye twitched at. “And it could be one of the residents too. Not just him.”

“Yeah, no—see, it’s basic deduction,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world that even an idiot could get on with the program far above their pay grade. “I ruled out you sleeping with our superiors—or any of the hospital staff involved. You have too much self-respect for that. Not sure where it ends if your roommate’s involved, but he’s your safest bet, and you wouldn’t have to see Jeno at work either. So, less of a distraction. Also, there’s always this weird tension between you and him. Every time Jeno walks into the room, you either look like you want to kill or jump him, and we both know which choice you’ve made.”

You puffed out your cheeks with a forlorn pout. Damn it. He’s good.

“I don’t know, Chenle could be an exception,” you argued anyway, maybe a smidge petulant and just because it was fact a year or two ago when you were taken by his easy-going attitude and his penchant for taking care of anyone around him. Until you realized the trauma surgeon-in-training was better off as a friend when he couldn’t pick up any of your hints. You still thought he had killer cheekbones, though, and there was no shame in ogling every one in a while.

“You forgot to mention her inactive dating-slash-sex life.”

You shout in surprise as you whirled around to face the top bunk closest to you, a hand over your frantically beating heart.

“Oh,” Sungchan looked far too pleased with that addition. “and that too.”

“Were you just there the entire time?” you asked, almost hysterical. “Why are you here?”

“This is the on-call room.” Chenle’s raven head popped up with his cheek lined with sleep marks, appearing disgruntled from being disturbed from his cat-nap. He rested his chin on top of the bunk’s railing, eyeing you both in mild interest despite the sleepy haze. “I’m allowed to be here—and I’m flattered, really.” Chenle shot you a meaningful look. “but hard pass. I’d prefer someone less neurotic.”

Sungchan let out a loud ‘ha!’ and you were far too mortified from admitting to your questionable, yet old attraction to your past subordinate to even rebut that and spark a debate with a guy just as competitive as yourself.

Chenle cracked a lazy smile after a moment of three of you exchanging looks. “So, Jeno, huh?” If one of them says his name one more time, you fear that his namesake would appear in this very room. “Makes sense. You’ve stopped bitching about him.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it…” Sungchan trailed off. “I was starting to think you killed him, or something. Didn’t think he’d buy your silence with sex. How did that even happen?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?”

Chenle tipped his head back with loud peels of laughter escaping him just as Sungchan rolled his eyes so hard that you silently hoped they’d get stuck staring into the void of where his brain was supposed to be.

“Be serious—an accident, she says.” Sungchan said in disbelief. “What, like his dick miraculously shoved itself deep into you without either of you knowing? Very funny.”

“What do you want me to say? It just happened—we were arguing,” (“of course you were.”) “We ended up kissing, then he fucked me on the coffee table—“

“Does he know people eat on that?” Chenle whined. “I eat on that.”

Your cheeks were scalding to the touch as you spoke through clenched teeth, “I couldn’t exactly ask since we were busy—”

Whatever else you had to say was cut short, much to the relief of both men when your phone buzzed from the pocket of your scrubs.

Sungchan took one quick peek at the lit up screen of your phone and snickered. “Speak of the devil.”

Chenle scoffed. “Jesus Christ, did I invoke his spirit or something?”

You immediately hushed them, tapping the answer button in haste.

“Hi, Jeno.”

Your voice took on a higher pitch as you greeted said roommate (whether it was from excitement or relief, you weren’t going to think too much about it) and completely glossed over the shared glances between Sungchan and Chenle because of it. There were a couple of things you’ve done in the past that were way worse than changing how you spoke to somebody.

“Hey, honey.” Good God. You were going to kill him.“Did I call you at a bad time? You sound worked up.”

“Peachy,” you ground out. “What do you want?”

“I brought you lunch? Well, no. I brought it, then left it with Jimin.”

“You didn’t poison it, did you?” You asked, dubious and gave Chenle the middle finger when he mimed making out with the air. Unbelievable. To think you’ve fantasized sucking his dick in one of the storage rooms before. “‘Cause why the hell would you be bringing me lunch when I brought lunch myself—”

“Actually, no. You forgot to pack food this morning.”

That gave you a start. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“...really?”

Jeno hummed as an affirmative. Huh. No wonder you felt like you were forgetting something. “I was waiting for you to notice in the car, actually. Or maybe call me about it.”

You scoffed. “Why would I?”

“I’m your roommate,” he said with a sigh. Like that answered everything. “You can call me for shit like this—I mean, you could demand me to make you cum, but—“

“Uh, yeah. I think I got your point—“

“But you can’t ask me to bring you food? And not everything has to turn into an argument, by the way. I come in peace.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Jeno sighed again, followed by a gravely drawl of your name.

Your mouth twitched. “Sorry. Force of habit,” and you supposed it was a hard habit to break when Jeno had been the bane of your existence. He still was, kind of. On a lesser scale. “But seriously, you didn’t have to. Don’t you have work?”

Because it wasn’t the first time where the thought of bringing enough sustenance to last you through your shift flew over your head, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The food served at the hospital’s cafeteria wasn’t too horrible, though it would not be your first choice. Only when you were in the trenches of desperation would you consider eating what was considered a bland diet.

“I took half a day off. It’s no big deal, and I wanted to.”

Having your roommate to simply bring you food had never been an option until now. There was no need to tell him either. Jeno simply chose to make the forty-minute drive to your hospital by his own volition to make sure you’ve eaten and the unprompted courtesy was enough to tamper the possible shift in moods you’d go through for today.

“Thanks… I guess.”

“Of course.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you at home?”

“On the dot.”

“Okay. Talk soon.”

“Bye.”

The line went dead right after a softer farewell from Jeno, prompting you to tear your gaze from your phone and glower at Sungchan. Only to balk when he stared back as if you were some fucked up specimen he couldn’t for the life for him figure out. Or judging you, probably.

“What the hell was that?” Sungchan blurted out.

“What was what?”

“Girl, you were smiling back there. Like—” and Sungchan made a rather offensive impression of you smiling and fluttering your eyelashes, face falling flat right after, then raising an eyebrow to signal for an explanation.

“What? Am I not allowed to smile when my asshole roommate brings me lunch? Maybe this is his way of saying ‘hey, sorry for being an absolute moron. Would good dick and good food count as groveling?’”

“Knowing you? Probably.”

“…Maybe.” You immediately waved that thought away with a grimace before swatting at Sungchan’s arm, earning you a yelp. “Horrible impression, by the way. I do not look like that.”

Sucgchan soundlessly parroted the latter half of what you just said in a mocking manner while soothing the spot where you hit him, then his face slowly flattened to something more thoughtful.

“Ugh. What now?”

He began with a long-suffering sigh, folding his arms, “I really hope you’re being smart about this.”

You did not like how critical he sounded. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The anger didn’t deter him in the slightest as he merely offered a non-committal shrug, gaze steady. “I’m just saying. I’ve been friends with you long enough to figure out you aren’t the type to willingly get yourself into situationships.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a situationship.”

“Sounds like one to me,” Chenle butted in.

You shot him a glare, something he waved off in blithe disregard. You really missed the earlier times where these two were still cautious around you.

“Are you going through a quarter-life crisis or something?” Sungchan asked. “Because looking at Jeno’s track record, he’s definitely the last person you’d go for. I thought you hated the guy?”

“I can still fuck the guy and hate him at the same time. It’s not mutually exclusive,” you joked, then sighed at the matching deadpans you got. “Seriously, you guys, It’s not like I’m expecting anything more.”

It went silent for a while. Neither Chenle had anything to say, and he was a chronic commenter towards conversations like this; though you weren’t sure if staying mum was better than giving his needless two cents. Chenle talked mostly to defuse the growing tension, proven quite useful when the time called for it. Then there was Sungchan again, staring at you as if he knew something you didn’t. It made your skin crawl and you were about to snap again when he beat you to it.

“I know,” he said evenly. “I’m just looking out for you.”

All the simmering animosity was put to a standstill, a small pulse of guilt rattling your heart because of course he would. Sungchan meant well like any other friend who genuinely cared for your well-being, and you reciprocated the sentiment seeing that you wouldn’t think twice elbowing the next asshole who would go against any of your friends as well.

“I get that. I do, but I’m also capable of making my own decisions.”

“Sure—yeah, but there’s still a fifty percent chance of this one coming back to bite you in the ass. Should I remind you of the twenty-twenty-two incident? That one model. Starts with a ‘Y’, ends with an ‘N’—”

“Okay, but we didn’t start as fuck buddies. And I genuinely thought we had something—“ Which was crazy to admit out loud despite it being the truth. “Yeonjun was awfully clingy and sweet.”

Granted, he had been like that with everybody, but even so, you had somehow deluded yourself into believing that Yeonjun reserved a piece of himself that only you had access to. How he spoke in hushed tones with the tenderness of a lover promising you the world. How his eyes matched the words saturated in reverence like what he had sitting in front of him was a multitude of stars banding together to form into a person that would fit the puzzle of me and you. Arguably, a soulmate.

Anyone who had been indefinitely touched-starved would have reveled in the delusion meticulously curated for them, or so you’d like to say as a form of reassurance. It was truly an embarrassing time.

“You really can’t blame me for thinking he was serious about me.”

Six passion-filled months. There wasn’t a day where Yeonjun wasn’t there, and then he fucked off to fuck-knows-where without even so much as a goodbye. Ghosted you, pretty much that you almost went catatonic with the constant overthinking, whether it was a problem on your end, or a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ type of thing.

That low period to you now was a fuzzy whirlwind of your friends lending their hands to help you get back onto your feet. Grieving of what could have been was an inevitable risk you refused to entertain then, and once you had powered your way through its five stages, a sixth stage was factored in: a milder version of arson. An addition Mark took great pleasure in when he insisted on handling the fire on your behalf.

Stolen ‘boyfriend’ clothes, received gifts, tangible memories in the form of paper like movie tickets, polaroids and a receipt from a yogurt shop’s grand-opening; all burnt with the vigor of a prehistoric man discovering fire, except this all happened in the apartment’s parking lot on a muggy spring midnight.

“Which is why I’m praying to every deity out there that you’re actually using your brain for this one,” Sungchan stressed. “and not treating this as an enemies-to-lovers type of situation. This isn’t Wattpad.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Appalled that he would even associate you with that capitalistic nightmare. And calling you stupid, too, you supposed. “I literally just said I wasn’t expecting anything other than sex.”

“We’ll take your word for it, then,” Chenle said, then raised both of his hands in defense when Sungchan fixed him a stern look. “What? You heard her. It doesn’t go any deeper than sex. She’s thought about this. That’s proof enough that she’s using her brain for once.” He turned to look at you, barely apologetic. “No offense.”

Your eye twitched. “Offense taken, asshole.”

Chenle smirked. “Good.”

“I hope your next case dies on the table.”

Sungchan stared at you for a long time. Besides the unwavering gaze, there was nothing you could latch onto that would have hinted to what he could possibly be thinking in the moment as those brown doe eyes of his pierced into the most vulnerable part of your soul. But you were just as stubborn in that regard, staring right back.

Sungchan broke first with a resigned, yet irritated sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine. If the sex makes you less of a bitch than usual, then be my guest.”

“Wow,” you huffed. “you both are equally dogshit at this whole talking thing, you know that?”

And it wasn’t like you were clueless, obviously. Naive was one thing you weren’t and you knew exactly what you signed up for when your gaze would unconsciously trail after Jeno’s sinewy figure padding around the apartment after bumping uglies. When you became less irritated with everything he did such as breathing too loudly, and when you slowly, but surely started seeing Jeno as a friend, too.

Labeling yourselves as roommates was one thing as it was expected to have a level of civility there with one another. Settling on friends, on the other hand, made a sizable difference when the steadily growing bond gradually fizzled out the prior awkwardness after being at your most vulnerable. Jeno never made you second guess the unspoken agreement of being at each other’s beck and call, and in fact, he has been rather sweet about it. Dare you say it, doting even.

It was an occasional thought that would pop into your head during your quieter times away from work; if your roommate had the same candied regard for any wayward soul falling into the same bed, while at the same time, all logic told you Jeno was simply like that—kind and considerate to everybody no matter who they were. So the thought was quickly put to a rest.

Your phone lit up with a resounding ping.

Jeno Lee: eat well ‎(੭.◜◡◝)੭ ᯓᡣ𐭩

“Good God,” Sungchan groaned. “We lost another promising young woman to a man.” You shoved at his shoulder.

Though, maybe one small part of you thought being roommates had put you above the rest.

Jimin continued watching you devour your lunch like an overtly curious cat. Big-eyed and non-blinking, fixated on every minute movement you’ve been making that her salad was momentarily abandoned.

“Wow,” she whispered. “You’re fucking that up real good.”

“I’m fuckin’ hungry, damn,” you snapped, bits flying out of your mouth. Jimin barely batted an eyelash at the crumbs hitting her flawless face, smiling fondly. “I’ll ‘fuck up’ anythin’ at this point.”

“Fair enough,” Jimin conceded and took a more delicate approach in eating, giving her iceberg lettuce a dainty nibble; bunny-pink lips clashing nicely against the leafy green.

Painful as it was to admit, the chicken and veggie wrap, previously wrapped in foil labeled with ‘chicken veggie wrap :)’ in Jeno’s audacious scrawl, was delicious. So delicious, in fact, that it took only two large bites to reach half its original length. No wonder Jeno had been incessant with the whole meal prep thing. The guy knew his flavors pretty damn well. You could just picture him in your kitchen; the same pink frilly disaster of an apron cinched around his lithe waist, counting down the hours while making sure not a thing was out of place in a simple wrap until he had to make the lunch-run.

There was also a granola bar thrown in there. Jeno put you up on them after he had caught you snagging a few from his stash during a midnight kitchen run-in. You remember almost pissing yourself laughing when you had walked in on him subscribing for two boxes to arrive at your doorstep with a sweet pout just so he won’t run out as quickly now you’ve taken a liking to them. A bottle of orange juice because nagging how you’re in much need of some Vitamin C wasn't enough for him and lastly—for dessert—a small packet of organic gummy bears you were sure was made for toddlers, judging by its packaging.

Not that you were complaining. They were good; you’ve eaten five packets in one sitting after not finding anything from your stock of sweets and junk food which led to Jeno ordering extra of those, too. He mentioned it was a healthier alternative to the jellies he would be tempted to reach for when he craved some extra sugar.

Goddamn. This is so good. A contented hum and a wiggle of your shoulders expressed the sentiment, much to Jimin’s amusement. Right when you were about to take another gargantuan bite out of Jeno’s then eight-incher wrap, you came to a screeching halt at the sound of Mark calling your name.

Aside from Mark’s teal Fig scrubs, he was easy to spot when his already bright smile became blinding; the sun might as well shine out of his ass when he saw Jimin sitting with you, pleased that you were on talking terms again.

Unlike Jeno, Jimin had it heaps easier when it came to your forgiveness, and like Mark, Jimin had also been with you from stepping foot into your freshmen orientation, to the last walk after securing your degree. The only difference was Jimin had already been living with a mutual friend, and instead of the distance waning your closeness, it did the exact opposite. And if that wasn’t enough, you both got placed in the same hospital as an odd sort of compensation as well. Funny how the universe worked.

Sure, Jimin may have tinged a very small part of your suffering, but that was an easily buried hatchet. Besides, with your long withstanding friendship, you wouldn’t let a man come in between you both. Even if that man was Jeno Lee.

She was also the only other person who knew of your situation with Jeno. You thought it was only right to let her in on the secret, given she also slept with the man.

“Hey girls,” he greeted once reaching your table. “What are we talking about?”

“Jeno.” Jimin gestured towards you mid-bite. “He brought her lunch like a good housewife.”

“Oh dude, really?” Mark looked absolutely thrilled at the thought and completely glazed over Jimin’s joke, grinning so hard that for a second, you considered asking him if his cheeks hurt. “Awesome. It's great to see you two getting along now. Seriously.”

That’s one way to say it, you thought, schooling your expression into something blank as you shared a furtive glance with Jimin.

“Thought I was gonna have to break up another fight soon.”

“They’re getting along just fine, or so I’ve heard. I don’t think you have to worry about her becoming a convicted felon,” Jimin went on to say, confirming your so-called truce with a grin far too giddy when not too long ago, you had resented Jeno’s presence.

Somehow, this was what Mark noticed when you caught his eyebrows slightly knit together with a head tilt, eyes darting back and forth between you girls Though, before he could nose his way into your business as usual, you quickly cut him off.

“Jeno and I are fine, Mark,” you stressed. “Are you sitting with us?”

“Ah, no.” Mark shook his head. “Dejun’s waiting on me. I just wanna confirm if you’re coming to the party next week.”

“Party?” you echoed, a little lost. “What party?”

Mark arched an eyebrow. “Our housewarming party?” You squint, trying to recall if your best friend had mentioned anything about that. Mark blinked. “I called Jeno two days ago about it. I thought he told you?”

“Oh, right! That party. Yeah, totally.”

The call you knew about, yes. You were at least mentally present enough to jerk at the shrill ringtone Jeno had set for incoming calls and ask him who the hell had the worst timing in the world to call either of you post-coital bliss, but not lucid enough to recall the details of their conversation. Not when Jeno had smoothed the wrinkles of your brain—severely compromising any neural functions in charge of forming a thought or kicking you into action—after fucking the living shit out of you, the roughness fueled by a particularly difficult work day.

Something about an entitled asshole of a client demanding more and more of his time and efforts. You weren’t too sure. Jeno hadn’t talked much after that, or at all, really; rather preoccupied with releasing his frustrations by chasing both of your orgasms with each snap of his hips. The most you got was a grunt or two—two from the times you’ve attempted taking control. A third attempt was never made. Jeno made sure of it, pinning both of your wrists above your head, a look of warning etched onto his face.

There was also the distracting sight of him, naked as the day he was born, pacing around his bedroom. He had been speaking low into the phone as he picked up after yourselves; gathering your clothes that were ripped off of each other in haste and then dumping them into his laundry basket, giving you a full view of his pale ass. Huh, there’s a mole on his left ass cheek—yeah, very distracting.

Jeno then turned around to face you, dick and balls swinging at that, still on the phone with Mark yapping about whatever and mimed drinking out of a mug with a quizzical glint in his eyes. Coffee?

You nodded slowly, curling further into the soft nest made up of the duvet, pillows and the sweet and musky scent of Jeno.

The last thing you saw before you dozed off was the gentle stretch of Jeno’s lips as he continued talking (seriously, how much did Mark have to say?) cheek and a broad shoulder holding his phone in place while pulling a clean pair of boxers up his thighs.

“If you can’t find your dog, just look for me.” That pretty much confirmed Jimin’s attendance.

Mark snickered then turned to you, expecting. “Are you and Jeno coming together then?”

“Well,” you trailed off, pretending to think long and hard about it just to mess with your ex-roommate. “Jeno is the one with a car, so…”

When Mark started to look sulky, that’s when you laughed and took a pause from pulling his leg.

“Yes. Jeno and I are coming together.”

“Mark’s housewarming party.”

Jeno, who had been in the middle of stuffing the washer with your clothes combined, looked at you with an eyebrow raised. You stared back at him. “Seriously? You’re not going to follow that up with anything else?”

“I wasn’t aware it was happening so soon.”

Both eyebrows disappeared underneath his hair. “You were literally in my room when Mark called. He was on speaker.”

Was he now? Because all you could remember was a muffled sound of something talking Jeno’s ear off. Nothing was coherent to you during that time. You were fucked too stupid, unfortunately.

“I can’t recall,” you said mostly to yourself, but it was still heard anyway, judging by the tinge of amusement lighting Jeno’s face. “I think I was distracted.”

“Were you?” The overhead light made Jeno’s teeth glint almost dangerously as he grinned. As if one sudden move from you would end up having those sharp pearly whites of his pressed against your throat. “Distracted? You? Care to elaborate?”

The thing about living under the same roof for months and counting was your roommate will inadvertently pick up on things. One of them being the hows of dealing with you and you so called riddle-speak of passive-aggressiveness—patient and kind Jeno. There was none of that now. What stood tall before you was almost like a crude version of yourself molded by long-term exposure alone. Jeno was pushing back, more than usual—posing as a challenge almost; to give you a taste of your own medicine, but you were never one to back down.

With each step you took towards Jeno, an article of clothing came off. And with each of them falling with dull thump, Jeno’s eyes grew wider, jaw dropping further until it hit the ground when you stood so so close—a hair’s breadth away that he could make out the remnants of the cloying notes of your perfume—bare as goosebumps erupted on your skin from the cool blast of the air conditioning and the dark look Jeno fixed onto you when you plop your clothes into the almost empty laundry basket he held.

“Well?” You said, biting back a laugh by chewing on your lower lip as you peered over your shoulder to find your roommate still frozen while you were already halfway across the room. “Aren’t you coming?”

You had no interest in hearing his answer (it was obvious), spinning on your heel to make the sensual trek towards his bedroom. Though, you supposed, hearing Jeno scramble and swear like a damn sailor was worth not feasting your eyes on what it was like watching Jeno Lee lose his goddamn mind.

There was a knock on your en suite and Jeno’s head popped in through the opening of the door.

“Ready when you are,” he said, beaming when he met your gaze through the mirror.

“Almost,” you said, frowning slightly when you couldn’t get your eyeliner just right. “If my eyeliner does its fucking job.”

“Want me to help?” Jeno walked in, gently taking the liquid eyeliner from your shaky fingers and patting your hip so you could turn around and face him. “I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“Mm, I bet. Is that what you say to the other girls?” you jeered, but let him cradle your cheek nevertheless for him to save your poor attempt at evening out your eyeliner. You tilted your head back to make it easier and Jeno hummed, pleased with your rare compliance.

“They were never really up for talking, if I’m being honest—close your eyes for me—thank you.” His voice was soft. As soft as the felt tip that swiped a clean line above your eyelashes that left a slight cooling sensation from the ink. “Always a one and done thing,” he said this quietly, all too quickly, which gave you quite a start. Jeno didn’t seem to pick up on (thankfully) as he continued to talk, “and I have an older sister who's notorious for sharing her hobbies. I know too much about makeup and true crime. You aren’t going to kill me after this, are you?” That made you laugh.

“She sounds really nice,” you offered instead, thinking it wouldn’t be good to nudge the crack of vulnerability wider when you had to be somewhere else soon.

“She’s the best,” Jeno switched to your other eye, “You’d get along with her, I think.”

Somehow, the notion eased you. “Tell me more about her.”

For someone who labeled himself quiet on most occasions, Jeno was rather loose-lipped when he talked about his sister, and it didn’t stop there. Not that it wasn’t welcomed—his voice was rather pleasant to the ears, you’ve observed, but it was likely due to the fact that getting Jeno to talk usually requires some coaxing, so it was a charming surprise. From what he said so far, there was this muddled, but workable silhouette of his family dancing around your head, an almost trustworthy point of reference if somehow you had to get Mr. and Mrs. Lee plus older sister Lee on your good side.

(“Just think of them as me, but in, like, different fonts,” Jeno said and he seemed quite serious about his claim, too. “You’ll be fine.”

“Ah, so you’d be easy to impress then. Got’cha.”)

Not only that, but the conversation steered towards the family cats he loved dearly, but was painfully allergic too. Either Seol or Nal would have been an exciting addition to your living situation and it took you a full minute to mourn the loss of a furry companion. Although you loved the idea and would do anything to make it a reality, Jeno’s health mattered most here. He might have given you a free trial of what hell could be like all those months ago, but you genuinely cared about his comfort and safety.

In exchange, Jeno got to know more about Mom and Dad. Mom ran a small coffee shop she had built from the ground up; a modestly sized café that sat just across the private hospital where Dad worked as a surgeon and unlike your roommate, Mom and Dad were blessed by only one daughter: you. Though you did joke that the family samoyed, Dozy, could as well be their second child from how he was loved so much as if he were their own, just like how they loved you.

“Y’know, he kind of looks like you,” you said as you handed over your phone to show your lock screen set as one of Dozy’s many pictures you had taken and went back to finish the rest of your face makeup. “Maybe it’s the eyes and how you both are so damn smiley all the time,” you chuckled. “Dozy’s always been a happy pup. I miss him.”

“Believe me, that’s not the first time I’ve been told I look like a samoyed,” Jeno said with a crooked smile as he slid back your phone to rest next to your makeup bag. “I’m pretty sure Hyuck’s convinced I am one.”

“You are quite the horndog. He’s not too far off. I won’t have to worry about you humping my leg, will I?”

“You’re not funny.” Jeno sulked, making you snicker at his pouty self.

“Is your dad why you became a nurse?”

You gave him a smile before facing the mirror to work on your eyelashes. “Kind of, but I think my aunt—Mom’s sister—was the one who influenced me, mostly. She always cared so much about people. Cared so much about me too, and she was like my second mom growing up. Especially when we moved to the city. And as much as I thought being a surgeon like Dad was cool, I wanted to be like Auntie more—more hands on with the patient’s recovery and care.”

You tubed the mascara, satisfied with the added definition to your eye-look. “I could have been like Dad though, but I never had the guts to stick my hands into people like he does.”

“Huh,” was all Jeno had to say and it made you snort.

“Yeah, I get that it’s surprising for you, given I wasn’t exactly nice to you at one point,” you said, sheepish as you stared at the clutter of make-up on the counter sink. “Sorry for being a major bitch, by the way.”

“No—no, it’s not that,” Jeno said, holding up a placating hand. “It makes sense, really—that you really care about your job. If anything, I should be apologizing.”

“Eh, it’s whatever.” You shrugged. “I’m not mad about it anymore. It’s just fun being mean to you for no reason sometimes.”

Jeno sighed in relief, and then grinned so wide that his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I can see why Hyuck and Jaemin like you so much.”

“It’s really hard not to,” you joked.

“I can agree with that, yeah.” Your roommate’s smile dimmed into something gentler, gaze slowly taking in your mirrored image, causing you to blink owlishly. Not at the blatant ogling because God knows how much of an ogler you were when Jeno wasn’t paying attention, but somehow the gleam nestled in the darkness of his eyes was starkly different from what you were used to when stripped down to your bare necessities. You supposed you should be used to it. Jeno seemed to have a bit of a staring problem.

You rid any thoughts relating to why that was with an immediate shake of your head. “What about you? What got you into cyber security?”

“Mine’s not really for a noble cause, or anything.” Jeno moved from where he stood behind you to stand to your right, resting his hip against the edge of the counter with his arms folded above his chest. “I was good with Math and computers. That evolved into programming, decided to make a career out of it and went to college while deluding myself that I’d make good money someday. Which kind of came true, I guess.”

“Sounds like you could afford an apartment by yourself then,” you said, recalling the time where Mark had told you about Jeno's exceptional credit score. Anything that fell under your roommate’s state of finances wasn’t ever mentioned and asking him point-blank was considered rude, but that alone was enough to give you an idea of how deep his pockets ran. Though the notion should have come faster to you, with how Jeno carried himself sometimes. Or his preference for the more obscure brands you haven’t heard of until him.

“You’re not trying to kick me out, are you?” He teased just as you were about to correct yourself. “I could have, yeah. I know I’m not the most social, but it can get very lonely at times.”

Now isn’t that the truth? Although the thought hadn’t crossed your mind all too much, you were no stranger to the feeling. You supposed you had to thank Mark for not letting you waste away in isolation when the guy practically viewed you as an extension of himself, always dragging you along for the ride which didn’t leave any time for you to wallow in a closed space with your hurricane of thoughts. He had always made sure you were out in the open and involved with anything under the wide umbrella of socialization. You’d be a hermit if it weren’t for Mark.

Where there was someone else acting on your behalf, there was no such thing when it came to Jeno. It's as if there was this gravitational pull drawing you into each other. You simply just found yourselves within each other’s orbit without any prompting and the silence that would usually follow hadn’t been as oppressive as you thought it would be, acting more of a companion and if anything, it reshaped your perception of it.

Sitting in silence was a form of a bonding activity you enjoyed with Jeno and it was just as gratifying disrupting the peace with breathless calls of his name.

“And now?” you pressed. “Do you still feel the same?”

“I haven’t for a long time, no.” I haven’t because of you, his smile and the tenderness that softened Jeno’s striking features seemed to say, but you didn’t let yourself hang onto the possibility. Prickly as you were, you were no exception to Jeno’s inherent sweetness. “Say, you haven’t put anything on your lips yet, right?”

“You watched me do most of my makeup.”

Jeno clicked his tongue. “Just answer my question.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh. “No, Jen, this is just lip balm.” Facing him, you peered up at him curiously. “Why? Do you want me to put on a shade that matches your tip?”

The surprised strings of laughter you pulled out of him was the loudest you’ve ever heard him, making you grin. “Jesus, shut up!” He wheezed with a playful swat to your wandering hands that almost closed in on his crotch. “I’m trying to be cute here.”

You huffed, charmed by his efforts. Like he wasn’t cute already to begin with.

“Alright, fine. I’ll bite. Why?”

When his laughter died down, Jeno’s hands moved before he spoke, warmth cradling your cheek as his other hand pulled you closer by the waist. “I really really want to kiss you right now,” he murmured as his fingers slowly trailed down to your neck, Jeno’s thumb swiping away the sticky remnants of the berry flavored lip balm and then settled into the little notch right underneath the hinge of your jaw. “It’d be a shame if I ruined it.”

Another gentle press of his thumb and fingers splaying down the side of your neck had you tipping back to watch him through half-lidded eyes. He was so close. The sweeter notes of Jeno’s perfume crossed with his minty aftershave brewed a scent so intoxicating, so Jeno. He smelled delectable that the next words he was about to say didn’t make it out when you got on your toes, wound your arms around his neck and kissed him.

It was sweet, though a little needy judging by how tightly Jeno’s hand clamped along the softness of your waist. If it weren’t for Mark and his girlfriend’s invitation hanging around your shoulders serving as a heavy reminder, you would have easily gotten swept up by the tempting idea of being ravished in your own bathroom by your handsy roommate.

“We’ll be late at this rate,” you mumbled against his mouth, dragging your hands down his shoulders then settling them on his chest.

Jeno let himself be pushed away, albeit reluctantly, with a resigned sigh. “Right,” he said with a sweet pout that would have done it for you, but you held strong to your self-control.

There’s a precious pink tinge to his cheeks as he watched you rifle through the spread of makeup on the bathroom counter with a serene smile.

“So, do you really have a lipstick color that matches my dick?”

“Man.”

To Jeno’s absolute delight, Mark’s girlfriend thought your lip shade and combo was perfect.

“It’s like the color was made for you,” she gushed as she led you inside and you looked at your roommate fighting a smug smile (that you had half the mind to swipe off, but you promised to yourself you’d be good tonight) while handing her his housewarming gift—a matching tea-set—along with yours: a pair of high-quality bathroom towels with the couple’s initials stitched onto them.

The space looked a lot more put-together than the last time you’ve visited (which was like a few days ago and now did you see the dynamic palette they were going for) and a lot livelier with everybody else ranging from your closest friends to mutual acquaintances chattering up a storm with one of Mark’s playlists breathing life and color into every nook and cranny of the apartment. It truly felt like a home now and you could never be more proud of your best friend reaching a milestone with the love of his life.

“How long do you think ‘til Mark pops the question?”

“Are we going by feeling, or logic?”

Jeno shook his head and steered you towards the kitchen for drinks, a hand splayed on your lower back. “Privilege,” he suggested. “Or logic too, yeah. Out of all of us, you’re the closest to Mark. I’m sure he’s talked to you about it at some point.”

There was a ring. That was one thing you were sure of, but the details of when Mark was going to get hitched hadn’t really become a topic for discussion. It’ll come in due time. You relayed this tidbit to Jeno which earned you a solemn nod while he poured you a glass of moscato with a thoughtful pursing of his lips.

You squeezed his bicep in silent thanks, taking a healthy gulp of the sweet carmine while Jeno took to nursing a bottle of beer and swiped a slice of pizza sitting idly on the counter among many other finger-foods for you, then served himself. The pizza was still warm and you were rather peckish, and you couldn’t care less if you looked like an animal chomping down on the greasy goodness.

Jeno didn’t look like he minded, simply reaching out to pet your head with a satisfied twitch of his lips before his hand fell back to his side. It filled you with something warm and fuzzy that you promptly drowned whatever the fuck that was with the moscato. Must be the cheese.

“Well, shit,” he said eventually, smacking his lips together after a sip and then took a bite of his slice that muffled his next slew of words, “I have this on-going bet with a few other people who’re wondering the same. Figured I’d win with your help.” Taking a quick glance at your now empty glass, he refilled it without any preamble.

“My condolences.” The idea of a betting pool centered around Mark’s foreseeable engagement was so ridiculous that it made you laugh and almost tipped your drink over. “sorry I couldn’t make you rich,” you offered after getting through the giggling and thanked him for the refill.

“It’s fine. I earn enough for both of us anyway.” Jeno winked, laughing softly when that made you choke on your drink a little and handed you a tissue to clean up the spillage.

The first hour consisted of you making your rounds as a pair, sticking close as you made polite conversation with anyone you knew as a unit until you inevitably branched out to catch up with your own closer set of friends. You were in the middle of bullying Renjun into talking about his own private life outside of work when Mark decided to unearth himself from whatever social pile had consumed him, excusing you from Renjun and Jimin, who in fact, had their dog held hostage like she promised. Yet Ziggy appeared rather content, if anything, dozing away in the cradle of her arms.

“I’m really glad you and Jeno could make it,” Mark said, eyes sparkling. “I was half expecting you to show up without him, or, like, ignore him the entire night.”

“Like I’ve said before, Jeno and I are way past the animosity,” you complained. “Is it really that hard to believe?”

“It’s kinda hard to move past the fact you’ve called me at fuck o’ clock just to tell me he looked at you wrong.”

(You had been enlightened that those were fuck me eyes Jeno was shooting you, but you didn’t think Mark would appreciate the clarification).

“Yeah, well, that was before Jeno and I decided to be adults and talk like you’ve said. We’re cool now.”

“I know, I know and I’m really happy about that.”

You huffed, squinting at him. “Way too happy.”

He grinned with a twinkle in his eyes and reached out to flick your nose. “I just can’t help but think that you’re only saying that to reassure me or something.” Mark raised, which didn’t make him wrong. God knows the exact amount of times you’ve called or texted the man in regards to your supposed then misfortune of taking Jeno in. “Glad to know that’s not the case.”

“You have no faith in me.” you said, dry. “We've lived together for almost four years and still, you have no faith in me.”

“I’m a ‘see it to believe it’ kinda guy, and I’ve seen enough to believe you. I’ve been trying to get you alone, y’know? And I can’t really do that when you’ve got Jeno hovering around you.”

“Okay? That literally has never stopped you before.”

Mark knew where he stood being the closest to what you would consider family, he knew the many advantages that came with it too and people were conscious of it as well, such as snatching you away mid-conversation with no repercussions. His current neutral mien then twisted into something shrewd and a touch gloating as though he was in on some kind of inside joke he could very well tell you about, but decided not to because it would be funnier for him.

“You both have my blessing then.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Mark, what the hell are you talking about?”

Mark also knew you hated not knowing anything.

Of all people, he was well acquainted with this pet-peeve of yours, yet it was so easy for him to give you a wordless pat on the shoulder and leave you in the dark. You were left even more lost when you caught him giggling to himself when leaving you on your own, probably to search for his better half, and that wasn’t even the end of it.

The simpering followed you all the way to the small collective of women you gathered with once every two weeks (minus Mark’s girlfriend who was likely still entertaining a few of their guests). Any other day, the sight of the girls would have filled you with elation, though it’s as if you weren’t allowed it under the varying states of coquettish looks you received and instead, confronted with the late realization that you’ve unknowingly walked into a snake’s pit.

It made your hackles rise and you wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

“What are the odds that I’d see an old hook-up at a housewarming party?” Jayme drawled, “and not only that, but he came with you too.”

You blinked slowly, already over it. “I would hope so since he is my roommate and the one with a car, in case you forgot.”

“No duh, we know that,” Aeri rolled her eyes. “but it’s still just so crazy to me! It’s like fate at work, y’know? We’ve all had our fun with Jeno once or a few times before he fucked off to somewhere and went radio silent, only for us to find out he landed at your door and stayed there. Indefinitely.”

“Uh huh. Kinda comes with the idea of having a roommate. You live with the person. Indefinitely.”

Aeri stuck her tongue out at you.

Fei cackled, making you turn to her with pleading eyes. This only made her smile turn sharper. “I’ve got to say, I’m kinda jealous that you have access to him twenty-four-seven,” she mused. “He looks really good tonight. I wouldn’t know what not to do to him if he lived with me.”

They were never really up for talking. Always a one and done thing.

Oh. So that’s what Jeno meant. At first, you had thought his blatant evasion was simply the result of the awkwardness that would at times stem after recounting his past physical involvements with anyone else. Showing up at this gathering—being in the same space with the handful of women Jeno had been with—you couldn’t help but wonder how he fared with the unprecedented reunion, especially within their range of scrutiny, because the more you listened to the girls talk, Jeno’s hesitance on broaching the topic grew easier to understand.

They were never really up for talking became this incessant drawl in your head, as grating as hearing the same damn mosquito buzz right by your ear alongside their flagrant chatter about your roommate and his performance limited within the four corners of his bed. To the girls, Jeno was nothing more than a toy to be discarded once they got bored playing with him.

“Okay—can you guys be normal for one second?”

You didn’t mean to snap the way you did, but if that put a stop to the one-sided conversation, then so be it. Whatever Jeno was feeling at the moment could not possibly be on par with the steadily growing irritation prickling under your skin. The last time you had checked on him, there was a relaxed slump in his form as he spoke with Mark and you hoped it stayed that way.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “He’s literally right there and this is hardly the time or place.”

They made it sound like Jeno wasn’t attached to the cock they raved about. A real human with real thoughts and feelings. It made your stomach roll uncomfortably just as you balled your fists to stop them from shaking. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Fei scrunched her nose as the rest of your posse leveled the cold bleeding into your words with mild alarm. “Girl, relax, it's all in good fun.”

“And aren’t you having as much fun with him?” Aeri asked, “since when were you a prude?”

A prude? Far from it. Promiscuous? Not that either. A healthy balance between two opposing natures, likely, teetering the fine line separating them. As far as you were concerned, however, no one knew—except for a small pool of people you've told personally—what you got up to with Jeno.

It was a running joke, the girls poking fun at the perk you refused to use to your advantage and there were times where you had been tempted to tell them just how often you pawed at Jeno until he gave in to your whims (which wasn’t all that hard really). In the end, especially after this talk, you’d prefer to keep the nitty-gritty details under multiple locks and keys.

“Or a hypocrite,” Jayme chimed in.

Leaving this place with a permanent scowl etched onto your face wouldn’t be entirely impossible.

“Just—just stop fucking talking about him like—like that. I—” I don’t like it. “It’s weird. Inappropriate.” you muttered, staring at your still tightened fists on your lap that bunched up the billow of your dress.

It went quiet for a while, like it does whenever someone expressed their grievances within the circle and it was especially unnerving when you became the very subject of the girls’ observation. You didn’t dare break under the pressure, staring resolutely at the loud artwork and wall decor hung up with an otherwise jaded stare. The least you could do was keep your head held high where your face could be seen so you wouldn’t get found out.

Fei took it upon herself to break the ice with a quirk of a thin eyebrow. “You think it’s weird?”

“It’s weird,” you echoed and offered nothing more. Saying that it pissed you off more than you had expected would just have them make something out of nothing, and dealing with it was not really part of your agenda for the night.

“You weren’t complaining before, unless…” Fei’s impression smoothed over as understanding dawned on her face. “Ah. Okay, I see.”

Okay, that’s also weird as hell because why was Fei (and the others) regarding you with the same look Mark had given you moments ago?

Whatever it was, your questions were unfortunately put on the back-burner the moment a pained yelp caught everyone’s attention.

When all of you faced the direction it came from and found Donghyuck writhing, it didn’t come as a surprise. Give Donghyuck an inch and he’d take miles upon miles until he found his limit. The limit seemed to be the man you just talked about this time as the crushing grip around Donghyuck’s hand pulled a pained whine from the latter. He must have ticked Jeno off so badly if his knees were so close to meeting the ground, as opposed to Jaemin who stood off to the side, lax and just happy to be there witnessing his roommate’s self-inflicted misfortune.

Aeri cleared her throat, “does that also mean we’re not allowed to look or..?”

“Look all you want,” you said, following it with a derisive noise and got up, dusting your behind as you went.

There was no harm in leaving them to feast their eyes on your Adonis of a roommate. They’re free to do as much. It’s not like they’re the ones who got to go home with Jeno and they sure as hell weren’t the ones who got to have him in any way you wanted.

“Oh, good,” Aeri said, relieved, and fully took advantage of the five second window to fix a hungry look onto Jeno which, yeah, totally understandable. She could have waited when you weren’t watching, though. “‘Cause your man looks insanely gorgeous tonight.”

You let out a scoff. You weren’t born yesterday and lord knows how you wished you were immune to your roommate’s charms. Being ignorant of Jeno supposedly winning in the genetic department was a rare feat on its own that even the agreement between strangers had been timely; double takes were more common than not when your roommate fit the equation, and tonight wasn’t any different.

Maybe it was how Jeno wore his dress shirt; three unlatched buttons to flash a glimpse of his pale chest with the sleeves folded to reveal veiny forearms phlebotomists fantasized about (you know you did. Sometimes. Where the hell was he when you needed someone to draw blood from for your labs and practicals?) or the plain jeans in the same shade accentuating his long legs, or the dramatic change to his hair.

A week ago, Jeno had mentioned getting his hair done. With the longevity of Jeno’s infamous blue hair, the immediate thought after telling him your usual boba tea order was he might have set an appointment to get a touch up like he had done a few times and keep the mullet, or at least give it a trim and keep it neat.

Neither of your assumptions were right and instead, Jeno had walked into the apartment with a two-block cut and hair dyed back to his natural shade of black as you were in the middle of vacuuming. It could have gone two ways, one where you could have finished with the list of chores you had for the day.

Eh, vacuuming can wait. I deserve a break, you had thought as the cold herringbone flooring met your knees, pulling down Jeno’s athletic shorts along with his stirrup leggings as you went—low enough for his dick to spring free before he could even utter a ‘hello’. That was a testament to how much you agree that, yes, Jeno might as well be the eighth wonder of the world. Truly a sight to behold. Sometimes, you couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he was real. That he was this irresistible.

You couldn’t even begin to explain how utterly obsessed you had been with him during the days leading up to the housewarming party; the looks, the wandering hands among the other very obvious hints you’ve dropped. Jeno at least enjoyed the attention, just as you enjoyed watching him gasp and whine with tears lining his eyes when the need to cum had his body going taut, his cock nestled deep in your throat.

“You’re so lucky.”

The corners of your mouth quirk at the sight of Jeno smiling sweetly amidst Donghyuck’s distress. “Sure am.”

Fei barked a short laugh, “congratulations.”

The comment went ignored, as well as the collective hooting when you hurried over to the trio of men standing just before the small hallway that led to the bedrooms and home office, talking among themselves. Well, the conversation was mostly carried by Jeno and Jaemin. Donghyuck was still whining from Jeno’s grip. How long had that been going on again?

Once you reached them, you decided to spare Donghyuck’s poor hand and wound your arms around Jeno’s arm closest to you, surprising both you and him considering you weren’t exactly a fan of PDA. However, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the least bit satisfied from the scandalized gasps the girls let out.

“Hi,” you greeted. Jeno did nothing to hide his apparent shock, granting him a wry smile and a squeeze to his bicep as you turned to face the gawking pair with practiced indifference. “Oh, it’s you.”

Donghyuck was the quickest to recover, wrinkling his nose. “You saw us, like, thirty minutes ago.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

As opposed to Donghyuck, who immediately pouted at your blithe disregard of him, Jaemin found it amusing, drawing in all the attention with a mixed noise of surprise and delight. “Look at you two,” he cooed, eyes the beadiest they’ve ever been as they darted between you with a sharp grin. “Since were you this cozy with each other?”

“Don’t act coy. You weren’t even supposed to know about us, but somebody couldn’t lie to save his life.” Jeno at least had half the mind to look a bit guilty with a bashful smile tugging at his lips, if not a little prideful, when he stood a little straighter. Ugh. Men.

Jaemin’s shark-like grin didn’t falter in the slightest. “It worked out, didn’t it?”

“Since I realized he was worth more alive than dead, yeah. I guess.” You gave Jeno’s bicep another self-indulgent squeeze and pressed your cheek against it. “He listens to me very well.”

Jeno jerked in your hold with an affronted noise.

“He’s always been such a good boy,” Donghyuck cooed and reached out with his good hand to scratch Jeno’s chin. “Aren’t you?”

You caught the twitch in Jeno’s eyebrow and for about three seconds, Donghyuck’s pain-filled shriek drowned out the excited chatter. Barely anyone batted an eyelash, used to your friend’s raucous nature, and the party carried on as usual despite the small disturbance. The least you could do was pat Donghyuck’s shoulder, much more delicate than Jeno could ever be with him. You still ended up laughing at his pitiful state, however, before pulling Jeno aside and leaving Jaemin to deal with the aftermath of his roommate’s sulking.

“You okay?”

You herded Jeno further into the same small hallway, immediately relaxing from the needed privacy. Everyone else was too preoccupied anyway. Small mercies.

“Yeah,” you said with a meek nod. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jeno’s face did this thing whenever his thoughts tend to process on the faster side of things. Although you’ve often seen this happen in real time, being on the receiving end of his muted scrutiny—at least from the times where you were aware—had been on the complete opposite of the spectrum. It made you feel a little weird inside, but you were honestly too tired to misread the look as something else that would then evolve into an argument you’d lead.

“For starters, you usually don’t grope me in public,” Jeno quipped, flexing his arm until his shirt tightened around the muscle and it’s actually so dumb that it was enough to make you laugh.

Jeno beamed, delighted.

“You have nice arms,” and you took it as an invitation to be handsy in the dim hallway. “Very nice to look at. Strong."

He rolled his eyes just as you inwardly winced at your lack of eloquence. Your attempt at ass-kissing could use some work, yet Jeno hasn’t made the move to pull away from your touch. He said it himself—Jeno was awfully easy to please.

“Just tell me what you want.”

“Your credit card details.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow.

“My credit…” He hesitated for a little bit, searching your face that—with years of practice—was schooled into a neutral expression that wouldn’t give anything away. Slowly, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slightly worn leather wallet.

You cracked a smile. “I’m just fucking with you,” you chuckled. “I do want to go home though.”

He froze then hastily shoved his wallet back, pink in the face. “Right now?”

“Mhm, right now. It’s okay if you want to stay. I know you haven't been able to hang out with Jaemin and Donghyuck lately.” Jeno looked doubtful. “I’ll get an Uber home,” you assured him.

He didn’t answer right away, Jeno’s interest momentarily stolen by the party growing louder by each tick of the clock which you could immediately tell was Donghyuck’s doing from the distinct hearty yell of ‘Mark Lee!’.

A part of you understood that Jeno wasn’t technically bound by your decisions, disregarding the amount of times you gladly let Jeno bend, twist and pull you to mold seamlessly against him to a point where you couldn’t tell where he ended, or where you began. It’s not at all lost to you that you were still your own person just as Jeno had the free will to do whatever the fuck he so desired without you breathing down his neck, yet the other half of you—the ugly, selfish half hoped—wanted—Jeno to call it a night too and let himself get swept off of his feet to take him home. Hell, you half-considered shoving your pride aside to ask him to leave with you.

Though it seemed that no pride will take a hit tonight when Jeno gazed back at you with a sweet curl to his mouth and a gentle shake of his head. He reached out to loosely wrap a hand around your wrist.

“They can survive without me for a day,” he said as his fingers brushed down the back of your hand until they caught onto yours and laced them together. “Let’s go home.”

Everything dissolved into a blur after that. A blur of goodbyes to the hosts and the fair few that made up the shared circle of friends. You didn’t pay much attention to that; barely said anything, too focused on how well your hands fit together.

“Would you do what it takes; If I fall, am I safe?”

“We’re getting old,” was the first thing you said the moment you and Jeno crowded through the front door. “Who dips at eleven?”

“It’s a reasonable time,” Jeno assured.

“Yeah, for losers.” He took your coat to hang it in the hallway closet with his. “We’re losers, Jen. What the fuck,” you whined, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I don’t think anyone’s gonna think you’re a loser for wanting to go home? This isn’t college anymore. I promise you, no one gave a fuck that we left early, and no one definitely gave a fuck that Jaemin passed out like an old man on Mark’s recliner.” Jeno snorted and yeah, it was pretty funny catching the light sheen of drool poking at the corner of Jaemin’s open mouth as he snored with a beer in hand still, but he had a reason why he conked out in the first place. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure if your reason for leaving would be considered.

Leaving because you couldn’t stand the way your friends gossiped about your roommate for being (kind of) a slut didn’t sound like a valid reason to most.

“I’d sure hope so,” you said drily. “A neurosurgeon—is he crazy? Let’s just hope he won’t get sued for medical malpractice or n-negligence.”

Jeno whirled around with both eyebrows raised. “You okay?”

You managed to get your chattering teeth under control. “Just cold.” You ran warmer than most, which meant you get cold easily and it won’t be long until snow starts to blanket everything in sight and possibly turn you into a bi-pedaled popsicle the moment you step outside even underneath the layers upon layers you dreaded to put on—

“C’mere.” And that thought was immediately put to a standstill when you were swathed by a firm coil of warmth; warmth that was Jeno and his toned arms, toned torso, toned pectorals, toned everything around your shivering form, which was admittedly nice. Comforting. If this were a cartoon, you can imagine the steam rising thickly off of your body as Jeno smothered you more into him, cheek pressed right into his exposed sternum.

“So.” You sighed at the rumbling against one side of your face. “What’s the real reason why we’re home early like ‘losers’?”

Despite Donghyuck dragging Jeno’s supposedly lack of humor to filth, you had always found him funny. He knew how to time his jokes well. He could be just as witty as you, Donghyuck and Jaemin combined when he actually tried and you could agree that Jeno’s dry sense of humor wouldn’t always be a hit with everybody, unlike yourself who had been surprisingly easily entertained now that you’ve gotten over your one-sided beef with him. Jeno’s humor was an acquired taste. Usually, you’d be laughing by now from Jeno piggy-backing onto your joke, but you stayed mum and just snuggled further into the welcoming warmth.

There was a little bit of coaxing from Jeno while he kept you toasty, gently rocking you both from side-to-side. Your feet were starting to hurt from standing so long, but you’d take your chances of greedily absorbing Jeno’s body heat.

You sighed, adjusting so that you were peering up at him with your chin digging into his chest. “It’s stupid,” you began, taking a few seconds to get your thoughts in order. “Well—no, it’s me who’s being stupid, but—ugh. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being dramatic,” then quieter, ”fuck knows how often I’ve been called that.” You seethed, frowning as you broke eye contact and pushed your cheek to his chest again, finding the even beats of Jeno’s heart sort of soothing.

His response was to hold you tighter, lips pressing into your hair before he murmured, “whatever’s bothering you isn’t stupid.”

You huffed softly. “Thanks for the validation, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jeno squeezed you again and then pulled back a little to regard you in earnest. “What’s wrong?” His face then twisted to worry. “Who pissed you off? Did you get into a fight?”

Okay, sure you were short-tempered, bordering on trigger-happy, really, and you were well aware of your own shortcomings atypical for the ideal woman, so it wasn’t at all shocking that Jeno assumed so. But you were going to toot your own horn here and say you’ve been well-behaved the majority of the evening. With no debates or fights instigated by you; up until you lost your streak when the girls had spoken out of line.

It took you a while until the very thing that gave your mood a 180 shift came spilling out.

“How would you react if a person talked shit about someone… close to you?”

Jeno, who clearly wasn’t expecting any words from how cagey you had been prior, flinched at the timbre of your voice that echoed throughout your bathroom, wide eyes blinking at your expecting reflection.

“How close are we talking about?” He hit back, adjusting the Cinamorroll headband to get his hair out of the way and then reaching for his toothbrush that was somehow there.

When Mark had moved out, you immediately took the chance of claiming the master bedroom as your own. It had a sizable walk-in closet big enough to house a separate collection of clothes for two people to which Mark’s wardrobes barely filled and a large full bathroom with ‘his and hers’ sinks. You claimed one of them, most of your shit either organized in one neat row such as your skincare, or left haphazardly scattered when you were in a hurry.

Jeno staked claim on the other sink. There was his bougie whitening toothpaste. A container housing his retainers where its existence would occasionally be forgotten until you reminded him, a select few of his own skincare—a less elaborate collection which made sense when he, to your envy, had near-perfect skin—and—ah. A half-finished bottle of Ferrari Light Essence. The cologne surprised you the most. As far as you could remember, it had never strayed from its original place: Jeno’s dresser.

“Close enough,” you answered eventually, purposely vague and passed over the logistics of Jeno unceremoniously leaving pieces of him with you—in your space, when you were sure your cleansing balm melted away your makeup. You leaned closer to the faucet to wash off the evidence that you had been out.

“I’d be pissed, obviously,” Jeno said, not really noticing your subdued reply. He took a moment to brush his teeth, spitting out the foamy toothpaste once he deemed his mouth brushed enough and once your face dripped of clear water. “Like, it’s one thing being an asshole, but being an asshole to my friend?” Jeno scoffed, shaking his head to demonstrate his displeasure. “—is that what happened?”

“More or less,” you mumbled into a face towel.

Jeno’s lips twitched as he patted his face dry. “Do I have to force it out of you?”

You lifted one shoulder to shrug.

“Wow, this is really bothering you if you’re this quiet,” he tilted his head, contemplating. “Was it Mark?”

“Be serious. Name one person at the party who hates Mark,” and you’d be crazy to not like the guy. Mark had never once done anything to warrant any negativity that could affect his person. He was probably one of the rare few who possessed a soul so pure that it was almost impossible for any hatred to fester in one’s heart. Hating Mark was like hating puppies for simply wagging its tail, happy to see you. Ridiculous.

Jeno’s nose wrinkled when he couldn’t name anyone. “Yeah, no. You’re right. Jimin, then?”

Jimin had her fair share of trouble in regards to people thinking badly about her; rooted from jealousy, of all things—insanely gorgeous Jimin. A charmer, not just by her sheer beauty, but also because of how approachable she was. A social butterfly—but her confidence in herself simply did not allow her to crumble underneath critical eyes just waiting to exploit a crack in her facade. She couldn’t care less of what the masses had to say about her, and you could only wish that you possessed some semblance of Jimin's self-assurance.

You shook your head, sighing deeply as your bottom lip caught in between the worrying edges of your teeth before letting it free, shiny with spit. “You’d laugh at me if I told you.”

You received a milder version of a frown from that, though you did clock the lingering look he gave your mouth. “Hey, believe it or not, I actually care about your feelings, so I promise—” Jeno sealed it with a swift ‘x’ his finger drew above his heart. Cross my heart and hope to die “—that I won’t make fun of you.”

Ah, fuck it. It’d be like ripping a band-aid off. Quick, painless and, hopefully, easy.

“It was you,” you said, quiet at first and then you rolled your eyes up to the ceiling and repeated it a bit louder this time: “The girls—they were talking about you and ‘their time’ with you, which was fine at first before we—y’know,” you rolled your wrist to the air in front of you to gesticulate the exact situation you’ve found yourself with Jeno. It looked complicated, and neither of you could make sense out of it, so you gave up, folding your arms.

“Anyway, I just… didn’t like how they make it sound like that’s all you’re good for?” You winced. You could have worded it way better. “Like you’re some sex object with no thoughts or feelings—” oh my god, shut up. Shut up. Shut. Up. “and that essentially ruined my mood. Jesus. You should have heard how the girls were going on and on and on about your dick that could work miracles, apparently—actually, no, it would piss me off even more if I saw how uncomfortable you were, so I’m glad you weren’t there—what the hellare you smiling at?”

Jeno’s smile stretched—it’s a huge thing. Where it took up almost half of his face, eyes almost disappearing as it did, but they shone bright as ever. “You care about me,” he said, obviously delighted by the idea.

“Uh, no I don’t.”

Denying it didn’t shake him in the slightest. “Yes, you do.”

“You must’ve heard wrong.”

“I don’t know, my pure-tone audiometry scores have always been high.”

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you exhaled in defeat.

“I’m not,” Jeno laughed. “I’m just happy. I didn’t know you’d care this much about my rep. I already know that I am kind of a slut. That I got around a lot, and hearing you defend me and think I’m more than that… It’s—It’s really sweet of you.”

“Defend is kind of a stretch,” you admitted. The words left a sour after taste in your mouth that, for a second, if you were given the chance to turn back time, you would have done more. “I just stopped them from saying anything else.”

Sweet. That was the last word you’d ever thought of relating to your standing up for Jeno. You’ve been called many things when your bouts of aggression came out to play, especially when it came to your friends’ defense, but rarely anyone would call it, or you, sweet. Though, the way Jeno spoke it into existence… he seemed certain of his claim—mirrored it too—cheeks dusted a precious pink and lips curled in a curious blend of a bashful, yet gratified smile. Really, and if anything, he was the sweet one here. Jeno for sure had the face and disposition for it.

“Still, it’s something I really appreciate,” he assured, “I mean, you were thinking of me in that moment too, so by all means am I really flattered—”

“Oh, brother—”

“You’re a huge softie.” Jeno quickly scooped you up into his arms, much like how he did when you almost froze your nonexistent balls off from the creeping winter chill. Your cheek ended up being pressed to his chest once again, like Jeno just knew his pecs would calm you down which yeah. What the hell, sure. “Prickly on the outside, but soft and squishy on the inside.”

“You callin’ me a sea urchin?”

Jeno laughed. “Whatever you want—and, you care about me.”

You rolled your eyes. He’s never gonna let that go, was he? “Am I not supposed to?”

Jeno clicked his tongue. “I didn’t say that, but it’s nice to know that you do,” he said, voice doused with such tenderness that it didn’t come as a surprise that it bled through to show on his face, too.

“Yeah, well.” You evaded his gaze by gently pushing him away by the cheek, clearing your throat and hoping it would dissipate the climbing heat from your neck, up. Jeno’s arms fell from their secure hold around your waist, yet he still remained in close proximity—close enough that he might as well fuse himself to you. “If you’re done, I’m taking a shower.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Just take off your clothes before I change my mind.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a mock two-fingered salute.

The hot shower was a definite need in unwinding the tension in your shoulders. You retired to the living room after pulling on one of your looser sleep shirts and a pair of boy-shorts, and falling onto the couch in an ungraceful heap. You could very well pass out here, become Jeno’s problem to deal with while at it.

Speaking of, he sure was taking his sweet time.

“What’s taking so long,” you hollered. “Do you have a hot date or something?”

“Are you not my hot date?” He said and you whipped around, peering over the back of the couch where you could see Jeno in the kitchen, putting away the dishes and cutlery in their respective places.

“You got me there.” You gave him a flat look. “What are you doing?”

“I…” Jeno trailed off, prancing over to the fridge. “got you a cake.”

The main lights were off, the warmer accent lights providing an ample amount of light source. Watching Jeno move about, bathed in the soft glow, made the simple action of unboxing the dessert no bigger than the span of his hand more intimate than it should be. Maybe it was his apparent determination in making things more convenient for you was what had you looking at the sight with a rose-tinted lens. Or maybe you just wanted to eat the damn cake and heckling the guy was one way to get your hands on it faster.

“I don’t think it’s my birthday yet,” you said, charmed at the way he hobbled over with the said sweet treat, two dessert forks tucked into one of its sides in one hand and an empty wine glass to join you in drinking in the other. “Is this your way of making me feel better?”

“More or less,” Jeno acquiesced, carefully placing the dainty looking cake and glass on the table and then joining you in your comfort. “I know it’s still bothering you, but really, it’s okay. I’m used to it.”

And it's just like Jeno to check up on you, really. Always so conscientious when it came to you—with the expense of himself being a later thought—that you were starting to find it difficult to keep him at arm's length at times. He was just… so good. So inherently kind to anyone without expecting anything in return. It’s one of the things you liked about him. A paragon of all things good in the world. Not that you would ever admit it to his face, though perhaps you softening up was enough for anyone to figure out where you stood.

“Wish you weren’t used to it, though.” You said with a sad smile, kicking your legs up to lay them across Jeno’s lap. “You have the right to be mad at being gossiped like that.”

“I kind of brought that upon myself.” Jeno snorted with a hand on his nape, following suit and scooting closer to you for more comfort, and so you could fit into his side more. “But enough of that. How was the party, honey?”

He got a light smack on the chest for his cheek, though your own smile betrayed your actions, finding Jeno’s constant hovering kind of sweet. “It was still fun, among other things. My bad for cutting it short and dragging you along.” Jeno waved you off of the guilt and you were really thankful that he wasn’t at all bothered by you calling it a night. “So, the cake?”

With a hand on your ankle, Jeno reached over to pick it up.

There was something funnier about SpongeBob now that you were watching it as an adult. The jokes that flew over your head making much more sense with a fully developed brain were significantly funnier, especially with the buzz the cheap wine you had stocked for future events. Guard down, your muscles relaxing and letting the stress accumulated from tonight wash away with each sip from your glass.

Handing you the bento sized treat, Jeno had the face of an absolute winner when you read what was written in cream frosting on top of the powder blue cake.

“‘I’m sorry for having loud sex’,” you managed to say through your giggles. “Very on the nose, Jeno Lee.”

“I realized that I never really said sorry for that until tonight.”

“And cake was the way to go? I thought the sex was your version of an apology?”

Jeno lifted one shoulder for a lazy shrug. “Everybody loves cake?” And well, he wasn't exactly wrong. You loved cake as the next person on their birthday did, and strangely enough, it felt like such. The word ‘sorry’ got smudged from dipping his finger into the loopy writing and then lifted it towards your mouth.

If it were any other day, you would have snorted and batted Jeno’s hand away in favor of getting a proper mouthful with a dessert fork. However, it could be that time (and Jeno) had worn down that hardass exterior of yours to a certain point that you had no problem giving in without having to argue; circling your fingers around his wrist as your lips parted to indulge him. As expected, it was sweet. Butter cream, you thought as the more your tongue swirled around Jeno’s finger, watching his eyes grow wide and his mouth slacken, the sweeter it tasted.

“Good?” Jeno asked, voice strained as he continued to watch you work your mouth almost the same way you would when you would give his cock the same treatment. He kind of looked like he wanted to eat you. Savor you, actually, like you were a piece of honeyed heaven Jeno had the privilege of having you melt all over his tongue and swallow your very essence until the last drop. It gave you a rush, to say the least. Not to mention an ego-boost when a man this gorgeous could be so gone just for you.

In the background, Squidward cried out, ‘oh no! He’s hot!’

“Mhm,” you hummed, letting his finger go with a lewd pop before sticking your tongue out to show that there was nothing of the creamy icing left. And to fluster him, mostly, and it worked. “Wanna try?”

’loud sex’ was the next to get smudged, leaving ‘I’m for having’ still intact which didn’t really make any sense at face value. Though taking a quick sweep of the current situation, you weren’t too far off from Jeno ‘having’ you.

Jeno wasn’t able to give a proper answer, much less a word, as you mirrored what he had done without letting him have a proper taste. He did, however, get a taste of your growing impatience; wiping the dollop of icing onto his bottom lip, hooking a finger down his bottom teeth and tugging lower, and then prying his mouth wide enough to slither your tongue in for a downright messy kiss, making him groan. Jeno tasted of sugar, cream and the mint of his toothpaste. You wanted more. You needed more.

So it’s not entirely your fault that you were fast to give in to your carnal desires and how lucky you were that Jeno was there to meet you half-way.

Ten minutes later, Jeno wrestled you down on the couch, mumbling, “I thought you were tired?” into your hot, wet pussy.

“Oh, I am,” you moaned, twisting your fingers into his mussed up hair as he worked two of his thick fingers into you alongside his tongue. “But I can’t really fall asleep like thi—is—shit—Jeno! Fuck!”

A pleased hum had you shuddering as the softness of your thighs squeezed around Jeno’s insistent head. He pulled back the second your insides squeezed his fingers and you let out a frustrated groan. There’s a lazy grin on his face, lower face damp with a nasty cocktail of spit and your slick and never had you seen a man look so damn proud of being messy. Then again, you’ve noticed a pattern whenever you guys fucked; Jeno liked dragging it out to the point it was messy, so that checked out.

“Sure you can.” You would kill for an orgasm right now. Maybe sitting on his face would do the trick. If you could overpower the musclehead. “You wanna test how many times I can make you cum ‘til you pass out?”

A tempting offer, sure, just so you could prove him wrong, but the need to cum easily swayed your decision. That could be discussed and experimented on next time. You told him that much with a slight threatening edge to your tone, all the while canting your hips as you pushed his head down to get on with it. Though it seemed like Jeno was in a particularly stubborn mood tonight.

“Any reason why you’re being such an asshole?” you groused, still actively trying with all your might to suffocate him with your pussy, but he still wouldn’t budge. “I want to cum. Make me cum.”

“Oh, I know you do.” Jeno’s fingers were still buried in your wet heat, his cheek resting against your inner thigh. “But that depends on what you’re willing to do for me.”

Your pout deepened. “You used to be so nice.”

Jeno hummed, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing. “I’m not hearing any offers.”

“A blowjob.”

“Oh c’mon, we both know you can do better than a blowjob,” he teased. “Besides, your gag reflex is almost non-existent—which, you’re welcome, by the way—where’s the fun in that?” And Jeno looked pretty smug about the changes he had trained into you.

“Two blowjobs,” you muttered, cheeks flaming hot because he wasn't exactly saying shit just to be funny.

The first time you got in between his thighs to suck his dick as thanks for the handful of times he ate the fuck out of you had been a disaster that if Jeno hadn’t stopped you from forcing yourself to swallow more of him, you would have ruptured your esophagus. In short, you had never been so mortified in your twenty-or-so years of living, ever, until that very day. Though the miscalculation was easily fixed after some time, gradually earning back your ‘pro-cocksucker’ title, from Jeno’s gentle, yet firm, guidance.

You really couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes. Or the fact that the absence of muscle memory almost got you killed.

“Do you wanna cum or not?”

“I’ll—“ you swallowed thickly as he curled his fingers, and then let out a soft, broken moan when his thumb worked slow circles around your clit. “I’ll ride you.”

Jeno visibly deflated as if he hadn’t been reduced to a desperate whining thing whenever you bounced on it like the many times before. “Any other offers?”

“What is this?” you groaned. The thing that got you the most was how casually Jeno spoke as if seeing you in this state; rendering you into putty wasn’t affecting him at all. “An auction for me to cum?” Well, there was one last trump card you had saved when time calls for desperate measures.

“Going once.” Jeno wiggled his eyebrows with a stupid grin. “twice—”

“Fine! I’ll ride you raw.”

Jeno, who was about to dip in for a kiss, froze, then let out an aborted laugh. “I didn’t say ‘give me a heart attack’. Jeez, it’s never delicate with you, huh? Always straight to the point.” You did become a different entity when you wantsomething, so he was somewhat right.

He took a good look at you just in case you were pulling his leg, which you understood, considering you were adamant with the usage of condoms even on birth-control. The fact that you laid still was enough of a clue-in that you were serious. Your roommate seemed to understand this and nodded, lowering himself to plant a quick and tender kiss above your eyebrow.

“Deal.”

And went lower and lower, buried his face deep into where you fingers tangled in his hair guided him towards and ate you out until the fruits of Jeno’s incessant mouth saturated his face all the way down to his neck.

“Our poor couch,” you laughed, breathless and hyperaware of the wet warmth dribbling out of your cunt; a lewd mixture of his cum and your slick sliding down Jeno’s thighs and effectively widening the stain’s circumference previously left before you had swung a shaky leg over his lap to act on your end of the deal.

“Definitely seen way too many things.” Jeno, who had his head resting on the top of the couch’s cushions huffed in amusement, lifted one eye open to indicate he had been listening. “It’s your turn to pay for steam-cleaning.”

It was such an unfunny sentence. An instant boner-killer if you were in the middle of fucking, yet the sluggish delivery had you laughing, loud and unrestrained, tucking your face into the crook of his neck to smother your giggles.

Aside from it being another inside joke birthed from conning him into paying for the first ever one, it did eventually become a once or twice a month’s occurrence when you didn’t bother moving the sex to somewhere more private like, let’s say, either of your bedrooms. Actions came with their own sets of consequences, yet you always found room to find humor in them. Embarrassing as they may be.

“At this point we should just buy a new one, don’t you think?” you wondered as you withdrew from your makeshift hiding place and pulled him in for a quick, but lingering kiss. It wasn’t enough for him, it looked like, chasing after your lips. Jeno didn’t get too far, with you playfully yanking him back by the hair to smile cheekily at him. “I’m starting to think you like dirtying our couch. Marking your territory, puppy?”

Jeno stayed quiet, but the reddening of his cheeks was very telling.

“Oh my God.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Listen—“

“Puppy—oh my goodness—that’s really precious,” you cooed, the same way Jaemin would if his end-goal was to annoy someone to the point they would consider inflicting bodily harm. “Maybe Hyuck was onto something.”

“Do not talk about another man while I’m inside you,” Jeno whined. “You’re horrible. Get off me. I don’t like you right now.”

“I said it was precious.” He didn’t even have the heart to reject a quick peck on the lips. “I think it’s cute—that you look like Dozy.”

Despite the clear displeasure, his response to your nails scratching at his scalp was almost instantaneous; he relaxed, sagging against the cushions to bask in the undivided attention you showered him with. He could very much fall asleep like this; your warm weight making him sink into the soft clutches of the sofa with your magic fingers weaving all of the stress out of him.

Which meant you wanted something, if you were being nicer than what Jeno was usually used to.

“You want something,” he voiced the thought, squeezing your hips. “What is it?”

And there it was: a smile that said you were about to get what you want. “I was being serious about a new couch.”

Jeno let his head fall back once more, pretty eyes slipping closed as he let out a puff of breath. “Okay. We’ll get a new one.”

The couch came less than two weeks later.

You weren’t religious by any means, but you sent your silent gratitude to God anyway for blessing your eyes with the wonderful view of your roommate studying the manual with eyebrows knit together in concentration and a matching sweet pout.

“You are so sexy to me right now,” you said from where you sat on the floor.

The TV was on, but neither of you were paying attention to the happenings of a show that had caught both your attention when you sourced the internet for any TV show recommendations. This one looked promising; action packed gore with an interesting enough story-line (Jeno’s words) and the rugged machismo of the drool-worthy male main character supporting it (your words), yet those factors weren’t enough to keep your attention span from waning when Jeno—less rugged, but still so devastatingly gorgeous—was about to assemble your new couch.

He responded in kind with a snort and a half-hearted roll of his eyes. “We both know damn well you’re only saying that because I paid for the entire thing.” A hand made its way to perch on his hip too and your greedy eyes drank in the way his muscles rippled from the movement.

You gnawed on the knuckle of your forefinger. Good lord.

In hindsight, Jeno was half right. Sweet-talking him could increase the chances of you running scot-free of doing any heavy work, and maybe Donghyuck had hit the nail on the head with the whole thing about stability being what you needed because what was more attractive than a man readily dropping that much money for a couch without thinking twice? Looking absolutely darling swathed in pastel blue sheets you convinced him to get, deep in a fervent search for a good replacement with his personal laptop perched above his thighs, and with you tucked into his side as a pretty accessory that would occasionally voice opinions.

For someone who didn’t sound too enthusiastic searching the world wide web for furniture, he sure was hell-bent on countering any of your sales pitch every time your eyes would land on a probable couch replacement. The heavy debate—for a fucking couch, of all things—lasted almost two hours, both of you at your wits end until you found one that ticked every requirement that had been brought up; namely, how the L-shape design granted much more space and how easy it would be to clean by yourselves.

There was a thoughtful pull to Jeno’s face as he cycled through the available colors. “Please tell me that’s the one.”

Jeno had made an affirmative noise. “Can you hand me my debit card?”

You had beamed and hopped to it, smugly handing him the piece of plastic with a haughty cross of your arms.

“I did offer to split the cost,” you countered good-naturedly, resting your chin on top of your folded arms and watching on in appraisal as Jeno got to work. “And offered to pay extra to get some people to assemble it for us but—”

“I can do it myself, thank you very much,” he grumbled, seemingly put off by the thought of you having to watch strangers with the same intensity as he was experiencing now. It puts a smile on your face. A smug little thing because nothing brightens your day than getting underneath Jeno’s skin when you could. A sulky Jeno, you’ve come to find out, was possibly the cutest gift to mankind since puppies and kittens and exploiting the otherwise infrequent possessive streak he claimed to not have was honestly gratifying when he could have anyone and everyone.

“Yeah? Your muscles aren’t just for show?”

He shot you a bland look. “You have first-hand experience, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you feigned thinking it over, tapping your chin with a finger. “Maybe I need a reminder. Care for a hands-on demonstration?”

Jeno shook his head with a soft grin. “Later. Think you could sit pretty without being a distraction until I’m done?”

The offhanded compliment left a warm glow to unfurl within your chest. From there, it spread to just about everywhere. Your cheeks, for one as Jeno just had the knack for flustering you, fizzling out to pleasant tingles reaching the ends of your toes and fingers. You were quite possibly losing it and yet Jeno has shifted his attention, completely honing in on fixing up the couch before sundown if and if you spare him of being a—his distraction.

“I’ll try,” you relented in almost a whisper. Jeno heard, of course, nodding slowly in response and once you were sure that was that, you rushed to the kitchen to whip something up for you both and shake off whatever that was.

Jeno took no time at all to get it all set up and it was a wonder why the manual when it was pretty straight forward, but you have your couch and you didn’t waste any time to settle down with Jeno for your early evening dinner.

Things promptly escalated the moment your plates were wiped clean. From your pawing at Jeno’s face, still wound up from the whole handyman thing, to unanimously deciding that you should probably take this to the bedroom. To whose bedroom became sort of a guessing game. Not one of you was entirely aware when it was important, but really, who was counting when it would always lead to sex anyway?

On a similar note, It was a miracle by itself that your combined bodily fluids hadn’t turned your old couch into a biohazard. The old thing has been through the wringer since you and Mark had bought it off of Craigslist with your first paycheck and retiring the old girl was just the right thing to do.

Bumping into things along the way, clothes ripped off in haste, like a hurricane tore through the hallway and your bedroom; as rushed as it all was, the sex was surprisingly on the more tender side of things tonight, which wasn’t uncommon, though those ‘tender’ times were mostly rooted from lazy morning sex; but it wasn’t quite that either. Jeno still fucked like he means it, that won’t ever change. Always precise with his movements wherein you would often joke inside your head that the Mathematics nerd in him probably calculated everything in his head, maximizing the output of pleasure jolting through your veins. Shit like that.

Your enjoyment, comfort, pleasure above everything else—that’s what sex was like with Jeno and granted, he got off from you getting off.

Well, most of the time.

Jeno didn’t give any warning when he rolled the both of you over, forcing a gasp out of you from the feeling of his cock plunging deeper and nudging against the spot that sent a hot flash of pleasure up your spine.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I like you on top.”

“Oh, I bet.” You gripped around his girth like a vice, earning you a grunt and a hiss as the flesh of your hips dimple under the force of his long fingers. “You like having me do all the work?”

“I like—I like looking at you,” he admitted, breathless and face stricken with awe as he gazed upon you. Rough hands smoothed down from your hips to your ass then to your tensed thighs and encouraged you to take what you want with light measured strokes. “You’re even more beautiful like this.” Jeno’s breath hitched when you rocked back and forth, his breathing becoming more and more uneven with each sway of your hips.

“Drives me crazy sometimes. That you’re real. That you’re mine.”

The sincerity in his tone wasn’t anything new. How he looked saying that though… It’s something else entirely. There must be something in the air, perhaps due to the change of season as the temperature slowly climbed its way down to the negatives. You glimpsed outside the window and sure enough, flurries of white were making their floaty decent. The first snow fall of the year. Normally, you would be in a rush to get up close and personal, feel the biting cold of each snowflake kiss your cheeks.

By the looks of it, however, you don’t suppose you’d be able to get up any time soon. Not when Jeno’s strained grip on the gentle dips of your waist anchored you in place.

Mine.

You should be used to it. You’ve lost count of the times you would catch Jeno staring and if it were any other time, he would have ducked his head, pink in the face and embarrassed by the habit. That was the last thing he was in this moment, the foreign glean nestled within the depths of his rich gaze held no semblance to his would-be bashful state when he openly marveled at you.

Jeno was no stranger to seeing you bare of anything. He’s probably seen you naked more than you were clothed and yet his half-lidded eyes bore into your skin as if he was stripping each layer, trying his damnedest in finding a crack to slip under and see what you kept from anyone. It scared you, in a way that you wouldn’t really mind if he flayed you open and carved a space for himself in between your ribs, right next to you beating heart.

You were hot all over. Well, hotter than you were prior and stickier. Whether it was due to the nuisance you bedded on the regular showing that all control was reigned by Jeno still—feet planted on the bed, meeting each and every downstroke with increased intensity by his a heavy-handed guidance, showing you how he liked it—or having the very same man as a singular audience, but with a gaze as imposing as a crowd deep in the reverence of their worship. So intimate that the hair at the back of your neck rose at Jeno’s easy smile—sweet. Sickeningly so. All too consuming—and how easy it was for him to look at you like that.

It was too much.

You felt impossibly bare than you were in the moment, vulnerable under Jeno’s searching eyes that you started to shake, and a whimper, bordering on a sob, broke free from your tightly clamped mouth as your resolve gradually broke down. Fortunately, Jeno didn’t think too deeply on the matter, taking it as you simply wrung out from burning most of your energy (and desperate to cum) as he sat up just as you were about to fall forward. He gathered you in his arms and flipped you both over, making sure you landed gently and minding your head, no matter how plush the pillows were.

That brought forth another rush of feelings making it harder to breathe as your roommate settled with a paced rhythm. Slow, deep, purposeful where, for a second, you started to believe your insides would have to mold around the shape of his cock, where it left Jeno to be the only one capable of filling you to the brim. There was a tell-tale sting beneath your eyelids. You couldn’t even remember squeezing your eyes shut, but you were glad for the knee-jerk response kicking in. The stinging was felt in your nose too, and you were all choked up the next second when you met Jeno’s heady gaze.

You had to thank the heavens that timing was on your side for once, because at one pointed roll of Jeno’s pelvis you came crashing down with a shrill cry. Tears streamed hotly down the sides of your face as you let out a wet moan, crushing your nose into the crook of his neck while his movements gradually went from measured to frantic as he pulled you impossibly close to him, and fucked you to completion.

There was someone calling after you. Jeno sounded so far away until the gentle pats on your cheek reeled you back. It took a few seconds for you to refocus your vision the moment you opened your eyes. Catching your attention first was the concerned furrow of your roommate’s eyebrows, down to his eyes rounded with the same emotion, the corners of his mouth pulled taut.

He said your name again. “Are you okay?” Jeno asked with his hands cupping your cheeks as the pads of his thumbs wiped the remnants of the salty tracks beneath your eyes away. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, definitely not hurt,” you croaked, snorting softly at the dubious look on his face. “Just… overwhelmed.”

“Is that good or bad?”

Your answer was quick. “Good.” Jeno was unconvinced by the looks of it, but you reassured him when you covered one of his hands with yours. “Trust me, I’m a nurse. I would know if you did hurt me.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

That got Jeno to chuckle, the tension visibly leaving his broad shoulders as he sighed. “Yeah, okay. You’re totally fine if you’re talking like that.” He bent down to press his lips to your eyebrow for a few seconds before he sat right back up. “Right, I’ll be right back. Want something to drink? Eat?”

The warmth Jeno’s touch provided stayed even when pulling his hands away. “Just water’s fine, thank you.”

Jeno left the room after making himself half-decent, pulling up a pair of clean boxer briefs, leaving you alone to will your frantic heartbeat into slowing down as you curled around his pillow, pulling it close to your chest.

“...he’s one of my more interesting patients so far. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought that damn phone of his was an extension of his arm.”

So far so good. Jeno hadn’t questioned you once about the moment you had and went about the usual post-sex groove of aftercare and clean up. That at least helped you out of that weird headspace you were in and you weren’t as keyed up as you were while you told Jeno about an interesting week you had at the hospital.

A college senior who had sustained a collapsed lung from a multiple-vehicle collision. While the case itself wasn’t interesting considering you had scrubbed in to deal with cases similar to the twenty-two-year-old’s, the patient himself was. Normally, you weren’t one to prolong any conversation with inpatients, though you supposed his weaponized cuteness was effective enough that the Hippocratic oath had been momentarily forgotten as he expanded on what he had overheard from the Nurse’s Station right outside his room.

At the end of the day, he was still a stranger and the most intimate interaction you’ve had with him was cleaning his stitches, changing his dressings and reminding him of his care plan. Even then, he had no place in your personal life where you’d mull over the consequences of telling him. Once Dr. Kim gave him the clear to go home, you probably won’t see him again.

“I only gave him your first name, but he already found you on Instagram.” You burrowed yourself further under the thick covers. “He said he ‘approved’ of you. Whatever that means.” With a giggle, you shifted so you laid on your side and came face to face with Jeno already looking at you with those eyes of his, the same way he did when he had you bent over the coffee table.

Your heart stuttered for a moment, gracing him with a wry smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jeno, perpetually pretty no matter the situation, and confused, batted his eyelashes—on purpose or not, you weren’t too sure—full lips jutting out further into a pout. “Like what?”

“Like—” Like that. Like I’m everything. Jeno, for as long as you’ve known him, had this sense of wonder in him. Maybe that was the reason why his eyes, more often than not, lingered for what was considered socially acceptable, yet you couldn’t get why you were always the subject of his fascination, nor why you deserved such gentleness from a guy like him. You’ve always thought he would be much better off with someone who’s less of a hardass; someone good, someone—anyone who didn’t share the ugly parts of you that were ‘too much’ to handle.

“Just—” I just don’t get it. I don’t think I want to get it. “I’m going to gouge your eyes out.”

He closed his eyes, exasperated. “Do not do that? Maybe?”

“No promises,” you said blithely, turning your back to him and baffled, wondering why your face—out of nowhere—felt so hot to the touch, why your heart raced. Why now of all times? Pillow talk wasn’t anything new. Sharing the bed was a regular happenstance. It was normal. This was normal, but why were you acting like a total school girl about it?

All the niggling thoughts came to a screeching halt at the feeling of Jeno’s arm going over your middle to pull you in, letting out an involuntary sigh as you melted into the warmth of his embrace.

“Goodnight,” he said, trailing off in a hushed tone at the syllables of your name.

Eyes squeezed shut, you let out a deep breath. “Goodnight, Jeno.”

Pleased by your response, Jeno crowded impossibly closer until he was flush against your back, pressing his lips to your nape and relaxed after. His hand settled over the curve of your breast, the tips of his fingers splayed where it tapers flat and where your heartbeat was as its strongest. And If he could tell the difference between the gentle thumping of sixty beats per minute from what was considered abnormal, he didn’t bring it up and instead tucked his bent knees right behind yours.

Yeah. Totally normal.

Sleep evaded you, finding yourself awake in the dredges of the night unlike Jeno, who was off in the deepest end of slumber.

You didn’t know why or how you were awake. For as long as you were alive, nightmares were never a problem. Your dreams were on the weirder side, yes, but they never shocked you into lucidity. You didn’t have the need to pee, drink or have a quick whatever-the-fuck-time-is-it snack. You just were, unlike Jeno who had it easy, knocking out cold fifteen minutes tops no problem. Though dead asleep—even breaths with the slow rise and fall of his chest, laying flat on his back—it’s like Jeno can’t help but still face you, like you just had this magnetic pull that attracted each and every atom housing Jeno’s attention.

He looked so peaceful. It’s almost unfair he was still gorgeous in this state, mouth open and all. Handsome face void of anything that would sour the appeal which wasn’t possible. It’s as if he simply wasn’t allowed to be ugly, wasn’t allowed to lack in areas he was known for, wasn’t allowed to be less than perfect. A burden, weighing on yourself more than it did Jeno, you had resigned to when you couldn’t find it in yourself to come up with things to complain about.

Jeno existed and you were fine with it. Jeno, stubborn but meant well Jeno, found plenty of ways of integrating himself in your space and you were fine with it. Each second, each minute and each hour, Jeno was there and somehow, you didn’t think it was enough. Even as the hours stretched out into days, weeks. Months. Would it be so bad if Jeno was there—here with you for years to come?

Then it hit you all at once—like a shock to your heart, granting you with a clarity so startling that you looked at Jeno. Like, really took him in as much as you were able to in the dim glow of the full moon filtering through the sheer curtains.

Since when did wanting absolutely nothing to do with Jeno evolved into wanting him all to yourself? You couldn’t put the entire blame on him. Sleeping with Jeno (and regularly at that) was a risk you were very familiar with. No thanks to your gargantuan AO3 history when fan-fiction was the only thing that kept you going through the grueling college experience. Friends-with-benefits had been a filter staple that guessing which outcome you’d get became sort of a game. Some good, some bad and some were so emotionally devastating that you swiped back and pretended pain never existed.

Now that you wore the shoes of every FWB protagonist, you weren’t too sure of what the endgame could be. You could admit that you went in blind with the false pretense of it being a temporary set-up when either of you grew bored of each other. But the months had bled from one to the other and it was still you and Jeno, and whatever flat surface there was left to defile.

From the gentle sweep of his eyelashes, the bridge of his strong nose, the perpetual pout of his lips with sharp angles and soft contours framing all of that—that right there was a face you wouldn’t hate waking up to in the mornings to come. Better if those mornings weren’t just the aftermath of a wild night, but nights where one of you would grow tired from finishing a few episodes of a gory thriller before eleven PM. Nights where one of you would stay up waiting for the other to get back from overtime. Or nights where you simply would spend hours just laying in bed all warm and cuddled up before sleep inevitably took you.

And as you laid on your side, eyes boring into Jeno’s sleeping face, hoping that you get the good ending out of this messy start, you knew you were absolutely truly and well fucked.

VI.

“If you stay the night, you could change my mind.”

You were five seconds away from killing yourself.

You’ve been here before. More times than you would have preferred, if you had to be honest, where Mark and yourself would set up camp on the island counter. A large plate of something to snack on (cookies this time) doubling as a conversation buffer and keeping Mark occupied while you’d do most of the talking.

Not a word has been said. Not a peep. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Mark’s unease with your unusual silence was made apparent by his treacherous balancing on two of the wooden barstool’s legs. Truly a perfect example why women lived longer than men.

Something was up. For one, you were tight-lipped, which wasn’t a good sign. Mark’s head would have been done in with your longwinded tangents right about now; where words would have lost their meaning as he eventually tuned you out. Which, sure, whatever. You always got straight to the point anyway and he only greenlights the ranting as it was a way for you to blow off some steam, no matter if it was the third time you’ve complained how impossible it was to unglue Jeno from his computer to eat.

Mark didn’t need to think too long about the possibilities. He got his answer right as the front door opened.

“Hey, Mark.”

Though he wasn’t at all prepared for the awkward as fuck silence. One could imagine Mark’s surprise when you didn’t spare your roommate the acknowledgement as you pointedly kept your attention on the plate of chocolate chip cookies.

Jeno sounded pleasant enough, yet you went stiff when he shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing himself a bottle of kombucha. The side-eye you got from Mark was diabolical, yet he returned Jeno’s greeting with his usual brightness as if to assure him that nothing was amiss. Both men left it at that and Jeno quickly disappeared behind his door with a click, letting you relax.

You flinched when Mark did a full body turn so fast that it could rival the speed of light, his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Dude, what the hell did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

Mark’s gaze turned sharp and stared at you like you were stupid. Maybe you were. No, you definitely were, with all things considered. “Jeno ignored you,” he hissed. “He’s never that petty. Donghyuck treats pissing him off like an olympic sport and you’ve never seen Jeno lose his cool. He’d let you know if you’re pushing it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because Jeno could just punch the shit out of you. Have you seen him?”

“Jeno’s hot bod has nothing to do with this—and stop changing the subject!” Mark snapped, swiping a cookie from the tray, took a bite and jabbed the remaining half in your direction accusingly with a muffled: “something happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“That’s exactly what people say when something has happened,” Mark quipped, crumbs flying out of his mouth. “I bet you did something.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“And if I stab you with this cookie?”

“Do it, you won’t,” you challenged. “You can’t. Because it’s a fucking cookie.”

His gaze narrowed and for a second, you believed he’d figured out a way to weaponize a food of all things.

“You’re giving me gray hairs here,” he popped half of the sweet treat into his mouth instead, biting down with an audible crunch. “Why’d you call me over anyway?”

“Because of that,” you said with a resigned sigh, pointing to the direction of Jeno’s room. “And I called for your girlfriend, actually—y’know, for a change, but you showed up instead, so.”

“Oh.” Mark blinked, shoulders relaxing. “well, she’s out at the moment. Took Ziggy to her grooming appointment so she sent me.” She sent me, he said like he was simply there to carry out her responsibilities when she couldn’t, no questions asked. Which, yeah, maybe—but not exactly. Mark was just game for anything (more when his girlfriend is involved), though it brought you great relief that he loved her that much to potentially be an extension of herself. Jealousy would be the death of you one day.

That’s not to say you were happy by the circumstances. You were expecting girl-time, and here you were given a man that was considered a stand-in during your bi-weekly Girls’ Night. Close enough.

Momentary panic crossed his face when you let a grimace slip through. “Try me! I’m wise enough.”

You scoffed. “Your wisdom is about the size of a grain.”

“And yet I’m the one in a stable relationship,” he pressed. “I think I’m qualified to tell you things.”

“Fuck you,” you groused. Because he was right, and nothing grinds your gears more than Mark Lee being right while dangling his picture-perfect love life right in front of your face.

You were well acquainted with the intricacies of Murphy’s Law: anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and the start of your downfall happened a few mornings after the earth-shattering realization that you had not only desired Jeno carnally, but also desired him… not-so-platonically. You felt sick to your stomach just thinking about it. Or maybe those were butterflies partying it up in your guts because they obviously were still you in some way: ridiculously enamored by a gorgeous man.

The morning had been a quiet affair. Quieter than usual, is what you could describe the chilly start of your Saturday. Quieter than what you were used to even with the groggy aftermath of last night, though you were sufficiently energized for the regularly scheduled back-and-forth before the stillness fell in place again, with the exception of the range hood sucking up all the smoke from what sizzled on the pan.

It was your day-off and Jeno still had the luxury of whether or not he’d go to the office unless necessary. From the lackadaisical slump to his frame, you figured he had all the time in the world today.

“Isn’t this mine?” Words came first and actions followed with Jeno’s arms winding loosely around your waist, one of his hands tugging at the hem of his hoodie you pulled out from his wardrobe, his chin hooked over your shoulder.

You woke up freezing that day and the weather application had said to bundle up, so you ended up clawing through his clothes since you did end up falling asleep in his room. It just so happened his hoodie was the first thing you had blindly grabbed in haste. Your feet were quick to get cold, so you made the detour to your room for your thickest and fluffiest pair of socks. Sure the look of the herringbone flooring was nice, but lord did it almost freeze your toes off.

Jeno simply hummed when you told him so, lingered for a moment, then left you to do your thing with a gentle pat to your tummy and started on both your coffees.

“What? No tea for me?” You mused when he took two mugs out from the cupboard, one of them being your favorite one, and plucked out two pods from the stack of them, no teabag in sight. “I thought you were trying to wean me off of coffee?”

“I’m feeling generous today,” he said with a teasing lilt and left it at that, and you knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Your stomach grumbled as the last of the modest spread of food was placed on the dining table, wincing at the terrible screech the chair made when you scooted closer. Sweetened medium roast hits your nostrils, your favorite coffee mug emitting a dull ‘thunk’ when Jeno placed it right beside your hand.

“You made it just how I like it,” you said after a tentative sip, lips pressed against the mug’s rim.

Jeno snorted softly as he reached for the maple syrup. “You notice that now? Were the coffees I made for you each morning different from that one?” He nodded towards your cup.

“No. I guess I never really had the time to think about it,” you admitted, sheepish. “I don’t remember showing you how, either.”

“You didn’t have to,” Jeno shrugged, feeding himself a forkful of the fluffy scrambled eggs. He hummed in delight. Just how he liked it. “I watched you make it a few times, it’s really not that complicated.”

You often rushed through mornings at home to judge whether or not the morning coffee on the counter was up to taste. The ratio between bitter and sweet? Who has the time when you’ve got to get to the hospital before you do your rounds? Still, you had a window of a few minutes to notice how Jeno had waited each time for you to get a few sips in before transferring your coffee into a thermos to take on your way out. You don’t remember getting a thermos. One in your favorite color either. Christ, were you having a goddamn meltdown at the dining table?

“You’re always rushing in the morning,” Jeno explained and proved once again that he was quite the observer. “‘figured I’d make your mornings a bit more convenient.”

And there it was: the convenience of it all.

While, yes, work had left you exhausted like never before, it also had been a small act of mercy that had kept you distracted and away from the demons that were waiting to be acknowledged. Those demons being anything in relation to the current predicament you were facing: Jeno. Your shifts at the hospital had been draining enough as it was that there was never any free time to think about anything.

Statistics had kept its annual consistency in seeing a significant increase in casualties the closer it got to the most wonderful time of the year. People in a perpetual state of haste in hopes of getting everything in order before the holidays. You might as well find a permanent place in the trauma department from the amount of overtime you did that your brain had been stuck in work mode until the patient influx had dwindled down.

Sure, you’ve managed to survive what could be considered the hospital’s Annual Armageddon, but there was no way in hell were you going to survive the horrors that await: being alone with your thoughts.

This was where Jeno came in. Like a stream, your thoughts of him were continuous. They ebbed and flowed and it seemed there was no end to it. On some days, they would roll around in your head, or go round and around as a microwave would; heat up or explode; whichever would be better to your state of mind. The point was, despite wanting that part of your brain—the one responsible for filtering any Jeno-related thoughts—to stop thinking, you couldn’t. You could not stop daydreaming, could not stop the ‘what if’s’—what if this (whatever this is) could become something more?

Convenience was what led you to this point.

The convenience of Jeno being at the right place and the right time. Of him taking the very first step and dragging you into something that was supposed to be casual, no-strings-attached and nothing more. This entire thing was supposed to be just a convenience to you. Jeno was supposed to be a convenience to you; in a way he’d be there if you needed help, he’d be there to fuck when you wanted, be there for—well, being there, when you needed him to be and keep you company. But…

But.

As the days blended to the next, it—he became so much more than that.

Wanting more than what you already have has never been your style. One could give you a hand and you’d justify why grasping onto one or two fingers was more than enough. Perhaps it had something to do with how you were raised, at least, that’s what you had thought because as you sat across Jeno, ignorant of being the very cause of your tumultuous state of mind, greed reared its ugly head.

It rose up your throat—that thick, all-consuming feeling of wanting something so much to the point of insanity. What should have been casual evolved into something more than what you bargained for, but you knew enough that there was nothing casual about not just wanting the convenience that came with Jeno. Nothing casual about wanting more than being another meager notch on Jeno’s bedpost. You wanted him—body, mind, soul and heart. And it’s not as if developing feelings wasn’t allowed. It was never brought up in the months the friends-with-benefits thing went on, sure, but it still felt… wrong.

Here you were, a handful of seconds away from baring your bleeding heart to him, only to pause when another thought occurred to you.

Did Jeno even want the same things you did?

No.

Definitely not.

You had no business asking about the other girls he could be seeing, but it was made clear Jeno was fully committed to follow the lifestyle of a Casanova. Being tied down wasn’t likely part of his plans as of the moment. More or less, you were probably just a phase he was slowly trying to get out and you wouldn’t be the one forcing him into settling down. Even so, it still hurts, that you will never be anything more than just a friend he gets to fuck on the regular.

And admitting that was a blow to your chest, really—like it caved in on itself, the jagged pieces of your rib cage piercing your heart. You had no idea how to make it less painful as you shot a longing look in your roommate’s direction who remained oblivious to your internal war against yourself and your feelings.

That day was seared into the recesses of your brain. How Jeno looked when you had told him this couldn't go on any longer, that you should stop, all the while being in the comfort of his embrace while you washed the dishes.

Your hands went rigid under the stream of water from the tap as Jeno stiffened behind you. Slowly you turned around in place, only for a wounded noise to lodge itself in your throat at the stricken look on his face. Confused, lost… hurt? Maybe? No, that wasn’t it. Disappointed was more apt, losing another conquest could do that to a guy, you think, could do that to you, if you were being honest; losing something that could have been good for you.

“Why?” he croaked.

“It—It just doesn’t feel right anymore.”

In a sense that sleeping with him while harboring so much warmth and fondness for a man so gentle and kind felt like you were taking advantage of him: that if you couldn’t have his heart, then his body would be the balm to soothe the burn reality left you with. You felt so much for Jeno Lee, but you knew you deserved better than this, that you were more than a placeholder for the person who would get the opportunity of a lifetime having him wholly, and he deserved better than unknowingly taking part in your desire-fueled fantasies of domesticity.

Sweet Christ, look at you. There must be something wrong with your brain if the synapse of neurons made you sound like some no-name poet from the Romantic Period. Or maybe you were ovulating, but that was neither here nor there.

The silence made you want to crawl out of your skin. You’ve never known a silence so uncomfortable and that was saying something when Mom raised hell the morning after she had opened the door to your childhood bedroom and found you with a boy. She was eerily silent after Dad had told you a less than flowery rendition of ‘The Birds and The Bees’, and from then on, you’ve learned to never piss off Mom—or ask Dad to explain in that clinical way of his.

Things should have returned to their normal state now that casual sex was off the table; how they should have been if you weren’t the least bit attracted to your roommate, or if you knew better than to let lust cloud your better judgement. With how life has been treating you lately, it won’t ever be that simple. Not when lines were crossed over and over again.

“We’re okay, right?” You had asked Jeno one day. Just for the hell of it. The answer was pretty fucking obvious when he sat at the farthest end of the couch, putting as much distance as he could.

It took a moment or two for your ex-fuck-buddy to answer in that gruff way of his when the last thing he wanted to do in this moment was make small-talk with the girl that cramped his style which, okay. Fair enough. You wouldn’t want to talk to yourself either.

“Yeah,” he said, looking straight ahead and his face drawn into a careful mask of neutral. “why wouldn’t we be?”

Because you won’t look at me. You don’t want to be near me, like I carry the fucking plague, or you pretend that I’m not there even though I caught you glancing at me loads of times. Show me something else besides indifference. Because it’s like I’ve done something wrong, but I don’t know what it is. You won’t tell me. I don’t think you ever will, and it’s killing me. That I can’t even make things right.

There was a lot you wanted to say. You wanted to argue, never mind if all he had for you was eyes full of disdain as his voice, normally even and soft-spoken, rose and rose until it became a screaming match. At least then Jeno wouldn’t shut you out, if it meant trading peace for barbed conversations that would be uncomfortable at best because you’ve never experienced a silence so cold, and made apparent by the space between you.

You wouldn’t expect anything less when you took away Jeno’s blinding smiles. Always filled with warmth, it was proven hard to live without once you’ve gotten a taste, what it was like on the receiving end of his affections he had so easily given. Though you knew the sun would, at some point, take its blinding light somewhere else.

Shit pretty much hit the fan after that, and you’ve accepted that the not-so-but-still silent treatment was well deserved. Didn’t mean you had to like it because this was getting ridiculous.

It was like the world was out to get you for your unwarranted fuck-up. You thought Annual Armageddon was bad? Try another wave of that—double the amount of patients to the point you were forced to spend several nights camping in one of the designated on-call rooms.

Your peers had taken notice of your tank in mood, which wasn’t exactly a problem. Your work performance was still exceptional and up to the hospital’s standards, However, interns, residents, and attendings couldn’t really say the same. Not when they’ve taken the brunt of your less than stellar attitude. The interns especially, which you thought was necessary. If you want competent people running a hospital, instilling the fear of God in them would do the trick.

However, that did not go without consequences.

Karmic retribution had been quick to get your ass handed to you in the form of a grumpy geriatric who had lashed out after you told him he couldn’t be discharged just yet. He was still recovering from a hip replacement and wouldn’t be able to leave for a week at least; or if he made quick progress with physical therapy. The old man ripped you a new one even with the absence of your abrasiveness.

Needless to say, after quietly excusing yourself, you hid in the floor’s storage unit and cried.

As if that wasn’t enough, you almost cost Chenle his budding trauma surgeon career after an error that almost had his patient coding. He reassured you it was fine, that you were okay after the apologies spilled from your lips once the clock stopped, but you knew he was taking this harder than you were, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. Understandable. It was Chenle’s first ever solo surgery with Dr. Qian’s supervision and you almost fucked it up for him.

You had also hid and cried, a common theme these days.

All because you were still preoccupied with the awkward situation at home (if you can still call the apartment that), still hurt that you were back to square one with your roommate who refused to step foot into the same room as you.

“You were right,” you ground out as you untied the surgical mask. There were specs of blood on your O.R issued scrubs and a damp and warm spot somewhere along the hem of your pants that you refused to acknowledge until you were in the showers.

It had been one rough case after another; this particular one with Sungchan had the team searching for the source of the bleeding longer than it usually took. It left you tired and in dire need of a scalding shower. You wanted to go home and forget the antiseptic smell of the O.R with the hint of iron that had squirted onto anyone that had stood close to the sterile field.

“With what?” Sungchan was just a harrowed, looking a little less put together being the one who held the suction as you helped Dr. Jung patch up the rupture.

“You know what.” The whole casual sex thing biting me back in the ass? But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of reminding him.

Sungchan blinked, then squinted, tilting his head. “No I don’t, actually.”

The metal bin makes a clang as you roughly shoved inside the single-use gown and gloves. You stood to your full height, looked him dead in the eyes and repeated gravely: “you were right,” and started walking, leaving him there staring at your back, wildly confused.

“With what?!”

This was definitely some form of punishment. It had to be. It’s no coincidence that it started right when Jeno decided to minimize any sort of contact and it wasn’t as if you tried to gain back what you once had before you decided top open your big fat mouth and said ‘hey, maybe we should stop fucking around and act like normal housemates!’. You really did, offering home-cooked meals as an olive branch, placing orders for his favorite snacks on rotation, doing his laundry. Folding them too without being told to—stuff like that. You even venmo’ed him half of what he spent for the couch.

If he had a hand in making the smaller inconveniences of life easier, might as well do the same for him too.

It did something. Sort of melted the icy wall he put up, low enough where clipped conversations were had at least. Still, your roommate had still kept his distance, not to mention his smile wasn’t quite the same. You hadn’t expected him to take it that hard and for a moment, you thought that perhaps there was a chance that he may also—no way. You immediately bat that train of thought away. He probably just missed the idea of having a warm body within his reach.

Which was a funny possibility when you missed him. Just as much, definitely more than just his body which was surprisingly easy to admit. You really never learn to value something once you’ve carelessly let it slip it through your fingers—until it was too late, and fuck do you miss Jeno. Having him close in a way; in the kitchen, dancing around each other as either breakfast, lunch dinner heats away on the stove. Doing the separating of whites, blacks, greys and color for laundry when your schedules align. Recuperating on the couch after a long day, preferably, with your head on Jeno’s lap while he ran nimble fingers through your hair.

You missed the easy companionship solidified by living together and you were so fucking scared that you might lose that too.

It took some time getting used to, walking into a quiet apartment again. No six foot something tall man with puppy eyes’ head popping up from the couch with a smile so warm you wouldn’t know what the cold felt like balls deep into the winter season.

The apartment was warm though, the thermostat set at a desired toasty temperature matching the warm glow of the accent lights as you padded deeper into the clean space. Not a thing was out of place. Cleaner, definitely, judging by the neatly arranged cushions on the couch and a throw blanket you had picked out with him tastefully draped over the arm rest. Jeno’s doing, no doubt.

Walking into the kitchen got your stomach rumbling, reminding you of how hungry you were. The last thing you ate was a haphazardly put together turkey sandwich you had made in a rush that morning, along with your coveted coffee in a thermos, which—you’ve just realized—had never stopped coming. Each and every morning on days where you had work, they waited to be taken along without fail. Meaning there was still a chance of whatever there was left to pick up from this mess you’ve made.

But coffee, though tempting, wasn’t what you needed right now, nor did you think it would stop your tummy’s incessant growling. Exhausted as you were, you were determined to whip up something quick yet filling. Like a vegetable omelet, or something, with a few slices of sour bread toast. There was still a tub of kimchi Mark’s mom had asked (well, demanded) him to give you. Yeah, your mouth was already watering at the thought of a hot, home cooked meal.

Your backpack falls heavily onto one of the dining chairs, an aran-knit cardigan you wore under your padded coat slung over behind it. You reached for the sky to stretch. Damn, you’d kill for another hot shower, but food first, then you could wash away the weight from today and hopefully knock right out into a dreamless sleep.

Halfway towards the refrigerator was where you noticed it, one singular thing off about the otherwise spotless kitchen: the lone saucepan sitting on top of one of the burners. It’s the one you used when you had three or more people coming over for dinner. You were no stranger finding Jeno playing chef in the kitchen considering he had more time on his hands where his work had a more sporadically built schedule. A heartwarming end to your day, truly, coming home to—well, a home. One you have steadily built with him.

There was soft tofu stew in the covered saucepan, the metal still warm to the touch. As if Jeno just knew the exact minute you would be home to kill the fire and give it enough time to cool down a little so you could eat without burning your mouth. You turned ravenous on days like this and he knew. Jeno knew—knows you like the back of his hand at this point. Even when he wasn’t obligated to know the little details of your person.

As you sat right beside your work bag, you took a tiny sip of the red broth. It’s good as expected, you’ve never dared to expect anything less when it came to Jeno’s competence in the kitchen. The blunt edge of your spoon cuts the tofu seamlessly in half, a pleasant surprise. Jeno preferred tofu that was firmer, yet he made sure to incorporate your preferences.

It was two bites in when the preceding sting of your eyes and nose came. Tears soon blurred your vision, and then you were full on crying into your hearty serving of soft tofu stew. Why wouldn’t you? When the man who acted like he wanted nothing to do with you still went out of his way to look after you, keep you in his thoughts when he should have left you alone.

You hurt him after all, but Jeno had always been a conscientious bastard, always putting you first—above everyone else. No matter if you were the world’s biggest asshole to him.

It’s odd; being back in your room after another sobbing session in your bathroom (because god forbid a woman let out all those pent up emotions). There was no overzealous puppy in human form to greet you, or hover around while you were left to your own devices before you were eventually pulled into bed, a heavy, warm weight pressing you into the sheets.

Your bed felt bigger than it actually was. Emptier despite the handful of pillows you had. The thermostat remained untouched, yet you felt colder without anyone taking the extra space beside you and you had already switched to a thicker duvet for the season. Maybe you were going crazy for real this time.

And because you were nothing but consistent, tears had once again lined your eyes, until you had drifted off to sleep with a deep ache settling itself between your ribs. Wishing that upon waking up, you’d be in the past—before you had fucked it all up just for the sake of self-preservation.

In retrospect, maybe that had been selfish on your part: shutting something down before it even started because you were afraid of getting your heart torn right out of your chest and stomped on right in front of you. If things had gone your way, you wouldn’t have woken up still in the present day feeling like absolute shit, wouldn't have called in sick to your unit manager and charge nurse, and wouldn't have then begged for Mark’s girlfriend (now Mark himself. Who had his day off) to come over and talk you through your dilemma.

Fucking hell. Feelings were hard.

You were a shell of a woman after saying your piece. “He won’t even talk to me—won’t even tell me what I did wrong,” you said quietly. “I guess I thought I was doing the right thing. Ending things before it gets too messy. I mean, I don’t want to hold him back, y’know? Finding the right girl for him ‘cause she sure ain’t me.”

“Well, you did make the decision for him without even sitting him down to talk about—about what again?”

“Were you even listening?” you whined, “I got into an F-W-B arrangement with him even if I knew the risks and I developed feelings for him anyway.” You lay your cheek on the cold surface of the island counter to look even more pitiful in Mark’s eyes, who seemed rather pensive. “Seriously, where the fuck did you find Jeno? And why am I kinda crazy about him.” ‘Kinda’ was definitely underselling it, but it was funny to you anyway, chuckling to yourself.

Mark? Not so much. It did, however, snap him out of whatever subdued spell he was in. “Wait, huh?”

“What?” You sat up straight yourself, perplexed by the odd reaction. “What do you mean by that ‘huh’?”

“Waitwaitwait—lemme run by that again—” He sounded a little frazzled. “You were fucking casually on the side, then you fell in love—”

Your cheeks warmed. “Developed feelings—”

Mark gave you a look. “Fell in love with him—same fuckin’ thing, man—and you feel shitty about it and ended things? Is that right?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah.”

The both of you ended in a staring contest. Until Mark broke the streak when he pressed his lips together and got that look you hated so much on his face.

You groaned. “Mark.”

“What?” he said, copying your whiny tone.

“I don’t like that look.” You squinted at him as he pointed to himself in ‘who? Me?’ gesture, widening his eyes for that full faux innocent look. “Like you know something I’m supposed to know too, but you aren’t telling me because you secretly get off on that momentary superiority complex you get when you know more than I do and will definitely use it against me.”

“Well, yes.” Mark was so smug about it too.

“I graduated with better grades than you, F-Y-I.” You countered, knowing it had nothing to do with anything, but you said it anyway to make yourself feel better under your best friend’s gloating.

The annoyance melted away eventually and you were left slumped against the counter, your chin resting on top of your folded arms as you pouted in silence. You could feel Mark’s beady eyes boring into your side profile, so you were forced to talk.

“What should I do, Mark?”

“You know what I think?”

“No. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Mark reached over to pinch your cheek, laughing softly when you swatted at him. “I think you should do the adult thing and talk to him about it.”

“I’ve tried,” you mumbled. He shot you a blank look, aware of your tendency to avoid anything that involves talking. You know, by running away, but that was the old you and dealing with a grudge-filed Jeno wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. “I’ve tried!” you repeated, indignant this time. “but Jeno’s… slippery.”

A shit-eating grin slipped onto his face. The exact one a thirteen-year-old would get making unprompted dick jokes. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes. “How am I supposed to talk to someone who’s just as good as running away?”

“By force?” He answered rather quickly, like it was obvious. “You’ve always been good at cornering people.”

As if it could be that easy. Your roommate could be just as stubborn when he wanted to be. Like a fucking boulder that was on all fronts impossible to move by sheer willpower alone. Though you still let the thought marinate for exactly fifteen minutes since Mark had left you with a mysterious smile you had half the mind swipe away with a punch before slamming the door in his face: fifteen minutes when you heard a muffled yell come from Jeno’s room.

Well, that’s a sign if you’ve ever heard one. You just hoped he wasn’t violently jerking off. That yell sounded guttural, barging into his room while getting intimate with one (or both) of his hands did not sound like a good start to as possible heart to heart. Depends on Jeno, really. Or you, if you did manage to corner him, though something told you that you might. If you chose your words correctly,

Jeno hadn’t been whacking it, thankfully. The loud sounds he had been making during your ten seconds walk to his bedroom were out of frustration directed at the small pool of guys he was playing League with. You immediately recognized the frazzled yells of Donghyuck. Jaemin’s hyena-like cackles whenever he witnessed someone dying. You hear Chenle antagonizing Donghyuck for sport and a surprising addition to the circus was Jisung trying to corral everyone into actually working together. It didn’t work. You swore it just got louder if that was even possible.

You took a moment to lean against the door frame to watch the chaos on Jeno’s end. You get an eyeful of him. Like really took him in his natural state because it genuinely felt like you haven’t seen him and his face in a hot minute. The tight black tank-top, loose sweatpants, mussed up hair—you had to bite your tongue from making any pathetic noise.

“You voice chat with them on speaker?”

Evidently, Jeno had not expected for you to barge in, startling him so bad at the sound of your voice that he bumped his knee quite hard against the table with a loud exclamation of ‘fuck!’. The gaming chair squeaked when he spun around to scowl at you. Whether it was from scaring the living shit out of him, disturbing his time with the boys, or seeing you, the cause of his biggest disappointment, you probably deserved it either way.

“Why? Are you gonna complain how loud I am again?” Oh wow. He really did not like you right now. That wasn’t going to stop you though. You were going to have that talk whether your roommate liked it or not. And possible broken hearts be damned.

“No, I just—can we talk?”

Jeno arched an eyebrow, looking from his monitor then to you. “I’m busy. If that wasn’t obvious.”

My God, is he being difficult, you thought, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I doubt playing LoL with the morons is more important than what I have to talk to you about,” you said dryly.

“Did you just call us ‘morons’?” Chenle.

“Oh, and one of them’s deaf too.”

“Do we have to..?” Jeno has this sort of pained look on his face and could not quite meet your narrowed gaze.

“Wait—holy shit. Are you guys fighting?” Came the crackle of Jaemin’s grating voice, sounding way too happy.

“Mommy and Daddy are fighting,” Chenle sang in a stupid tune which immediately got a snippy ‘go fuck yourself, Chenle’ from Daddy.

“Is this why Jeno’s been a sulky shit for the past few weeks?” Donghyuck asked through his obnoxious giggling. “What’d you do, Samoyed?”

“You should be asking her that.” The samoyed in question grumbled, swiveling towards his monitor as the guys (minus Jisung) whooped and hollered at his snipe. “Can we continue? Please?” His tone turned desperate at the last word. If it were any other day, you would have taken pity, but it was clear he was using fucking League of Legends as an escape and you were too keyed up to let Jeno have this one.

“Oh no you don’t, motherfucker.”

Jeno barely had his hand hovered over the curved surface of his mouse when he was violently spun around with all the strength you had. The hollering increased tenfold, a chorus of men asking what the fuck was going on adding fuel to the fire pushing your roommate by the chair’s arms until it hits the edge of his desk hard enough that it rattled.

The incredulous twist to Jeno’s face went ignored along with the excited yells of grown ass men begging to be part of this ‘lovers spat’ as you clambered onto your roommate’s lap. The chair creaked when you leaned forward, reaching behind Jeno for the keyboard and paid no mind to his muffled exclaim of surprise. So what if your breasts were right in his face? He was well acquainted with them. He had no room to act like a blushing virgin.

“What—what are you doing?”

“Are we getting a show?” Donghyuck asked, excited, followed by the rest of them pressing to get exactly that.

“Hell no.” Your fingers pressed down on a combination of keys. “I’m turning this thing off. Goodbye.”

The whirring cooling fans of Jeno’s coveted CPU died along with your friends’ protests of sticking around longer and promises of keeping quiet after you had forced closed all applications after a few mouse clicks and shut down the computer. Once you were sure everything was off, you sat up straight and forced him to look at you with your fingers grasping his chin.

“We should talk.”

“I figured.” Jeno’s shoulders slumped with a resigned sigh, though he didn’t make any move to pull away from your touch. “Don’t you want to sit on the bed? Y’know, keep a normal distance between us?”

“Jeno, nothing about us is normal. Hasn’t been since that first kiss.”

He hummed, those brown pools of his glazing over as his cheeks pinked at the memory. “That’s fair. You sure you’re comfortable like that?”

“Just a precaution.” You shrugged. “I don’t want you running off. Which reminds me—” You let go of his chin in favor of leaning back and folding your arms above your chest. “What the fuck was that about? Avoiding me? I thought we were okay?”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say when Jeno’s face hardened and wrenched his chin from your grasp.

“Okay?” His disbelief has your eyebrows rising. “It was that easy for you, huh?” You were surprised he hasn’t thrown you off his lap yet. Jeno seemed to contemplate the idea as a series of emotions passed over his face. In the end, he settled on leaning back with a creak, mirroring your crossed arms and looking everything but pleased. “No. We’re not okay. Why the fuck did you think I’d be okay after you told me you wanted nothing to do with me?”

“Technically, that’s not what I said—“

“I know what you said. I was there.” That was a joke. A very dry one at that and if this were any other situation, you would have laughed. “Doesn’t mean it hurts any less. We were doing good. We were happy and I thought you might’ve—” He shook his head.“I just don’t get why you called it quits.” Well, at least the urge to laugh was gone. You felt like absolute garbage. Jeno looked so tired, staring resolutely at the print of your shirt.

“Believe me when I say I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said gently, reaching out to brush your fingers against Jeno’s that were nestled in the crook of his elbow. “I thought I was doing the right thing—and you were right, we were happy. It was the happiest I’ve ever been and… and—I’m going to sound so stupid—but I got scared. Everything was good, yeah, too good. Perfect even, and that scared me.” When you heard nothing from Jeno, you took that as a prompt for you to continue, keeping your gaze set on his fingers you fiddled with.

“This was supposed to be just sex, y’know? But the longer it went on, the more I started to want more than that and it’s honestly driving me crazy,” you say, laughing softly to yourself. “You just had to be kind. You just had to be the sweetest fucking person I know and I guess I’m not as immune as I thought I would be when it comes to you.” You swallowed thickly. “And I can’t stand the fact that all I’m ever gonna be is your roommate you sleep with.”

Your heart pounded in your ears. Laying yourself had never been easy. The vulnerability that came with admitting you’ve grown to care for Jeno outside the limits friendship entailed. Granted you didn’t explicitly pour your heart out, but your roommate was smarter than people would give him credit for so chances are, Jeno understood you perfectly. From the tremble in your voice, to the raw desperation in your words… you just hoped that whatever happens, you won’t lose his friendship.

Jeno stayed mum. You didn’t think he was breathing either and you were steadily growing worried because said anything for the past minute. Was he gearing to shove you off his lap like you had assumed? Get you comfortable first and then catch you by surprise? Alarmed by the likelihood of that happening, you steeled yourself as you lifted your head up.

And you were met with the most peculiar sight: Jeno red in the face.

“Oh my God,” he said, mortified and caught his face with both hands. The tips of his ears were tinged in a bright red too.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled with a heavy heart. Of course he didn’t feel the same. “It’s literally my own fault that I caught feelings—”

“No no. Don't ever be sorry for that.” He made a noise muffled by both of his hands, dragging them down his face. Jeno was less red now, though he was still flushed, not knowing what to do with his hands until they settled awkwardly folded on his abdomen. “It’s just—this is really embarrassing.”

“We can pretend this never happened—” He cuts you off, saying your name.

“This is embarrassing because I thought you broke up with me.”

What?

“I broke up with you,” you clarified, all racing emotions coming to a screeching halt as you stared blankly into the distance.

The short laugh Jeno lets out was almost hysterical. “Yeah. I thought we were dating.”

“Dating? Since when?”

Jeno tilted his head. “The first and last time we had sex in my car. Because someone was scared of getting caught.”

“Well, I’m not exactly an exhibitionist, damn.” Now it was your turn for your face to flame up. That’s what he meant? “And you said you wanted to be ‘exclusive’! Not that you wanted me as your girlfriend!”

Jeno blinked in that cute way of his. “Is that not what being exclusive means?”

“Jeno, we hooked up in your car when you asked me that. At my job of all places. Who in their right mind would think you wanted to be my boyfriend? I literally thought you meant you wanted to fuck just me and no other girl. No-strings attached—that type of shit.”

“Well, no,” Obviously. His eyes seemed to say. “Wait. Was that why you kept making jokes of me still sleeping around?”

You winced with a reluctant nod. “uh—you can’t blame me for assuming since you look…” you made a vague gesture towards his face. “Like that.”

“You can say I’m hot," Jeno teased, smiling wryly. "It’s okay. I won’t get a big head or anything…”

“Too late, Megamind.” You scowled, then pursed your lips in contemplation. “Wait—holy shit… so that’s what Mark meant.”

Jeno blinked. “Meant what?”

“He said he gave us his blessing when we were at their housewarming party.” The knowing looks, the gentle pride gleaming from his eyes when you caught him staring at you and Jeno standing side-by-side at the party. “Oh my God. Did everyone else think that?” The girls losing their minds when you got up to make your way towards Jeno… Jaemin’s ever-present teasing dialed up to eleven once Jeno had let it slip through their phone call. “Why didn’t you say anything? Didn’t you find it weird that I wasn’t, like, referring to you as my boyfriend?”

Jeno’s lips parted into a darling ‘o’, then formed into a sheepish smile when you raised an eyebrow. “I just thought you were shy—that you wanted to keep our relationship private until you were ready to hard launch me on Instagram, or something like that.”

You wanted to kick yourself. “You’re literally too nice for your own good, what the fuck.” Jeno shrugged and you had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. You were dating this man without even knowing, apparently and here you were, dealing with your feelings like an angsty teenager. This is the most ridiculous case of miscommunication you’ve dealt with so far. “And the things you’ve been doing for me… the morning coffees, the sometimes lunches you’d leave with Jimin. Taking and picking me up to and from work when you could. The couch… Everything, basically… that wasn’t just you being nice?”

“It was me trying to make up for being the world’s shittiest roommate at first, but yes, that’s also me being your boyfriend, I’m sure,” he confirmed with a solemn nod, eyes twinkling as he finally relaxed in his chair. “Should I bring you a flower every time I do? Y’know, as a reminder, that yes. I’m doing this as your boyfriend.”

“As your boyfriend,” you repeated, smiling bashfully at his use of present-tense. “Are you done giving me the silent treatment, then? Because that sucked. Every time I looked at the couch you bought for us, I got this urge to cry.”

“I’m venmo-ing your money back, by the way.” Jeno was sure of himself now, his big hands feeling at him with their hold on your hips. “Are you going to admit you like me enough to consider me as your boyfriend?”

“I like you more than I should, actually,” you admitted and that was said without any conflicting feelings this time. Proudly too, in fact and the smile on your roommate-turned-fuck-buddy-turned-boyfriend was so worth it. “You’re really hard to resist.”

“I can say the same for you.” Your hips got a firm squeeze from him, making you shiver in delight. You really missed this—missed him and the giddy rush you would get whenever he said something just as sweet. “One more embarrassing thing.”

“Yeah?” You leaned forward, hands trailing tracing up his chest, the skin left exposed by his skin-fit tank top until he let out a hum, smiling coyly when your nails scratched languid lines at his nape. “Tell me anyway.”

“I fell in love the moment I saw you.”

You snorted. “Right. And that’s coming from someone who had many girls over and kept me up.”

“In my defense, I was convinced you were unreachable.”

“You could’ve just said I’m a bitch and called it a day.”

“No—no. It’s not about that, and you had the right to be. What I’m saying is that Mark was kind of an overseller.” Oh yeah. You sure had your own experiences with that. “Like, he made it sound like you were this girl who would never give me the time of the day, y’know? And before I took a leap and—and kissed you that day, I got too in my head that I won’t have a chance—I give you full permission to call me an idiot—and here we are.”

“So you weren’t fucking other girls, then. When we were sleeping together.”

“Nah, I was too busy thinking you were my girlfriend. I’m a slut, not a cheater.”

“Quote of the year,” you teased, smirking at his embarrassment. “Then that's old news. I don’t give a fuck, but really?” Jeno looked very pleased with himself, precious blush and all from admitting that he had been shooting heart eyes in your direction since the very early stages of your lives when you barely had taken root in each other’s. “Even when I was the biggest bitch of the east?”

“Especially when you were a bitch.” He emphasized his point by sliding one of his hands to the small of your back and pushing you close as the limited space his chair would allow you. “I really wasn’t lying when I said you’re cute when you’re angry. Really turns me on.”

“I think you just like me bossing you around, don’t you?” The slow blink you were rewarded with when giving his hair an experimental tug said it all. It pulled out a soft sound of amusement from you, pressing your foreheads together as your palms curved over his cheeks. “Your taste in women is horrendous, Jeno Lee.”

That made him smile, leaning into your touch. “I think you’re perfect, actually.” The warm puffs of his breath ghosting against your parted lips made them tingle and Jeno closed the distance with a kiss so sweet, so full of longing that you could honestly cry.

Was it possible to go a little stir crazy from not getting to kiss the man for weeks? Because you honestly felt like it, with Jeno being the sole source for your fix. You missed this. You missed him, having Jeno this close. You saw no point in rushing this as you pressed deeper, running your fingers through his soft hair just as your boyfriend (boyfriend!) crowds you further into him by wrapping one secure arm around your waist. His other hand cupped the back of your neck, leaving you to melt into his touch.

“On the contrary,” you took a big gulp of air just as Jeno took to pressing as many kisses as he could down your neck. “I’m kind of a mess,” you said, granting him a rueful smile when he withdrew with his eyebrows knitted together. “And a lot to deal with. Are you sure you want this?”

“You hated me at first. The big idiot who didn’t know when enough was enough, and yet you still gave me a chance anyway. Fuck knows why, but hell am I glad you did. The whole Casanova thing would have been a turn off for anybody, but you’re still here.”

“I’ve seen you change overtime. You’ve never been the same guy since then and I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that you might want to give this long term thing a shot. I couldn't care less if you ran through every woman in our area.”

“And I couldn't care less if there are days where you’ll be difficult. I’m in love with you—” You’ve never thought your name in the same sentence as ‘love’ would give you this much warmth. “I love you. Good days, bad days—doesn’t mean a thing when I’ll be with you during those days. And it’s all I ever want. So long as you’ll have me.”

And my goodness do you hold so much fondness for him. All those things that he did, all those things that he had said so far… it really made you want to put that much faith in him. He made it so easy when he was this determined and sincere and you really didn’t care if the start of this was all backwards.

“I really, really like you, Jeno Lee,” you whispered as if the moment would be ruined if you said it any louder. Whispered as if Jeno was the only one allowed to hear it. “Please trust me when I say I do. This—this is new to me, so I’m a little overwhelmed—look.” You took his hand and placed it above your beating heart. “There’s probably going to be a bruise there from how hard it's beating.”

“Oh, physical confirmation. I like that.”

You laughed, taking his hand to press the palm of it to your cheek. “It really was torture when I had to temporarily put us on hold. I was so used to you being there and… yeah.”

“Trust me when I say it felt like my world just collapsed when you broke up with me.”

“Eh… does it really count when one of us didn’t know that we were dating?”

“I suppose not.” Jeno reached up to kiss your cheek, your nose and then your lips. “We’re both stupid, I guess.”

“And you're sure you still want this?”

"You're all I've ever wanted."

Jeno pulled you down for another searing kiss full on intention, and you knew just then he’d be here with you. On the good days and the bad, in this apartment that started it all for a long time.

Jeno: hey Jeno: just wanna say thanks

Mark Lee: for what lol

Jeno: for linking me with your best friend Jeno: didn’t think you’d set me up to be her roommate tho Jeno: but that’s killing two birds with one stone ig so thanks anyway Jeno: I owe you my life

Mark Lee: it’s whatever dude Mark Lee: only you would fall in love with the girl who puked on your shoes for your meet-cute 😆

Jeno: listennn Jeno: she said she loved me and cuddled with me all night after i cleaned her up sat her down Jeno: but it didn’t look like she remembered me or that night at all

Mark Lee: dude Mark Lee: she was shitfaced at a club

Jeno: she could have remembered my face :/

Mark Lee: it was dark as hell 😐 Mark Lee: get a grip man Mark Lee: n she tends to not remember anything after THAT many tequila shots Mark Lee: i am curious tho what made her think you guys were just fucking and not dating lmfao Mark Lee: like what did you say 😭😭

Jeno: im blocking you.

END.

a/n: AND WE'RE DONE!!! LET'S ALL LIVE!!!! as always, special thanks to Aria, Aeriel and Moon for letting me scream and cry about how this fic was ruining my life and for lending a hand when it comes to forming ideas! I probably wouldn't have finished this piece of work if it weren't for them cheering me on and I am truly grateful to have them and their support i love you guys 🥹🩷🩷 and I'd also like to thank to wonderful people who had read this fic from start to finish! you deserve a cookie 🍪

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna @rjreins @pinknjm @kshynj @dorkyji @notevenheretbh1 @everytimeicrymytearsdonteverdry @iscocohere @seulkikiii @wintahh @peachesmilk @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @bluedbliss @tiramisubox @jinxxdreamz @minkyuncutie @txnml @yawnzshit @suhwife @carelessshootanonymous @sanctify-mp3 @haechansbbg @dreamiestay @ryuvrsie @derywinkle @byungbyungbaek @surrealxox @jenoleeaesthetic @dreamy-carat @weiweific @focusonyeri (much thanks you guys who had expressed interest and asked to be part of the taglist!)

#lee jeno x reader #lee jeno one shot #lee jeno smut #jeno x reader #jeno one shot #jeno smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream one shot

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hoonieangel · 25 days ago

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❤️❤️

WISH YOU BACK !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ streamer!jay x youtuber!f!reader ˒˓ exes to lovers 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. smau, fluff, (some) angst, cursing, chaein from purplekiss as faceclaim, some suggestive language, jealousy, kys/kms jokes, i have bad humor srry lol

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — my first smau for enha on this acc, i’m so nervyy >.< this was a request and i rlly thought it was gonna be a short one but no i got way too invested in this fake story i created, i loved this tew much. lmk if you liked this at all, feedback is much appreciated <3

if you already couldn’t tell, i took inspo from the whole pokimane and faze kaysan drama that happened a while ago LOL. i thought the whole premise of it would be a funny idea so yeah :p if you liked this please reblog/comment/like, it rlly helps me out !! ^.^

#enhypen smau #jay x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen #enha x reader #enha smau #enhypen imagines #jay smau

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hoonieangel · 26 days ago

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cute 😵‍💫

THATS YOU??

why is it that when the shy, nerdy boy in your class asks for your number for a project, his contact is already in your phone?

secretly plug jake x yn! y/n is so in denial. hes confidently in love w her. too much giddy laughy feelings!! warnings: drugs

perm:

@nikiswifiee @ancnymcnzjy @ja4hyvn @17ericas @hoonieyun @jellyluv4eva @wheretheheckis-ssaki @hyukabean

#enhypen #enha x reader #enhypen smau #enhypen x yn #smau #enhypen jake #sim jake x reader

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hoonieangel · 1 month ago

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FIREEEEE

COLLIDE l.hs

synopsis ⤑ Hockey boys were nothing but egoistic man boys who threw each other around, chasing a puck for a living. They lacked sustenance, they lived their lives like barbarians and you hated them, and everything they stand for. So being tasked to tutor the worst one of them all? An impossible task. Lee Heeseung was the poster child for a frat boy disaster and you wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Or so you thought. Damnit.

pairings ⤑ hockey player!heeseung x fem!reader word count ⤑ 19k

warnings ⤑ smut, loss of virginity, fingering, angst, a little bit of back and forth, frat boy activities, hockey, drinking, parties, tutoring trope, heeseung is a fuck boy and he’s kind of a dick, the reader is up tight, Ft. Yunjin (le sserafim), Soobin (txt), fictional relationships between real life idols, etc

crossing the line series.

You hated hockey. It was grueling and animalistic. Almost barbaric. It was not a hot sport and watching big hunks of men throwing each other around a big ice box was so not how you imagined your friday night would be going. But here you were, in the middle of the packed crowd of your college’s home hockey stadium. The arena is a frozen tundra of noise and chaos, packed with fans draped in red and white jerseys, faces painted and voices hoarse from shouting.

Yunjin bounces beside you, practically vibrating with excitement as she elbows your side for the tenth time in five minutes. Her eyes are fixed on the ice, where players crash into each other like it’s a battle to the death. She lives for the thrill of it. Loves coming to most of the games, i think her super hot boyfriend Choi Soobin being on the team really catapults her love for the grueling sport. And as her roommate and best friend you allow her to drag you along, sometimes.

“You’re gonna love this, I swear,” she insists, clutching her cup of overpriced soda with both hands. “Just wait until Heeseung scores. He’s, like, magic on skates.” You force a smile, but the sound of bodies slamming into the plexiglass makes your fingers tighten around the edge of your seat. The air smells like popcorn and sweat, and the fans behind you won’t stop shrieking obscenities at the referees. You don’t get it—any of it. The violent crashes, the speed, the way grown men bark and snarl at each other over a puck. Sure, Lee Heeseung was considered a star hockey player, one of the best your school has ever seen, they say. But you were impressed, what was so hard about chasing a puck and shoving each other. The announcer’s voice crackles to life, nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. “Goal scored by number seventeen, Lee Heeseung!”

Yunjin screams, leaping to her feet. The arena erupts, deafening, and you flinch as a pack of players smother Heeseung in a mess of helmets and gloves. They slap his back, crush him into the boards, grinning like wolves. You can barely see his face, but his name glows in bold white letters across the screen overhead, followed by a replay of the goal—a blur of motion and ice spray. It was disgusting, and you hated every second of it. You grimace, sinking lower in your seat. “Do they always act like that?” Yunjin was used to your need to abominate hockey and all it was so your question doesn't really phase her much. Yunjin laughs, eyes bright. “It’s called celebrating.”

“It’s called animalistic,” you mutter, but she doesn’t hear you, too busy cheering with the rest of the lunatics. The game drags on, seconds bleeding into minutes, periods crawling by in a blur of shouts and whistles and obnoxious goal horns. Every time a player crashes into another, you wince. The fights are even worse, gloves dropped and fists flying, the refs standing back like it’s some kind of gladiator match. Your butt is numb from the hard plastic seat, your ears ache, and you’ve never hated anything more. By the time the buzzer finally sounds, you’re half convinced you’ll go deaf before you escape. Yunjin beams at you, cheeks flushed and hair wild from excitement. “See? Wasn’t that amazing?” she gushes, grabbing your arm. “Heeseung was insane! I told you he’s the best.”

You manage a weak smile. “Uh-huh. Amazing.” Your sarcasm goes basically unnoticed by Yunjin, as she’s too busy celebrating the big win. The crowd around you turn to each other cheering loudly. You have to stop yourself from covering your ears with your palms to drown out the sounds. Finally, mercifully, the game is over. You shuffle out of the bleachers with Yunjin at your side, ears still ringing from the blaring horns and the relentless chants. College kids swarm the exits, jerseys half-zipped and voices hoarse, stumbling over each other as they yell about some after-party to celebrate the big win. You scuff to yourself because of course there is a party. A party you won't be going to. Instead you'll go back to the dorm and relax with a good book and a cup of tea. Lord knows you need it after spending hours in this ice box.

The hallway is a crush of bodies and echoes, and you’re too busy trying not to get trampled to notice the way Yunjin keeps sneaking glances at you—eyes wide and hopeful, lower lip caught between her teeth. It was painfully obvious she wanted to ask you something and even more obvious that you wouldn't like her question. You sigh. “Whatever it is, no.” shutting down any ideas she had before she could utter a single word. Her face falls. “But you don’t even—”

“No.” You adjust your bag higher on your shoulder, weaving through a trio of guys who reek of beer and cheap cologne. “I did my time. I sat through three hours of hockey without complaining—much. Can we please just go home?” You craved that night in to yourself. Yunjin grabs your arm, nearly making you stumble. “Okay, but hear me out. There’s a party at the frat house. The whole team’s gonna be there! Come on, it’s not even that far from campus. We can just—”

You cut her off again, rolling your eyes and saying “Absolutely not.” She pouts, eyes big and tragically betrayed. “Please?” begging you. She was begging you. And you couldn't give in. “Nope.”

“I’ll clean the dorm for a month,” she blurts, and you stop dead in the middle of the hallway. A guy with a blue foam finger scowls as he swerves around you, muttering something rude, but you barely notice. She puts up a tough bargain. Yunjin’s watching you like she’s just offered up her firstborn, palms pressed together in a silent plea. “I’m serious,” she says quickly, sensing you might actually be considering it. “Trash, laundry, dishes—everything. I’ll even organize your bookshelf!” Damn. She was good, she knew how to get you. Your eyes narrow. “Two months.” but you couldn't give up that easily. You had to fight at least a little bit.

“One,” she shoots back, biting back a grin. “And I’ll buy you coffee for a week.” You groan, already regretting this. “Fine,” you grumble, and Yunjin squeals, throwing her arms around you so suddenly you almost topple over. “You’re the best!” she cries, squeezing tight. “I promise it’ll be fun, I swear! Maybe you’ll even get to talk to Heeseung!”

You snort. “Not interested,” you laugh, prying her off with an eye roll. But your gaze flicks, unbidden, to the ice behind you—where number seventeen is still skating slow laps, head ducked as he talks to a teammate. His laugh is bright enough to catch even from this distance, mouth curved and eyes crinkling at the edges. You turn away with a scuff, no way you’d involve yourself with a man who plays hockey.

The party is already in full swing by the time you and Yunjin squeeze through the front door of the frat house. Music thrums through the walls, loud enough to feel in your chest, and the living room is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with sweaty college kids and empty red cups. Someone’s yelling something unintelligible from the kitchen, and a girl in a sparkly top rushes past, giggling as her friend tries to pull her back by the arm. It was like a playground. You had to stop yourself from cringy as you and Yunjin continued to push through the crowds of people. Your head spinning with irritation at the pure senselessness in the entire house. It was like no one here had half a brain. Yunjin, of course, lights up like a kid in a candy store. Within seconds, she’s weaving her way through the chaos, dragging you along by the wrist. You stumble after her, dodging spilled drinks and people making out against walls, and wonder for the hundredth time how you let her talk you into this.

Yunjin chats with everyone—absolutely everyone—with a pulse. She flits from one group to another like it’s the easiest thing in the world, tossing compliments and laughter around like confetti. You trail behind her awkwardly, fingers curled around a cup of something you’re too afraid to taste, smiling and nodding when you’re supposed to. Soobin must have not arrived yet so she was filling the gap with randoms until he got here.

You’re not sure how much time passes—long enough for your feet to start aching and for Yunjin to introduce you to at least fifteen people whose names you instantly forget—when she suddenly gasps, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, Jake!” she squeals, abandoning your arm to dart across the room. “Jay! You guys killed it out there!” You blink, half a step behind as you follow her gaze. Sure enough, Jake and Jay—both still in their team jackets, damp hair pushed back—are leaning against the staircase, laughing about something. Jake grins at Yunjin’s enthusiasm, eyes bright, while Jay salutes her with his drink.

“Yunjin!” Jake laughs, opening his arms for a hug. “You actually made it! Didn’t think hockey was your roommate’s scene.” His eyes flick to you, warm and teasing.

“It’s not.” You admit dryly. Jake chuckled, taking a big swig of drink before smirking at you both. “Well still, I bet you enjoyed Heeseung’s killer goal that won us the game. Pretty cool, right?”

“Sure.” Your answers were deadpan and you could tell you were making them both moderately uncomfortable but you didn't care. You’d much rather be literally anywhere else but here.

“Aren’t you having fun?” Jay asks, he was more nonchalant than Jake, less outgoing. He leaned against the sink with a lazy look on his face. It almost looked like he’d rather be anywhere else as well.

“I’m suffering.” Your candor had to have been appreciated because the look Jay sent you was one that screamed ‘i agree’. He definitely wasn’t the party type either. Which was almost unheard of when it came to team captains. Yunjin rolls her eyes fondly, but she’s already turning back to Jake, leaning in to ask about one of the plays from the game. You’re left to awkwardly clutch your drink, glancing around at the sea of strangers and trying to look less like a lost puppy and more like someone who actually belongs here. After a while of watching Yunjin converse with half the party you had to pee. Finding a bathroom in this massive house would be hard. And asking someone was out of the question, you've had enough socializing for one night. You right yourself preparing to walk among the sea of people in the way of the grand staircase. You clutched your drink in your hand weaving through the crush of bodies.

Reaching the staircase was no easy task, people were mushed together like a mosh pit. The hallway is somehow even more crowded, people pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and stumbling over each other in varying levels of drunkenness. You mutter apologies, clutching your drink to your chest and scanning the doors for a bathroom sign. There’s a line, of course, stretching halfway down the hall. You bite back a groan and resign yourself to waiting, tapping your foot impatiently and trying to ignore the obnoxious couple behind you sucking face like they might suffocate if they pull apart. You’re glancing at your phone when it happens. One second, you’re minding your own business—the next, someone slams into your side, and your drink splashes straight down your front, soaking your shirt in sticky warmth.

You freeze, disbelief flaring into white-hot irritation as you look up, ready to rip into whoever’s responsible— only to find Lee Heeseung drunkenly staring back at you with a tight lipped fake apologetic look on his face. It angered you, damn near enraged you. His hair’s mussed, dark eyes hazy and amused, and he’s laughing—actually laughing, low and unbothered—like he didn’t just body-check you into the wall. A girl no taller than you stood beside him hung onto his arm like her life depended on it. Her lipstick slightly smudged and hair ruffled, she looked like a hot mess.

You blink, rage sharpening like broken glass. “Are you—are you serious right now?” you snap, shoving your empty cup against his chest. “What the hell? Watch where you’re going!” Heeseung just glances down at the cup, brows raising slowly. The girl at his side huffs impatiently, tugging at his arm, but he doesn’t move—just smirks, dark eyes drifting over you in a way that makes your blood boil. “You’re kidding,” you scoff. “Is this funny to you?”

He tilts his head, grin widening. “Kinda,” he admits, and your jaw drops at his audacity. Where does he get off thinking he's the king of the world? What just because he won himself a game tonight means he’s the hottest thing around? Fuck that. “Oh, screw you,” you snap, swiping futilely at your soaked shirt. “God, just because you’re some hotshot hockey player doesn’t mean the world revolves around you, you know?”

Heeseung chuckles, a warm, lazy sound that makes you want to punch him right in his stupidly perfect mouth. “Actually,” he drawls, dark eyes glinting, “yeah, it does.” The audacity. Your hands clench, words stuttering uselessly on your tongue, but he’s already turning away—barely even sparing you a second glance as the girl tugs him down the hall, giggling and clinging to his arm. You stare after them, heart hammering with fury, cheeks hot and sticky drink dripping from your clothes. You hate him. You’ve never hated anyone more.

What seemed like forever soaked in sticky gold liquid, the line to the bathroom started dwindling down until you were the last one to reach it. You storm into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you harder than necessary. The mirror reflects the full horror of your situation—your shirt is soaked, sticky, and clinging to your skin in the most uncomfortable way possible. The scent of whatever cheap drink was in your cup lingers in the air, and no matter how many paper towels you use, the mess refuses to come off.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, aggressively scrubbing at the fabric of your clothing. Your mind replays the scene over and over, fueling your irritation. The smug tilt of Heeseung’s grin, the way he had the nerve to laugh in your face, to dismiss you like you were nothing. Yeah, it does. You grit your teeth so hard your jaw aches. Frustration crackles in your veins as you give up on your shirt and push out of the bathroom. The party is still going strong—music blasting, people shouting over one another, the air thick with sweat and spilled alcohol. You need to find Yunjin, tell her you’re leaving, drag her out of here if you have to.

But as you weave through the crowd, she’s nowhere to be found. Your irritation shifts into mild concern as you make your way toward the last place you saw her—near the staircase where she’d been laughing with Jake and Jay. Jay’s still there, leaning against the railing, casually sipping his drink as he chats with someone. You march up to him, crossing your arms. “Where’s Yunjin?”

Jay blinks, glancing over at you. His gaze flicks to your ruined shirt, and his lips twitch like he wants to ask, but wisely, he doesn’t. “Uh, last I saw, she went upstairs with Soobin.”

Your stomach sinks. “What?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, like ten minutes ago. Looked pretty cozy.” You inhale sharply, your irritation skyrocketing to full-blown fury. So Yunjin dragged you to this stupid party, bribed you into coming, abandoned you in a sea of sweaty hockey fans, and now she was upstairs with her boyfriend, completely forgetting you existed? Perfect. Just perfect.

“I’m leaving,” you mutter, spinning on your heel before Jay can respond. You shove your phone out of your pocket, pulling up the Uber app as you push your way through the crowd, biting down the urge to scream. By the time you make it outside, the cold air is a welcome slap to your overheated skin. You stand on the curb, shivering slightly, arms crossed tight over your chest as you wait for your ride. Tonight was supposed to be chill instead, you’re suffering through a hockey game, putting up with Yunjin’s antics, dealing with a party full of people you didn’t know. But somehow, he had to make it worse. Lee Heeseung. You scowl at the thought of him, jaw clenching. If the universe had any mercy, you’d never have to see him again.

Turns out the universe had no mercy at all. Not even an ounce. The next day, you’re still in a sour mood. You spent all night scrubbing your shirt, trying to get rid of the sticky residue and the memory of Lee Heeseung’s stupid smirk. Even after showering twice, you swear you can still smell the drink on your skin. But at least you’re back in your element now—your history class, where you TA. The classroom is empty except for Professor Kim, who looks up as you walk in, giving you a polite smile.

“Ah, good, you’re here,” he says, flipping through some papers on his desk. “I have a favor to ask. I know you tutor in your free time, and we have a student who’s in desperate need of help.”

You nod automatically. “Of course. You know I don’t mind tutoring.”

“That’s great to hear,” he says, looking relieved. “Because this student is failing, and if he doesn’t get his grade up, he’ll be ineligible to play.” You barely register his words, still waiting for a name. Then he glances down at his notes and says it.

“Lee Heeseung.” Your stomach plummets. No. No way. The universe had no mercy. “Wait—what?” You blink at him, hoping you misheard.

Professor Kim sighs. “Heeseung’s been struggling all semester. I gave him a warning last week, but his last exam was a disaster. If he doesn’t pass the next one, he’s off the team.” You open your mouth to protest, to say literally anyone else but him, but before you can get a word out, the door swings open, and in comes the bane of your existence.

Lee Heeseung strolls in like he owns the place, pushing his hair back as he yawns. His hoodie is wrinkled, his backpack is barely slung over one shoulder, and he looks every bit like someone who definitely did not wake up in time for his morning classes. “Sorry, sorry,” he drawls, not sounding sorry at all. “Rough night.”

You scoff before you can stop yourself. “I’m sure it was.” At the sound of your voice, Heeseung’s gaze slides lazily to you, and then—his lips curl. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face, and you immediately hate it.

Wait.” He tilts his head. “You’re my tutor?” He says in a mocking way, he’s making fun of you.

You cross your arms. “Unfortunately.” Heeseung clicks his tongue, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Damn. Lucky me.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes straight into another dimension. “Not so lucky for me,” you mutter. Professor Kim clears his throat. “So, you’ll meet twice a week until the next exam. I’ll leave the schedule up to you both, but I strongly recommend you start immediately.” You glare at Heeseung, who doesn’t seem remotely concerned about the fact that his academic career is hanging by a thread. Instead, he leans against the desk, watching you with amusement.

“Well, tutor,” he says, voice dripping with mock politeness. “When do you want me?” You open your mouth, then shut it. Heeseung’s smirk deepens, clearly enjoying the way you bristle. “Tomorrow at five,” you grit out.

“Perfect.” He pushes off the desk, stretching before making his way toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he glances over his shoulder, that irritating smirk still in place. “Try not to miss me too much until then,” he says, and then he’s gone. You stare after him, absolutely floored by his audacity. “Oh, I’m going to kill him,” you mutter under your breath.

By the time you make it back to your dorm, you’re fuming. Your entire walk across campus had been spent replaying your conversation with Heeseung, each smug smirk and cocky remark igniting your anger all over again. Of all people, why did it have to be him? You shove open the door, throwing your bag to the floor with a little more force than necessary. "Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable," you mutter, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

Yunjin and Soobin are sprawled out on the futon, a half-empty bag of chips between them as some random drama plays on the screen. It’s the first time you’ve seen Yunjin since she abandoned you at the party, and the second she looks up at you, she must sense the storm brewing in your expression. “Uh…” She blinks. “What’s wrong?”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Oh, I don’t know, Yunjin—maybe the fact that you ditched me last night?”

Yunjin’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh my God.” She sits up, looking genuinely guilty. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I just—Soobin showed up, and—”

“Yeah, I know,” you snap, glaring at Soobin, who at least has the decency to look sheepish. “Jay told me you ran off with him ten minutes after we got there. You know, after I suffered through a hockey game for you.” Yunjin groans, dragging her hands down her face. “You’re right. That was a shitty best friend move. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, collapsing onto your desk chair. “Yeah, yeah.” You wave her off, still annoyed but too exhausted to keep the argument going. “That’s not even the worst part.”

She tilts her head. “What do you mean?” You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples. “I have to tutor Lee Heeseung.”

Yunjin’s jaw drops. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “What?” she asks, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah. Apparently, he’s failing history, and if he doesn’t pass his next exam, he’s off the team,” you huff. “Professor Kim roped me into tutoring him before I even knew who it was.”

Yunjin snorts, clearly fighting a laugh. “Oh, that’s hilarious.”

“It’s not!” You glare at her. “You don’t understand—he’s a dick. He’s entitled, arrogant, and walks around like the whole world revolves around him.” Soobin hums, popping a chip into his mouth. “Heeseung’s not that bad.”

You whip your head toward him. “Are you serious?” Who asked him? He shrugs. “I mean, yeah, he can be cocky, but he’s actually pretty chill once you get to know him.”

Yunjin nods in agreement. “Yeah, he’s nice. I’ve talked to him a few times. He’s always been cool.”

Your mouth drops open. “Okay, no. You guys don’t get it. You didn’t see him at the party last night.”

Soobin raises an eyebrow. “What happened?” You launch into a full-blown rant, recounting every infuriating detail. “I was minding my business, just trying to use the bathroom, when he and some random girl bumped into me. I spilled my drink all over myself because they were too busy making out to notice other human beings existed. And when I called him out on it, do you know what he did?” Yunjin and Soobin both stare, waiting.

“He laughed. He laughed in my face and said, ‘Yes, it does,’ when I told him the world doesn’t revolve around him!” You threw your hands in the air in exasperation. Yunjin lets out a low whistle. “Oof.”

“Right?” You throw your hands up. “And now I have to spend actual time with him, tutoring him like he’s some helpless little idiot who can’t read a history book!” Soobin chuckles, shaking his head. “Sounds like he got under your skin.”

You scoff. “No. He’s just the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.” Yunjin exchanges a look with Soobin before turning back to you with an all-too-knowing smirk. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” she singsongs. “I just think this tutoring thing is gonna be very interesting.”

The next day, you show up at the library exactly at five. You even get there a few minutes early because, unlike some people, you actually value punctuality. You find a table in the back, away from the louder study groups, and start setting up—pulling out your notes, opening your laptop, lining up your highlighters like the responsible student you are. Then, you sit back and wait for Lee Heeseung to show up.

And wait.

You check the time. 5:15. You exhale sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to stay calm. Maybe he’s just running late. Maybe he got held up. Maybe— 5:30. Okay, seriously? You shoot him a quick text, nothing too aggressive. Just a simple: “Hey, you coming?” Nothing. Not a single response.

5:45. Your patience is wearing paper-thin. You stare at your phone screen, resisting the urge to type out something way more aggressive. Maybe something like: “If you were planning on wasting my time, you could have at least had the decency to tell me instead of making me sit here like an idiot.” Or better yet: “Fuck you.”

By now, you’re fuming. Your fingers drum aggressively against the table as you glare at the empty seat across from you, debating whether you should just leave. Clearly, he has no intention of showing up. 6:30. That’s it. You’re done. You shove your notebook into your bag, ready to storm out and text Professor Kim that you refuse to tutor an insufferable jackass, when— a voice behind you mutters a simple “Hey.”

You slowly turn around, already brimming with rage, and there he is—Lee Heeseung, strolling in like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. He drops into the seat across from you, stretching his arms behind his head with the kind of casual arrogance that makes you want to throw something at him. "Sorry I’m late," he says. Not actually sounding sorry at all.

You slam your laptop shut with way too much force. "You’re an hour and a half late."

Heeseung just shrugs. "Yeah, my bad. I had practice. Then I had to change. And, y’know, eat. Then I ran into some people…" Your eye twitches at his nonchalant attitude “And at no point did it occur to you to let me know?”

Heeseung raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t understand why you’re so worked up. "Didn’t think it was that big of a deal." You inhale so sharply your lungs burn. "Not that big of a—" You cut yourself off, pressing your hands against the table to ground yourself because if you don’t, you might actually throw your water bottle at his stupid, smug face.

Heeseung just watches you with lazy amusement, clearly not taking this seriously. “Don’t be so uptight,” he says, flipping open his empty notebook like he actually plans on doing anything. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Oh. oh something inside of you snaps. You can’t help the next words that leave your mouth and to be quite honest you don’t know if you care much anyway. “Oh, fuck off Heeseung.”

Heeseung pauses, blinks, then smirks. “What?”

"You heard me." You stand up, grabbing your bag. "I don’t have time for your arrogant, self-important bullshit. If you actually cared about passing this class, you’d take it seriously instead of acting like you’re doing me a favor by showing up." His smirk doesn’t even falter. If anything, it deepens. “Damn,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t know you were this feisty.”

You glare. “And I didn’t know you were this much of a dick. But here we are.”

Heeseung chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re kinda cute when you’re mad.” oh. That’s it. You’re officially done.

You shove your notebook into your bag so aggressively you nearly rip the zipper, and without another word, you storm out of the library. You can hear him laughing behind you. Actually Laughing. And you swear—you swear—you’ve never wanted to strangle someone more in your entire life.

The next day, you’re back at the library, sitting across from Kim Sunoo, a bright-eyed freshman who actually wants to learn. Unlike some people. You tap your highlighter against the open textbook, explaining a key point about the causes of the Industrial Revolution. Sunoo nods eagerly, his face lighting up in understanding. “Ohhh, that makes so much sense now! I swear, I was staring at this for hours last night and none of it clicked.”

You smile despite yourself. “It’s easier when someone explains it out loud, huh?”

Sunoo grins. “Way easier. You’re really good at this, noona.”

You chuckle. “It’s literally just history.”

“Yeah, but you make it less boring,” he says, scribbling notes as fast as he can. “I actually feel like I might pass this exam now.” Before you can respond, a shadow falls over your table. And suddenly, the lightheartedness of the moment is gone. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. The air shifts, tension creeping in like a slow-moving storm.

Sunoo notices before you do. His eyes flick upward, widening slightly. “Uh—”

“Hey”

You sigh. The last thing you need right now is him. Slowly, you look up. Lee Heeseung stands there, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, looking at you with something that is not his usual cocky amusement. His posture is relaxed, but there’s an awkwardness to it—like he’s not used to whatever he’s about to do.

You cross your arms over your chest. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk.” His gaze flickers to Sunoo. “Alone.” Sunoo, to his credit, looks between the two of you and seems to decide that this is not his business. He hurriedly starts shoving his books into his bag. “Oh! Yeah, of course, I—” You shoot Heeseung an annoyed look. “We’re in the middle of something.”

Sunoo waves a hand. “No, no, it’s fine! I was about to go anyway.” He flashes you a grateful smile. “Thanks for the help! I’ll see you next week?” You nod, still frowning as you watch him scurry off like he just escaped something dangerous. Which, honestly? Fair. Then, you turn back to Heeseung. You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, waiting. “Well?”

Heeseung exhales, looking almost uncomfortable. He shifts his weight, raking a hand through his hair before finally meeting your eyes. "Look… about last night…"

Your eyebrows lift. “You mean the hour and a half I spent waiting for you? Or the part where you acted like a complete asshole?” He winces, lowering his eyes to the floor. “Yeah. That.” You don’t say anything. You let the silence stretch between you, let him sit in it. And for the first time since meeting him, Heeseung actually looks nervous.

He exhales sharply, dropping into the seat across from you. “I was a dick,” he admits. “I know that. And I’m sorry.” You blink. Lee Heeseung, apologizing? Willingly? You half expect the ceiling to cave in. You narrow your eyes, skeptical. “Are you actually?”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I am.” He leans forward slightly, his voice lower now. Sincere even. “Look, I need this. I need to pass. If I don’t, I can’t play.” Something flickers across his face when he says it—something restrained. You get the feeling he’s hating admitting this to you, like asking for help isn’t something he’s ever had to do before. You study him, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tap against the table like he’s restless. For once, there’s no arrogance in his expression. No teasing smirk. Just… Lee Heeseung, stripped of his usual bullshit.

You hate that it actually works. That a small part of you softens. But still, you’re not letting him off that easy. “I’ll be on time,” he says, his voice firmer now. “I’ll take it seriously. Just… give me another chance.”

You tilt your head, considering. “And if you don’t?” He exhales through his nose. “Then you can tell Professor Kim to find me another tutor. You’ll never have to deal with me again.” You hesitate, watching him. You want to say no. Want to tell him to find someone else, that you don’t owe him anything. But at the same time… you do love tutoring. And despite everything, you’d hate to see someone fail because of their own stupid pride. Even if that someone is Lee Heeseung.

So, against your better judgment, you sigh. “Fine,” you say, and immediately he brightens. But you hold up a finger. “But if you pull that shit again, I’m done. No second chances.”

He nods immediately. “Got it.”

You squint. “I mean it, Heeseung. One more time, and I’m out.”

“I know, I know,” he says, lips curling up into something that almost looks like a real smile. “I won’t be late.” You purse your lips, still doubtful. “We’ll see.” Heeseung stands up, stretching. “Five sharp, yeah?”

“Five sharp.”

A slow smirk spreads across his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes and start gathering your things. “See, this is exactly what I mean.”

He chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No teasing. I’ll be good.” Somehow, you highly doubt that. As he walks away, hands stuffed in his pockets, you watch him go, feeling a mixture of irritation and reluctant curiosity. Because for all his bullshit, for all his cocky, self-important assholery… A small, tiny part of you is curious to see if he’ll actually change. And you hate that. So much.

That night, you and Yunjin fall into your usual routine—Chinese takeout, pajama shorts, and an unnecessary rewatch of Grey’s Anatomy. The apartment is warm, dimly lit by the soft glow of your laptop screen. The air smells like sweet and sour chicken, and your chopsticks lazily poke at your carton of lo mein as Yunjin lies sprawled across the couch beside you. “I still can’t believe you’re actually tutoring Heeseung,” she says around a mouthful of fried rice.

You groan, letting your head fall back against the couch. “Don’t remind me.”

“You hate him.” Yunjin continues.

“Exactly! Which is why this is actual hell for me.” You huff, setting your carton down on the coffee table. “He’s such a dick. He thinks the world revolves around him just because he’s good at hockey.”

Yunjin hums, twirling a noodle around her chopstick. “Soobin says he’s not actually that bad.” You scoff. “Oh, of course Soobin would say that. Heeseung’s his teammate.”

Yunjin shrugs. “Yeah, but like… he really meant it. Heeseung’s just—” She pauses, pursing her lips like she’s debating whether or not to say something. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

Yunjin sighs, setting her food down. “Soobin told me something about him. A story, actually.” You blink. “About Heeseung?”

She nods, sitting up a little. “Do you wanna hear it?” You hesitate, rolling your eyes. “Do I need to?”

Yunjin grins. “Oh, absolutely.”

You groan, but you can’t deny that you’re a little curious. You grab your drink, leaning back against the couch. “Fine. Spill.”

Yunjin sits up even more, tucking her legs beneath her. “Soobin told me that back in high school, Heeseung wasn’t—like—this.” She gestures vaguely. “He wasn’t popular. Or cocky. Or even a star player.”

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “What do you mean? He’s insanely good.”

“I know,” she says, eyes widening. “But apparently, his coach barely let him play. He wasn’t one of the ‘favorites,’ you know? So he rode the bench most of the time.” That… does surprise you. The Lee Heeseung you know is the player everyone talks about, the guy who steals the spotlight like it was made for him. The idea of him sitting on the sidelines, ignored, is hard to imagine.

“One day,” Yunjin continues, “one of the team’s star players got hurt before a big game. They had to put Heeseung in, and—” she snaps her fingers “—just like that, he destroyed everyone.” You blink. Surprised, this was not what you were expecting at all.

“He played so well that the entire crowd went nuts. Coaches were watching. He basically stole the game, and after that? He got a full-ride scholarship. Just like that.” Your brows knit together, trying to picture it. “But after that game,” Yunjin says, tilting her head, “he changed. Like, overnight.”

You frown. “What do you mean?” She exhales, leaning against the couch. “I mean he stopped being the quiet kid. He got stronger, started training harder. And when he got to college? Boom. Whole new personality. He’s loud, cocky, untouchable.” You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, that part tracks.”

Yunjin gives you a look. “But don’t you get it? He had to change. He was treated like nothing for years, and the second he proved himself, he made sure no one would ever look down on him again.” You chew on your lip, staring at the flickering light of the laptop screen. You don’t know what to do with that information. Because it’s easier to hate Heeseung when he’s just an arrogant, self-absorbed jock. When he’s just some guy who gets on your nerves. But now there’s a reason behind it. And you hate that it makes you see him differently.

The next day, when you step into the library, you expect to wait. You expect to sit down, go through your notes, tap your fingers against the table while checking the time, wondering how long you should stay before giving up. But Heeseung is already there And it throws you off.

He’s slouched in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, head tilted down as he stares at his phone. His brows are furrowed, lips pressed together, his thumb hovering over the screen but never quite moving. It’s an expression you’re not used to seeing on him. Tense. Quiet. Serious. It doesn’t suit him.

You shake it off, forcing yourself to walk over. You pull out your chair with a sharp scrape against the floor and drop your books onto the table. Loudly. Nothing. You fight the urge to roll your eyes and sit down. “Alright, we’re starting with Henry the Eighth today.”

No reaction. You tilt your head. “You know, the king who had six wives? England’s most dramatic ruler?” Still, nothing. Your patience thins. “What’s more important than not failing?” At that, he finally looks up, but instead of the usual lazy amusement or mild irritation, his expression is sharp.

“Mind your own business,” he snaps. It hits you like a slap. Of all the things you expected, that wasn’t one of them.

You straighten, gripping the edge of the table, surprised by the coldness in his voice. Heeseung has been many things since you met him—cocky, arrogant, insufferable—but he’s never been cruel. You inhale sharply, already pushing back your chair. “Okay. If you don’t wanna be here, I’m not wasting my time—”

“Wait.” The word is rushed, almost desperate, and before you can leave, Heeseung finally puts his phone down. He drags a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly through his nose. “It’s just my dad,” he mutters, like that should be enough of an explanation. You hesitate, watching the way his jaw ticks, the way his fingers tap restlessly against the table.

“What about him?” you ask, voice softer than before. Heeseung doesn’t look at you. “He was just asking how the season’s going. That’s it.” You study him for a moment, something itching at the back of your mind. This is the first time Heeseung has ever looked like this. Quiet. Withdrawn. Like his thoughts are somewhere else entirely. And last night, you learned something about him—something you never would’ve guessed on your own.

You shift in your seat, glancing at your open notebook before closing it. “You know…” You trail off, choosing your words carefully. “I heard a story about you.” Heeseung blinks, his gaze flicking to yours. “What?”

“I heard that back in high school, you weren’t allowed to play much,” you say. “And that when you finally got your shot, you proved everyone wrong.” His entire body stiffens. For a second, you think he’s going to let you keep talking, but then his expression hardens. His lips press together, his fingers stop tapping, and suddenly, the coldness is back.

“Don’t,” he says flatly. You frown. “I just—”

He cuts you off with his stern voice. A terrify you didn't want to wander “I said don’t.” It’s sharp, cutting, final. The look in his eyes makes it clear that whatever conversation you were hoping to have? It’s not happening. Your stomach twists, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, unsure if you should apologize or pretend like you never said anything at all. For a moment, the silence is heavy. Unbearable.

Then Heeseung sighs, running a hand over his face. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “Just… drop it.” You swallow hard, nodding slowly. “Right,” you murmur, flipping open your book again. “Henry the Eighth.” For a second, you think he won’t even pretend to pay attention. But then he leans forward, picking up a pencil and tapping it against the table. And this time, when you start talking, he actually listens.

Over the next few weeks you and Heesseung began to find some kind of rhythm that worked for the both of you. And after no time Heeseung was back to usual self. Being extremely and unavoidably annoying. But it was clear to you that all your tutoring sessions were starting to pay off, he was actually learning the material and he..seemed to like it.

The moment stretches—just a second too long. Your hand lingers against his, warmth seeping through the space between your fingers. It’s stupid. It’s just a high-five. Something you’ve done a thousand times with other people. But when you pull away, you can still feel the ghost of his touch, like it left an imprint. Heeseung’s smirk flickers, something unreadable flashing across his face. But then, just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by his usual cocky grin.

“See? I told you I was a genius,” he says, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to focus. “That was one right answer out of ten, relax.”

“An improvement, though.” He points at you like he’s proving a point. “You should be proud. I might actually be learning something.” You scoff, gathering your notes, but your stomach twists in a way you don’t quite understand. Something is different.And you’re not sure what to do about it. One Part of you is scared, another part is excited. And that fear continues to grow the more time you spend with Heeseung.

The study room is too small. Or maybe it just feels that way because Heeseung takes up too much space—not physically, but in the way he leans back in his chair like he owns the place, the way his presence seems to stretch and fill every available inch. The air is thick with the scent of his cologne—something clean, sharp, a little woodsy—and you hate that you notice it.

It doesn’t help that you’re sitting way too close. Your knees bump under the table every time one of you shifts. His arm brushes yours when he reaches for his pencil. The tiny room makes every movement magnified, every accidental touch unavoidable.

You try to focus. You clear your throat and point to your notes. “Okay, so if you actually want to pass this test, you need to remember the causes of the French Revolution.” Heeseung hums, leaning forward. “Right. The people were pissed.” You deadpan. “And why were they pissed?”

“Uh…” He chews the end of his pencil, eyes flicking to the page in front of you. “Something about taxes?” You exhale. “Something about taxes,” you echo, circling the words in your notes. “Yes. Specifically, the Third Estate—” Before you can finish, Heeseung shifts, leaning over your shoulder to get a better look at your writing. And that’s when it happens. His arm presses against yours. His face is too close. And suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of everything—the warmth of his skin, the scent of his cologne, the way his breath fans lightly over your shoulder.

You force yourself to stay still, to not react. “You have really messy handwriting,” Heeseung murmurs, completely oblivious to the absolute chaos in your brain. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that his voice is lower, softer in the quiet of the study room. “Maybe if you actually wrote your own notes, you wouldn’t have to suffer through mine.”

“I like yours better,” he says, smirking. You scuff, shoving your notebook toward him. “Then read them yourself, genius.”

He laughs, finally leaning back, and you exhale—only now realizing you were holding your breath. It was nothing. Just an accidental touch. And yet your heart is pounding out of your chest. You shake it off, clearing your throat. “Okay. Back to the revolution.” Heeseung smirks like he knows something you don’t. But he doesn’t say a word. And somehow that’s worse.

The party is loud—too loud, too chaotic, too much. You don't even know whose house this is. The bass is thumping through the floor, the air is thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and way too much cologne. Yunjin, as always, is in her element, talking to literally anyone with a pulse, dragging you around as she bounces between groups of people. You don’t even know why she drags you along to these things if she’s not even going to stay with you.

You're scouting your surroundings when you see him. Lee Heeseung. But he’s not like he usually is, No cocky smirk, no playful teasing, no girls clinging to his arm. He looks… different. Closed off even. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, a red Solo cup dangling from his fingers, but his eyes are unfocused, staring off at nothing. The usual arrogance in his posture is missing. He just looks… tired.

You hesitate. Normally, you’d avoid him. You’re not sure why you don’t this time. Maybe it’s because he’s alone, or maybe it’s because this version of him—the one that isn’t performing, isn’t playing up his reputation—intrigues you. So you walk over, crossing your arms. “No girl hanging off you tonight?” Heeseung barely reacts at first. He blinks, like he’s just noticing you, then shrugs. “Not in the mood.”

That’s not the response you expect. Usually, he’d fire back with something smug, something flirty, something to get a rise out of you. Instead, his voice is flat. You glance at him, studying his expression. His usual lightheartedness is gone, replaced with something heavier, something clouded. His fingers tighten around the cup, his jaw shifts slightly, and he isn’t looking at you. Something’s on his mind. And for some reason, you care.

“…You wanna get out of here?” The words slip out before you can stop them. Heeseung finally looks at you. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—surprise, curiosity, maybe even relief. And for a second, you think he’s going to brush you off, flash you that smirk and tell you not to flatter yourself. But instead, he nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Outside, the night air is cold, but it feels… lighter. You walk side by side down the street, neither of you saying anything at first. The party fades behind you, the music growing distant, replaced by the quiet hum of the night. It’s weird. You’ve never been alone with Heeseung outside of the library. You’re used to him in controlled environments—study sessions, parties where he’s surrounded by people, the ice where he’s the star. Not like this. Not just… walking.

“You okay?” you ask eventually. Heeseung huffs a laugh, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Didn’t think you cared.” You roll your eyes. “I don’t.”

He smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Liar.” You bump your shoulder against his without thinking. “Seriously, though. You’re acting different.” Heeseung exhales, looking up at the sky. For a second, you think he won’t answer. But then—

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Just hockey stuff.”

You frown. “You’re always dealing with hockey stuff.”

“Yeah, well.” He pauses. “It’s my whole life.”

You glance at him, watching the way his features harden, his usual carefree exterior cracking just enough for you to see through. And you remember what Yunjin told you—that he wasn’t always the hotshot, that he had to claw his way to the top. You don’t push him. Instead, you say, “Wanna grab food?” He blinks. “At this hour?”

“Diner down the street’s open late,” you say. “And you look like you could use pancakes.” Heeseung huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. But then he looks at you—really looks at you. And something shifts. “…Yeah,” he says, nudging you with his elbow. “Let’s get pancakes.” And just like that, the night takes on a different shape.

The diner is the kind of place that always smells like coffee and syrup, no matter what time of day it is. The booths are cracked with age, the neon sign outside flickers every few seconds, and there’s a quiet hum of old music playing through the speakers. It’s not fancy. But it’s warm, and right now, it’s exactly what you need. Heeseung slides into the booth across from you, stretching out his legs so they nearly brush against yours. You don’t know if he does it on purpose or if he just takes up that much space. You ignore it.

A waitress comes by, barely looking at either of you as she takes your order—pancakes, coffee, extra whipped cream. Heeseung raises an eyebrow at you, amused. “What?” you challenge. “I told you. Pancakes fix everything.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. But there’s something softer about him now. Not in the way he usually teases you—this feels different. And then the moment settles into a more calm setting. You lean forward, resting your arms on the table. “So,” you say, tilting your head. “Wanna talk about it?”

You expect him to dodge the question, maybe throw out some sarcastic remark to avoid actually telling you what’s going on. But for the second time that night, Lee Heeseung surprises you. He exhales, running a hand through his hair, making it even messier than before. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. “My dad found out about my grades.” Your stomach twists. You already have a bad feeling about where this is going.

Heeseung lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “He says if I’m gonna throw my entire hockey career away for some stupid class, then I don’t deserve his financial support anymore.” He pauses, staring down at the table. “Says I should ‘get my priorities straight.’” Your heart clenches. You should’ve expected something like this. It’s not uncommon—parents putting pressure on their kids, pushing them toward success, expecting perfection. But something about the way Heeseung says it, the way his voice drops just a little at the end… You know that feeling.

“I just—” Heeseung exhales harshly, gripping his fork a little too tight. “I never feel like I’m enough for them, you know?”

You don’t even think. You just say it. “I do.”

Heeseung blinks, lifting his gaze to meet yours. You swallow hard, suddenly feeling vulnerable, but you push through. “My mom and I don’t talk anymore,” you admit. “She didn’t approve of me getting a history degree. She wanted me to go into the family business with them.” You let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “When I didn’t, she basically—shunned me. Acted like I was a disappointment. Like I wasn’t worth her time anymore.” Heeseung stares at you, expression unreadable. You feel like you should keep talking, should fill the silence, but then Heeseung leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table. His gaze softens.

“That’s fucked up,” he says, voice quieter now.

You shrug, picking at the edge of your napkin. “Yeah, well. It is what it is.” There’s a pause. Then— “I don’t think it is,” Heeseung mutters. You look at him, and for the first time since you met him, you realize that Lee Heeseung isn’t just some cocky, aggravating hockey star. He’s a person. A person with his own struggles, his own fears, his own wounds. The realization shifts something inside you. The waitress comes by, sliding plates of pancakes in front of you, breaking the moment. Heeseung blinks, like he’s shaking himself out of whatever just passed between you, and you do the same.

You don’t kiss. You don’t hold hands. You don’t even bring the topic up again, but the both of you feel it. Something was different.

You glance at the time on your phone and exhale sharply, tapping your fingers against the table. Heeseung is late. Again. It’s been twenty minutes, and you’ve already convinced yourself that if he’s not here in five more, you’re leaving. To say you were disappointed would be an understatement, you were more sad than anything. You had thought that the two of you had made some much progress. You’re mid-internal rant about how utterly irresponsible he is when you hear the sound of hurried footsteps.

“I know, I know,” Heeseung says before you can even open your mouth. He holds up both hands in mock surrender, slightly out of breath. “Before you rip my head off, I brought you something.” You narrow your eyes as he slides a coffee cup and a neatly wrapped pastry across the table.

You hesitate, suspicious. “What is this?”

“A peace offering,” Heeseung says with a grin. “Your favorite, by the way. Thought it might keep you from murdering me in cold blood.” Your lips part slightly, surprised. “How do you even know my order?”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “You get it every time we go to the campus café. Not that hard to remember.” You press your lips together, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach does a weird little flip at that. Instead, you roll your eyes and mutter, “Still an asshole,” before taking the cup.

Heeseung chuckles, sliding into the seat across from you. “Yeah, yeah. But at least I’m a thoughtful asshole.” You’re about to start the tutoring session when a static-filled announcement echoes through the library speakers. “Attention, students: The library will be closing early tonight due to a scheduled event. Please begin packing up your belongings.”

You blink, glancing at Heeseung, who’s already stuffing his books back into his bag. He shrugs. “Guess we’re taking this somewhere else.”

“Wait!” You call out. “Where are we going?” You ask him, beginning to pack up your own things.

“Just come with me.” He says simply with a shrug of his shoulders. You huff but follow after him like he said, through the crowd of people also leaving the library.

You’re not sure how it happens, but twenty minutes later, you’re sitting across from Heeseung in a quiet corner of a late-night café, your books barely touched. At first, you try to focus on history. You really do. But for once, Heeseung isn’t the one slacking off—you are. The conversation drifts. It’s not about Henry VIII or the French Revolution anymore. It’s about movies.

“What do you mean you’ve never seen Interstellar?” Heeseung looks genuinely offended. You roll your eyes. “Sorry, I just never got around to it.”

He lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Unbelievable. You call yourself educated?” You nudge his foot under the table. “Pretty sure history knowledge is more important than knowing a random space movie.”

“First of all,” he says, holding up a finger, “it’s not just a ‘random space movie.’ It’s a cinematic masterpiece.”

You snort. “Didn’t take you for the type to get passionate over movies.” Heeseung sends you a smirk, one that you had to admit made you feel mushy inside. What was happening to you? “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” And for some reason, you find yourself wanting to change that. Then the conversation shifts again. This time, it’s about childhood.

You tell him about how you used to sneak into your grandfather’s study to read history books that were way too advanced for you, even though you were explicitly told not to. Heeseung tells you about how he used to skate on a frozen pond near his childhood home, even when it wasn’t completely frozen over. “Nearly drowned once,” he admits with a laugh. “Didn’t stop me from going back the next week.”

You shake your head. “That explains so much about you.” The conversation flows too easily. The barriers that were once so firm between you are now… blurred. It scares yet excites you at the same time. At some point, you notice Heeseung looking at you for a little too long. His eyes flicker over your face, his smirk settling into something softer. Something unreadable. It has your heart pounding and your palms sweaty. You felt like one of those rom com heroines that were head over heels in love with the witty Jock. What were you doing? Lee Heeseung was so not your type. Hockey players were so not your type.

“You know,” he muses, tilting his head, “this kinda feels like a date.” Your breath catches in your throat.

You scoff, trying to ignore the sudden warmth in your face. “In what world?”

Heeseung grins, leaning forward slightly. “Come on. Late-night café, deep conversation, stolen glances.” He raises a brow. “You sure you don’t feel it?” Your heart stumbles. You don’t know what to say. So you shift the topic into something more casual but still you don’t miss the knowing smirk on Heeseung’s face, like he knew the effect he had on you and he liked it. And a part of you liked it too..

The next day, you and Heeseung are back at the library, tucked into your usual corner. The energy between you is… normal. The way it always is. You tell yourself that last night at the café meant nothing. That Heeseung’s words—this kinda feels like a date—were just him messing with you, the way he always does. So you push it away, bury yourself in your notes, and act like everything is the same.

And for the most part, it is. Heeseung slouches in his chair, tapping his pencil against the table in boredom while you attempt to drill historical facts into his thick skull. He groans dramatically when you ask him a question. He teases you when you sigh in exasperation. Everything is normal. Until—

“What’s this?” Heeseung suddenly reaches into your bag and pulls out a slightly worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. You blink. “Uh, my book?”

Heeseung raises a brow. “You’re one of those people?”

You cross your arms. “What does that mean? A person who reads?”

He grins, flipping through the pages. “Y’know. The ones who are obsessed with Mr. Darcy.”

You roll your eyes. “I like the book because it’s well-written. Not because I’m obsessed with some brooding 19th-century man.” Heeseung hums, still turning the pages. “Mm. I liked it, too.”

You stare at him. “What?” No way a guy like Lee Heeseung read and liked Pride and prejudice.

He looks up, amused. “What?”

“You read it?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah. Had to for a class in high school.”

You’re genuinely shocked. You don’t know why—Heeseung surprises you more often than you’d like to admit. But for some reason, the image of him reading Pride and Prejudice is not one you ever expected. “What did you think?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He leans back in his chair, tapping the book against his thigh. “I liked the way Mr. Darcy felt about Elizabeth. That whole ‘I tried not to love you, but I did anyway’ thing? Kinda hits, y’know?”

Your breath catches. Because the way he says it..It’s not teasing, it’s not sarcastic, it's not a joke. The air shifts between you and for a minute you just stare at each other, saying nothing but so many things all at once. Something pulses in the space between you—something unfamiliar, something dangerous, something you don’t quite know how to name. Then, before you can react— Heeseung laughs, then he leans forward and kisses you.

It’s quick. Just a press of his lips against yours. Light, fleeting. Like it’s nothing. Like it’s a joke. Something so trivial you do with the everyday person, something with no meaning. And it takes you a second to process what just happened before the reality of it slams into you like a freight train. You shove him back. Hard. “What the hell, Heeseung?” Your voice shakes with anger.

He just grins, laughing. “Relax. I just wanted to see you flustered.” Your stomach sinks. To him it was a joke, kissing me was a joke to see me– Flustered? That was funny to him? You don’t even realize your hands are shaking until you grab your things and shove them into your bag. Your chest feels tight. Your vision blurs. Because it wasn't a joke to you. You didn't enjoy being the punchline to someone's entertainment. “Hey, where are you—” But you don’t let him finish. You walk out.

You make it all the way out of the library before the first tear falls. You hate yourself for it. Hate that you’re crying. Hate that you’re letting Heeseung get to you. But you can't help it. That was your first kiss. And he stole it from you. It wasn't special, it wasn't meaningful if anything it was the opposite. It was just a joke. A way for Heeseung to entertain himself. You wipe your face harshly, forcing yourself to breathe. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it’s not a big deal. That it’s fine. But it’s not.

You’re halfway across campus when you hear footsteps behind you. “Wait—wait,” Heeseung calls. You don’t stop. If anything you walk quicker trying your hardest to get away from him. “Hey—seriously—” He jogs up beside you, still laughing. Like it’s funny. Like it’s just another thing for him to tease you about. And that’s when you’ve had enough. That’s when you break.

You whirl around, eyes blazing. “You think this is funny?” Heeseung falters, caught off guard by the sharpness in your voice. You scoff, shaking your head. “You don’t get it.”

Heeseung frowns, finally realizing that you’re actually mad. “I mean, come on. It was just a kiss—”

“No, it wasn’t!” The words come out louder than you intend. Heeseung blinks. Your throat tightens. You stare at the ground, voice quieter now. “That was…my first kiss.” The words feel like ash on your tongue, burning your inside out. Embarrassment flooding your senses.

And silence followed, dead silence. Heeseung said nothing at your confession. When you finally look up, Heeseung’s expression has completely changed. He doesn’t look smug anymore. He doesn’t look amused. He looks like he just got punched in the stomach. “Shit,” he breathes.

You shake your head, swallowing hard. “Forget it.” You turn to leave again, but this time, he grabs your wrist. Stopping you from moving away from him. You want to rip your wrist from his hands, it feels like fire on your skin. You just wanted to get away from him even for just a few minutes to collect yourself, so you could calm down.

Heeseung, although unintentionally, took something from you. And for some people your first kiss would mean nothing but not to you. You had been waiting for the right time, a first kiss, in your mind, was supposed to be romantic. It was supposed to mean something. Even if you didn't end up with that person in the end. Even if you had the messiest break up it didn't matter because in that moment they were the right person and the feeling was there.

It was the reason you read romance novels like pride and prejudice. You were a foolish, foolish hopeless romantic and you didn't care. You embraced it but now stuck in front of someone like Lee Heeseung who kissed girls like he changed his clothes you were embarrassed. Because it meant nothing to him, it was a joke to see you red, to see you stutter. You couldn't help but be angry about that and you weren't going to let him downplay it. You had more dignity than that.

“I—” He hesitates, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t know.”

You laugh bitterly. “Yeah. No shit.” because of course he didn't. Because in his world silly little romantic gestures and the innocence of waiting for the right time to have your first kiss didn’t exist. Kissing was something you just did for him.

Heeseung runs a hand over his face, looking genuinely guilty. His usual cockiness is gone, replaced by something that almost looks like… regret. “I—fuck. I’m an asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head.

You sniff, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah. You are.”

He looks at you, jaw tight. “I wouldn’t have done that if I knew.” And you believe him. You can see it in the way his lips are pressed into a thin line, the way his jaw clenches like he’s punishing himself for something he can’t take back. A long silence stretches between you. Were you really about to forgive him?

Then, you exhale, your voice small. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that.”

Heeseung swallows hard. “I know.” Your throat tightens as you look away, the ache in your chest still present but no longer suffocating. “It was stupid, and it—it wasn’t supposed to be a joke.”

“I know,” he repeats. And this time, his voice is laced with something heavier. Something genuine. You hate that you can’t hate him for it. You chew on your lip, staring at the ground. A part of you wants to stay mad. Wants to tell him to leave you alone, to let you hold on to your anger because that would be easier. But another part of you—one you’re not sure you like—wants to believe him.

Because Heeseung might be an arrogant hockey player with a flirty smirk and a ridiculous ego, but… he isn’t cruel. You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “I can’t believe my first kiss was with you.”

Heeseung huffs out a laugh, though there’s no amusement in it. “Yeah. And I can’t believe I ruined it for you.” You look up at him then, surprised by the way his gaze is so… serious. He was being sincere. “I’m really sorry,” he says quietly. “I was just being an idiot. I didn’t think—I didn’t know—” He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I swear, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

You stare at him for a long moment, searching his face for any trace of insincerity. But there’s nothing. You could tell with utmost certainty that he was sorry, that he regretted it. And against all odds, you sigh, your shoulders dropping just a little. “I forgive you,” you murmur.

Heeseung blinks. “You do?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

A slow, relieved smile tugs at his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You shake your head, still feeling a little raw, but… better. Heeseung watches you carefully. Then, after a beat, he hesitates before saying, “You know… if you wanted, I could—” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost shy. “I mean, I could give you a proper first kiss.” You freeze, your heart stuttering in your chest.

Heeseung seems to immediately regret saying it, his eyes widening. “Only if you wanted—and not now! I mean—just, like, someday. If you ever wanted to, uh—” You stare at him. Then, despite everything, a laugh bubbles up in your throat. Heeseung let out a groan, running a hand over his face in embarrassment “Just, forget i said anything.”

But you’re grinning now. It was your turn to tease him and man it felt good.

The arena is alive with energy, the kind that shakes the walls and hums beneath your skin. You’re here. At a hockey game. Voluntarily. Yunjin nearly fell off the bleachers when you agreed without your usual dramatic sigh and drawn-out complaints. She had pestered you the entire way here, elbowing you in the ribs, wiggling her eyebrows, making heart gestures with her hands.

“I know why you suddenly want to come,” she had sing-songed, a smug grin plastered on her face. You had simply rolled your eyes, refusing to entertain her antics. But now, sitting in the middle of the buzzing crowd, you feel… different.

For the first time, you’re actually watching the game. Not just tolerating it, not just suffering through it for Yunjin’s sake—you’re watching, eyes trained on one player in particular. Lee Heeseung.

You’ve never really paid attention before, never really noticed the way he moves across the ice like he was born on it. He’s fast, insanely fast, weaving through players with a sharp focus you’ve never seen from him anywhere else. The same guy who saunters into tutoring sessions late, who smirks and teases and never takes anything seriously—here, he’s different. He’s serious. Disciplined. And you suddenly understand why people look at him the way they do. Why he’s not just good—but great.

Your chest tightens as you watch him skate down the ice, stick-handling the puck with effortless precision before passing it off to a teammate. A minute later, the puck is passed back to him, and in one smooth motion, he winds up his shot. The slapshot is powerful, cutting through the air before slamming into the back of the net. The entire arena erupts. Heeseung’s teammates swarm him, cheering, helmets knocking against each other as they embrace. The student section roars, chants of his name ringing out through the stands.

And you— You cheer. For the first time ever a hockey game has actually excited you. You let the fact that it was a grueling, animalistic sport slip away from you and you allowed yourself to have fun. To watch the people around you at the edge of their seats and you be a part of it. You weren't sulking in your seat wishing you were anywhere but here, no you were having fun. It was liberating. Why hadn;t you allowed such a simple pleasure before.

You don’t even realize it at first. It’s small, just a quiet “yes!” under your breath, but Yunjin hears it. Her head whips toward you so fast it’s a miracle she doesn’t get whiplash. “Oh. My. God.”

You blink, startled. “What?”

Her jaw drops, hands gripping your arm in a death hold. “You just cheered.” You open your mouth to protest, but she’s already gasping dramatically. “I can’t believe it. You—you like hockey. You like hockey.”

You shove her off, cheeks burning. “I do not.”

“You do! You just cheered! You’ve been watching the game, and not in a ‘God, this is so stupid’ kind of way, but like a real fan.” She gasps again. “Oh my God, do you have a jersey under your coat? Are you secretly a hardcore Lee Heeseung fangirl?”

You glare at her. “I swear to God, Yunjin—”

But she just grins, eyes sparkling with pure mischief. “You like him.”

Your stomach flips. “I do not.”

“You do!” She wiggles her brows, giddy like she’s just discovered the best gossip of the century. “You’re watching him like he hung the moon, and you cheered, and you didn’t even complain when I dragged you here!”

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “I just—” You hesitate, glancing back toward the ice where Heeseung is still grinning, fist-bumping his teammates. And for the first time, you admit it to yourself. You like him. You really like him. Even if he stole your first kiss like it was a joke, even if he’s late sometimes, even if he never takes anything seriously with that stupid little smirk on his face. You like him. Lee Heeseung had surprised you. He was nothing you had thought him to be. He was funny, he was kind, he was smart even if he thought otherwise.

The realization settles over you like a weight you’re not sure you’re ready to carry. Because no way does Heeseung feel the same way about you. Does he? He called your little cafe hang out a date. He’s told you things about himself that i’m sure only his closest friends would know. He kissed you for god sake. Maybe he does like you back?

“Even if i do like him..” You mutter finding it hard to get the words out. “It’s not like he would like me back?”

“It doesn’t hurt to find out right?” Yunjin asks with a big dopey grin on her face.

“That’s the thing..” You trail off “It does hurt to ask, because if he doesn't like me back then it will be awkward, it will ruin everything we've done so far.”

“Sure.” Yunjin nods “But you can’t walk around with this crush looming over you. Things like this can’t go unsaid..”

You just nod at her not really wanting to further conversation here of all places. The game was over and everyone was starting to leave, it would be humiliating if someone were to hear the two of yours conversation.

“Come on.” Yunjin grabbed your arm “We have to wait for Soobin..”

You stand outside the rink with Yunjin, your arms crossed over your chest as she bounces on the balls of her feet, clearly eager to see Soobin. The energy is still electric from the game, students lingering in groups, buzzing about the win. You’re pretending to listen to Yunjin ramble about some play that Soobin made, but your eyes keep flickering toward the players filtering out of the locker room. Looking for him. But Heeseung’s nowhere to be found.

You’re not sure why you care. Not sure why your stomach twists in disappointment every time another player walks past and it’s not him. You were sure you looked like a little lost puppy, how pathetic of you really.

“Looking for someone?” Yunjin cooes, a grin on her face. You shake your head at her relentlessness. She never gives up does she.

“No.” You deadpan “I’m not.”

“Sure.” she giggles. But she didn't believe you. And truthfully you didn't believe yourself.

Luckily, Soobin finally emerges, and Yunjin squeals, launching herself at him. He laughs, catching her with ease, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. “Did you see my goal?” he teases.

“I saw everything,” Yunjin gushes. You roll your eyes, but there’s a small, unbidden smile playing on your lips as you watch them. You always admired their relationship and the way Soobin takes such good care of Yunjin. Sure, you weren't the biggest fan of hockey players but Soobin was one of the good ones. Yunjin loved him, so in turn you loved him too. Unless he hurt her. Then he’d had hell to pay. But, they've been going strong for two years now so the chance of that happening was slim to none it seemed.

The moment is cut short when a group of guys from the opposing team walks past, their presence immediately shifting the air. “Nice win,” one of them says, voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes land on Soobin. “Lucky, huh?”

Soobin tenses beside Yunjin, but his expression remains neutral. “Just played our game, man.”

One of the guys scoffs. “Right. Guess even a broken clock is right twice a day.” Jake and Jay join the group just in time to hear that, their easygoing post-game demeanor sharpening.

“Problem?” Jake asks, his usual grin gone. It was so unlike Jake to not have a beaming smile on his face. He was almost never this serious from what you’ve seen of him.

The guy just smirks. “Not at all. Just wondering what your team is gonna do when Lee Heeseung finally crashes and burns.” Something in your chest tightens.��

Jake’s jaw ticks. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. You know it as well as we do. Without hockey, Heeseung is nothing. Just another dude who peaked in college and has nothing to fall back on.” The guy laughs, shaking his head. “Damn shame, really.” You see red.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you step forward. “Excuse you?” The guy turns to you, clearly amused. “Oh? And who are you?”

“I’m the person telling you to shut the hell up,” you snap, surprising everyone—including yourself. Heeseung might drive you insane. He might be arrogant and cocky and an infuriating flirt. But the way they’re talking about him—like he’s disposable, like he doesn’t matter beyond what he can do on the ice—it bothers you. It bothers you a lot. More than it should maybe. But at this moment you didn’t care. You sure as hell were not going to let sore losers talk down on him when he wasn’t even here to defend himself.

You keep going, anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t know anything about him. You don’t know how hard he works, how much pressure he’s under. He’s one of the best players in the league, and that’s why you’re all so bitter.” You let out a scoff. “And if he did quit hockey tomorrow? He’d still be ten times the person any of you are.” The group goes silent for a beat. Then the guy just laughs. He actually laughs. You tense up, readying yourself to really have at them.

“Damn,” he snickers, looking at his teammates. “She’s got it bad.” Heat rises to your face. Was it really that obvious? Were you just humiliating yourself? You cursed yourself for opening your mouth in the first place. For allowing these assholes to get under your skin.

You open your mouth to argue, but he just shakes his head, still chuckling. “Good luck with that, sweetheart.” Then they walk off, leaving you standing there, seething and embarrassed for making a scene.

“Damn.”

You turn to find all eyes on you. It made you want to sink into yourself and put yourself away for the next year. A closed off hole in the dirt would be a better place for you right now then where you were currently. Jake raises his eyebrows, impressed. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Neither did I,” Jay adds, smirking.

Even Soobin is looking at you like he’s seeing you in a new light. Everyone was looking at you like you were a totally different person than who you were. And you didn't know if you liked it.

But it’s Yunjin who nudges your side, grinning knowingly. “Interesting.” You groan, rubbing your temples. Because, yeah. It is interesting. Because for all the times you’ve denied it, all the times you’ve tried to pretend you don’t care about Heeseung— You just proved, in front of everyone, that you do.

The next day, you wait for Heeseung at the library, tapping your pen impatiently against your notebook. Five minutes turn into fifteen. Fifteen into thirty. But he never shows. Annoyance bubbles inside you. Typical. Still, something feels different this time. After the kiss, after everything that happened, you expected—no, hoped—things would shift between you. Instead, he’s just… disappeared. And you hate that you care. Everything was ok. He was flirty, so why was he ignoring you? Why was he flaking?

So, against your better judgment, you find yourself heading toward the frat house. The music is low, a few guys lounging around, but it’s nothing like the parties you’ve been dragged to before. When you ask where Heeseung is, they just gesture upstairs, some of them giving you looks you pointedly ignore. You don’t even knock. You push open his door to find him sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

He barely spares you a glance. “What do you want?”

You scoff. “Seriously? You skip tutoring and act like I’m the one bothering you?” Heeseung tosses his phone aside, finally looking at you—but there’s no teasing glint in his eyes, no smirk. Just something unreadable, something guarded. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”

You frown. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for you to ignore me, either.”

Silence. Heeseung rubs the back of his neck, exhaling harshly. “Look, just forget it.”

You shake your head, frustration growing. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” He quips with a sarcastic laugh. It makes your blood boil.

“Like this. Distant. Rude. A total asshole.”

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Funny. I thought that’s how you always saw me.”

“That’s not—” You stop yourself, clenching your fists. “What’s your problem?”

Heeseung stands, suddenly in your space, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “My problem?” His voice is sharp now. “My problem is you making me look like an idiot.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?” The confusion coursing through you was palpable. You couldn’t remember a time you had made him look like an idiot. The two of you hardly interacted outside of the library and you certainly hadn’t been around each other when your friends were near. So what the hell was he talking about?

“Last night,” he mutters, his jaw clenched. “You stood there, in front of everyone, and defended me like I’m some kind of fucking charity case.” Oh. Oh.

Your breath catches in your throat. “That’s not what I was doing—”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” he interrupts. “I don’t need you to tell people I’m more than hockey. I am hockey.” His eyes darken. “And just because we kissed doesn’t mean you’re my fucking girlfriend.”

The words hit you like a slap. You open your mouth, then close it. You don’t even know what to say. The silence stretches between you like a canyon.

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“I didn’t ask for you to do that,” he cuts you off. “I don’t need saving.” You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn’t trying to save you, Heeseung. I was just—”

He laughs, but it’s anything but amused. “You were just what?”

“Caring,” you snap. “I was caring, okay? God forbid someone actually gives a shit about you.” Something flashes across his face—something raw, something almost vulnerable—but it’s gone as quickly as it came. A beat of silence. Then, softer: “I don't need you to care.”

And that, somehow, it hurts more than anything else he’s said. You nod, pressing your lips together. “Just drop it.” He says with finality. But you weren't done. No, you were fired up.

You should. You should just let it go. But instead, you shove his shoulder. “No.”

He looks at you, startled. “Did you just—” You shove him again.

He catches your wrist. “You’ve got some nerve.” You glare up at him. “And you’re a coward.”

His grip tightens slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You take a shaky breath. “You push people away because it’s easier than letting them in. It’s easier than admitting that you actually give a shit.” Heeseung’s eyes flicker with something unreadable. “And what if I don’t?” You swallow. “Then prove it.” His grip on your wrist tightens. And then, suddenly— His lips are on yours.

This time you don’t push him away, this time you welcome him. Because you wanted this, more than you’ve wanted anything else before. It’s rough, heated, and you should push him away. You should be furious. But instead, you find yourself kissing him back. You barely register him walking you backward until your back hits the wall, his hands gripping your waist, his lips trailing along your jaw, your neck. The argument, the hurt, the frustration—it all melts into something else entirely. Something that has been building since the first moment you met. And you don’t stop him. How could you when this was all you’ve wanted. All you’ve been thinking of. The kiss is hard, almost punishing, like he’s trying to prove a point. But you don’t pull away. You kiss him back, fisting the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer.

It’s heated, desperate, fueled by something neither of you want to name. His hands find your waist, and before you know it, you’re stumbling back onto the bed. Your heart is racing. This is a bad idea. This is reckless and impulsive and everything you swore you wouldn’t do. But when Heeseung hovers over you, his lips brushing against yours— you don’t want him to stop. And you beg him not to.

“Don’t stop.” You breathe pulling away an inch to whisper the words. “Please.”

“But-” He stutters his own breathing labored “You’ve never..”

“I want to.” You nod at him, giving him all the reassurance he needs.

“Are you sure?” He asks you, his lips leaving a small trail on your neck down to your collarbone. “Tell me you’re sure.”

“I’m sure heeseung.” You grabbed his face, so his eyes were leveled with yours. “I want you.”

Heeseung’s hands continued down the expanse of your body. Running his palms up and down your sides until they reached your waist. He pulled at your body until you’re forced down onto your back with a huff.

“You’re so beautiful” Heeseung mumbles from above you. “I’m so lucky to be the only man to see you like this…” He coos as his hands made quick work of sliding your yoga pants down your legs revealing your white cotton panties to his eyes. “Right baby?” He hummed “I’m lucky right?”

You could barely form words as you watched drink in the sight of you. You nod at him that being the only form of communication you could offer him. His hands run up your body again, slowly caressing you. Until he reached your tank top covered breasts. His hands squeezed at them causing a broken gasp to leave your lips.

You had never been touched by a man like this. So sensually, so erotic. Your body felt ablaze with need for him; you didn't know how to contain yourself. “Please.” You whispered, lifting your hips off the bed, showcasing your ever growing need for him.

“Be patient baby, I want to take my time with you.” Heeseung pulled at the top of your tank top, yanking it down to expose your breasts to him. He smiled at you, a smile that had made you feel warm inside, safe. His hands kneaded the skin of your breasts. Breathy moans left your lips as you watched Heeseung in fascination. He was beautiful like this. You had never seen a more beautiful man before.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?” Heeseung asked, and for a second you were confused until you felt his nimble fingers on your most sensitive area. An area that had not yet been explored. It had your breath stuttering, your nerves alight.

Heeseung’s finger circled your clit, his eyes watching your for any signs of discomfort. “This might feel a little uncomfortable, just tell me if you want me to stop and I will okay?”

“Okay.” You sigh. Heeseung’s finger dips inside of you and at first the stretch is uncomfortable but not painful and soon..it starts to feel good. A moan leaves your lips before you could stop it.

“Fuck.” Heeseung hisses eyes trained on your pussy and how well you were taking his finger. “I’m going to add another one..you’re so tight.”

“Oh my god.” You whispered as the feeling of his fingers going in and out of you became almost too much to bear.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Heeseung whispered eyes still trained downwards, watching himself fuck you with his fingers.

“Yes, fuck yes.” Your moans were loudly and could probably be heard throughout the entire house but you didn’t care. It felt too good.

Suddenly, the feeling was yanked from you when Heeseung pulled his fingers out. His hands immediately traveled to his pants, yanking them down in one fell swoop. “You’re ready for me.” He said, pulling your hips to the end of the bed.

“Heeseung…” You trailed off “Is it going to hurt?” You asked him. Heeseung looked at you with a softness you had rarely ever seen from him before.

“It will sting a little..” He admits “But tell me if it's too much and I'll stop right away.”

“Okay, i’m ready” You give him a little smile and a nod, mentally preparing yourself. You were about to lose your virginity to a guy that wasn’t even your boyfriend. And you wanted to, you were excited to.

Heeseung lined himself at your entrance watching your face to gauge your reaction, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. You felt him run the tip of his cock up and down your folds, collecting your wetness. And finally after what felt like forever he slid in. slowly, inch by inch. The stretch was far more uncomfortable than his fingers. And he was right to say it would sting. But it was not unbearable. And finally when he was fully inside, hips flush against yours you had felt so close to him, more close than you had ever felt to anyone. It was almost romantic. Not almost, it was.

Heeseung slowly moved himself in and out of you allowing you to get used to his size.

“God.” He hissed out, his fingers making dents in your thighs as he tried his best to contain himself. “So…fucking…tight.”

“Yeah?” You asked, your voice light and airy. Your hands reached for his shoulders digging your fingertips into his skin. “Does it feel good?”

Heeseung groaned at your words pistoning his hips harder inside of you. “Y-yes” He stuttered. “Best pussy i’ve ever felt.”

You smiled at his crude words but you would be lying if you didn't think his words to be oddly…sweet.

“Faster.” You moaned, moving your hands down to circle at your clit. “You can go faster.”

Heeseung let out another deep girdled groan lifting your knees to your chest allowing himself to hit a deeper spot inside of you. It had you gasping for breath. The new angle sends you hurtling to your orgasm before you could even catch your breath.

“Fuckkkk” Heeseung’s moans were like music to your ears, a sound you had never thought you would have the pleasure of hearing and now that you have you would never give up.

Your orgasm served as a catalyst to his as he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty. His hand worked himself up and down, his breathing heavy and chest heaving up and down. “Oh my god.” He groaned as droplets of his cum landed on your stomach. You watched him with wide eyes, your own chest falling in tandem with his.

“Are you okay?” He asks after a while, letting you both catch your breath.

“Yeah..” You sigh. “More than okay.”

The next day, Heeseung is out of town for an away game, leaving you alone with your thoughts—ones you don’t particularly want to sit with. Over thinking the night the two of you had over and over again. It was perfect, in your mind. And you didn’t regret not one bit.

When Yunjin suggests another movie night, you jump at the distraction. Wanting a way to calm your raging nerves. An hour later, the two of you are curled up on your respective sides of the couch, Chinese takeout containers balancing on your laps, Legally Blonde playing on the screen. But you’re barely paying attention. Your mind is still tangled in the events of last night—the heat of Heeseung’s touch, the way he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, the things he whispered against your skin.

It’s only a matter of time before Yunjin notices. She shoots you a knowing look, pausing the movie. “Okay. Spill.”

You hesitate, staring down at your lo mein. “Spill what?”

She scoffs. “Don’t even try that. You’ve been acting weird all night. Like, more weird than usual.”

You exhale, pressing your lips together. Then, before you can overthink it, you blurt, “I slept with Heeseung.” The silence that follows is deafening. Yunjin just stares at you, chopsticks frozen mid-air. “You what?”

You groan, setting your food down. “You heard me.” She blinks. “Oh my god.”

“I know.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know!”

Yunjin drops her chopsticks and grabs your hands, shaking them. “Okay, okay. Start from the beginning. How did this happen?” So you tell her. You tell her about going to the frat house, about how Heeseung was being an asshole again, about the argument that escalated into something else entirely. By the time you’re done, Yunjin is still holding onto you, eyes wide. “So… what happens now?” You bite your lip. That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because the truth is—you don’t know.

“I have no idea,” you admit. “We didn’t really talk about it. He had to leave early for the game this morning.”

Yunjin watches you carefully. “And how do you feel?”

You hesitate. “I don’t regret it.” That’s the one thing you’re sure of. Yunjin nods, but there’s a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Just… be careful, okay?”

You give her a small smile. “I will.” She studies you for another moment, then sighs dramatically, flopping back against the couch. “Well, damn. I guess this makes you a hockey girlfriend now.”

You snort. “I am not a hockey girlfriend.”

“Not yet.” She waggles her eyebrows. You groan, throwing a pillow at her. She yelps, laughing as she ducks.

Monday rolls around, and you’re actually excited to see Heeseung again. It’s ridiculous. You know it’s ridiculous. But after everything that happened, after the way things felt so different between you, there’s a small, traitorous part of you that wonders if things have actually changed. But then hours pass. And Heeseung doesn’t text. Doesn’t call. You tell yourself you're not the type of girl that obsesses over whether a boy will call her or not but it’s hard not to. Not when said boy just made you feel like the most special girl in the world. The one who took your virginity and made it the most special moment of your life. The boy you're falling so madly and deeply in love with.

You’re not that type of girl. By the time evening comes around, you’ve tried convincing yourself a hundred times that you don’t care—that you don’t need to hear from him. So when Yunjin texts you, asking if you want to grab food at the diner, you immediately say yes. A distraction is exactly what you need. A night at a little diner with your best friend who knows about Heeseung. You can get some perspective from a girl who's in a happy and healthy relationship. She’ll tell you that Heeseung is just tired, he was away all weekend playing Hockey he might just want to rest. All your worries will be satiated and then you can focus on having a good dinner.

The diner is packed when you walk in, the usual buzz of students filling the space. You and Yunjin are making your way to a booth near the back when she suddenly stops short. You follow her gaze—and feel your stomach drop. At a table near the center of the diner sits Heeseung, Soobin, and the rest of the hockey guys, all laughing loudly over burgers and milkshakes like they don’t have a care in the world. And Heeseung—he looks fine. Like nothing happened.

Yunjin glances at you. “Do you want to—” Before she can finish, you take a breath and start walking. You’re not going to hide from him. That would be pathetic. You’re just going to go over, say hi, and act normal. But the second you and Yunjin reach the table, you can feel the shift in energy.

Heeseung tenses when he sees you, his usual cocky smirk faltering for a second before he recovers. “What are you doing here?” You blink, taken aback by his tone. “Getting food. What does it look like?” Some of the guys at the table snicker, and your stomach twists. You feel small. You feel helpless.

Heeseung leans back in his seat, his jaw tightening. “Didn’t realize you were such a fan of hockey hangouts.”

You furrow your brows. “What?” Your heart drops to your stomach.

He shrugs. “I mean, I just didn’t peg you as someone who follows guys around, but hey—good to know.”

The table erupts into laughter, and heat flares up your neck. You cannot believe this. is he seriously—after everything—is he seriously doing this right now? He’s humiliating you. And for what? To look cool? To hurt you? Because it was working, he was hurting you. Soobin, however, notices immediately. His gaze flicks between you and Heeseung, frown deepening. You glance at Yunjin, whose mouth is already set in a furious line. But before you can say anything, she grabs a cup off the table—one full of soda and ice—and without hesitation, throws it straight at Heeseung.

Gasps ring out. The laughter stops immediately. Heeseung sits there, stunned, soda dripping from his hair and down his face. The entire diner is watching now, but Yunjin doesn’t care. “What the fuck, Yunjin?!” Heeseung exclaims, jumping up, shaking the liquid off his hands. She glares at him with pure, unfiltered rage. “You are such a fucking asshole, Lee Heeseung.”

Then she grabs your hand, yanking you away from the table before you can even process what just happened. Leaving your heart at the table with him. Shattered for everyone to see.

The second you’re outside, the cool air hitting your flushed skin, you exhale sharply. “Holy shit.” Yunjin looks just as pissed as you feel. “What the hell was that?”

You shake your head, anger and humiliation swirling inside you. “I don’t know.” But what you do know? You’re done. Done making excuses for Heeseung. Done thinking that maybe—just maybe—he’s not the person you feared he was. Because he just proved exactly who he is. And it hurts.

When the two of you are back at the dorm you allow yourself to cry, to feel the emotions as they came. The heeseung you thought you knew would never do this to you. But it was clear to you now that he only used you as a means to pass his class. His sweet personality was only a well executed act that you were stupid enough to fall for. How could you fall for that? Hockey boys were nothing but egoistic man boys who threw each other around, chasing a puck for a living. They lacked sustenance, they lived their lives like barbarians and you hated them, and everything they stood for.

You yanked your phone out of your back pocket before swiping to Heeseung’s contact. You hovered over his name for only a second before you opened messages and typed out; “Tutoring is done. Don’t text me, don’t call me. Goodbye.” and you wished you could gather the words to hurt him the way he hurt you but you just didn’t have the strength. You wanted to forget Lee Heeseung and hockey all together.

Days pass in almost a blur. You contine life as usual only Heeseung is no longer a part of it. You avoid him like the plague, if he’s near at all you bolt. There was no talk of hockey in the dorm anymore. Yunjin was just as pissed and hurt as you. She was the best friend anyone could ever ask for really.

It was Friday night when you finally had time to settle in for the night. You had an old copy of pride and prejudice in your hand and a hot cup of tea next to you. Yunjin was with Soobin for the night so you were finally alone. It was just past ten-thirty when the sound of pounding on your dorm broke you out of your reading trance. You hurried out of your bed, opening the door with a sense of urgency. Only to be met with Heeseung.

He was holding a piece of paper in his hand, sporting a grin on his face. The audacity of him. To show up to your dorm..grinning. Was it is lifes mission to torture because it sure did feel like it. The look on Heeseung’s face as you slam the door almost makes you falter. Almost. You stand there, heart racing, hands clenched into fists as you try to steady your breathing. On the other side of the door, you hear nothing at first—just silence. And then: “Wait—no. Wait.”

A loud knock. You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to do this. “Please, just open the door,” Heeseung says, his voice muffled.

You shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “Go away, Heeseung.”

“I—no. Not until you listen to me.” Another knock. Then another. “I swear I wasn’t using you.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me.”

“I mean it.” His voice is closer now, pressed right up against the door. “That night at the diner—I fucked up, okay? I was an idiot. I didn’t want the guys to know about—” He pauses. “About us.” Something about the way he says us makes your stomach twist. You hate that a part of you still wants to listen. “Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you expect. “Why is it so humiliating to be seen with me?”

“It’s not,” he says immediately. “That’s not—fuck. That’s not what I meant.” You don’t respond. You don’t know what to say. “Can you—” He exhales, frustration laced in his voice. “Can you at least open the door so I can look at you while I apologize?” You hesitate. Of course, you hesitate. You should just tell him to leave. He doesn’t deserve the chance to explain himself after what he did. But against your better judgement and like a complete and utter idiot, you unlock the door.

The second it swings open, Heeseung is standing there, wide-eyed, like he wasn’t sure you’d actually do it. He looks… tired. Like he hasn’t slept in days. Slowly, he lifts the crumpled test paper in his hand. “I got a hundred”

You glance at it, then back at him. “Good for you,” you say again, flatly. “I guess using me was worth it.”

His jaw clenches. He rubs the back of his neck. “I know you don’t owe me anything. I just—” He shakes his head. “I panicked, okay? I thought if the guys found out about… us, they’d—”

“They’d what, Heeseung?” You cross your arms. “Make fun of you? Say something stupid? Newsflash—people say stupid shit all the time.” He looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it.”

His hands tighten into fists. His lips press together like he’s warring with himself. “I just—I’ve spent years making sure people see me a certain way. That I’m not the same loser I was before.” You stare at him. “And you think being seen with me ruins that image?”

His head snaps up. “No.” He steps closer, and for the first time since that awful night, his voice is softer. “That’s not what I meant.” He swallows. “You make me feel different. And that—” He shakes his head, frustrated. “That scares me.” You don’t know what to say. Because what do you do with that? What do you do with the fact that this boy, the same one who humiliated you in front of everyone, is now standing here saying things you never expected to hear?

A lump forms in your throat. “Then maybe you should figure out what you actually want, Heeseung.” He looks at you, something raw in his expression. “I already know what I want.” But you don’t let yourself believe him. Not yet. So you step back. And this time, when you close the door, you do it gently. And you let yourself cry because that’s the only thing you can control right now.

The next night you're curled up in bed, the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminating your face as a movie plays in the background. You’re not really watching, though. You’re just existing, letting the noise drown out your thoughts. The door swings open, and Yunjin and Soobin step inside, their laughter filling the space. Yunjin glances at you before excusing herself to the bathroom, leaving you alone with Soobin. He hesitates for a moment before sitting down on the edge of your bed. “Hey,” he says gently. “How are you doing?”

You don’t even look away from the screen. “I’m great.”

Soobin scoffs. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.”

You sigh, finally meeting his gaze. He’s watching you carefully, like he’s trying to piece you together. His usual playful demeanor is gone, replaced with something softer. “Heeseung is a mess,” Soobin says after a moment. “He misses you. And he’s sorry.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to care. But despite yourself, a single tear slips down your cheek.

“He used me, Soobin,” your voice cracks, and you look down at your lap. “How can I forgive him? Why would I?” Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t hesitate when he says, “Because you love him. And he loves you.” Your breath catches. it’s so simple, so matter-of-fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he’s just waiting for you to admit it to yourself. Before you can say anything, Yunjin steps out of the bathroom, looking between the two of you. “You ready to go?” she asks Soobin.

He nods, standing up. But before he leaves, he gives you one last look. “Just… think about it, okay?” Then, they’re gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sit there long after the door closes, Soobin’s words echoing in your mind. Because you love him and he loves you.

Your heart clenches, and you wipe at the tear on your cheek, frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard. You shouldn’t still care this much. But the truth is—you do. You sigh, curling up tighter in your blanket. The movie playing in the background is one you’ve seen a million times, but you’re not paying attention. Your thoughts keep circling back to Heeseung. His face when you shut the door. The way his voice wavered when he admitted you scared him.

Does he really love you? Or is this just another game to him? You don’t know. And that uncertainty terrifies you. Opening your heart up terrifies you. A soft knock pulls you from your thoughts. Your stomach twists, half-expecting it to be Heeseung, but when you open the door, it’s Sunoo. “Hey,” he says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Yunjin texted me. Said you might need company.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. Of course she did. Sunoo plops down next to you on the bed, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in your lap. He watches you for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. “So. Are we wallowing or plotting revenge?” You huff out a laugh, shoving him lightly. “Neither.”

“Boring.” He sighs dramatically, throwing himself back against your pillows. “Okay, then what’s the plan? You’re clearly miserable. And I’m pretty sure Heeseung is too.” You don’t say anything, just stare down at the popcorn in your hands. Sunoo sighs again, but this time, it’s softer. “Look, I get why you’re mad. You should be mad. But…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not close with Heeseung and I barely know him since it’s my first year, but I’ve never seen him care about anyone the way he cares about you.”

Your chest tightens. “Then why did he treat me like that?”

“Because he’s an idiot.” Sunoo shrugs. “And because he’s scared. But mostly because he’s an idiot.” You roll your eyes. “Not helping.”

He nudges you. “I’m just saying… Maybe talk to him. Really talk to him.” You sigh, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know if I can trust him again.”

Sunoo is quiet for a moment, then says, “Then make him prove that you can.” You swallow hard, his words settling into your chest like a weight. Heeseung owes you more than just an apology. Maybe if he really wants you, he’ll fight for you. And maybe you, just maybe you’ll let him.

That weekend, Yunjin had had enough. She wasn’t about to let you wallow in self-pity any longer. “You’re coming to the game,” she announced, standing in front of your bed with her arms crossed. You groaned, pulling your blanket over your face. “Pass.”

“Not an option.” She yanked the covers away. “You’ve spent all week moping. You need to get out.”

“I am out,” you deadpanned. “My bed is out.”

“Not what I meant.” She rolled her eyes. “Get dressed. Now.” Despite your protests, she wasn’t having any of it. Eventually, after an absurd amount of bribery (including the promise of ice cream after), you gave in. By the time you arrived at the arena, the energy in the air was electric—fans were buzzing with anticipation, the scent of popcorn and arena food filling your senses. The rink was already packed, the game about to start, and you felt out of place among the sea of jerseys and face paint. Yunjin, however, was thrilled, chatting with other students and cheering before the puck even dropped. You sat stiffly beside her, arms crossed, doing your best not to look at the ice—because you knew if you did, your eyes would immediately find Heeseung.

And you weren’t ready for that. A few minutes into the game, Yunjin’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out, eyes scanning the screen before she let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh. Soobin left his gloves in the locker room. Can you please grab them for him?”

You turned to her with a glare. “Why can’t y—”

“Just go do it,” she cut you off, shoving your shoulder lightly. Something about her tone made you pause. She sounded too casual. Too… calculated. You narrowed your eyes. “This feels like a setup.”

She gasped, all mock innocence. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” You weren’t convinced, but the alternative was sitting here and enduring the game, so you sighed. “Fine.”

Yunjin grinned, and you shot her one last suspicious look before heading down the corridor. The locker room hallway was eerily quiet, the distant sound of the game muffled through the walls. You pushed open the heavy door, stepping inside, expecting to see rows of empty benches and Soobin’s gloves lying somewhere in the mess of gear. instead, standing in the middle of the room, was Heeseung. Your breath caught. He looked different off the ice—less intimidating without his helmet, his hair damp with sweat, curling slightly at the ends. He was still in his jersey, the bold number on his sleeve catching the light, his hockey bag slung over one shoulder.

And he was staring at you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was heavy, charged with everything that had been left unsaid. You clear your throat, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “I’m just here to grab Soobin’s gloves.” Your voice is steady, indifferent. Like seeing him doesn’t completely shake you.

Heeseung nods slowly, then gestures to the bench behind him. “They’re over there.” You walk past him, determined to just grab the gloves and leave, but as soon as your fingers curl around them, Heeseung speaks again. “You’re here.”

You freeze, but don’t turn around. “Yunjin dragged me.” A beat of silence. Then, softer—almost hesitant—Heeseung says, “I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”

You inhale sharply, gripping the gloves tighter. Finally, you turn to face him. “You made that pretty easy when you humiliated me.” Regret flickers in his expression. “I know,” he murmurs. “I was an idiot. A complete asshole. I told you, I was scared.”

You scoff. “Scared of what, Heeseung? That people would find out you actually cared about me? That you weren’t just some player?”

“Yes,” he admits, and the raw honesty in his voice takes you off guard. “I was scared of how much I cared about you. Scared that you’d realize I wasn’t good enough for you.” Heeseung runs a hand through his damp hair, exhaling shakily. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t matter, because you do. You do more than you realize.”

Your chest tightens, emotions crashing over you all at once. You want to be mad. You want to scream at him for the way he made you feel. But there’s something in his voice, in his expression—genuine remorse, vulnerability—that makes it hard to hold onto that anger. “You really hurt me, Heeseung,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. He steps closer, carefully, like he’s afraid you’ll run. “I know. And I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you.”

You swallow, emotions warring inside you. For a moment, neither of you move. Then, hesitantly, he reaches out—giving you the chance to pull away—but when you don’t, his fingers brush against yours, light and uncertain. “Can we just… start over?” he asks. “Please?”

Your heart pounds. A part of you wants to walk away, to protect yourself from getting hurt again. But another part—maybe the bigger part—wants to believe him. You take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. “Okay.”

“Okay”

reg taglist. (★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae, @ch4c0nnenh4, @kristynaaah

series taglist. (★) @saejinniestar , @chwesun , @vixialuvs , @slut4hee , @xylatox , @ghstzzn @skyearby @m1kkso @jakeswifez @heartheejake @hommyy-tommy @yunverie @lalalalawon

@strayy-kidz @wolfhardbby @kwiwin @immelissaaa @fancypeacepersona @starfallia @mariegalea @adoredbyjay @strxwbloody @lovingvoidgoatee @beeboobeebss @zyvlxqht @weyukinluv @flwwon

@guapgoddees @demigodmahash @cloud-lyy @heesky @ikaw-at-ikaw @shuichi-sama @shawnyle @kwhluv @iarainha @ikeuwoniee @mora134340

crossing the line masterlist coming soon.

#lee heeseung imagines #lee heeseung smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #heeseung angst

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hoonieangel · 1 month ago

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very good 🩷🩷

WAITING ROOM ──★ ˙

꒰ ‎﹒ pairing: heeseung x fem!reader ... ﹒ friends to lovers, fluff ... ﹒ w/c: 21k synopsis: for three years, you and heeseung have hovered between friendship and something more—stolen glances, late-night car rides, hands brushing under tables. but when the waiting finally ends, you realize you were never just friends to begin with. ꒰ ‎﹒ warnings: smut, mdni! explicit sexual content, petnames, unprotected sex (dont do it!!!!) not proofread 💿 % (◠﹏◠ ✿) #nowplaying: waiting room - phoebe bridgers

Three years ago, you met Heeseung at a Halloween party. And, in a way, he never really left.

You remember the night in sharp, neon clarity, the kind that only exists in memories warped by time and too many cheap drinks. The bass of the music was rattling against the walls, distorting into something unrecognizable by the time it reached your ears. The air was thick, humid with the breath of a hundred strangers crammed into an apartment too small to hold them. It smelled like spilled alcohol, synthetic fog from a cheap smoke machine, and the faintest trace of cinnamon, probably from some idiot who thought Fireball was a good idea.

You were standing in the kitchen, gripping a plastic cup half-full of something blue and questionably sweet, when you felt it. The warmth of someone moving too close. The press of a shoulder against yours. And then—disaster.

A smear of green, across your arm, your ribs, your stomach.

You stared at it, confused. It looked like paint. Wet, sticky, and clinging to the fabric of your skeleton costume like it belonged there. You blinked once, twice, before dragging your gaze upward, locking eyes with the culprit.

“Oh, shit.”

He was green. No, really, he was covered in it, from his jawline to his collarbone, down his arms, streaked across his hands. He was, in fact, one of the Ninja Turtles.

“Are you radioactive?” you asked, because that felt like a genuine concern at this point.

Heeseung—though you didn’t know his name yet—blinked at you, then looked down at his own arm as if just realizing that, yeah, maybe painting his entire body for a costume wasn’t the best idea. “I, uh—fuck, I didn’t think—”

“Didn’t think what?” you repeated, glancing down at your once-pristine skeleton costume. “That maybe body paint takes a while to dry?”

“No, see, I thought it was dry. I waited, like, an hour before putting the costume on.” He sounded both defensive and regretful, like someone who had just now realized the full extent of their mistake.

You sighed, poking at the stain. “Well, congrats. You’ve officially made me the first skeleton in history to die of green slime exposure.”

He let out a breath of laughter, then scratched the back of his neck—a habit you’d later come to recognize as his go-to nervous tic. “On the bright side… at least now you match me?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re trying to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?”

“Not even a little.”

A slow grin spread across his face, lopsided and teasing. “Damn. Guess I’ll have to try harder.”

And he did.

That was the beginning of it, you suppose. A stupid mistake, an even stupider conversation, and a boy painted green who somehow managed to wedge himself into your life like he belonged there. You didn’t know then that he’d become your best friend. That in three years, you’d be sitting next to him in a car at two in the morning, singing along to songs you didn't really know. That you’d learn the exact way he liked his coffee, the rhythm of his breath when he fell asleep next to you on your couch, the way he always looked at you like he was on the verge of saying something important but never quite did.

No, back then, all you knew was that he was an idiot. And that, somehow, against all odds—you kind of liked him anyway. But you and Heeseung became friends by accident.

It wasn’t an immediate thing, not like some cosmic force snapped its fingers and tied the two of you together. No, it was slower than that, more like a series of small collisions, a gradual intertwining of orbits. And most of it had to do with Yunjin.

You and Yunjin had been friends since the beginning of college. One of those friendships that happens fast, like flipping a switch. One day, you were just two people forced into the same group project, and the next, you were sneaking snacks into late-night study sessions, texting each other memes at 3 a.m., and laughing until your stomach hurt over things that weren’t even that funny. She was the kind of person you felt like you had known forever, even though it had only been a few years.

But somehow, despite all that time, you had never actually registered who she lived with. You knew she had a roommate—she’d mentioned him in passing a few times, usually accompanied by an exasperated sigh or an eye roll—but you had never put much thought into it. The guy could’ve been a faceless NPC for all you cared. Just a background character in the world of Yunjin’s apartment. Until one fateful Tuesday afternoon.

You had gone over to Yunjin’s place to work on a mind-numbing, soul-draining research paper, and the two of you were sitting cross-legged on her living room floor. The atmosphere was calm, quiet—at least, until the front door swung open with the force of someone dramatically entering a scene in a sitcom.

“YUNJIN,” a voice rang through the apartment, loud and excited. “I JUST BOUGHT ZELDA: BREATH OF THE WILD. I NEED TO PLAY IT IMMEDIATELY.”

You barely had time to process before the source of the chaos came bounding into the room. A guy, slightly breathless from what must have been a very passionate journey home, clutching a Nintendo Switch game case like it was the most important thing in the world.

And he was green.

Well, not literally—he wasn’t still covered in body paint—but your brain made the connection instantly. The excitement, the unfiltered enthusiasm, the slight air of someone who had been making questionable life decisions since birth.

It clicked.

“Oh my god,” you blurted. “You’re the Ninja Turtle guy.”

Heeseung froze mid-step, eyes flickering to you like he was only now realizing there was another person in the room. For a second, he just stared, lips parted in muted shock, like you had just caught him committing a crime.

Then, in a tone that was both confused and slightly mortified, he said, “Oh. Uh. Yeah. That’s me.”

You squinted at him, taking in the full picture—the messy hair, the slightly wrinkled hoodie, the expression of someone who had absolutely not been expecting to relive his Halloween mistakes today. Then, you turned to Yunjin.

“You live with the Ninja Turtle guy?”

Yunjin, who had been watching this interaction unfold with barely concealed amusement, grinned. “I guess.”

Heeseung cleared his throat, regaining some of his composure. “For the record, my name is Heeseung.”

“Really?” you said, nodding slowly. “I thought your name was Donatello”

He looked mildly offended. “Excuse me?”

“Well,” you said, gesturing vaguely, “I feel like I at least deserve to know which turtle was responsible for my suffering. I thought it was Donatello.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes but played along. “Leonardo. Sunghoon was Raphael, Beomgyu was Michelangelo, and Jake was Donatello.”

You considered this for a second, then turned back to Yunjin. “I can’t believe you live with Leonardo.”

Yunjin, deadpan, replied, “Trust me, I can’t either.”

And that was the second collision.

You didn’t know it then, but this was how it would always be with Heeseung—dramatic entrances, loud declarations, and an energy that burst into the room like an unexpected firework. You had met him twice now, and both times, he had been the human embodiment of chaos. But for some reason, that chaos felt a little less like a background character now. And after that day, Heeseung stopped being just Yunjin’s roommate.

You started seeing him everywhere. Not because you were seeking him out—not at first, anyway—but because he had a tendency to appear in your life like some kind of recurring side character in a sitcom. You’d be minding your own business in Yunjin’s apartment, and he’d burst through the door, ranting about how someone stole his favorite study spot in the library. You’d go to grab coffee before class, and there he’d be, dramatically arguing with the barista about why oat milk was a scam. He just kept showing up, like the universe had decided that, for better or worse, he was part of your story now.

And then, you found out you had a class together. It wasn’t a real class. Not in the sense that it required effort or critical thinking. It was one of those ridiculous elective courses that the university offered purely to fill up credit requirements—something slapped onto the catalog as an afterthought, designed for students who were too lazy or too exhausted to take anything serious.

You had signed up for it without even reading the description, choosing it solely because it fit into your schedule and had a reputation for being an easy A. Heeseung, apparently, had done the same.

That was how the two of you ended up in "The Philosophy of Memes and Internet Culture."

The class was exactly as stupid as it sounded. The professor was a guy in his late 40s who still said things like “epic fail” unironically. The syllabus included assignments like “analyzing the impact of Vine on modern humor” and “writing a 500-word essay on the evolution of the Rickroll.” It was the kind of class that could only exist in a university desperate to appear progressive and relevant, and you were 90% sure the school administration had no idea it was happening.

It was, in short, the best class either of you had ever taken.

You and Heeseung immediately became the worst students in the room. Not because you weren’t paying attention, but because you were paying attention too much—finding everything so absurdly hilarious that neither of you could take it seriously. Every lecture felt like a fever dream. Every assignment was an excuse to see how much nonsense you could get away with before the professor caught on.

And then, of course, came the group project. It was a simple assignment: pick a meme, trace its origins, and present its cultural impact. Most people chose something predictable—Doge, Grumpy Cat, Distracted Boyfriend.

You and Heeseung, however, chose Shrek. More specifically, you chose Shrek’s cultural legacy as an ironic meme figure.

It was supposed to be a joke. A way to entertain yourselves in a class that was already ridiculous. But the further you got into your research, the more serious it became.

Somewhere along the way, you and Heeseung stopped just pretending to care and actually started caring. You spent hours deep-diving into obscure Shrek forums, analyzing the rise of “Shrek is Love, Shrek is Life” discourse, debating whether or not the character’s internet resurgence was fueled by genuine appreciation or detached irony. You became scholars of the Shrek Renaissance.

The night before your presentation, you were in Yunjin’s apartment, sitting on the floor with your laptops open, surrounded by a mess of half-empty snack bags and unfinished slides. The clock blinked 2:37 AM, and neither of you had any business still being awake.

Heeseung was slouched against the couch, staring at his screen with the expression of a man who had seen too much. “I think I know too much about Shrek,” he said, voice hollow.

You let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing your temples. “Yeah. We flew too close to the sun on this one.” There was a beat of silence.

Then, Heeseung slowly turned his laptop around, revealing a slide titled ‘Shrek and the Post-Ironic Era of Internet Humor: A Critical Analysis.’ And for some reason, that was it. That was the moment you broke.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the fact that you had just spent the past three hours watching deep-fried Shrek memes with Gregorian chants in the background. Maybe it was just the sheer, stupid absurdity of the entire situation. But suddenly, you were laughing.

Not just laughing—cackling. The kind of breathless, full-body laughter that made your stomach hurt. That made you feel like you were going to die right there on Yunjin’s living room floor, lost to the void of Shrek academia.

And Heeseung—poor, equally sleep-deprived Heeseung—was right there with you. He doubled over, gasping for air, his head nearly colliding with your shoulder as he choked out, “We’re never recovering from this.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You turned to him, trying to catch your breath, and found him already looking at you. His eyes were crinkled at the edges, his cheeks flushed from laughter, his whole body still shaking slightly from the aftermath. And for a moment—just a moment—you thought, this is nice.

Not just the laughing. Not just the inside jokes and the chaos.

But him.

You pushed the thought away before it could settle.

Because, at the end of the day, Heeseung was your friend. Your dumbass friend who still had green body paint under his fingernails two weeks after Halloween. Who got irrationally angry at mobile game ads. Who had just spent the last six hours dissecting Shrek memes with you like it was a matter of academic integrity.

And that was all he was.

Right?

Heeseung, on the other hand, wasn’t sure when it started. That feeling.

That weird, stupid, barely-there feeling. The one that sat quietly in the back of his mind, like a notification he refused to check. Like a waiting room. A vague, almost imperceptible awareness that he enjoyed your company a little too much—that your laugh had started to feel like background music in his life, something he didn’t know he needed until it was gone.

Not that it meant anything. Obviously.

He liked lots of people. He was a social guy. He made friends easily, enjoyed being around them, and—despite Yunjin’s many accusations—was not emotionally repressed. He just… liked the things you liked. That was normal.

It was normal that he started watching that terrible reality show you always talked about, even though he swore he hated it. It was normal that he got a random impulse to buy you a weirdly specific snack he saw at the store because “it just screamed your vibe.” It was normal that he sent you voice notes every time he saw something even remotely related to Shrek, even months after your presentation.

That was just friendship. Which was why, as a friend, he invited you to an arcade.

It was one of those places that felt like it had been stuck in time since the 90s—neon lights, sticky floors, a vague smell of burnt popcorn in the air. The kind of place that probably hadn’t passed a health inspection in years, but had an undeniable charm to it. You were too good at skee-ball.

It was honestly annoying. Heeseung had challenged you three times, and each time, you had obliterated him without breaking a sweat. It wasn’t even close. “You’re cheating,” he accused, arms crossed as he watched you land another perfect shot.

You grinned, tossing the last ball effortlessly. “You’re just mad because you suck.”

“I don’t suck,” he argued. “This game is just—rigged. The physics are all off.”

“Oh my god. Did you just say ‘the physics are off’ in a skee-ball game?”

“Yes,” he said, completely serious. “I am a man of logic and reason.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Sure. Okay. Man of logic and reason. If you’re so smart, let’s see how well you do at Dance Dance Revolution.”

Heeseung froze. “I—uh—what?”

“Come on,” you said, already dragging him toward the machine. “Let’s see those skills.”

Here was the thing about Heeseung: he was good at a lot of things. He could play video games for hours without blinking. He could talk his way out of almost any bad situation. He could even recite the entire “All Star” lyrics from memory.

But he could not dance. At all. And that became painfully clear the second the game started.

Heeseung missed every step. Every single one. While you moved effortlessly, barely even glancing at the screen, he was flailing. His feet weren’t in sync with his brain. His arms kept jerking awkwardly, and he could hear you laughing beside him, and somehow, that made it worse.

By the time the game ended, Heeseung was defeated. He doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping dramatically. “I think I died,” he announced.

You patted his back. “You fought bravely.”

He looked up at you then, about to retort, but the words got lost somewhere in his throat. Because you were smiling at him—really smiling. Your eyes were crinkled at the edges, your face still flushed from laughing. The neon lights flickered against your skin, casting everything in shades of blue and pink, making you look—

Well. Heeseung swallowed. That weird, stupid, barely-there feeling? Yeah. It was there.

But you were just his friend.

So, when Beomgyu casually mentioned, in the most offhanded, unbothered way possible, that he thought you were cute, Heeseung should’ve just let it go. But he didn’t.

“You think she’s what?”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Cute. You know, in a hot way.”

Heeseung felt something in his chest twist. It was irrational. Objectively, completely irrational. Because, yeah, you were cute. That wasn’t news to him. He had eyes. He was aware. He had just… never thought about the fact that other people might also be aware.

Heeseung almost laughed. It was a knee-jerk reaction, the kind of dry, disbelieving scoff that came when someone said something so absurd it didn’t even process at first. But then, Beomgyu kept talking.

“I was thinking of asking her out.”

And Heeseung felt it. That twist, low and tight, in the pit of his stomach.

He blinked at Beomgyu, waiting for the usual rush of banter to kick in, for the easy teasing to roll off his tongue. But for some reason, his mouth felt dry. Beomgyu liked you. Beomgyu thought you were cute. Beomgyu wanted to date you.

It wasn’t that wild of a concept. People liked you all the time. You were funny and charming in that effortlessly chaotic way, the kind of person who made friends in the span of a single conversation. It made sense that Beomgyu, out of all people, would look at you and go, Yeah, she’s my type.

And it wasn’t like Heeseung had a say in the matter. So he shrugged, leaning back against the couch, and said, “Yeah, good for you, man. Good for you”

And that should’ve been the end of it. Except. Beomgyu actually did ask you out. And the worst part? You said yes.

At first, Heeseung didn’t think much of it. He was fine. It was fine.

So what if you had gone out with Beomgyu last Friday and came back looking kind of flushed, kind of happy? So what if, the next time he saw you, you had that soft, secretive look in your eyes, the one that said you were thinking about something that made your stomach twist in the good way?

So what. You weren’t dating. You weren’t his. And he sure as hell wasn’t jealous. Except then it wasn’t just one date. Because you went out again. And again. And again. And suddenly, Beomgyu wasn’t just one of Heeseung’s friends anymore—he was the guy you were seeing. And that, for some reason, was so much worse.

The thing about Beomgyu was that he was annoying. Like, Heeseung had always known this, but now, for the first time in his life, it felt personal. “Dude,” Beomgyu groaned, stretching his arms behind his head as they sat in their usual spot in the campus lounge. “Y/N is so fun, bro. Like, actually so fun.”

Heeseung clenched his jaw. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s, like… different.” Heeseung made a face. “No, I’m serious,” Beomgyu whined. “She’s not like other girls.”

I’m gonna walk into traffic, Heeseung thought.

“No, like—” Beomgyu hesitated, looking off into the distance. “She’s just cool, you know?”

And Heeseung didn’t know why that pissed him off. Maybe because he knew that already. He had always known that. He had known it before Beomgyu, before any of these dates, before whatever the hell this was.

He had known it since the night he met you. Since the moment you called him Donatello when he was, in fact, Leonardo. Since the first time you said his name with that teasing edge, like you were permanently in on some joke he didn’t even realize he was making.

So, yeah. Maybe he didn’t like hearing Beomgyu say it like he had discovered it first.

But whatever. Heeseung let it go. Because it wasn’t like this was going to last forever. And then, it didn’t.

One day, you walked into Yunjin’s apartment, kicked your shoes off in a way that sent one flying across the room, and threw yourself onto the couch with all the weight of someone carrying a great and terrible burden.

Heeseung, sitting on the floor, scrolled mindlessly through his phone, pretending he hadn’t immediately noticed you. But then, you sighed. A deep, world-weary, existentially exhausted sigh.

Yunjin looked up from where she was painting her nails. “Jesus,” she muttered. “What.”

You groaned, stuffing your face into a pillow. “I think I’m over it.”

Heeseung’s thumb froze mid-scroll. Casual. He had to be casual. So, without looking up, he mumbled, “Over what?”

Another dramatic sigh. You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to life itself. “Beomgyu.”

Heeseung blinked. Okay.

Yunjin, who had been the biggest advocate of this whole thing, frowned. “Wait, what do you mean? You were literally texting him heart emojis yesterday.”

“I don’t know.” You stretched out your legs like the weight of your own existence was exhausting you. “I just… don’t feel like it anymore.”

Yunjin gave you a look. “Like, what? He’s a hobby you got bored of?”

“No! It’s just—” You hesitated, pressing your lips together. “Like, I liked the idea of him. And at first, it was fun. But then, the more time we spent together, the more I realized… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

You exhaled, shutting your eyes. “I feel like I was trying to make myself like him the way I was supposed to. But it just wasn’t working.”

And that was when Heeseung’s grip on his phone tightened. He forced himself to keep his face neutral, tilting his head slightly as he looked at you. “The way you were supposed to?”

You turned your head towards him. “Yeah. Like, Beomgyu is great, okay? He’s funny, and he’s cute, and he’s nice, and I should like him.” You paused, expression softening. “But every time he kissed me, I just…”

You trailed off, lost in thought. Heeseung swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He wasn’t sure why.

Yunjin made a gagging noise. “Okay, ew. Please don’t get all sentimental about kissing Beomgyu on my couch.”

You laughed, pushing her half-heartedly with your foot. “I’m just saying—it’s not clicking. You ever get that? Like, you try to like someone, but no matter how much you do, it just doesn’t fit?”

And the way you looked at Heeseung when you asked that—like you expected him to understand—made something in his chest tighten. Because yeah. He knew exactly what that felt like. He just… couldn’t say it.

So he swallowed, rolling his shoulders back, and forced a small smirk. “Damn,” he said, voice light. “Tough loss for Beomgyu.”

You let out a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah.” Then, a pause. “Guess I’m single again.”

Something in Heeseung’s chest lurched. But he just nodded, keeping his expression neutral, easy, unfazed. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like it didn’t change everything.

A few weeks later, Heeseung showed up at your apartment. It was raining that day.

Not in a dramatic, cinematic way, but in that soft, half-hearted drizzle that made everything look just a little bit duller. The sky was gray, the streets were damp, and Heeseung had definitely stepped into at least two puddles on his way up to your place.

Which, in his opinion, was already way too much effort just to fix your stupid kitchen cabinet.

“Okay, I just wanna say,” he announced as soon as you let him in, dragging his slightly-wet socks across your floor, “I don’t know how the hell you managed to completely detach a cabinet door, but honestly? I’m kind of impressed.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside to let him in. “Are you gonna help me or are you gonna make fun of me?”

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna make fun of you.” He grinned, toeing off his shoes before making his way to your kitchen. “But I’ll fix it after.”

You followed behind him, crossing your arms as you watched him inspect the broken cabinet. It wasn’t like you had meant to break it. You had simply been existing in your own kitchen, minding your own business, when the handle somehow got caught on the sleeve of your hoodie—one tug too strong, and suddenly the door was in your hands instead of on its hinges.

“I literally don’t understand how this happened,” Heeseung muttered, crouching down to assess the damage.

“Okay, handyman,” you shot back. “Can you fix it or not?”

Heeseung snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, let me just—” He held out a hand. “Pass me my phone.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“My hands are kinda full,” he said, nodding towards the cabinet door that he was currently balancing on one knee. “Look up how to fix this real quick.”

You huffed but grabbed his phone from the counter, unlocking it without thinking as you leaned against the kitchen island. You didn’t love the idea of looking up a YouTube tutorial like some kind of DIY newbie, but considering that Heeseung was already physically here fixing your problem for you, you figured you could at least meet him halfway.

So, with one hand holding his phone, you typed "how to reattach cabinet door" into the search bar—

And then, your thumb froze. Because right there, at the top of the screen, was a notification. A message. From Chaewon. Your stomach twisted.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know who Chaewon was. Of course, you did. You weren’t stupid. Chaewon was his ex.

The one he never really talked about. The one who had, at one point, been a name you’d only heard in passing, just a piece of his past that you had no real reason to care about. Except… you did.

Because now, here she was. On his screen. Texting him. And suddenly, you felt fucking ridiculous. Because why were you even reacting like this? It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend. It wasn’t like he owed you an explanation. So, then… why did it feel like this?

You forced yourself to look away from the message, pressing the YouTube link on the screen as if nothing had happened. But something had. Because when Heeseung glanced at you, waiting for your next words, you just… couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.

“Uh.” You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your voice didn’t sound normal. “It says you need a screwdriver.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow at your abrupt shift in tone, but he didn’t question it. “Okay,” he said slowly, getting up to grab one from his bag.

You took the moment to shove his phone back onto the counter, clenching your jaw as you crossed your arms tighter over your chest. It was fine. You were fine.

“Hey.” His voice cut through the air, slightly muffled as he rummaged through his bag. “Can you hold this while I—”

“No, it’s fine.” The words came out too fast, too stiff.

And Heeseung noticed. He glanced at you, pausing with the screwdriver halfway in his grip. “You good?”

You forced out a laugh. “Yeah. Why?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head. “You just got all weird all of a sudden.”

“I didn’t.”

“You definitely did.”

You exhaled sharply, schooling your expression into something that wasn’t betrayal or insecurity or whatever dumb thing was currently buzzing inside your head. “I’m just tired.”

It wasn’t a total lie. Heeseung didn’t look fully convinced, but he didn’t push. He just hummed under his breath, turning back to the cabinet as he started working again.

And maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was irrational. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The notification. The name. The way your stomach had twisted on instinct before you even had a chance to tell yourself it didn’t matter.

Because maybe… Maybe it did.

The next time you’re at Yunjin’s apartment, Heeseung isn’t there.

It’s not intentional, not entirely. Maybe there’s a small, petty part of you that’s relieved when Yunjin mentions he’s out, like the universe decided to grant you a break from the exhausting push and pull of whatever this thing is between you. But mostly, you’re just here because you always are.

There’s an old episode of some dating reality show playing in the background, and Yunjin barely glances at it as she paints her toenails a shade of red so deep it’s almost brown. You pick at the hem of your sleeve, casual, too casual, before finally asking, “Does Heeseung still see Chaewon?”

Yunjin snorts, like it’s the dumbest thing she’s heard all day. “God, I hope not.”

Something in your stomach untwists just slightly, but you don’t let the relief settle. You just raise an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “What happened with them, anyway?”

Yunjin pauses, her brush hovering mid-air. She gives you a look. The kind that says she sees through you. The kind that makes your skin prickle with the discomfort of being known. But then she sighs, leans back against the couch, and says, “They burned out.”

You blink. “That’s it?”

Yunjin tilts her head. “You ever leave a candle burning too long?” She dips the brush back into the bottle, shaking her head. “They were good until they weren’t. And when they weren’t, it was obvious. Chaewon got tired of waiting for him to catch up.”

You frown. “Catch up?”

Yunjin shrugs. “She loved him first. And she wanted him to love her back just as fast, just as much. But Heeseung…” She sighs, blowing lightly on her nails. “Heeseung takes his time. He doesn’t fall in love all at once, he kind of… eases into it. Like the dumbass that he is.”

Your chest tightens.

Because you think about the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not watching. About the way he always notices when you’re cold before you even say anything. And then you think about the way he doesn’t say anything. About the way he’s always on the edge of something, always almost.

Yunjin is watching you. You can feel it. And you know, you just know, she’s about to say something that’s going to ruin you.

So you get up, stretch your arms above your head like you can shake the weight of this conversation off your skin. “Right. Well. That was fun. Thanks for the gossip.”

Yunjin smirks. “You’re so fucking obvious.” You ignore her, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table. But before you can shove it in your mouth, she says, “Heeseung’s not stupid, you know. He just doesn’t like to move until he’s sure.”

You pause. And because you’re you, and because this is Heeseung, and because everything about this whole thing is a goddamn waiting game— You pretend you don’t hear her.

And then it’s 2:14 a.m. when your phone buzzes.

You’re half-asleep, curled up in bed, the glow of your screen slicing through the darkness. You squint at it, groggy, before reading the message.

heeseung: you awake? heeseung: also. do u want mcdonalds

You blink. Then again. You type out a response with fingers that still feel half-dead from sleep.

you: is that even a question heeseung: valid. be outside in 10

And just like that, you’re stepping into your slides, and slipping out the door like this is the most normal thing in the world. Because with Heeseung, it kind of is.

The streetlights cast long, tired shadows across the pavement, and the air is that weird mix of crisp and stale that only exists at this hour, like the city itself is pausing, caught between the last breath of night and the first inhale of morning.

Heeseung’s car rolls up exactly nine minutes later, music already playing low through the speakers. When you slide into the passenger seat, he barely even looks at you before reaching into the back and tossing you his hoodie.

“You’re gonna get cold,” he says simply.

You huff, but you put it on. It smells like him—faint detergent, something vaguely woody, and the unmistakable scent of McDonald’s fries from however many late-night runs have preceded this one.

Heeseung pulls out onto the street, the familiar hum of the engine settling between you. He’s got one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel, and there’s a soft shadow of exhaustion under his eyes, but he still looks… at ease.

It’s quiet for a while. Comfortable. The kind of silence that doesn’t feel like it needs filling.

Then, as he turns onto the main road, he says, “You ever think about how weird time is?”

You glance at him. “That’s an insane way to start a conversation.”

“I’m serious,” he laughs, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “Like, right now. It’s 2:30 a.m. for us, but somewhere else, it’s a normal afternoon. Someone’s getting lunch, someone’s going to work. And here we are, about to eat McNuggets in a parking lot.”

You hum. “I feel like this is your way of convincing me that time isn’t real.”

He nods solemnly. “Nothing is real.”

“Except McNuggets.”

“Exactly.”

A beat passes, the soft rumble of the tires against the road the only sound for a moment. Then, quieter, more thoughtful, Heeseung asks, “Where do you think you’ll be in a year?”

The question catches you off guard. You tilt your head, thinking. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean, I have plans, but… life never really goes how you expect it to, does it?”

Heeseung exhales a small laugh. “No. It really doesn’t.”

You hesitate before adding, “Where do you think you’ll be?”

He takes a moment. His grip on the steering wheel tightens just slightly, like he’s holding onto the words before letting them go. “I don’t know either.” He pauses, then glances at you with something unreadable in his eyes. “I just hope I’m somewhere that still feels like home.”

You feel something shift. A small, almost imperceptible weight settling between the two of you.

And maybe it’s the hour. Maybe it’s the fact that your brain isn’t fully awake yet. Or maybe it’s just him—this version of Heeseung that only exists at 2:30 a.m., the one who speaks in half-truths and unspoken things. But you suddenly feel like you understand exactly what he means.

The McDonald’s drive-thru is basically empty when you pull in. The girl at the window looks like she hates her job, and Heeseung, being Heeseung, makes it his personal mission to get her to smile.

“Are McFlurries still a scam?” he asks solemnly.

The girl raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You mean, is the machine broken?”

“Yeah.”

“Obviously.”

Heeseung sighs. “I knew it. A tragedy, really.”

Her lips twitch—just barely—but he sees it. He shoots you a triumphant look as he pulls forward.

With the food secured, he parks in a near-empty lot. There’s something about eating fast food in a car past midnight that makes it taste ten times better—something about the way the city is so still, like the world has shrunk down to just the two of you and the glow of the dashboard lights.

For a while, you just eat in silence, the occasional rustle of a fry bag or the quiet click of a sauce container the only noise. Then Heeseung says, “If you could live in any movie, which one would it be?”

You think for a moment. “Probably something stupid and fun. Like… a rom-com where everything works out in the end.”

Heeseung snorts. “Yeah? You want to be the main character that badly?”

“Obviously.”

He grins, dipping a fry into his BBQ sauce. “You’d be the chaotic best friend, though.”

You throw a fry at him. He catches it in his mouth.

“What about you?” you ask, popping a nugget into your mouth.

Heeseung leans back against the seat, thinking. “I don’t know. Something small. Quiet. One of those movies where nothing really happens, but it still makes you feel something.”

You tilt your head. “Like a waiting room.”

Heeseung turns to you. “What?”

“A waiting room,” you say, like it’s obvious. “That’s what those movies feel like. Like something is about to happen, but you don’t know what, and maybe it’s okay if nothing does.”

He stares at you for a long moment. Then he smiles. And it’s not his usual grin, not the teasing, lopsided smirk. It’s something smaller, softer. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Like a waiting room.”

Neither of you say anything after that. The city hums in the background, neon lights bleeding into the darkness, the last remnants of fries sitting forgotten between you.

And then, a party. Not the kind you remember from three years ago, not the one where you met a boy covered in green body paint who changed your life without even meaning to. But still, a party. The music is just as loud, the air just as thick with heat and laughter, the night just as full of things waiting to happen.

You’re not sure why you came. Yunjin had begged, of course, had stood in your doorway with her most dramatic expression, wailing about how you never do anything fun anymore. But even then, you could have said no. You could have curled up in your apartment, wrapped yourself in something soft and safe, ignored the way your stomach flipped when you thought, what if Heeseung is there?

But you didn’t.

And now, you’re here, standing in the middle of someone’s too-small living room, holding a lukewarm drink, feeling like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit. And then, you hear your name.

It cuts through the music, through the laughter, through the static in your brain. It pulls you toward the kitchen, toward the familiar lilt of a voice you know better than your own. And there he is. Heeseung.

Standing in front of the fridge, cracking open a beer, wearing a faded t-shirt and jeans that hang just right. His hair is a little messy, his eyes a little bright, and when he sees you, he grins—that same lopsided, teasing, dangerous smile.

"Look who finally decided to show up," he says, raising his drink in a mock toast.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of whatever’s in your cup. "Don’t make a big deal out of it."

Heeseung hums, leaning against the counter. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

But he’s looking at you like it is a big deal. Like maybe he’s been waiting for you all night. Like maybe he always is.

Hours pass, the party moves around you—people spilling in and out of rooms, music shifting from one song to the next—but you and Heeseung stay where you are, orbiting around each other.

At some point, someone suggests a game. Cards, or maybe something more ridiculous—something designed to make people confess things they wouldn’t say otherwise. You should say no. You should step away before you find yourself caught in something you can’t get out of.

But you don’t. You sit next to Heeseung on the floor, close enough that your knees touch. The game starts, questions fly, people laugh. And then—

Jake turns to you. "Alright, Y/N. Who was your first college crush?"

You blink. "What?"

The group whoops in unison. Jungwon throws an arm around your shoulder. "Come on, don’t be shy."

Your throat goes dry. Your eyes flicker to Heeseung, just for a second, but it’s enough. His smirk twitches—just barely, just enough to be noticeable—and suddenly, you know you have to get out of this.

You clear your throat, reaching for your drink. "I think I’ve blocked it out," you lie.

A chorus of boos erupts, but the game moves on. The moment passes. But beside you, Heeseung is watching you, his fingers tapping against his knee, like he’s putting something together. You pretend not to notice.

Later, when the party has blurred into something soft and distant, when most people are drunk or half-asleep, when the night has stretched itself out into something too fragile to hold forever, Heeseung finds you on the balcony.

You’re leaning against the railing, breathing in the cool air, staring out at the city lights. "You hiding from me?"

You don’t turn around. "You think everything’s about you, don’t you?"

He laughs—soft, amused, something warm threading through the sound. "It usually is."

You roll your eyes, but then he’s beside you, resting his forearms on the railing, close enough that you can feel the heat of him even through the night air.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The music inside is muffled now, the party nothing more than background noise. The city stretches out before you, endless and alive, full of people who have no idea that this moment is happening.

And then, quietly, Heeseung asks, "You really don’t remember your first college crush?"

Your fingers tighten slightly around the railing. You exhale. "I remember."

A pause. "Yeah?"

You glance at him. He’s watching you, expression unreadable, something deep and knowing in his eyes. You swallow. "Yeah."

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, and for a second, you think—Is he going to ask? Does he already know? But he doesn’t.

He just nods, looking back at the skyline, and says, "Me too."

And somehow, that’s worse. Because you think—no, you know—that he’s not talking about some early college memory, some long-forgotten infatuation.

He’s talking about you.

And for the first time, you wonder if this thing between you—this waiting, this almost, this three years of something unspoken—has been more obvious than you thought. You wonder if maybe, just maybe, you’re not the only one waiting.

One month later. The thing about time is that it moves whether you’re ready or not. It stretches, it folds, it carries you forward even when you feel like you’re standing still.

And ever since the party, things with Heeseung have been… different. Not in an obvious way. Not in the way that people would notice, not in the way that Yunjin would tease you about over breakfast. But in the small things.

In the way his eyes linger just a little too long. In the way your stomach flips when he says your name. In the way every conversation feels like it’s balancing on the edge of something you can’t name.

Because you and Heeseung have always been close, always been drawn together like something written into the universe itself. But now? Now, it feels different. Like someone turned up the volume on something you didn’t even realize was playing in the background.

And the worst part? Neither of you are talking about it.

Instead, you’re doing what you do best—pretending. Pretending that nothing is different, that things are still light and easy, that three years of something unspoken aren’t finally starting to spill over the edges.

Until one day, when you’re sitting on Yunjin’s couch, your phone rings. It’s your mother. You hesitate before answering, already bracing yourself for whatever she’s about to say.

And the moment you put your phone down, you groan, collapsing onto the couch, like the weight of the conversation is physically pressing down on you. Heeseung and Yunjin are both looking at you expectantly, their attention fully on you in a way that makes you regret opening your mouth at all. But it’s too late now, so you just exhale, pressing your fingers against your temples before muttering, "My mom called."

Yunjin snorts. "Yeah, we got that much. What did she want?"

You roll your eyes, but the annoyance in your chest is directed at yourself more than anything else. "There’s a wedding. My cousin’s. Next weekend."

Heeseung, who had been absentmindedly rolling a bottle cap between his fingers, finally glances up, eyes curious. "You going?"

"Yeah." You sigh again. "Didn’t really have a choice. If I said no, she would’ve found a way to guilt-trip me into oblivion."

Yunjin grins knowingly. "Classic mom move."

You hum in agreement, then hesitate, picking at the hem of your sleeve. "And then she made it weird," you mutter.

Heeseung raises an eyebrow, shifting slightly on the couch so he’s facing you more fully. "How weird?"

You pause for a second, then groan, throwing your head back. "She brought up the fact that I’ve never brought a boyfriend to anything."

Yunjin cackles. She actually leans forward, hands on her knees, cackling. "Oh my God," she wheezes. "That’s so embarrassing for you."

You glare. "Thank you, Yunjin, for your endless support."

But Heeseung doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t tease. He just tilts his head, watching you with an unreadable expression. "She said that?"

You nod, rubbing your temples. "Yeah. She was all, ‘You can bring someone, you know,’ and then just immediately went for the ‘You’ve never brought a boyfriend to anything,’ like I don’t already know that."

Yunjin wipes a fake tear from her eye, still far too entertained. "Damn. She really called you out like that."

"Okay," you deadpan, "I think we’ve established that this is humiliating for me. Can we move on?"

But Yunjin grins, her eyes practically glowing with mischief, and that’s when you know you should have never said anything at all. "Well," she says, stretching out the word, "if it bothers you that much… you could always bring Heeseung."

Silence.

You feel it immediately—the way the air shifts, the way your stomach twists, the way your breath catches for just a second too long. You don’t look at Heeseung. You can’t.

Instead, you scoff, shoving her shoulder. "Oh my God, shut up."

"I’m serious!" she laughs. "It makes sense, doesn’t it? You need a date. Heeseung’s around."

Heeseung is silent. And that—that’s what makes your chest tighten. Because Heeseung is never silent.

You finally force yourself to glance at him, just a flicker, just to see how he’s reacting to this. And when you do, you find him already looking at you—his expression unreadable, his fingers stilling where they had been absently playing with the bottle cap.

Something tightens in your throat. Because it’s one thing to laugh it off. It’s one thing to pretend this isn’t something charged, something delicate, something that feels like standing on the edge of something too big to name.

But Heeseung isn’t laughing.

When you open the door on the wedding day, Heeseung is already leaning against his car, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, looking entirely too good for someone who is supposed to be doing you a favor. His hair is neat but still has that slight, careless tousle to it, his sleeves are pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms, and his black dress shirt is criminally well-fitted.

You try very hard not to notice any of that. But Heeseung is looking at you like you just stopped time.

It’s not obvious—he doesn’t say anything right away, doesn’t let his jaw drop like some kind of movie cliché—but his fingers twitch slightly where they’re resting in his pockets, and his throat bobs as he swallows. His eyes move over you in a way that isn’t just admiration but something deeper, something heavier, something that makes your chest feel too tight.

You pretend not to notice that, either. Instead, you lift an eyebrow, shifting your weight onto one foot. "You gonna open the door for me, or are you just gonna stand there?"

Heeseung blinks, snapping out of it. He clears his throat, pushing off the car, his usual smirk creeping back into place. "Right, yeah. My bad."

You roll your eyes, but your face feels warm anyway. The ride starts out easy. The hum of the road fills the space between you, the occasional comment about the directions or a song playing on the radio breaking the silence.

"You, uh," Heeseung starts, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "You sure your mom’s gonna be cool with me coming?"

You blink. "What? Yeah, of course. I already told her."

He raises an eyebrow. "You told her?"

"Yeah," you say, adjusting the hem of your dress. "I mean, I talk about you all the time, so it’s not like it’s weird or anything."

Silence. You don’t notice it at first, but when you glance over, Heeseung is staring straight ahead, gripping the wheel a little tighter than before.

And the thing is—Heeseung is not someone who gets flustered easily. He doesn’t trip over his words, doesn’t get all weird when people talk about him. But now, he’s sitting there, completely silent, like his brain just blue-screened.

Because you talk about him all the time. To your mom. His ears burn at the thought.

Because it’s one thing to be close. It’s one thing to be your best friend, to be the person you go to for late-night McDonald’s runs and life-altering conversations on balconies. But it’s another thing entirely to know that he exists in your life even when he’s not there.

That when you’re on the phone with your mom, when you’re recounting your day, when you’re talking about the people who matter—he’s there. And it’s so stupid how much that does to him.

He coughs, forcing himself to sound normal. "Oh. Cool. Yeah. That’s cool."

You snort. "I told her you’re my friend, and that’s it."

Heeseung hums, tapping his fingers on the wheel again. "Yeah. Right."

But for some reason, the word friend doesn’t sit right in his mouth.

The wedding is beautiful. Not in the over-the-top, fairytale kind of way, but in the way that feels real. The ceremony is held outdoors, the late afternoon light draping everything in gold, the air carrying the soft hum of laughter and clinking glasses. There are flowers on every table, music drifting lazily through the air, and a warmth that lingers beneath the chatter of distant relatives catching up.

And you almost forget that you’re here with Heeseung. Almost. Except—you can feel him.

You can feel him next to you at the table, the warmth of his presence settling into your skin. You can feel the way his hand brushes against yours when he reaches for something, the way his eyes flicker toward you when he hears you laugh.

And the worst part is that he looks good as hell.

It’s almost unfair, the way he carries himself. The way his sleeves are still rolled up, the way his shirt is slightly undone at the collar, the way he leans back in his chair, legs stretched out, watching everything unfold like he belongs here.

And for the first time in a long time you don’t know where you stand with him.

Because this is Heeseung. The boy who sends you Shrek memes at 2 a.m. The boy who once argued with a barista about oat milk for a full five minutes. The boy who makes you laugh until you can’t breathe.

But right now? Right now, he’s something else, too. Something that makes your stomach flip. Something that makes you forget how to breathe.

The music shifts. It’s not immediate—not some grand, dramatic moment where the world slows down—but you feel it.

The moment the first notes of the song drift through the air, you feel it in your chest. Like something tightening. Like something pulling at a thread you don’t want to unravel. Because you know this song. Of course you know this song. And so does he.

You don’t even have to look at Heeseung to know he recognizes it too. That he knows exactly what’s playing, that he knows how much you love her, that he knows you’ve played this song before—in his car, in your apartment, in the quiet spaces between friendship and something else.

You know he knows. And yet, he still turns to you, his voice a low murmur beneath the hum of conversation. “Phoebe Bridgers,” he says.

You swallow. “Yeah.” Heeseung hums, watching you carefully. His fingers drum lightly against the table, slow and steady, in time with the beat of the song. Then, after a second—

"You should dance with me."

You blink. You blink again. Your stomach twists. “What?”

Heeseung shrugs, like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t mean anything. “You love this song.”

Which—okay. That’s true. But this is not a song you dance to. This is a song you listen to alone, in your room, in the quiet, when it’s too late and you’re too restless and you’re thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about.

This is not a wedding song. And yet, Heeseung is still looking at you like that, like this is a dare, like he’s waiting for you to say no, to call him out, to pull away before it’s too late.

And yet, his hand is outstretched, waiting, patient, warm. And yet— You take it. You don’t think, you just do it, just let yourself be pulled. And Heeseung holds you like he’s afraid to press too hard.

One hand on your waist. The other clasping yours loosely, like he’s letting you decide how close to be. Like he’s still waiting for you to laugh and push him away and say, ‘This is so stupid’.

But you don’t. You just breathe. You just exist here, in this moment, with him.

If you were a waiting room, I would never see a doctor I would sit there with my first-aid kit and bleed

Your throat tightens. Because God, this song.

Because you know every lyric by heart, because you know what it means, because there’s something about it that always makes you feel like you’re standing in the middle of something you’ll never quite have.

And now, here you are, dancing to it with him.

Heeseung exhales softly, tilting his head toward you. “You ever think about that?”

You blink. “Think about what?”

His fingers twitch slightly against your waist. “How music reminds you of people.”

Your stomach flips. Because of course you do. Of course, you think about it. Of course, this song, this moment, this whole damn night is going to be tied to him now, forever, no matter what happens after.

You nod. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I think about it.”

Heeseung hums, like that makes sense. Like he already knew what you were going to say. Then—

"Does this song remind you of me?"

Your breath catches. The air between you thickens.

Because that shouldn’t be a question. Because he already knows the answer. Because you’re standing here with him, swaying to a song that makes your chest ache, and you know, you know he hears the lyrics just as clearly as you do.

I wanna be the broken love song that feeds your misery.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to sound normal. “Maybe.”

His lips twitch. “Maybe?”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t push it.”

Heeseung laughs, soft, breathless. And God, you hate him.

You hate the way he makes everything feel like a game, like he’s always hovering right at the edge of something and waiting for you to push him over. You hate that it’s working.

And when broken bodies are washed ashore—who am I to ask for more?

You shiver. Because this is the part of the song that gets to you every time. Because who are you to ask for more?

Who are you to ask for something that maybe, just maybe, was never meant to be yours? But then Heeseung, of all people, says “I think this song reminds me of you, too.”

Your heart stops. You look at him, and he’s already looking at you, and suddenly this doesn’t feel like pretending anymore.

This doesn’t feel like something you can laugh off. Because Heeseung is serious.

Because his hand is still on your waist, his fingers still brushing against the fabric of your dress, his breath still warm against your cheek, and you don’t know how to go back from this. You don’t know if you want to.

Heeseung shifts slightly, his grip tightening for just a second. “You ever think about it?”

You blink. “Think about what?”

Heeseung hesitates, his eyes flickering over your face. His jaw tightens—just barely.

"Us."

Your stomach drops.

Because he says it so simply, like it’s nothing, like it’s a passing thought, like he hasn’t just destroyed your entire world in one syllable. Us. The word sits heavy in the air between you, impossible to ignore, impossible to pretend you didn’t hear.

Heeseung doesn’t move, doesn’t look away, doesn’t do anything to make this easier for you. He just keeps holding you, keeps swaying with you, keeps waiting—like he has all the time in the world.

You want to say something.

You want to throw your head back and laugh it off, tell him he’s being ridiculous, tell him to stop playing with you. You want to scoff and roll your eyes and pretend that the thought of you and Heeseung has never crossed your mind, that it hasn’t been haunting you for years, that it hasn’t been living under your skin since the first time he looked at you like you were something worth remembering.

But you can’t. Because this is Heeseung. Because he knows you too well, because he’d hear the lie in your voice, because there is nowhere left to hide when he’s looking at you like this.

So instead, you stall. You breathe in, slow and careful, and say, "What about us?"

It’s a cheap move. A pathetic attempt at deflection. And Heeseung knows it.

He exhales, the ghost of a laugh slipping past his lips, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your waist. "You know what I mean."

You glance down at your hands, the way your fingers are still laced together with his, the way your other hand rests so easily on his shoulder, like this is something you’ve done a thousand times before. And maybe you have.

Maybe you and Heeseung have always been dancing around each other like this. Maybe you’ve just never let yourself notice. The song keeps playing, keeps taunting you, keeps threading its meaning between your ribs, pulling you closer and closer to something you don’t know how to name.

I wanna make you drive all night just because I said, maybe you should come over

You let out a slow breath, forcing your voice to stay steady. "We’re friends, Heeseung."

He hums. "Yeah. We are."

But he doesn’t let go.

He doesn’t move away, doesn’t drop his hand from your waist, doesn’t step back into the safe distance you’re used to. He stays. And that’s the part that gets you.

Because if he really believed that was all this was, he wouldn’t be holding you like this. If he really believed that was all this was, he wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place.

You glance up at him again, searching, waiting for him to say something else, to give you an out, to change the subject, to laugh and let it go. But he doesn’t. He just watches you. And suddenly, you feel exposed in a way you never have before.

Like every late-night conversation, every half-smile, every almost has been leading here, to this moment, to this song, to this feeling that you don’t know how to escape. You force yourself to swallow.

"Why are you asking me this?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, considering you, considering his words.

"Because I think about it, too."

Your breath catches in your throat. Your fingers tighten against his shoulder. Your heart slams against your ribs.

You feel like the whole world has shrunk down to just this. To the space between your bodies, to the way he’s looking at you, to the fact that he thinks about it, too.

Heeseung’s fingers twitch slightly against yours, but he doesn’t let go. He’s watching you with this careful intensity, like he’s waiting for something, like he’s giving you the chance to decide what happens next.

And that’s the problem.

Because you don’t know what happens next.

Because you’ve spent years existing in this strange, untouchable place with him, in this in-between, in this waiting room of a relationship that never moves forward but never lets you leave either.

And now, suddenly, here you are. Standing on the edge of something irreversible.

She'll be the best you ever had if you let her

Your heart stumbles. Because this song knows too much.

Because this song feels too much like the two of you, like something ripped from your ribs and put into lyrics, like a truth you weren’t ready to confront. And maybe—just maybe—Heeseung feels it, too.

Because he leans in. Just a little. Just enough.

Not enough to cross the line, not enough to destroy the thing you’ve built, but enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, enough that the scent of him—clean soap, something faintly woodsy, something entirely him—wraps around you.

Enough that you could close the distance if you wanted to. And God, you do.

But you don’t. Because you’re afraid. Because you don’t know what happens when you let this become real.

Because Heeseung is still looking at you like that, like he could ruin you if he wanted to, like he’s giving you the chance to ruin him first.

I know it's for the better

You exhale, too shaky, too uneven. And Heeseung notices.

His gaze flickers, barely, to your lips, to the space between you, to the way you haven’t moved away from him yet. And then his jaw clenches.

Like he’s just realized how close you are. Like he’s just realized this is about to happen if neither of you stop it. And that’s the thing, neither of you stop it.

Not immediately. Not when his fingers tighten slightly on your waist. Not when your grip on his shoulder trembles just a little. Not when the air between you stretches so thin it might snap in half.

Not until you hear, Know it’s for the better…

The song starts to fade. The moment fractures. And just like that, you both pull away.

Not much. Just an inch, a breath, a single second too late. But it’s enough.

Enough for reality to settle back in. Enough for the noise of the wedding to come rushing back, for the chatter and laughter and clinking glasses to remind you where you are, who you are, what you almost did.

And Heeseung, he knows it, too. You see it in the way his throat bobs, in the way he blinks hard, in the way he forces himself to take a step back, to drop his hand from your waist, to roll his shoulders like he can shake off whatever just happened between you.

The song ends. And neither of you say a word.

And three months later, silence.

At first, it’s subtle—just a missed text here, a conversation that doesn’t last as long as it used to, an inside joke that no longer lands the way it should. But then it becomes something else. Something colder. Something that feels less like a pause and more like a choice.

And that’s what happened to you and Heeseung.

You didn’t stop talking completely. That would have been too obvious, too final, too much like admitting that something had shifted beyond repair. You still sent the occasional meme, still ran into each other at Yunjin’s, still had conversations that skimmed the surface of what they used to be.

But it was different. The late-night McDonald’s runs stopped. The effortless teasing felt strained. The ease of being around each other—the one thing you never questioned—was suddenly gone.

Neither of you did anything about it. You let it happen. Because it was easier that way.

Because acknowledging it meant admitting that something had changed, that you had gotten too close, that something had almost happened that night at the wedding. And you weren’t ready to admit that.

You weren’t ready to ask if Heeseung had almost kissed you, or if you had almost kissed him, or if you had both just been caught in some stupid, fleeting moment that meant nothing at all. So, you didn’t.

And now, three months later, all that’s left is silence.

The rain comes down in sheets, heavy and relentless, drumming against the windows of your apartment. You sit curled up on your couch, blanket wrapped around you, phone abandoned on the coffee table. The storm had rolled in an hour ago, sudden and unforgiving, and now the whole city feels swallowed by it, the streetlights barely visible through the downpour.

Then, there’s a knock at your door. You weren’t expecting anyone. It’s too late, too stormy, too much of a nothing kind of night for visitors.

But something in you knows—before you even open the door, before you even take that first breath—that it’s him.

And it is. It’s Heeseung.

Standing in your doorway, soaking wet, hair plastered to his forehead, breathing unevenly like he just ran here.

You freeze. "Heeseung?"

His eyes flicker over your face, searching, desperate, wild in a way you’ve never seen before. His clothes are damp, sticking to his frame, his hands clenched at his sides. But it’s his expression that gets you.

Like something is breaking inside of him. Like something has already broken.

“I can’t—” His voice catches, hoarse and raw, and then he shakes his head, like words are failing him, like they’re too small for what he’s trying to say.

Your heart is pounding. “Heeseung, what are you—”

"I can’t stop thinking about you."

The words crash into you like a wave, knocking the breath from your lungs. You stare.

Heeseung swallows hard, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it, like he’s trying to find a way to make you understand.

"I’ve tried," he continues, voice shaking. "I really, really tried. But you’re always there. You’re in every song I hear, in every dumb inside joke, in every single thing that happens to me. I see something stupid and my first thought is always, ‘Y/N would think that’s hilarious.’ I go to text you and then I stop because I don’t know if I’m supposed to anymore. I—"

He lets out a sharp, frustrated laugh, dragging a hand through his wet hair. “I thought if I just gave it time, it would go away. I thought I could just—move past it. But I still feel like I’m standing in that damn Halloween party with you, waiting for something to happen.”

Your throat is tight. “Heeseung—”

“I miss you,” he interrupts, pushing forward, stepping into your space like he’s afraid you’ll shut the door on him if he doesn’t. "I miss you so much it’s making me lose my goddamn mind."

Your pulse is roaring in your ears. You should say something. You should do something. But you can’t. You just stand there, staring at him, your body frozen in place. And Heeseung just keeps talking.

"I don’t know how to be your friend anymore," he admits, wrecked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to sit next to you and act like I don’t want more. I don’t know how to look at you and pretend that you’re not the first person I think about when I wake up and the last person I think about before I fall asleep. I don’t know how to listen to that fucking song without remembering the way you looked at me that night."

The air is too thick. Your vision is blurring.

Heeseung breathes out a shaky, desperate laugh, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "And the worst part?" He meets your eyes, and it destroys you. "I don’t think I want to stop thinking about you."

And that’s it.

That’s what breaks you. That’s what makes you move.

You don’t think. You don’t hesitate.

You step forward, grab the front of his stupid wet shirt, and kiss him.

The storm rages outside. And for the first time in three years, neither of you pull away.

The moment your lips crash into his, Heeseung stumbles back a step, caught off guard, but then he’s pulling you closer, like he’s been waiting for this forever.

His hands cup your face, fingers threading into your hair, holding you like you might disappear if he lets go. And you grip the front of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you standing, like if you let go, the moment might shatter around you.

Heeseung sighs into the kiss, like he’s relieved, like this is something he’s needed more than breathing itself. He tilts his head, deepening it, and you melt into him, the heat of his mouth sending shivers down your spine.

It’s surreal, familiar and foreign all at once, like stepping into a dream you’ve had before but never been able to hold onto. Because this is Heeseung. The boy who has always been by your side, the boy who has spent years making you laugh until your stomach hurts, the boy who has always been a constant in your life.

But now, he’s something else too. Now, he’s the only thing you can feel. And that’s the strangest part, how utterly consuming this is. Because your brain is struggling to keep up, still caught in the absurdity of it—Heeseung is kissing me, I’m kissing Heeseung, this is happening, this is happening.

And then he moves forward, stepping into the apartment fully, finally, his hands still tangled in your hair, still refusing to let you go. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound almost lost beneath the roar of the storm outside.

Heeseung doesn’t hesitate. His lips find yours again, his hands skimming over your waist, like he’s memorizing the shape of you, like he’s trying to make up for all the time he spent pretending he didn’t want this. And you can’t breathe. Because this isn’t like any kiss you’ve ever had before.

You’ve kissed people you liked. You’ve kissed people you thought you could love. But you have never, never felt this. This heat, this ache, this impossible, indescribable pull. Like your entire life has been leading up to this moment.

Like every other kiss you’ve had before this was just a poor imitation of what it was supposed to feel like. And that’s terrifying. Because how do you go back after this? How do you pretend this doesn’t mean something?

Heeseung exhales against your lips, his breath uneven, his fingers tightening just slightly against your waist. Like he’s thinking the same thing, like he’s struggling just as much as you are to make sense of this.

You should stop. You should pull away, take a breath, process. But you can’t.

Because he tilts his head, kisses you deeper, and suddenly, you’re walking backward without realizing it, your body moving on instinct, your hands clutching at his shirt as if he’s the only thing keeping you steady. Heeseung follows, one hand sliding down to rest against the small of your back, guiding you without thinking, without hesitation.

Your legs hit the couch. You stumble slightly, your balance faltering for the first time, and Heeseung, on pure reflex, catches you. His hands tighten instantly, pulling you against him, steadying you before you can fall.

But the movement leaves zero space between you. You can feel everything, his chest rising and falling against yours, the heat radiating off of him, the way his fingers twitch slightly where they’re curled into the fabric of your shirt.

His breath brushes against your lips, his nose bumping against yours as you both hover, just for a moment, just long enough to realize how close you are, just long enough to make it worse.

Before you can stop yourself, before you can think, you kiss him again. This time, it’s slower. This time, it’s deeper. This time, it’s not about the rush, the adrenaline, the storm raging outside. This time, it’s about everything else.

About the way his hands move carefully now, like he’s trying to remember every single detail, about the way he tilts his head slightly to fit his mouth against yours like he’s done this a thousand times in his head, about the way he lets out a soft, wrecked sound when you slide your fingers up into his still-damp hair. And you’re drowning in him.

You fall back onto the couch, pulling him with you, and he follows without hesitation, bracing himself with one hand on the cushion beside you, the other still gripping your waist, his fingers trembling just slightly against your skin.

His lips leave yours only for a second, just long enough for him to breathe, just long enough for his eyes to flicker over your face, like he’s trying to memorize you at this moment.

And then, so softly you almost don’t hear it—

“Tell me you want this.”

Your breath catches. Because God, you do. You do. You always have. So you don’t say anything. You just pull him down and kiss him again.

The weight of him settles over you, his body pressed against yours, his hands everywhere and nowhere at once—on your waist, your ribs, twitching like he doesn’t know where to hold you first, like he doesn’t want to stop touching you long enough to decide.

It's overwhelming. His warmth, his scent, the soft, unsteady breaths he exhales between kisses, the way his fingers slide under the hem of your shirt just slightly, just enough to brush against bare skin. It’s careful. Hesitant. Like he’s testing something fragile.

Heeseung groans softly, his grip tightening, his lips parting against yours in a way that sends a full-body shiver down your spine. His hands move up your sides, down to your hips, fingers pressing into the fabric of your clothes like he wants to commit this exact moment to memory. You arch just slightly, chasing his warmth, and the movement makes Heeseung suck in a sharp breath, his forehead pressing briefly against yours.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters.

You laugh, breathless, hands sliding up into his hair, tugging just enough to make him shudder. “That’s dramatic.”

His lips graze yours again, barely there, just enough to drive you insane. “You have no idea.”

And you could stay here forever—wrapped up in him, in his weight, in the way his lips brush over your jaw, the corner of your mouth, like he’s learning you one kiss at a time.

He shifts just slightly, pressing more of his weight into you, his thigh slipping between yours, and your breath catches. Heeseung notices immediately. You feel it in the way his body tenses, in the way his grip on your waist tightens, in the way he exhales shakily against your cheek.

You don’t move. He doesn’t move. The air changes. Slows. Thickens. And suddenly, it’s not just kissing anymore. Suddenly, it’s so much more than that. It’s every feeling you’ve been ignoring, every second of the past three years, every single moment leading up to this one catching up to you all at once.

And Heeseung feels it too. Because he pulls back, just a little, just enough to look at you properly, his expression wrecked. His fingers brush against your cheek, light, careful, like he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop. Like he’s scared of what happens if you don’t.

You stare up at him, breathless, your pulse pounding in your ears, and— God, he’s beautiful.

His hair is still damp from the rain, strands falling over his forehead in a way that makes him look softer. His lips are kiss-bruised, parted slightly as he catches his breath, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

You exhale slowly, one hand sliding down his chest, feeling the way his heart slams against his ribs, and he shudders. You know what this means. You know there’s no going back after this. So you whisper—soft, shaky, everything all at once—

"Heeseung."

And that’s all it takes.

Heeseung exhales—a shaky, uneven breath, like he’s barely holding himself together. His fingers tighten slightly where they rest on your waist, his body still hovering over yours. Then, softly, barely above a whisper—

"Say my name again."

Your stomach flips. You don’t, not at first. Because you feel lightheaded, because this is Heeseung, because what the hell is happening right now?

But Heeseung isn’t impatient. He doesn’t push. He just watches you, his gaze flickering over your face—your lips, your eyes, the way your breath catches in your throat. And then, carefully, deliberately, he grabs your wrist.

Your breath hitches as he lifts your hand, as he guides it slowly, until your palm is pressed flat against his chest. You can feel it. His heartbeat. It’s slamming against his ribs, too fast, too unsteady, completely out of control.

You stare at your hand, at where it rests over his racing pulse, at the way his skin burns beneath your touch. Heeseung swallows hard.

"You feel that?" he murmurs, his voice low, rough, wrecked.

And you do, because it’s all you can feel, because it’s like his entire body is responding to you, and you nod, your fingers twitching slightly against his shirt.

Heeseung lets out a breath like he’s relieved, like he needed you to know this, to feel this, to understand what you do to him. Then, slowly, carefully, giving you every chance to stop him, he leans down, brushing his lips against the curve of your jaw. You suck in a breath, your eyes fluttering shut as he moves lower, pressing the softest, slowest kiss to the side of your neck. Your fingers curl against his shoulders, your pulse hammering beneath your skin, and he feels it.

“Heeseung,” you breathe, and it’s embarrassing how it comes out, a little too soft, a little too needy, like you’re already losing yourself in him.

He shudders, letting out a sharp breath. “Fuck—”

Then, his teeth graze your pulse point, and you gasp, back arching instinctively into him. Your hips shift beneath his, your hands moving without thinking, fingers grasping at the hem of his hoodie, your skin itching for more of him, more warmth, more of everything.

Heeseung lets you. He lets you push the fabric up, lets you brush your fingers over the bare skin of his stomach, lets you feel the way his muscles tense under your touch. He exhales a groan, head dropping to your shoulder like you’ve just taken the breath right out of him.

He murmurs your name, voice strangled, his fingers digging into your waist as if you’ve completely unraveled him. You suck in a breath, your hands still fisting his hoodie.

“I want to hear you,” he admits, so quietly, like he almost wasn’t planning to say it out loud. “I want to—”

He cuts himself off with another soft groan as you push the hoodie all the way up, your fingers skimming over his bare chest before you finally tug it over his head. It hits the floor with a soft thud, but you barely register it.

Because Heeseung is above you, half-naked, breathing heavy, flushed, and looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that exists. You don’t know what to do with yourself. So you just stare up at him, breathless, waiting. And then, finally, you whisper—

"Heeseung, tell me what you want."

Heeseung exhales sharply, his breath warm against your skin, his fingers still pressing into your waist like he’s trying to ground himself, steady himself, like he’s trying not to lose his mind completely.

His hand slides up, fingertips grazing your ribs, slow and deliberate, and you shudder beneath him. His thumb brushes the fabric of your shirt, his touch gentle but knowing, and he meets your eyes, and God, he looks ruined.

"I want—" He starts, but then he laughs breathlessly, shaking his head like he can’t believe himself, like this is too much, like you are too much. His hands are still moving, still exploring, still teasing at the fabric of your shirt, still making your body burn in ways you’ve never felt before. "I want all of you."

Your stomach flips. Because he’s not even touching you properly, and yet it’s the way he says it, the weight of his voice, the truth in it, that makes your pulse stutter.

And then, before you can respond, before you can tease him for how wrecked he sounds, his hands move, slow and deliberate. Fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, pushing it up, knuckles skimming over your stomach, over your ribs, over every single inch of skin he reveals as he goes.

Your breath stutters, your body arching up into his touch. His jaw clenches, his lips part, and then he’s leaning down, pressing his mouth to your collarbone, trailing featherlight, open-mouthed kisses along your skin as he slowly tugs your shirt over your head.

And then, finally, your shirt joins his hoodie on the floor. And suddenly, you’re both bare and breathless, staring at each other like you don’t know what to do next, even though you both know exactly what’s about to happen.

"Heeseung," you whisper, and his eyes flicker, dark, burning, like your voice alone is enough to unravel him.

"You’re not making this easy," he murmurs, his fingers skimming up your sides, his thumb brushing along your ribs, his body pressing down just slightly, just enough to feel how perfectly he fits against you.

Your breath catches. "Good."

And that ruins him. Heeseung groans, low and deep, and then he’s leaning down again, lips trailing along your jaw, down your neck, to your collarbone, soft, open-mouthed kisses, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every single second. His voice is strained, thick with something raw, something undeniable.

"You feel so good."

You whimper at his words, your nails digging into his shoulders, and Heeseung reacts immediately, his hips pressing down, his body slotting perfectly against yours, his breath catching as he feels you, all of you, right there beneath him.

"Shit," he mutters, his head dropping to your shoulder, his hands gripping your waist like he needs something to hold onto. You’re both breathless now, bodies pressed so close there’s no space left between you, every single movement sending heat crashing through your veins. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this."

Your heart stumbles. Because neither of you were supposed to say it. Neither of you were supposed to acknowledge it. But now—it’s out there. And there’s no taking it back.

And then Heeseung looks at you, really looks at you. His eyes, dark and hooded with something deeper than just desire, trace every inch of your face, your parted lips, the flush spreading down your neck, the way your chest rises and falls, rapid and uneven beneath him.

“You’re…” He swallows hard, his voice thick with something close to reverence. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

His hands move lower, squeezing your thighs before dragging up again, pushing your legs further apart beneath him. Heeseung exhales sharply, his pupils blown wide as he takes in the way you look beneath him, flushed, needy, completely and utterly his for the taking.

“Fuck.” His voice is raw, thick with barely restrained need. “You’re perfect.”

His mouth finds your collarbone, lips hot and insistent as he moves lower, tasting, worshiping. His tongue flicks over the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing lightly before he sucks, leaving a mark. His fingers dig into your skin as he rolls his hips down against yours, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. He watches, fascinated, as your body reacts to his, as your fingers clutch at his arms, as your lips part with another breathy whimper that shoots straight through his bloodstream.

“You like that?” he murmurs, dragging his lips up to your ear, his voice nothing but a low rasp. “Like feeling me this close?” You nod, but it’s not enough. Heeseung needs to hear you say it. “Tell me,” he demands, his fingers tightening just enough to make you squirm.

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a breath.

Heeseung smirks against your skin, the sound of your desperation fueling the heat building between you. “Good.” His lips trail back down, kissing, tasting, exploring every inch of you. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Heeseung hovers over you, his breath warm against your skin as his hands trail lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your pants. His fingers toy with the fabric at your hips, teasing. His voice, when he speaks, is deep and laced with restraint.

“Can I take these off?”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and the sight of him like this—his lips swollen, his gaze dark with barely contained desire, sends a shiver down your spine. Your stomach tightens, heat curling low in your belly as you whisper, “Yes.”

And the second the word leaves your lips, Heeseung exhales sharply, like he’s been holding back this whole time. His hands move with deliberate slowness, sliding under the waistband, his fingers warm and firm against your hips as he starts to pull your pants down.

His hands guide your pants lower until they slip past your thighs, pooling somewhere near your ankles, and he takes his time, his lips pressing slow, reverent kisses along the soft skin of your lower belly, just above the edge of your underwear.

He groans against your skin, his voice husky. “You have no idea how good you look right now.”

His hands splay over your thighs, his lips follow the same path, pressing kisses, biting gently, dragging his tongue across the warmth of your skin as he moves lower. You let out a shaky breath as he spreads your legs just a little more, his fingers gripping, massaging, his lips marking every inch of your inner thighs as he inches closer to where you need him most.

Heeseung hums against your skin, his breath hot, teasing. “So soft,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration, with hunger. His hands squeeze your thighs, his fingers digging in just enough to make you arch slightly. “So perfect.”

His lips brush dangerously close to the edge of your underwear, his nose nuzzling against the sensitive skin just beside it, inhaling deeply like he wants to drown in you. His grip tightens. His lips part, and he looks up at you.

The sight of him between your legs, hair messy, lips swollen, his dark eyes filled with something you can’t quite name—it’s almost too much.

His voice is thick, teasing but affectionate. “You’re shaking,” he notes, his thumb brushing the inside of your thigh in slow, soothing circles.

Your breath catches. “Because of you.”

Heeseung groans softly, his hands gripping tighter, his lips trailing higher again, back to your hip, back to your stomach, his teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin there. “You have no idea how much I love hearing that,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Slowly, he starts to move up. His fingers slide up to cup your face, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek, like he needs to feel every part of you, like he’s grounding himself in your presence. He exhales sharply, his forehead resting against yours for the briefest second, like he’s gathering himself, like he’s trying to hold back.

“I need to taste you,” he murmurs, his voice nothing but a raw, desperate rasp. “Please.”

Your breath stutters, your fingers gripping onto his arms, feeling the tension coiled tight beneath his skin. You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, but the truth is, you want this just as much.

“I need to hear you say it,” he murmurs.

Your pulse is a pounding rhythm against your ribs, your whole body thrumming with heat, but somehow, you manage to find your voice.

“Yes,” you whisper. “I want it. I want you.”

Heeseung groans, his grip tightening for just a second before he’s moving again, kissing down your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His hands slide back down your body, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch of you.

And then he’s sinking back down between your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands parting your legs with a reverence that makes your head spin.

Heeseung grips the hem of your underwear between his fingers, his breathing ragged, his hands slightly trembling as he looks up at you. His eyes search yours, dark and full of something raw. “Can I?” His voice is hushed, reverent, like a prayer whispered into the silence.

Your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths, as you nod. “Yes,” you murmur.

Heeseung exhales, almost like he’s relieved, like he was afraid you’d stop him. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he slides the fabric down your legs, his fingers grazing your skin as he does, his touch both featherlight and electric.

And then he sees you. His breath catches in his throat, his hands tightening slightly around your thighs as he takes you in. His gaze, hooded and heavy with admiration, rakes over you like he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory, like he can’t quite believe you’re real.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his voice almost disbelieving.

The way he’s looking at your body, so intense, so completely captivated, sends a flush of heat racing up your spine. Your instincts kick in, your legs twitching slightly as the urge to close them overtakes you. But Heeseung doesn’t let you.

His hands move quickly, firm but gentle as he grips your thighs, keeping you open for him. “Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Your breath hitches, your whole body thrumming under his touch. Heeseung leans in, lips ghosting over your inner thigh, his breath hot against your already burning skin. He looks up at you again, his eyes locking onto yours, and what he says next sends a sharp pulse of anticipation straight through your core.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promises, his voice low, edged with something sinful. “So good that you’ll never forget me.”

And then he dips down. The first press of his mouth against your clit is enough to steal the air from your lungs. Warm, wet, hungry—Heeseung doesn’t just touch, he devours. His tongue moves slow at first, tasting you, savoring every single reaction you give him.

You gasp, arching against him, your body already trembling from the sheer intensity of his touch. Heeseung groans against you, the sound vibrating through your core, sending shockwaves up your spine. His grip on your thighs tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he keeps you exactly where he wants you.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your heat. “Just like I knew you would.”

Your moans come freely now, breathy, desperate, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as Heeseung works you open with his mouth. He hums against you, pleased, lost in you, whispering praise between every stroke of his tongue. “So good for me.” Kiss. “So fucking perfect.” Lick. “You’re mine.” Suck.

And when you whimper his name, broken and pleading, Heeseung only grips your thighs tighter and pulls you even closer, determined to ruin you completely.

Heeseung groans against you, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine as he keeps his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking, licking, savoring you like he’s starving. Then, slowly, he moves one hand between your legs, his fingers tracing a teasing path through your slick folds. You shudder, your hips instinctively bucking at the sensation, and Heeseung chuckles, a low, rough sound against your skin.

“So wet for me,” he murmurs, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before glancing up at you through dark lashes. “So fucking perfect.”

And then he presses a finger inside you. The stretch is slow, deliberate, his touch both gentle and utterly devastating as he sinks into your heat. You gasp sharply, your walls fluttering around him, and Heeseung groans, low and guttural.

“Fuck,” he hisses, watching the way you take him in. His finger curls inside you, testing, feeling. “You’re so tight, baby.”

The words send another wave of heat crashing through you, your body tightening at the sheer hunger in his voice. Heeseung doesn’t stop, he eases his finger in deeper as he continues working you open, his tongue never once leaving your clit. Your back arches, your fingers tangling in his hair, and Heeseung groans again, the sound muffled as he devours you, the heat of his mouth sending you spiraling closer to the edge.

“Heeseung—” His name slips from your lips, breathless, desperate.

Heeseung growls against you, deep and possessive, and you swear you can feel the sound reverberate through your entire body. His grip tightens, his pace quickens, his finger thrusting deeper, curling, coaxing pleasure out of you with every calculated stroke.

And then he adds a second finger. Your body tenses, the stretch just enough to make you whimper, and Heeseung groans at the way you clench around him.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, his voice thick, raspy, dripping with admiration. “So fucking perfect for me.”

His lips wrap around your clit again, sucking hard, and your body seizes, heat curling so tight inside you that you can’t hold back any longer. Heeseung feels it, and he sucks harder, pumps his fingers deeper, his other hand pressing down on your stomach to keep you still as your moans turn into cries, your body trembling beneath him.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs against your skin. “Let me feel it.”

And you do. The pleasure slams into you all at once, stealing the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as your body locks up, your thighs trembling around his head. Heeseung doesn’t stop, he keeps licking, keeps sucking, drawing every last drop of pleasure from you as you fall apart beneath him.

Your body shudders, aftershocks rippling through you, and Heeseung finally slows, his touch turning soft, reverent, as he presses one last lingering kiss to your sensitive clit before pulling back.

He looks up at you then, his lips glistening, his pupils blown wide, his breath ragged. And then he smirks, his voice low and utterly wrecked.

“Told you I’d make you feel good.”

You smile softly, but before you can even reach for him, he moves, fast, precise. A startled gasp escapes your lips as he manhandles you, lifting you effortlessly off the couch, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips, his hands gripping your thighs with a possessiveness that sends a shiver through your entire body. His hold on you is strong, unwavering, his fingertips pressing into your skin like he’s afraid to let go.

You cling to him, your arms locking around his shoulders as he carries you with ease, moving through the dimly lit apartment. Your lips find his neck, tasting the warmth of his skin, inhaling his scent. The closeness, the heat between your bodies, makes you whimper softly against his throat.

And Heeseung groans. A low, deep sound that rumbles in his chest as he grips you tighter, his pace quickening like he’s growing just as desperate as you are.

Because this isn’t just anyone. This is Heeseung.

The boy who has been stitched into your life for years, who has laughed with you, argued with you, known you in ways no one else has. This is the person you love most in the world—and you’re finally having him like this for the first time. The thought makes you cling to him even harder, your lips trailing messily along his jaw, your fingers gripping at his shoulders, needing more, needing all of him.

When Heeseung reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He kneels onto the bed with you still wrapped around him, letting your back sink into the soft mattress as he gently lays you down, his body hovering over yours.

His breath is heavy, his chest rising and falling as he looks down at you, his gaze deep, searching. His Bambi-like eyes, so wide, so full of something tender, something real, hold you in place more than his body ever could.

His hands, still gripping your thighs, slowly loosen, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your skin. Like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s realizing, holy shit, this is happening.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches for his belt. The soft sound of the buckle unfastening fills the space between you, followed by the quiet rustle of fabric as he pushes his pants down, revealing his bare skin, the strong lines of his toned body, every inch of him that you’ve never seen before but already crave more than anything.

You exhale sharply, your eyes dragging over him, admiring the way the soft glow of your bedroom light casts shadows over his sculpted stomach, the definition in his arms, the sharp cut of his hips. He’s breathtaking. And every second that passes, the ache inside you grows, the need twisting tighter and tighter.

You swallow hard, your voice soft but certain when you finally whisper, “I didn’t know I needed you this much until now.”

Heeseung stills. For a moment, his breath catches, his fingers twitching where they rest against your skin. The flush that spreads across his cheeks, blooming down his neck, his lips part slightly, his eyes flickering between yours, something breaking, something giving way inside him.

Then he looks down at you again. And this time, his gaze is molten. Dark, intense, filled with something raw and unfiltered as he leans down, his lips hovering just above yours.

“I think,” he whispers, his voice low, breathless, “I’ve always needed you like this.”

And then he kisses you. Deep, slow, pouring everything into it, every ounce of longing, every unsaid word, every moment spent waiting for this. His hands roam, tracing the curves of your body, feeling, memorizing.

The moment you feel him, thick and hard against your aching core, you let out a soft, needy moan against his lips. Heeseung still has his underwear on, but the heat of him, the way his hips press down, grinding slowly against you, makes your body arch instinctively, chasing the friction.

Heeseung groans into the kiss, deep and guttural, the sound vibrating against your lips. His teeth catch your lower lip, tugging gently, before he soothes the sting with a slow, lingering kiss.

Your hands wander, trailing down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the firm ridges of his toned stomach, lower, until your fingers reach the waistband of his underwear.

Your breathing is ragged, your body thrumming with anticipation as you whisper, “Please, take this off.”

Heeseung curses under his breath, his body tensing above you. He doesn’t want to tease you, doesn’t want to drag this out. He wants you just as much, he needs you just as badly. Without hesitation, he pushes his underwear down, freeing himself completely. The air between you thickens, the weight of the moment settling in as his bare body hovers over yours, his skin flushed, his muscles taut with restraint.

You lean in, hands splaying across his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath. Your fingers trace every inch of him, his collarbones, the defined lines of his stomach, the dip of his lower abdomen, moving lower. But before you can go further, Heeseung catches your wrist. His grip is firm but gentle, his breathing heavy, his eyes dark and searching as he looks at you.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “I need to ask you…” He swallows hard, his thumb brushing slow circles against your wrist, like he’s grounding himself in your touch. “Are you totally sure?”

Your chest tightens at the rawness in his voice. His expression—so open, so vulnerable—makes your heart clench.

“Because once this happens,” he continues, his forehead nearly touching yours, “I’m not ever letting you go.”

And there it is. The unspoken truth, finally laid bare between you. This isn’t just a night of pleasure. This isn’t just a long-overdue release. This is everything.

Your lips part, your throat tightening with emotion, and for a second, you can only stare at him, overwhelmed by how much he means to you, how deeply you feel this. Then you whisper, with more certainty than you’ve ever had about anything in your life:

“I’ve never been so sure about something before.”

The moment the words leave your lips, something shifts in Heeseung. His entire body tenses for a beat, then he exhales shakily, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time, like he’s just now letting himself believe this is real.

And then he kisses you. It’s not slow. It’s not careful. It’s hungry, possessive, filled with all the pent-up emotions neither of you ever dared to voice until now.

His hands slide up your arms, capturing your wrists, pinning them above your head as he presses you deeper into the mattress. His body presses against yours, skin to skin, warmth melting into warmth.

And then you feel it, the tip of his cock, hot and heavy, pressing against your entrance, so achingly close. Heeseung breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath uneven. He looks down between you, his jaw clenched, his grip tightening just slightly on your wrists as if this is the moment he’s been waiting for all his life.

His voice is nothing but a hushed rasp when he says: “Tell me if it hurts.”

Heeseung lets go of your wrists, his hands sliding down your body with a deliberate slowness, like he’s savoring the feeling of your skin beneath his palms. His fingers find your hips, gripping them gently before one hand moves lower, wrapping around the base of his cock.

He watches you carefully, his gaze dark, hungry, yet filled with something soft, something almost reverent, as he presses the tip against your entrance. He doesn’t push in just yet. Instead, he rolls his hips slightly, dragging himself against your slick folds, teasing, his length brushing against your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation sends a shiver through you, a breathless whimper escaping your lips as your fingers dig into his biceps, your body tensing in anticipation.

Heeseung groans, his grip tightening around himself as he watches the way your body reacts to him. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice wrecked. “You’re so wet… so fucking perfect for me.”

Your nails sink deeper into his skin as he finally begins to press inside, the stretch slow and steady, filling you inch by inch. The feeling is overwhelming, him, thick and hot, splitting you open so exquisitely that all you can do is moan softly against his shoulder, your body trembling beneath him.

Heeseung curses under his breath, his forehead dropping to the crook of your neck as he stills, letting you adjust. His hands slide up your sides, fingers grazing over your ribs, your waist, gripping you firmly like he’s afraid to let go.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “So fucking good, baby.”

His words send another rush of heat straight through your core, and you can’t help the way your hips shift slightly, taking him even deeper. Heeseung groans at the feeling, his lips parting against your skin.

He lifts his head, searching your face, his eyes filled with both need and restraint. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing softly over your hip. “Can I move?”

You nod quickly, breathless, your fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms, his shoulders, needing him closer. “Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

Heeseung exhales sharply, his grip tightening on your hips as he begins to move, rolling his hips in slow, deep thrusts. Your breath stutters, a moan slipping from your lips, and Heeseung loses it.

His movements quicken, his hips snapping against yours, his grip turning bruising as he holds you in place, thrusting deeper, harder. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving, and with every stroke, he sinks further into you, like he’s trying to become a part of you.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice rough against your skin. “You’re taking me so fucking well. So perfect for me.”

His lips find your jawline, tracing a path down your neck, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin before he sucks, leaving a mark, claiming you in every way possible. Your moans grow louder, your body arching against him, and Heeseung groans, loving the way you respond to him, the way you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

His lips travel lower, over your collarbone, down to the valley between your breasts. He kisses, licks, nips, worshiping every inch of you as he keeps thrusting into you, each movement deep and unrelenting.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice wrecked, possessive. “Only mine.”

His grip on your hips tightens as he pounds into you, his pace growing desperate, wild, his body completely losing control in you. And all the while, he praises you. “Tighter than I ever imagined.” Thrust “So fucking beautiful.” Kiss “You feel like heaven, baby.” Groan.

His words, his touch, his everything push you closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling beneath him as the pleasure coils tightly inside you, ready to snap. And Heeseung feels it. He knows you’re close. And he’s not stopping until he sends you over the edge.

Your body trembles beneath him, pleasure curling tight inside you, hot and overwhelming. Your fingers cling desperately to his skin, your legs wrapped around his waist, trying to ground yourself against the way he moves, deep, unrelenting, perfect.

“Heeseung—” Your voice is breathless, wrecked. Your nails dig into his back as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. “God, you feel so good.”

Heeseung groans at your words, his hips stuttering for just a second before he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasps, voice dripping with praise, with something darker, something possessive.

And that’s when you snap. The coil inside you tightens dangerously, winding so tight you know you’re seconds from breaking. But you don’t want to break, not yet.

So, with the last shred of control you have left, you grab Heeseung by the side of his neck, your fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair, holding him in place. “Let me ride you,” you plead, your voice thick with desperation. “Please.”

Heeseung growls. A deep, guttural sound that sends a shiver through your entire body. His fingers dig into your hips, his thrusts faltering for a moment as your request sinks in. Then, he moves. In one smooth motion, Heeseung shifts, rolling over and pulling you with him. The world tilts, and suddenly, you’re on top, straddling him, his cock still buried deep inside you.

A sharp, choked moan leaves your lips as you feel him fully, the angle changing, the sensation making your entire body tremble.

“Fuck,” Heeseung groans beneath you, his hands flying to your waist, holding you steady as his eyes drag over your body, your heaving chest, the flush painting your skin, the way you’re clenching around him, barely able to contain yourself.

His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his entire expression wrecked with need. “You look so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice thick, reverent.

His hands move, Heeseung slides them up your torso, fingers splaying across your ribs before catching your breasts in both hands, squeezing, worshiping. His thumbs flick over your nipples, and the sensation sends another jolt of pleasure straight through you, making you whimper.

“You’re so delicious,” he groans, his thumbs circling your hardened peaks, his hips rolling up slightly into you, making you gasp.

Your head tilts back, your hands bracing against his chest, your body arching into his touch. The heat between you is unbearable, your body already on the edge, but you refuse to let this end too soon.

You start to move, slowly at first, rolling your hips in a deliberate, teasing rhythm, feeling every inch of him stretch and fill you completely. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, pleasure pooling deep in your stomach as you watch Heeseung’s reaction.

Heeseung groans, his grip on your thighs tightening, fingers digging into your flesh like he’s trying to ground himself, trying not to lose control too soon. His head tilts back for a moment, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths as he tries to contain himself.

“Fuck,” he grits out, his jaw clenching as his eyes squeeze shut, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. His hands flex on your thighs, squeezing, like he’s trying to hold back, like the feeling of you around him is too much.

But then he opens his eyes, and the second his gaze locks onto you, dark and hooded with raw, unfiltered hunger, your whole body burns. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, sweat glistening along his collarbones as he watches you move above him, taking him so perfectly, so effortlessly.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he groans, his voice rough, biting down his lips, barely above a whisper. “Just like that, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure through you, making you clench tighter around him. Heeseung feels it, and his breath hitches, his fingers twitching against your skin.

One of his hands moves from your thigh, sliding up your body, tracing along your stomach, your ribs, before finding the back of your neck. He grips you there, firm but gentle, and pulls you down until your foreheads almost touch, your breath mingling with his.

His other hand stays on your thigh, stroking, soothing, before he snaps. A deep growl rumbles in his chest, and he picks up the pace, his hips rolling up to meet yours, his hands guiding your movements. The pleasure intensifies, your thighs burning with the effort, but Heeseung doesn’t let you slow down.

His hands slide to your hips, gripping hard, his fingers pressing into your flesh as he takes control. And then he slams into you. A sharp, broken moan escapes your lips as he thrusts up, driving deeper, harder, filling you so completely that you swear you might lose your mind.

“That’s it,” he groans, his grip unrelenting as he pounds into you, chasing the feeling of you wrapped so perfectly around him. “Take it, baby. Take all of me.”

His voice, deep, rough, dripping with praise, sends you spiraling, pleasure building, your body trembling under his relentless pace. His mouth finds your jaw, then your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin between ragged breaths. His tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of your sweat, and then his teeth graze your pulse point, his lips closing around it as he sucks.

Your fingers claw at his shoulders, your body arching against his, your moans coming faster, higher, completely overwhelmed by the way he’s taking you.

Heeseung doesn’t slow down. His thrusts stay deep, hard, relentless, his grip unyielding as he drives into you, chasing the pleasure building between you both. His hands remain at the back of your neck, keeping you close, keeping you exactly where he wants you, his breath hot against your skin.

He groans, voice wrecked, rough. “Fuck—baby, you feel so good. So fucking perfect.”

His words send another wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your thighs tighten around his hips. You’re close, you can feel yourself unraveling, your body tightening as the coil inside you threatens to snap. And Heeseung knows. He feels it.

His fingers tighten against your skin, his movements growing desperate, erratic, as his own release begins creeping up on him. His forehead presses against yours, his breath uneven, his voice nothing but a strained rasp.

“Cum for me again, baby,” he pleads, his words like fire against your skin. “Let it go.”

The command, the way his voice drips with authority and adoration, is what finally undoes you. A sharp, broken moan rips from your throat as your body tenses, pleasure surging through you like wildfire. Your walls clench around him, pulsing, milking him, and Heeseung loses it.

A deep, guttural groan escapes his lips as he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep, his entire body shuddering as he lets go, his release spilling into you. The pleasure crashes over both of you at once, your moans mixing together, filling the room, raw and unrestrained.

And then, stillness.

Your body, still trembling, collapses against his chest, your forehead pressing into the slick heat of his skin. Your breaths are ragged, uneven, matching his as he tries to catch his pace, his chest rising and falling beneath you.

Neither of you speak for a long moment, the silence filled only with the sounds of your slowing breaths, your racing heartbeats.

Heeseung moves his hands, still firm but now gentle, slide down to your lower back, his fingers tracing lazy, soothing circles against your damp skin. His touch is tender, reverent, like he’s memorizing you all over again, like he can’t believe this moment is real.

His lips brush against your hair, barely a whisper of a kiss, before he exhales shakily. And then, he murmurs—soft, breathless, like a vow.

“I’m never letting you go.”

Your chest tightens at the raw emotion in his voice. His arms wrap tighter around you, holding you impossibly close, his hands never stopping their slow caresses against your back. His lips press against the top of your head, again and again, each kiss softer than the last.

“Never,” he whispers. “Never, never, never…”

His words sink into your skin, into your bones, into you. And as you melt further into his embrace, letting the warmth of him envelop you completely, you realize: You never want him to let go.

You slowly lift your head, your breath still uneven, your body still thrumming with the remnants of pleasure.

You meet his eyes, his Bambi-like, doe eyes, wide and full of something so deep, so undeniable, it makes your chest tighten. They glimmer under the dim light of your bedroom, reflecting every unspoken word, every silent confession hanging thick in the space between you.

You let out a breathy, almost disbelieving smile, your gaze sweeping over his face, his flushed cheeks, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, the soft sheen of sweat on his skin. He looks wrecked. He looks perfect.

And he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

Heeseung mirrors your smile, soft and hazy, his expression filled with something tender, something so Heeseung that it makes warmth flood your entire body. His hands find your face, large and warm, his knuckles grazing your cheeks in slow, delicate strokes, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you.

You lean into his touch, nuzzling against his palm, and the way he exhales, soft, shaky, like he’s feeling everything too, sends a shiver down your spine.

Then, barely above a whisper, you say, “I…”

And suddenly, you stop yourself.

Because the weight of what you were about to say hits you all at once.

Your lips part slightly, your throat tightening. The words are right there, sitting heavy on your tongue, aching to spill out. But there’s fear too, fear of what this means, fear of how much this changes everything.

Heeseung notices. His fingers pause against your cheek, his brows twitching just slightly, his gaze flickering between your eyes like he’s searching, trying to read you.

But then, he smiles. Soft, knowing, patient. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his touch featherlight, his voice a quiet murmur in the space between you.

“I know,” he whispers.

Your breath catches. Because you believe him.

Heeseung has always known you better than anyone, always understood you in ways that no one else could. And right now, in this moment, with the way he’s holding you, looking at you, you realize you don’t have to say it.

Because he already knows.

Heeseung leans in, his nose brushing against yours, his lips hovering just above yours, waiting, giving you the choice. And when you press your lips to his in the softest, most deliberate kiss, you’re telling him everything you couldn’t say in words.

Heeseung sighs into the kiss, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you closer, pressing you against his warmth, his heartbeat steady beneath your palm.

And when you finally pull away, when you rest your forehead against his and breathe him in, you realize: You were never afraid of loving Heeseung.

You were afraid of admitting that you always have.

But now, with his arms around you, his lips brushing against your temple, his heartbeat syncing with yours, you don’t have to be afraid anymore.

Because he’s never letting you go.

And neither are you.

That’s why he stays at your house the next day. And the day after that. And for the few days that follow, until time becomes a blur and neither of you think to question it.

Because how could he leave, how could either of you go back to a world where you weren’t tangled up in each other like this?

The first morning, you wake up wrapped in Heeseung’s arms, your head tucked against his chest, his fingers absentmindedly tracing soft, lazy circles against your back. Neither of you move for a long time. Neither of you want to.

His lips press into your hair, a silent good morning, and you melt into him because it feels natural, because this is Heeseung, your best friend, the boy who has always been a constant, and yet, now, everything is different.

And it’s better. He doesn’t leave. You don’t ask him to.

Instead, you spend the morning like you have a thousand times before: lounging on the couch, talking about nothing, watching movies you’ve seen a hundred times. Except now, there’s a new rhythm, an unspoken understanding.

His fingers brush yours absentmindedly. His arm finds its way around your waist without hesitation. His lips press against your temple between conversations like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Because maybe, it is.

The second night, he kisses you in the kitchen while you’re making dinner, stealing a taste of the sauce on your lips, grinning when you roll your eyes. The third night, you fall asleep with your fingers intertwined, his breath warm against your neck, his hand resting over your heart like he’s afraid you might slip away in the night. By the fourth day, he’s using your shampoo, leaving his clothes in your drawers, stealing your socks because he swears they’re more comfortable than his own.

By the fifth, you don’t even realize he never went home. Because this is home now. Not the walls. Not the bed. But this. Him. You. Together.

One night, a week after everything changed, you find yourselves in your living room, curled up against each other, laughter spilling into the quiet air.

It feels surreal, how easy this is, how natural. And yet, when you look at him, really look at him, you realize this was never sudden at all. This wasn’t a moment. This was a lifetime in the making.

It was in the late-night phone calls when you both should’ve been asleep. It was in the way he always kept your favorite snacks in his kitchen without thinking. It was in the stolen glances, the inside jokes, the nights spent shoulder to shoulder, pretending you didn’t feel the weight of something more. It was in every single thing before this.

And now that the truth is out in the open, now that you know, you don’t ever want to live in a world where you don’t wake up next to Heeseung. And it doesn’t feel real.

Not because you don’t want it to be—but because it still catches you off guard. The quiet way Heeseung reaches for your hand without thinking. The way his presence in your space isn’t something fleeting, but something constant. Something permanent.

It’s been two weeks since everything changed, and somehow, the world didn’t shift to match it. The sun still rises the same way. Your friends still send memes in the group chat. Life moves on, but now, there’s this.

This is Heeseung pressing a sleepy kiss to your shoulder when he wakes up before you. This is him playing with your fingers absentmindedly when you’re watching something together. This is the way he still teases you the same, still makes fun of you the same, but now he kisses you after like he can’t help it.

Yunjin is the only one who knows.

She had her suspicions, she always had her suspicions, but it became painfully obvious the moment you showed up at her place wearing a hoodie that was at least two sizes too big, one she distinctly remembered seeing Heeseung wear last week.

Which is why, at her birthday party, there’s this lingering tension in the air. It’s subtle, the way you and Heeseung hesitate just slightly when you’re around the others, the way you don’t know if you’re supposed to act like you always have or like something’s changed.

Because something has changed. But the world doesn’t know yet.

You and Heeseung sit at the dining table, pretending everything is normal, pretending that you’re not constantly aware of the warmth of his body next to yours, the way his knee brushes yours every time he shifts.

And then, under the table, he takes your hand. It’s subtle, careful, the warmth of his palm slipping against yours, his fingers threading through yours in a way that makes your stomach flip. Heeseung doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge it, just holds your hand beneath the table, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Finally,” Sunghoon mutters, watching Heeseung with a knowing smirk.

Heeseung freezes. You both turn to see Sunghoon leaning against the chair next to him, arms crossed, eyes flickering down to where your hands are intertwined beneath the table.

“I was wondering when you were gonna stop being a coward,” Sunghoon teases, nudging Heeseung’s foot under the table. “Took you long enough, man.”

Heeseung groans, dropping his head back against the chair. “Jesus, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon just grins, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Nah, I’m happy for you guys. But also, I knew you two had something going on.” He points a lazy finger at you. “Your whole ‘we’re just friends’ thing was so fake.”

The table erupts in laughter, and you sigh, shaking your head. But then, Heeseung squeezes your hand, and when you glance at him, he’s already looking at you. Soft. Quiet. Certain. And you realize, this feels right. Being here. Being together. Being this.

The night winds down. People leave. And you end up in Heeseung’s car, the windows slightly fogged from the cold air outside. The soft strum of Waiting Room fills the quiet, the melancholic chords settling deep into your chest.

You watch Heeseung, his hands gripping the wheel loosely, his face relaxed, bathed in the glow of the streetlights.

“Wanna go to McDonald’s?”

You blink. “What?”

Heeseung smirks, eyes flickering to you before turning back to the road. “You heard me.”

A beat of silence. You laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

You order fries and ice cream and talk about the dumbest things. about how Niki's new girlfriend is the worst, about how Jay got too drunk, about how Jake still doesn’t know how to properly pour a drink.

But somewhere between the laughter, somewhere between the way Heeseung licks salt off his fingers and tosses fries into your mouth, somewhere between the way you lean against his shoulder in the drive-thru line.

Heeseung sighs. And then—

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

You still. Your fingers tighten slightly around your drink, your breath catching at the quiet, vulnerable way he says it. And when you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you, soft, so soft, his gaze deep, searching.

Your chest tightens. “Heeseung…”

He smiles, a little shy, a little unsure. Then, he reaches out, sliding his fingers over yours, his thumb brushing your knuckles.

“I just—” He swallows, then exhales. “I think I’ve loved you this whole time.”

Your breath catches. And in that moment, in the soft hum of the radio, in the glow of the streetlights, in the taste of salt and ice cream and the warmth of Heeseung’s fingers against yours, you know.

“I thought maybe it would go away,” he continues, his lips quirking slightly, like he’s laughing at himself. “Like—it’s just Y/N, right? My best friend.”

You hold your breath, watching him, the streetlights casting soft shadows across his face, making his eyes look even softer, warmer.

“But then,” Heeseung shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “Every time I thought I had it under control, you’d do something stupid, like wear my hoodie and refuse to give it back, or make me watch Shrek 2 for the tenth time, or grab my hand in a crowded room like it was nothing.” He swallows, his voice dropping to something even softer. “And I’d realize—I was never going to stop feeling this way.”

Your chest tightens. Because it’s always been like this, hasn’t it? The quiet kind of love. The kind that slips into the cracks of everyday moments, unnoticed until one day, it’s too big to ignore.

You feel the words sitting heavy in your throat, pressing against your ribs, and when you finally speak, your voice is barely a whisper.

“Heeseung.” He looks at you, his brows lifting slightly, like he’s bracing himself. You take a slow breath, steadying yourself, then squeeze his hand. “I think I’ve loved you this whole time, too.”

The tension in his shoulders dissolves instantly. His lips part, his eyes searching yours like he wants to make sure he really heard you right.

And then, he smiles. Not the teasing kind, not the smirk he throws at you when he’s making fun of you, but something real. Something deep. The kind of smile that says, I know. I knew before you even said it.

You shift closer, your forehead brushing against his, the warmth of his breath mixing with yours. “I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it,” you murmur. “But I do now.”

Heeseung hums, tilting his head slightly. “You sure?”

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Good.” He squeezes your hand, his nose nudging against yours. “Because I would’ve had to spend another three years waiting for you to catch up, and I don’t think I could survive that.”

You groan, shoving his shoulder lightly, and he chuckles, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you in, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

And just like that, it’s easy again. The way you tease each other, the way you fit against him, the way you fall back into the rhythm of your friendship except now there’s no pretending.

Now it’s all out in the open. And it’s better.

As Heeseung drives you home, the song still playing softly in the background, your mind drifts back. To three years ago. To that stupid Halloween party where you met, you in your skeleton costume, him in that ridiculous Ninja Turtle onesie.

To the late nights spent working on that Shrek project, arguing about PowerPoint transitions like it was life or death, only to laugh until your sides hurt. To the wedding where he spun you around on the dance floor, looking at you like he already knew, like he was just waiting for you to catch up. To every car ride, every inside joke, every time you almost realized what he meant to you.

Your fingers tighten around his, and Heeseung glances at you, his eyes flickering between you and the road.

“What?” he asks, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You shake your head, but you’re smiling too. “Nothing.”

Because you understand now. Because Waiting Room plays softly in the background, and the lyrics echo in your chest—know it’s for the better.

You do. You know now that keeping Heeseung in your life like this, is the best thing you’ll ever do.

And when Heeseung looks at you, his grip on your hand tightening like he knows too, you realize.

For you, it was worth waiting.

my masterlist 🧦 ☆★ // previous fic

author's note: hey guys! this is my first long fic about heeseung, the first one i've ever written, and i hope you liked it! i know 21k+ words is a lot, but i had so much fun writing it. thank you for reading! <3

#enhypen x female reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen smut #heeseung smut

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hoonieangel · 1 month ago

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#smash #🤤🤤#hottie #nct dream #park jisung

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hoonieangel · 2 months ago

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omg it’s done 😱 this was really really good!! i really love your work!!

PAY THE PRICE — 60. the paid price

previous — master list

notes ; aaaaaand this finally marks the end of ptp (aside from the bonus chaps i’ll make someday) ^^~🎉🎊 i’m happy to finally put an end to this cause it was starting to feel like a chore that i just wanted to get done with at some point rather than something i looked forward to LMAOO but despite that, i’ll also miss logging in on here just to update this and interact with all of you!!! 🥹💗 thank u for all the inbox msgs, rbs, replies and likes and most importantly for sticking around for so long~~

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

#haechan smau #nct smau #nct dream smau #nct 127 smau #haechan imagines #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines #haechan x reader #nct x reader #fireee FLAMES

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hoonieangel · 2 months ago

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i’m so invested 😮

ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴜꜱ ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍ: jaemin x reader part 3

non-idol smau. cw: fluff, slight conflict. contents

y/n's gc: 'golden state warriors'

jaemin's gc: 'hotpot club'

masterlist

taglist: @cigsaftersuh @jenoleeaesthetic @pl4netx1a @jeonghansshitester @herjaemin @chenlezip

click!

#what is she gonna do #na jaemin x reader

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hoonieangel · 2 months ago

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so cute i love this series!! 🩷🩷

❧ word count: 12.2k ❧ warnings: cursing, they go kinda skinny dipping at one point (wearing underwear) ❧ genre: fluff, a little suggestive, modern magical creatures/fantasy au, college au if you squint, summer camp au, dryad jaemin, human reader, camp counselors jaemin & reader, same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: ah it feels so good to be returning to the strawberry sunday universe after so long! everyone blame thank lottie for not letting me forget abt dryad jaemin. i wasn’t sure abt posting a summer camp fic in february but it seems like the people wanted it, so i hope it warms y’all up (unless it’s actually summer for you rn, then i’m right on time 😎)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

You learned three things about Na Jaemin on your first day:

One, he was a clumsy dryad—somehow, someway, those existed, and you were now stuck as lead co-counselors with one for the next month.

Two, he went to your college as well, Magical Ecology major, and worked at Camp Pineleaf every summer between spring and fall semesters.

And three, he was a dangerously smooth, sweet-talking, flirt. You’d have to be careful around him, for your own sake.

WEEK ONE

It was way too fucking hot out. From the rough directions you were given by the camp director, you were pretty sure this path led out to the river. Fuck it, you might wade out a little while you were here in order to not overheat and die. No fucking way you were going to haunt this place forever in the event you became ghost.

Despite your pessimistic thoughts as you trudged along the forest trail, you were actually very excited. Today was the first day of your month-long stint as a counselor at Camp Pineleaf. You were an education major at the university in the city, and had been recommended to the gig by one of your professors. One interview with the camp director later, and you’d been hired on the spot. You were part of the set-up crew, responsible for getting to camp early to get the camp set up and welcome the kids when they arrived. The other half of the staff were riding over from the drop-off point with the campers. So here you were, walking the perimeter to make sure all of the off-season markers had been taken down.

The camp was a small part of a nature preserve, and the rangers designated the different areas to visitors by colored markers on trails and trees. When the camp was closed in the off-season, the river that it bordered was open to visitors, so the flag markers on that border would be blue. But now that the camp was open, the blue ones should’ve all been replaced with bright orange flags. You just had to keep an eye out for any remaining blue flags, or for anything else that could be awry.

You knew you were getting closer to the river when you could hear running water, and the air around you started feeling less heavy and a lot fresher. The trail under your feet turned sandy as you finally emerged from the trees onto a shoreline by the river.

You immediately froze, though, not expecting to see somebody else at the riverside. It was a man pulling himself up out of the river onto a rocky formation. He was shirtless, his biceps, shoulders, and all other sorts of muscles flexing along with his motions. His eyes were closed as he shook his wet hair out, then pushed the damp locks back from his face with both of his hands. The sunlight made him look like he was glowing, every drop of water that ran down his body sparkling like a jewel, and you couldn’t make yourself look away.

He looked like he’d been sculpted by the gods. Which you supposed he had, or one in particular at least, you realized, as his eyes opened and settled on you as if he’d known you were there the whole time. They were the color of ferns, but shifted to a lighter mossy green under the dappling of the sunlight. Dryad. Son of Pan. Or so the legends go.

“Hi?” Despite his voice pitching up to make the greeting sound like a question, the wide, cocky smile on his face told you that he definitely knew that you’d been stood there ogling him for an embarrassing amount of time.

“Sorry!” You cringed at the sound of your own voice. “I didn’t realize there was anybody out here.”

The dryad started picking his way down the rocks towards you carefully, grabbing something off one of them as he went. A neon yellow shirt. When he finally dropped onto the ground a few feet in front of you, he gave the shirt a twist to wring out a few drops of water.

“I’m Jaemin,” he said, gripping the shirt even tighter and giving it another twist for good measure. You pretended like you didn’t notice the veins in his hands or the way his forearms tautened with the motion. He shook out the shirt to show you the logo on the front of it, a smiling evergreen tree that matched yours. “I’m also a counselor at Camp Pineleaf this year. We must’ve gone to different training sessions, huh? Anyway, I was walking the perimeter before the kids got here and I kind of—”

Jaemin stopped, a sheepish sort of look coming to his face as he ducked his head almost in embarrassment.

You looked around in confusion. “You what?”

“I fell in the river.”

“You fell in?” You stared at him. You couldn’t tell if he was messing with you or not. What kind of dryad—

“I know, what kind of dryad is falling in rivers?” He pulled the shirt on over his head, which you could now see he had cut the sleeves off of. “Aren’t we supposed to be connected to nature and all that? I still don’t know how it happened, one second I was just climbing the rocks and surveying the river, next thing I knew, I was in the river. Then you showed up.”

Clumsy dryad. That was a new one.

“I’m Y/N.” Introducing yourself was only fair since he’d already given you his name. “Seems like we’re head counselors of the Swallowtails this year, Jaemin.”

It was then that he seemed to notice the matching colors of your shirts, and his features lit up in recognition. “Hey, looks like it!”

You checked your watch. “We should be getting back, the kids are going to be arriving soon.”

“Right!”

“Besides, if I have to stay out here any longer, I’m going to pass out from heat exhaustion.” You groaned, pulling the front of your shirt off from where it had stuck to your skin, using it to fan yourself. “And there’s no way I’m dying out here and risking getting my ghost stuck in the middle of nowhere for forever instead of somewhere cool.”

Jaemin suddenly had a look of alarm on his face, and you looked around with an eyebrow raised.

“What? Something I said?”

“No, sorry, thought I heard something,” he shook his head. “It was just a vole. Lead the way.”

You hadn’t heard anything other than the usual forest sounds, but chalked it up to superior magic hearing, and started back on the trail to the main camp.

“So, why did you come out here, Y/N?”

“Same as you, walking the perimeter.”

“And… I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but what are you?”

You looked at him curiously. “Can’t you tell? I’m a human.”

He blinked as if shaken from a trance. Then he offered you another heart-stopping smile. “Right, of course. Sorry about that. Must’ve hit my head when I fell in the river.”

“Must’ve…”

You learned three things about Na Jaemin on that first day:

One, he was a clumsy dryad—somehow, someway, those existed, and you were now stuck as lead co-counselors with one for the next month.

Two, he went to your college as well, Magical Ecology major, and worked at Camp Pineleaf every summer between spring and fall semesters.

And three, he was a dangerously smooth, sweet-talking, flirt. You’d have to be careful around him, for your own sake.

That third one you didn’t come to understand until the after-bed bonfire that all the lead counselors were holding on the shore of the river. With all of the campers tucked in and being watched over by your high schooler junior counselors, the grown-ups were doing their own first day celebrations and icebreakers, which included one or two bottles being passed around as you got to know each other. A lot of the staff had been there for previous summers like Jaemin, but there were a few newbies like you.

It had been someone’s bright idea—Yeeun, a fairy, one of the lead counselors of the Bluejays—to do Truth or Dare to loosen everybody up, instead of like, just some more campfire songs or something. The guitar was forgotten by Jaemin’s feet in favor of this game, and you had survived your first couple rounds just on Truth—it wasn’t really your prerogative to embarrass yourself in front of your new coworkers on your first day.

It had just been Chanyeol’s turn (the Assistant Director, mind you, was even participating), and the werewolf let out a long, low burp as he held the bottle out for somebody to take. His truth had to been to admit why some counselor from last year had gotten fired—it apparently was the hottest piece of camp gossip last summer that nobody could figure out until now (it turns out the guy was drinking on the job, which you didn’t miss the irony in right now).

Jaemin took the bottle from him happily, tipping back his head to take a sip.

“You only have to drink if you don’t do your turn, Jaemin. Remember?” You nudged him with your left knee. He was not going to be a very helpful co-counselor tomorrow if he was hungover and miserable.

“I know,” he grinned.

“Alright, Jaemin, Tr—”

“Dare!” He declared, cutting off Chanyeol as the werewolf went to ask him the routine question.

Your coworkers all rubbed their chins thoughtfully. Yeri suddenly let out a dramatic gasp, as if she’d just been struck by the best idea ever.

“I dare you to pass the bottle to the prettiest girl in the circle,” she declared smugly.

“That’s it?” Jaemin arched a brow.

“She’s so wasted,” Sooyoung scoffed under her breath, but nonetheless, the siren brushed some stray hair and rose petals out of the dryad's face as she teetered in place.

“What? You want something more racy?” Chanyeol snickered. “Unfortunately, I am still kind of your boss, and while I will sanction this, I draw the line at daring anybody to do anything sexually promiscuous, alright?”

“I don’t mean like that, necessarily,” the dryad shrugged. “But it’s a bit tame, doesn’t tell you much. Why not the person that I want to kiss the most? Or, that I want to—”

“Jaemin.”

“Alright, alright,” he sighed dramatically, holding up the bottle straight out with one arm and drawing back his other to aim it around the circle like a bow and arrow.

“You better not hand me that nasty fucking thing, Na Jaemin,” Yeeun practically growled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“In your wildest dreams,” he scoffed, jutting his arm to the right at last. You turned your head that way, trying to figure out who he was handing it to. You were at the end of this log bench, and the next person in that direction was Eunseok, a gryphon and newbie like you.

“Y/N,” Jaemin pushed the bottle against your knee.

You took it and whispered, “Right, and who am I handing this to?”

“Nobody, gorgeous,” he whispered back, shooting you a wink.

Your hands were suddenly sweaty where they were wrapped around the neck of the bottle, and you could feel everybody’s eyes on you. With your gaze fixated on your lap, you coughed out a, “Oh, okay.”

“Alright, Y/N!” Chanyeol announced dramatically over the titters that had erupted around the fire. “Truth or dare?”

You took a swig of the drink to steel your nerves, trying not to think about how Jaemin’s mouth had just been on the same bottle—and everybody else’s, but that didn’t really matter to you as much in the moment. “Truth.”

Jaemin leaned in towards you, and you were suddenly wrapped in the contrasting smells of pine and roses as he dropped his voice, his mouth hovering right by your ear. “Are you—”

The sound of footsteps running up towards the campfire distracted you from whatever Jaemin was about to ask, and you whipped around to see Ningning, your junior counselor, heading right for you.

“Y/N!” She skidded to a stop on the other side of your log, clearly out of breath from the run down from the cabins to the riverbank.

“Ningning, is everything alright?” You asked the breathless witch.

“They’re crying and asking for their parents. I tried to—I can’t calm them down. I’m sorry, can you please—”

“Yeah, of course.” You put the bottle down in the sand, standing up and gesturing for the girl to lead the way back.

“You look exhausted,” Jaemin declared, setting a cup of coffee down in front of you at the dining hall the next morning.

“I am,” you sighed, rubbing the back of the little witch girl who had finally cried herself to sleep an hour before wake-up this morning. She was still passed out on your lap, and you wished you could be that dead to the world too. “Finally got this one asleep about an hour before wake-up.”

“Oof, an all-nighter,” he nodded sympathetically. “Wanted Mommy and Daddy?”

“First time outside her coven.” You took a sip of the coffee, delighted to find that he had somehow already made it to your exact preferences. “Two creams and three sugars…? How did you know?”

The dryad shrugged, “Something sweet for someone sweet, right?”

“How do you know I’m sweet?” You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “I could be the biggest ass— jerk you’ve ever met.” You winced at yourself nearly forgetting the child in your lap.

“Something tells me you’re not the biggest assjerk I’ve ever met,” he snickered quietly. “You’re up against stiff competition in that department, anyway.”

“What sort of people have you met, Jaemin?”

“Curious about me, beautiful?”

“I think I’m allowed some natural curiosity about my co-lead counselor, yes.”

“Ouch, I’ve been co-lead counselor-zoned.”

“What other sort of zone were you hoping to be in?” You snorted, taking another long sip of your coffee, not expecting an actual answer to that.

“I think you have a pretty good idea, gorgeous,” he grinned. “Anyway, I’ll fix you a plate for breakfast so you don’t have to disturb your little friend.”

“Wait,” you stopped him as he went to walk away, craning your neck to try to see the buffet line. “What do they have?”

“I think I know what to get you,” he declared confidently.

Jaemin did in fact come back with all of your favorite breakfast foods loaded up on a plate, which only made you even more suspicious as you dug in. All your other campers and junior counselors were sitting at the table with you two, though, so you couldn’t interrogate him about it.

This morning, the Swallowtails were going on a nature walk, and you were more than happy to let Jaemin and his junior counselor, another dryad named Sohee, take the lead on that.

It was cool enough in the morning shade that you didn’t feel the need to throw yourself in the river this time. Ningning stayed in the middle of the group with some of the girls, and you brought up the rear, holding hands with your new best friend, Soongie. The little girl that you had consoled all night had not left your side since, nor said a word, which was honestly fine by you.

Jaemin had stopped everybody to explain something about the importance of all of nature working together, and how even all of you in this group were part of nature too—a fine message, by all means—but a little chittering in the treetops above you caught your attention, and you looked up to see some kind of light reddish-brown critter running across tree branches. Another ran after it, and you were pretty sure those weren’t squirrels, but you swear you hadn’t ever seen anything like it.

“In addition to those birds we had seen earlier, you’ll also see a lot of animals like squirrels and frogs up in the trees too.” Jaemin had apparently gone back to lecturing about the wildlife again while you were distracted. “There’s actually something special about this park, does anybody know what it is?”

Sohee raised his hand, which made you and the kids giggle as Jaemin looked at him disapprovingly.

“Not you, Sohee.” Your co-counselor shook his head. “Anybody else?”

Everybody looked around at each other, shaking their heads and giving various ‘no’s in response.

“There is actually a species of chipmunk that can only be found in this park. It likes the area around the river the most, and you’ll know you’ve seen it because it has reddish fur, and white front paws.”

You tilted your head back up at the trees, squinting your eyes as the creatures ran back out again, then paused overhead. And you swore you saw white paws.

“I think Y/N has already spotted some!” Jaemin announced, startling you.

As the kids all started crowding around you and clambering to try to get a good look at the animals, while you were looking dead at the older dryad, wondering how he knew exactly what you were looking at. He easily met your gaze, tilting his head and smiling.

After lunch, your team was in the arts and crafts cabin. There were multiple stations of different crafts set up, and you were helping Soongie with the friendship bracelets and necklaces. You hummed to yourself as you carefully selected your beads, arranging and rearranging them on table in front of you.

Soongie tugged on your sleeve, and you looked at her attentively. She held her nearly finished bracelet up, tapping the two ends together indicatively.

“Do you need it tied together?” You questioned.

She nodded.

You gingerly took the bracelet from her, tying it up and handing it back. “There you go, Soongie.”

The little witch grabbed your arm, and you let her pull the bracelet onto your wrist with only minor difficulties. She patted your hand, seeming satisfied with herself.

“Oh, is it for me?” You asked, wanting to clarify in case she only wanted you to model it or test the size for an adult back home.

She nodded again, turning back to start picking out more beads.

“Thank you,” you beamed, patting her head appreciatively.

“Miss Y/N, can you help me tie this please?” Another camper requested from further down the table.

“Of course.” You set your materials down, standing up to walk around to where he was sitting. “Here, I’ll do it with you so you can practice.”

Guiding his hands through tying the knot on his elastic string, the two of you finally got it. You gave it one last tug to make sure it was secure, then he put his bracelet on.

“Thank you!” He chirped, jumping up from his seat. “I’m gonna show Mister Jaemin!”

He darted off across the cabin to the craft table that your co-counselor was at, and you took the opportunity to walk around your table and check on the campers while you were already up. Continuing to hum quietly to yourself, you whipped around with alarm when you heard Jaemin start singing. Not just because he was singing, his voice was perfectly pleasant, a lovely tenor, actually. But because he was singing the same song that you had been humming, joining in exactly where you were. You were not loud enough for anybody at even the next table over to have heard you, much less him on the other side of the noisy cabin. Dryads didn’t have exceptionally acute hearing like some other creatures such as vampires, they were only attuned to the sounds of nature, e.g., the vole he had apparently heard by the river yesterday.

Jaemin was showing the camper you had just assisted the accompanying dance to the song. It was a song that you had learned when you were a kid at your own summer camp, which was why it had come to your mind now. A few other campers abandoned their crafts to join Jaemin in learning the dance, immensely focused.

The dryad’s eyes shifted from monitoring their footwork to you. He stopped singing to call out to you, “Do you know this one, Y/N?”

You swallowed to wet your parched throat before answering. “Y-Yeah, I learned it at camp when I was a kid.”

“Remember the dance?” He asked with a grin.

“I mean, I don’t know, it’s been so long…” As you hesitated, a chorus of insistent cries erupted around you from the campers, begging you to join in. “Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can remember.”

You walked over to the open space that Jaemin and the kids had gathered in, followed by cheers.

“From the top?” Jaemin suggested, a twinkle in his green eyes.

The next day, Jaemin sidled up to you in the buffet line at dinner. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, helping Soongie on your other side, who couldn’t quite reach some of the food options.

“I’d skip the gravy surprise if I were you.”

“I was about to tell you that,” you quipped back, depositing a heaping serving of smiley fries onto Soongie’s tray, then yours. “It looks alive and artificial at the same time somehow.”

“A modern miracle, truly.”

The both of you snickered as the line moved up. Jaemin loaded up his own helping of fries. Soongie pointed enthusiastically at the honeydew melon, and you scooped that out for her too.

“I wanted to ask…” Jaemin leaned in to murmur by your ear, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You didn’t flinch away though, intrigued by whatever he felt the need to whisper to you in the loud mess hall. He continued in his low voice, “Will you meet me tonight? Thirty minutes after lights out?”

You inhaled, which was a mistake as you sucked down the smell of pine and roses, and the line scooted up while you were still frozen. Quickly, you nodded and choked out a quiet ‘okay’ before catching up with Soongie. Jaemin smoothly followed after you, engaging one of the counselors across the buffet from you in light-hearted conversation.

After lights-out, you laid awake, staring up at the ceiling of the cabin, listening to the hushed whispers of the girls fade into soft breathing and the occasional snore. You checked the time on your watch every two minutes, and it was only when you had five minutes left until your promised time to meet Jaemin that you realized he hadn’t told you where to meet him, and you’d been far too flustered to ask. You didn’t want to cluelessly wander the campground after dark, not only for fear of being caught by administration, but also because you didn’t know what was out at night. You were here because you were an education major, not because you were exactly a hardcore nature enthusiast.

Finally, with just a minute to go, you peeled your covers off as silently as possible, slipping your hiking boots back on. Lord knows what Jaemin had in mind. Your bed was by the entrance anyway as a safety precaution, so it was easy to get to the front door and slip out. You took your phone and the cabin pass with you from next to the door, just in case. Your phone, so that people could still get in contact with you, and the cabin pass so if Ningning woke up in the middle night and saw you were gone, she would think you were using the bathroom or something.

Outside your cabin, you didn’t immediately see Jaemin. You decided that if you didn’t find him in five minutes, you’d head back. Whatever this was, was not worth losing your job, or your girls’ safety, or yours, for that matter. You’d hardly turned away from the girls’ cabins towards the center of camp when you saw him strolling down the walkways from the direction of the boys’ cabins. Speak of the dryad.

Halting your search, you waited for him to approach you instead. He was wearing what looked to be his pajamas as well, sweatpants and a tank top, and his slides smacked against his heels with every step.

Jaemin stopped in front of you, not bothering to hide that he was eyeing you from head to toe. He had that same easy-going smile as always as he assessed, “Hiking boots and pjs. Cute.”

You suddenly felt too exposed in your sleep shorts. “Oh, shut it.”

“I meant it. You’re cute.” He was leaning down to peer at your shirt closely now. “It’s dark, I can’t see—Who’s on your shirt?”

“My eyes are up here, you know,” you jested, crossing your arms.

“Ooh, a bit hypocritical, hm?”

“I was startled—”

“Yeah, when I’m startled, I also make a cartoon ‘awooga’ sound—”

“Oh shut—!” You smacked his arm, not intending for the sound to echo so loudly in the quiet area. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you rushed to cover your mouth with two hands, hushing your gasp.

Jaemin, meanwhile, was grabbing the area you’d hit while he keeled over, his whole body shaking with silent laughter.

When administration hadn’t come swooping in after a few beats, you shook your head at the still-laughing figure of Na Jaemin. Pivoting around on your heel, you had the full intention of heading back to your cabin. Just a step away, and his hand shot out to grab yours. It was a light grip, you could shake him off and leave if you wanted, but you stopped anyway.

Still with your back turned, you waited for him to catch his breath and say something.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, still with a hint of a smirk in his voice. “Can I still show you something?”

Unfortunately, your interest was piqued. You turned around, narrowing your eyes at him—he was smirking. “Show me what?”

Whatever Jaemin wanted to show you, it was deep in the forest, on a trail that was closed off from camp. Now you were glad that you’d worn your hiking boots, despite his earlier teases. The trail clearly hadn’t been used in a few years, overgrown with plants so it only fit one person across. You kept your eyes on your feet, you didn’t want to risk tripping and injuring yourself and having to make up some story about how you sprained your ankle using the bathroom in the middle of the night. Embarrassing.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked plainly.

Jaemin looked at you over his shoulder, teasing glint in his eye. “I’m a dryad, not a siren, Y/N.”

“We’re also not by water, so I didn’t think you were going to drown me,” you snorted.

“We’re almost there,” he said simply. “I think.”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“Of course I do, I’m a dryad—”

“Thank you for reminding me, I almost forgot in the last twenty seconds.”

“—therefore, I have an intuitive connection to nature, okay? So I know it’s going to be right through these trees.”

You gave him a doubtful look, but stayed silent. He gestured ahead, and you watched as leaves and branches seemingly parted on their own, welcoming you through. You followed Jaemin under the passage that he’d made, the foliage closing up again behind you. You’d entered into a clearing illuminated by nothing but the stars. It was a new moon, but you found that you didn’t really need its light, as the stars shone brilliantly on a night this clear. The clearing was carpeted with soft clover and patches of wildflowers of all shapes and sizes.

“This used to be the archery range, when I was a camper,” Jaemin explained. “They moved it as the camp got bigger.”

“You came here when you were a kid?”

“Yep.” He picked a spot and sat down. “Chanyeol used to be junior counselor of my cabin.”

You smiled faintly as you sat in front of him. “Really?”

“Mhm.” He started picking clovers from the bottom of the stem, close to the ground. “You ever made a clover crown?”

“No.”

“I’ll show you how.”

As he walked you through the steps of weaving together a clover crown, you tried your best to follow along, but yours still ended up a weedy mess, falling apart in your hands. You sighed, letting the greenery drop through your fingers and back to the dirt.

“Here, use mine,” Jaemin offered patiently. “Sometimes starting is the hardest part.”

“No, Jaemin, it’s so pretty, I don’t want to mess it up,” you insisted.

“I’ve probably made thousands of clover crowns,” he reassured you, moving around to lower his hands over yours. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

You let out a deep breath, taking the partially-woven clovers from him. Jaemin stayed there just to guide you through the first few uncertain crossings of stems, then he sat down again next to you, gathering more materials to start another crown.

Keeping your eyes trained on your shaky fingers, you said, “I don’t get you, Na Jaemin.”

“Well you hardly know me,” he pointed out humorously. “But I feel like I’ve been straightforward with you. Is there anything specific you think is so mysterious about me?”

“That’s the problem.” You bit your cheek and paused as you focused on the clover crown for a second. Then, you continued, “You’re so upfront I feel like you’re hiding something. Like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“What? Because I’m being honest, that must mean I’m dishonest?”

“Yes, because people don’t just act like this, Jaemin!”

“Like what? Like they’re actually interested in somebody they want to know better?” He asked incredulously, eyes wide. “This can’t just be a human thing—Are you like, okay, Y/N?”

You felt tears welling up at the corner of your eyes, and once again dropped the clover crown to wipe at them. “Fuck—I guess not. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I’m sorry too. We’re barely more than strangers, I let myself get caught up and I was pushy. I’ll take you back.”

The dryad stood up and offered you two hands to get up. Hanging from one of his elbows, you saw a completed clover crown. Curious, you pointed to it. “Can I see…?”

Jaemin obliged, shaking it from his elbow to his hand and offering it out to you. Still sitting in the same spot, you turned the crown around, admiring his delicate handiwork. It was more intricate than the version he had been showing you how to make, wildflowers woven together to make hearts or stars and then integrated into the design, and he’d finished it so quickly too.

You held the crown out for him to take back. “I still haven’t made a clover crown… If you want to stay.”

He brightened up. “Third time’s the charm.”

When your alarm woke you up in the morning, you were at least more well-rested than the first night, but not by much. Groaning and sitting up, you rubbed your eyes before opening them, eyes blearily trained on the floor. The first thing you saw was your hiking boots, your completed clover crown resting atop them. It ended up taking four tries for you to finally finish one, and it was messy and at risk of falling apart any second, but you were proud of it nevertheless. A fond smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you remembered when you had finally closed it off per Jaemin’s instructions, and smacked his arm with excitement, too afraid of even breathing. Instead of being offended at you hitting him again, he was as elated as you, somehow finding a million things to compliment about your ugly little clover crown.

WEEK 2

After your cabin’s wake-up routine this morning, you were back in the cafeteria. You didn’t bother looking for Jaemin, feeling pretty confident that the dryad would find you on his own. Sure enough, just a few minutes after you and Soongie had sat down, your co-counselor was standing at the end of your table, gesturing to the empty seat across from you.

“May I?” He asked.

“All yours,” you replied, cutting up Soongie’s pancake for her.

“We’re doing canoeing with the Bluejays this morning,” Jaemin reviewed your itinerary for the day.

A small hand grabbed your arm, and you looked over to see your little witch practically vibrating in her seat.

“Soongie’s excited,” you chuckled. “And then it’s free swim until lunch.”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, finger following the schedule on his clipboard. “Then it’s us and the Barn Owls for free time until two-thirty. Then we’re going to archery also with the Barn Owls and the Tree Frogs, and tie dye before dinner. Oh, and a campfire after dinner tonight.”

“Will—”

“There will be s’mores at the campfire,” he said knowingly.

You smiled. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“You know, Soongie, you could help a little bit, sweet,” you chastised the girl fondly, being the only one actually paddling between the two of you.

The camper was sat ahead of you in your canoe, her paddle long forgotten on the floor as she looked around her in delighted wonder. You were far too endeared by her to really be upset, which she obviously knew, as she did nothing to assist. There was a small splish on the surface of the water to the left of the canoe, and Soongie gasped, immediately scooting to that side of her seat.

“Woah!” You grabbed the sides as the small canoe rocked with the shift in weight. “Careful, Soongie. I know you’re not very big, but remember what Miss Yujin said, we don’t want to—”

As you were talking, the little witch had been leaning further and further over the side of the canoe to try to get a better look at whatever had caught her attention before. Right as you had grabbed the back of her life jacket with the intention of scooting her back into the middle of her seat yourself, the canoe flipped entirely, sending the both of you into the water. You two popped up immediately thanks to your life jackets, underneath the shell of the overturned canoe.

Turning the girl around in your arms, you checked on her, “Are you okay, Soongie?”

She regarded you with wide, terrified eyes as she nodded hurriedly.

“Good, good. I’m not mad, sweet,” you reassured her, hugging her close. “It’s okay, now we know not to do that next time, right?”

She nodded again, slower this time.

Pulling away, you asked again, “Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t get hit by the canoe or anything?”

Another nod, more certain.

“Good, alright.” You let out a deep breath, looking around at the canoe over your heads. “Now, I need you to—”

A loud knocking on the outside of the canoe cut you off, and you let out a scream in surprise. The next second, a third person had joined you two under the canoe, surfacing behind you.

“Are you okay?” Jaemin asked, wiping water out of his eyes.

“Other than the heart attack you just gave me and the canoe on top of us?” You scoffed. “Yeah, peachy, Jaemin.”

“You weren’t coming up, I was getting worried,” he frowned.

“We’re okay,” you said more sincerely this time. “Promise.”

“Okay, good.” He then pointed to his right. “You and Soongie go out and swim over there. I’ll flip the canoe back over the other way for you. Swim a good distance away, just in case.”

“Alright, thanks, Jaemin,” you smiled, patting his cheek fondly. Turning back to Soongie, you said, “I need you to close your eyes and hold your breath while we go underwater so we can get out. Can you do that for me, sweet?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, breathed in deep, and plugged her nose.

“I knew you could. Let’s go.” You grabbed her by the head, pushing her under at the same time you went down too. You kept your hand on top of her head both to keep her down against the buoyancy of her life vest and to act as a bumper in case she accidentally bonked the canoe on her way out.

Once you had surfaced, you pulled her with you as you paddled away from the canoe a fair distance. Scattered in the water around you were the oars and your shoes. You knew your sunglasses were long gone, lost to the bottom of the lake. A few seconds later, you saw one of Jaemin’s hands wrap around the edge of the canoe, then he slowly lifted the side facing you, breaking the seal with the water, before he heaved the canoe to his left, successfully flipping it rightside up. You heard distant cheers and applause from the dock, and looked over to see other campers standing there, bundled up in their own little life vests.

Swimming back over to Jaemin and the canoe with Soongie, you two also gave him a small round of applause above the surface of the water.

“Our hero,” you jested.

He grinned, holding onto the end of the canoe to keep it from floating away. “Well…”

“Y/N in first, that way you can help Soongie get in,” he explained.

“Okay, you wait here with Mister Jaemin for me,” you requested, passing her off to the dryad.

“Can you hold onto my shoulders Soongie?” He moved her around to his back, then made an exaggerated choking sound. “My shoulders, not my neck!”

Soongie giggled and changed the placement of her arms.

“Oh, thank Pan,” he breathed out in relief. “Alright, Y/N, up you go.”

You hauled yourself back into the canoe, then worked with Jaemin to hoist Soongie in as well. Finally, Jaemin pulled himself in too, shaking out his wet hair like a dog.

“Ah!” He sighed, pushing his hair back from his face, annoyingly handsome grin once again landing on you. “Well that was a successful rescue mission, huh?”

“Hate to burst your bubble, Jaemin, but uh, we don’t—”

“Have oars?” He finished your sentence, still grinning.

“Mhm.” You looked down into your empty, soaking wet canoe, then at the distant dock pointedly.

“Not a problem!” A vine shot out of Jaemin’s palm, splitting into two, each end grabbing a wayward oar and pulling them back up into the boat. He offered one out to you to take, and secured the other in his hand.

Soongie giggled and clapped, to which Jaemin bowed. “Ah, thank you, thank you.”

After free swim and free time, everyone had time to head back to their cabins and shower before going to archery. You only had a second to rinse the lake water off of you before changing and corralling your campers to archery.

The new archery range was bigger than the old one that Jaemin had taken you to, able to fit more targets than you were sure the other one could. As the two instructors began teaching the kids, the counselors hung back to make sure everyone was paying attention and served more as support during the lesson. God knew you had no clue how to shoot a bow and arrow.

“You know how to do this?” You murmured to Jaemin as you watched the instructor notch her first arrow.

“May have won a few ribbons back in my days as a camper,” he jokingly bragged. “Want a private lesson?”

You elbowed him lightly and shook your head, even as your heart skipped a beat. The instructor let her arrow fly then, easily hitting the bullseye. You clapped along with the campers, snickering, “I think maybe I should ask her instead.”

Whoever put tie-dye after free time was the bane of your existence, as there was no time for the girls to properly wash up before dinner. If tie-dye had been before free time, then they could’ve done it before showering. You and Ningning had your hands full helping them scrub dye off their hands, and your entire cabin ended up being late to dinner. Stomping into the mess hall with a gaggle of starving girls, you hurried them ahead of you towards the food line, wincing when you saw a few options empty or nearly empty already. Soongie hung back with you as always, joining you last in the line.

You made your two plates, and struggled to find empty seats in the packed mess hall. Thankfully, a hand shot up among the throng, waving you all over. Jaemin stood up so you could see him better, and you called for your girls, who were all looking around rather lost, to follow you over there. The dryad was instructing his campers to scoot around and make room, and finally, with some squeezing, everyone was able to fit. Jaemin let you scoot onto the bench seat ahead of him, and you still had to eat with Soongie on your lap and one of Jaemin’s legs sticking out into the aisle. His other leg was pressed against you, elbow bumping into yours as the two of you ate.

You tried not to glare at some of the other cabins who had made no attempts to accommodate you all, empty seats and plenty of room at their tables, some of the adults even propping up and spreading their legs out on the benches as they ate and chatted with each other.

“Just leave it, Y/N,” Jaemin murmured, nudging you with his arm. “Good example.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, thanks, Jaem.”

“Hard time washing out the tie dye?”

“Yeah. How’d you guys clean the dye off so fast?”

“Who says we cleaned the dye off?”

That made you look up from your food for the first time, carefully studying the hands and arms of the boy Swallowtail campers around you, seeing that they were in fact, splotched with every color of the rainbow. You burst into laughter, covering your face with your hand. “God—Is that going to come out before pick-up?”

“Yeah, a couple more dips in the lake, it’ll all be gone.”

“Work smarter, not harder, huh?”

Jaemin grinned. “Exactly.”

At the campfire, you helped your younger campers roast their marshmallows for their s’mores safely, while Jaemin and Chanyeol led the entire camp in sing-alongs. In a lull with your campers preoccupied with eating their s’mores, you quickly prepared one and brought it up towards the front. Chanyeol was tuning his guitar while he and Jaemin discussed which song to do next, and you tapped the dryad’s shoulder as you lowered the paper plate into his line of sight.

Jaemin looked up at you beaming, accepting the s’more. “Thanks, beautiful. How’d you know I wanted one?”

“I’m a mind reader,” you replied humorously, mussing up his hair before you headed back towards the Swallowtails’ benches.

“Ask her! Ask her!” Came excited, hushed whispers from behind you as you had just returned to your seat among all your campers.

Turning around, you spotted a gaggle of both girls and boys gathered behind you, and raised your eyebrow at them inquisitively. “Ask me what?”

“Miss Y/N?” One brave girl finally piped up. “Are you and Mister Jaemin boyfriend-girlfriend?”

You covered your mouth to not laugh directly at them, instead tilting your head at them curiously. “Why do you think that?”

“You just made him a s’more!” One said.

“And he rescued you and Soongie today!” Another added.

“And he always calls you beautiful and stuff!” Said another. “That’s what my dad calls my mom.”

“You can tell your friends that they’re beautiful,” you informed them dutifully. “I tell you girls that you’re beautiful, don’t I?”

They all looked at each other, obviously conflicted.

“You should always help somebody in need if you can, like Mister Jaemin did today when Soongie and I were canoeing,” you continued. “And how many s’mores have I made for all of you?”

They began murmuring among themselves at your very good points while you tried very hard to control your face. Technically, you and Jaemin weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. You were… something. And these children didn’t need to know all the (sparse) details of the nature of your relationship with Jaemin anyway.

Chanyeol had started strumming his guitar again, drawing everyone’s attention as the next song began.

WEEK 3

All outdoor activities had been canceled today because a huge storm had rolled in overnight. Rain pounded against the roof of the meeting center as lighting flashed and thunder boomed outside. The Swallowtails and Tree Frogs were in here for the first block of the day watching movies on a projector. The movie was occupying some of the kids while others quietly played cards in a corner, others napped, and the counselors hung out in the back of the room.

“You okay, Jaem?” You asked the dryad, bumping his shoulder with yours. “You’ve been… off since breakfast this morning.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassured you, shifting his gaze from the dark grey skies outside over to you. His eyes were a deep forest green, so murky they almost blended in with his pupils. He tried to offer you a half-smile as he nudged your arm back. “It’s the weather. Dryads are sensitive to it. Mother Nature gets bummed out, so do we.”

You looked over at Sohee, noticing that the younger dryad was also less upbeat than usual, leaning against the wall and zoning out as he listened to the junior counselor from the Tree Frogs go on about something.

“I like the rain,” you tried to offer some positivity. “Good napping weather.”

Jaemin chuckled. “I’ve never been able to sleep well when the weather’s like this, but now that you mention it…”

“Big fuzzy blanket or two, the sound of the rain, oh it’s perfect.”

“Mm, I might be able to get on board with this.”

“I’m just afraid the kids aren’t going to be able to sleep tonight if they can’t get their energy out,” you sighed, already able to picture them bouncing off the walls come lights-out.

“Yeah, we’ll have to make them run laps in the gym after lunch so they’re not bouncing off the walls when it’s lights-out.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Speaking of lights-out…” He leaned in closer, resting his hand behind you and letting the smell of pine and roses entirely wrap around you. His lips ghosted against the shell of your ear as he requested, “If the rain lets up by then, will you meet me again? After lights-out?”

You turned your head to whisper back, “To do what?”

“It’s a surprise. Is that a yes?”

You hummed, pretending to think it over. Finally, you answered, “Yes.”

In the middle of dinner, the rain finally stopped, and you pretended not to react, even as the entire cafeteria erupted into cheers. Jaemin tapped your foot under the table with his. You kicked his back as you lifted your smiley fry to your mouth.

After putting your girls to bed, you once again waited thirty minutes before putting your hiking boots on and slipping out of your cabin. Jaemin was exactly where you had found him last time, blinding grin visible even this late at night. He had a couple towels tossed over his shoulder, but was otherwise in the exact same clothes as last time.

“So where are we headed?” You asked, looping your arm with his.

“Somewhere special,” he replied vaguely. “The rain should’ve made it perfect.”

You squinted at him, but didn’t press for more information. As soon as he turned off the main path, you realized he was heading towards the river but taking an unfamiliar route along it. He was heading towards a part that the camp didn’t use in their regular activities. You heard the rushing water before you spotted it, and when you emerged from the treeline, you could see a waterfall. Not huge, but without the extra rainfall from today, this area probably wouldn’t have been more than a trickle.

“Perfect,” Jaemin declared, stopping by a rock further from the water’s edge. This one was dry, safe from the spray of the waterfall. He set the towels down before toeing his shoes off, and you already knew what he was going to do.

“Isn’t it going to be cold?” You asked knowingly, despite taking your boots off too.

“Probably.” He pulled his tank top off before hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants. “You’re behind.”

“You’re pushy,” you teased back, yanking off your socks.

“Undress how you want, my apologies.” He put his palms together and bowed ninety degrees, making you giggle at the juxtaposition of the formal gesture while he was in nothing except his briefs.

Your shorts joined the pile too, but you left your sleep shirt on since you had nothing else on under it. Jaemin was already at the river’s edge, his back to you as he stood in the water up to his ankles.

“Is it cold?” You slowly picked your way closer to the water.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” He answered with a question.

“Try.”

“It’s like a hot tub.”

You clicked your tongue, “Nope, didn’t believe you for a second.”

“Can I look?” He still hadn’t turned around, even as you were just a couple steps behind him.

“No, Jaem, I want you to swim with your eyes closed all night.”

“I’d do it if you asked,” he jested back in a slightly sing-songy voice.

“I know you would.” You hugged your arms as you shook your head fondly. “You can turn around. With your eyes open.”

Jaemin turned around with his eyes squeezed shut first, then squinted them open one at a time, a soft grin spreading across his lips as his gaze didn’t trail anywhere other than your face. He offered his hand out, and you set yours atop it. Slowly, he pulled you towards him, and you braced yourself as you took the first step into the cold water. You let out an instinctive shiver at the chill zipping up through you.

“Hot tub, yeah,” you scoffed.

“It slopes down from here.” Jaemin started wading out in front of you, keeping his loose grip on your hand. You followed him, keeping an eye on how fast the water was rising up his legs to estimate the depth for yourself.

When the water was about waist-deep, you hissed at the temperature, squeezing his hand tighter. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand as he started guiding you towards the waterfall. “Come on.”

In the back of your mind, you wondered if you were going to get sick from this.

“If you catch a cold, I’ll nurse you back to health.”

“If you get sick, I’ll laugh,” you mimicked the way he cooed at you sweetly.

Jaemin stopped the two of you a little ways away from the bottom of the waterfall. He let go of your hand before walking forward, pausing right under where the water was pouring down, thoroughly drenching him. He let out a whoop presumably at the burst of cold. Poking his head out, he wiped the water from his eyes and looked at you expectantly. You sighed but went to join him, grabbing your shoulders tightly and gritting your teeth against the rush of cold water soaking the rest of you. A mix between a yelp and a laugh escaped you instinctively, and you heard Jaemin laughing past the sounds of crashing water. Admittedly, the chill served as a shock to your nervous system, thoroughly waking you up and making every inch of your skin tingle.

You ducked out of the waterfall, under the overhang of rock, wiping water off your face as you giggled. “Ah! Cold! Fucking cold!”

“It’s refreshing, right?” Jaemin asked with a grin.

“Kinda, yeah,” you admitted, putting your shoulders back under the waterfall. You held your arms out. “C’mere.”

He obliged, shuffling closer to you and letting you wrap your arms around his neck. As soon as you felt how warm his skin was, you pulled him even closer.

“You’re warm!” You gasped.

“I’m a dryad, gorgeous,” he hummed, lowering the two of you in the water. His hands landed on your knees, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist and cling onto him even more. “Always the perfect temperature.”

“You’re really proud to be a dryad, hm?” You questioned, not a hint of sarcasm or taunting in your voice this time.

“Of course. I love everything about it, never wanted to be anything else. Sure, other things are more powerful, and plenty of dryads hate being sensitive to the weather, but I love it all.”

“Can you understand animals?” You knew that not all dryads could talk to animals, and those who could, would usually only be able to talk to a certain kind (birds, fish, reptiles, etc.).

“Small to medium land mammals. Anything bigger than a dog is usually a no-go.”

“What about a really big dog? Like a Great Dane? Or a Newfoundland?”

“Haven’t tried. When I do, I’ll let you know.”

“Do you have a favorite animal? Or is that like picking a favorite kid?”

He chuckled, and you could feel it against you. “I like cats.”

“Me too.”

After a beat, he asked, “Can I tell you something?”

“Can I stop you?”

“The first day of camp—”

“—when you fell in the river—”

“—when I fell in the river… I didn’t really fall in.”

You pulled back to be able to look him in the eye, nose scrunching up in confusion. “What? So you just… went swimming in your clothes for fun?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I was walking the perimeter, like I told you, and then suddenly I got this really strong urge to just jump in,” he explained. “One second, I was perfectly fine, enjoying the Sun, and then I thought to myself: ‘It’s too goddamn hot and if I overheat and die there is no way I’m going to let myself end up haunting this place for eternity.’ And the river was right there so I jumped in and cooled off. And then when you showed up, I figured it was better to look clumsy than like… well whatever that was.”

Dread had settled deep in the pit of your stomach, and your jaw dropped with mortification. “Jaemin, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m the one who made you jump in the river,” you confessed, pushing on his chest to get him to let you go and stand on your own again.

“What?” He tilted his head, obviously confused and caught between trying to decide if you were joking or serious, half a smile on his lips.

You turned away from him, covering your face in horror as everything suddenly dawned on you at once—way too late, you should’ve fucking known, it was so fucking obvious. “Not on purpose. God—”

Jaemin was surprisingly calm as he asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You know how we’re like… scarily in sync sometimes? Like it’s almost like you can read my thoughts?”

He grinned and chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “So you noticed, too? I mean—”

“It’s not great chemistry or anything. I’m literally accidentally putting my thoughts in your head,” you interrupted him, desperately trying to get across how seriously bad this whole thing was.

The cocky smirk dropped right off his face, and he turned curious and skeptical instead. “Wait, really? How?”

“My great-aunt called it something one time. A savvy,” you snapped your fingers as the word popped into your head. “Said that’s what they used to be called before all this modern-day science took over magic instead.”

“Savvy,” he repeated uncertainly.

“Yeah. Humans that could talk to plants and make them grow faster like dryads, or fly but just a couple inches off the ground, things like that,” you listed off a couple examples. “Her theory was that with integration, people didn’t find their savvies anymore because they were around all this extraordinary magic, there was no reason for their little pockets of it to ever make an appearance.”

“What’s your theory?”

“Kind of similar. I think the people with them might notice it, but we see all this incredible stuff every day, so if your plants are growing extra fast—hey, that was probably just the magical fertilizer you bought at the store, why would it be the fact that you were singing to your succulent? Magic is so ingrained into the fabric of our lives from outside sources, I don’t think we’d ever stop to notice if it ever started coming from inside us.”

“That’s so…”

“Sad? That humans would never stop to think that we had magic in us too?” You chuckled cynically.

Jaemin shook his head, brow furrowed as he obviously both deep in thought and deeply perturbed. “I was going to say, hard to imagine. I can’t imagine what it feels like not having magic in you.”

“You’re made of magic. I’m not.”

“Well that’s not true. You’ve got something. You’ve got a… savvy.” Jaemin smiled and pointed smugly. “It’s what confused me the first time we met.”

“Right.”

“So how did you find out?”

“According to my parents, I didn’t talk until I was almost four. I didn’t need to, they just somehow always knew what I wanted. Used to chalk it up to good body language. But the way that people always finished my thoughts before I did, and didn’t even realize they were doing it. I hated that. It felt like they were in my head.” You clutched your arms self-soothingly at the memories. “Until I got a little older and realized that actually, I was in their heads.”

“Do you know why? Why you?”

“We’re all human, my family, as far back as we can tell. Unless someone had an affair somewhere that we don’t know about but—” You shrugged. “I’m just a human, who can think and feel really hard, and things happen. And because someone said so, that’s magic. But if I lived with a bunch of humans—and not my great-aunt—I probably would’ve gone my whole life just believing that I was really good at conveying my thoughts. Or really shit at hiding them.”

“So you can… what, exactly?”

You knew what he was asking—magic powers all had names. So what was yours?

“I don’t know, project my thoughts? Still don’t have a good name for it,” you admitted with a dejected shrug. “I don’t do it on purpose, it just kind of happens. I can never choose which ones, or who gets them, I’ve just kind of figured that that it tends to happen with ones I’m more focused on. But not always.”

“So it wasn’t great chemistry, huh?” He joked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Ah, sorry, Jaemin,” you said sheepishly, then tacked on, “But I can tell you, I’ve never had someone so… receptive to my thoughts before. Like, no one person has ever gotten so many in such a short amount of time. I don’t know why, or what it means, or if it even means anything. And I do feel the need to apologize, I imagine it’s clearly been… invasive.”

“For one, don’t apologize. You said you’re not doing it on purpose, and I can’t imagine what it must be like for you, always worrying about which of your thoughts someone is going to get, who’s going to get it, and if they’ll know it was you. Don’t also worry about apologizing to me just because I listen a little better than other people. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for eavesdropping.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Now you know how you sounded,” he replied pointedly.

“Damn.”

“Anyway, I think I know exactly why I’m more… receptive.”

You eyed him curiously. “Enlighten me.”

“I’m a dryad,” he reminded you for probably the hundredth time since you met him. “We’re in touch with nature, which includes humans, and their thoughts and feelings.”

“So it’s not our great chemistry?” You trepidly quipped.

“So you agree!” He lit up. “We do have great chemistry! Aside from the magical thought-sharing?”

“I think it’s including that?” You fidgeted with your fingernails. “Because despite everything I just told you, you’re not running away. Even though I literally made you jump in a river the first time we met. Or, before we ever met.”

“I think I’m starting to get better at telling what’s your idea and what’s mine,” he said confidently. “And you’re also not running away, despite the fact that you know that your thoughts are even more available to me than other people.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “I trust you with them. You’re the first person that I’ve told who’s… really thought of it like that. That you’re listening in, instead of me forcing something into your brain.”

“Thank you. I’m honored.”

“So uhm, while we’re talking about the first day of camp… What were you going to ask me? At Truth or Dare?”

“Still thinking about that, gorgeous?”

“Apparently. Do you remember?”

“‘Are you thinking about kissing me, too?’” He stepped closer to you again. “Though, I think I know the answer now.”

You nodded, eyes glued to where a droplet of water raced from his hair down his forehead, over his browbone, his nose, and finally between his cupid’s bow into his parted lips.

“I know I can literally hear you thinking about what my lips feel like, and exactly where you want my hands on you…” One of said hands had caught the hem of your shirt floating in the water, gently tugging it back and forth. Jaemin leaned in closer, warm breath washing over your cheek as he held eye contact with his request, “But can I also hear you say it out loud? Just once, gorgeous?”

You immediately folded, grabbing his forearms as you pleaded, “Jaem, please. I want you to kiss me, I want you to—”

“I know, beautiful, I know,” he hushed you gently, cupping your cheek and sealing his mouth over yours. His other hand let go of your shirt hem to wrap around your waist and pull you closer. Your fingernails dug into the muscles of his forearm as you pressed against him, chasing more contact in any way possible. He alternated soft bites to your bottom lip and deep kisses that left you dizzy. The cold water didn’t even register anymore as you fell more and more into Na Jaemin.

Jaemin finally drew back, leaving you with a peck on the tip of your nose. He was still looking at you with an absolutely blindingly soft smile, cradling your face with two hands. You grabbed his cheeks, kissing his nose too.

“It’s only fair,” he snickered.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” you replied humorously, pushing your forehead against his.

The sky was a beautiful crystal clear blue the next morning, and you noticed the change in Jaemin’s mood before you even got to the mess hall for breakfast. Your cabins converged on the walkway there, and you spotted Jaemin at the front of his boys, giving one a piggy-back ride as four more chased them around the rest. Sohee was actually leading the gaggle of campers, laughing and joking along with the older dryad. Without you even calling out to him, Jaemin gently dropped his camper back to the ground before turning around and giving your group a big wave.

“Morning, girls!” He grinned.

“Morning, Mister Jaemin!” They said back in a loud chorus.

You just so happened to glance down to make sure you weren’t going to step on one of the kids’ heels when you noticed that Soongie’s sneaker was untied.

“Oh, hold on, sweet. Your shoelace.” You tugged on her hand to take her to the side, out of the crowd. Kneeling down, you dutifully double-knotted it. “There. Let’s go.”

You’d just started walking and brushing the dirt off your knee when your foot got jerked back by your own shoelace which had come untied and was subsequently caught under someone’s foot. Before your face or hands could impact with the concrete, however, something sturdy wrapped around your waist and caught you. You realized it was a thick, leafy vine at the same time that two hands grabbed your arms to stand you back up, and the vine unwound from around you.

“Woah, you alright?” It was Jaemin, of course, already checking your hands and arms over for injuries.

“Yeah, Jaem, I’m fine,” you smiled as he fidgeted with your beaded bracelet from Soongie. “Tied Soongie’s shoe and completely missed the fact that mine was untied too. Thanks for the save.”

He dutifully dropped to one knee to tie your shoe for you, and you wanted to be embarrassed at being treated like a child, but really, all you could think about was pulling him back up when he was done and kissing him.

“Not here, beautiful,” he grinned and winked at you.

You rolled your eyes and pushed his head away from you, but you knew it was all negated by your fond smile and thoughts.

WEEK 4

The Swallowtails were back in the arts and crafts cabin, and you were hard at work at the friendship bracelet station. You may have sucked at making clover crowns, but you weren’t half-bad at this, at least. Searching through the piles of beads, you secured a few more green and brown ones, as well as some in the shape of white daisies to add.

Jaemin was at the bead table too, and you pretended not to be interested in what he was making, even as he had not-very-quietly whispered to one of your girls sitting next to him asking if she knew what your favorite color was. The camper had told him with a giggle, some of the other campers pitching in with their opinions on whatever he was making throughout it. You acted like you hadn’t heard anything, looking up from your own craft only to survey the cabin or when someone called your name asking for help.

You’d just secured the clasp on the necklace you had been working on when a throat was cleared across from you. Looking up, you raised your eyebrows at Jaemin curiously. “Yes…?”

His project had disappeared from in front of him, but one of his hands was behind his back, so you had a suspicion as to where it went. The dryad held his other hand out palm-up on the table between you two. “May I?”

You put out your arm that already had your friendship bracelet from Soongie on it, and he grasped it gently. “Close your eyes?” He requested.

Amused, you did so, feeling when he slipped another bracelet on your wrist. You peeked one eye open, immediately spotting the bracelet that was comprised mostly of beads of your favorite color. You grinned, spinning it around to admire it.

“It’s perfect. Thanks, Jaem,” you said. Picking up the necklace, you declared, “Your turn.”

Standing up, you walked around to stand behind him, fastening the clasp at the back of his neck for him. “There you go.”

It was a shorter necklace, resting right at his collarbones, so he had to use his phone camera to look at it. His fingertips ran over the beads, then he reached back to squeeze your hand that was resting lightly on his shoulder.

“I love it.” He tilted his head back to absolutely beam at you.

At dinner, you weren’t even surprised when Jaemin joined you and Soongie in the line to get your food. You fondly noted that he was still wearing the necklace from earlier.

Leaning in towards him, you breathed in the familiar smells of roses and pine, then murmured, “Will you meet me? After lights-out tonight?”

“I had this weird feeling that you were going to ask me that,” he teased. “Yes.”

“So where are we headed?” Jaemin asked as soon as you found each other that night.

You didn’t hesitate to take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I want to try to make clover crowns again.”

He started tugging you down the walkways. “Let’s do it.”

Taking a deep breath of the fresh air that was all around you, you let out an unintentional sigh after. “I can’t believe we’re going back tomorrow.”

“It always amazes me how fast a month goes here.”

“We’re going to—I’m going to see you again, right? When we get back?”

Jaemin screeched to a stop in the middle of the trail, turning to you with a startlingly severe look on his face. “What kind of question—Of course. We live in the same city, go to the same school. I meant everything I said, Y/N.”

“I-I know, Jaem.” You glanced up at the stars peeking through the treetops. “I guess this whole month sort of felt surreal… I’m worried about what real life will be like for us.”

“It’ll be better,” he said confidently. “Because I can take you on real dates there.”

You chuckled, squeezing his hand. “I don’t know, the waterfall was pretty romantic.”

“I’m glad you think so, beautiful.” He started down the trail again. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

The camp was in a fairly remote location, so everyone loaded up onto buses in the morning to drive back into the city, where the children would then be picked up by their parents. Since you had volunteered for the set-up crew, you weren’t staying for break-down, which meant you were going back with the kids and monitoring pick-up for your campers.

Most of the kids (and counselors) were napping on the bus, thoroughly tuckered out from the month of camp, and having to get up early to eat breakfast before the buses departed. Soongie was curled up on the bench seat with her head in your lap as she slept, and you yawned just looking at her.

“Tired, gorgeous?” Jaemin murmured from his aisle seat next to you. The three of you probably didn’t need to squeeze into one row, but there was no part of you that wanted to tell him to move.

“Mm, a bit,” you admitted, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Sleep.” He shifted to wrap his arm around you, encouraging you to rest your head in the crook of his neck.

After waking up, pick-up went surprisingly smooth. Most of the campers’ parents were already at the pick-up location, so it was just a matter of checking IDs and sending the families on their way. Soongie excitedly tugged you over to a trio of adults, one of whom looked far too old to be her parent, and another looked far too young—your age at most. They introduced themselves as her covenmates, and one of the witches was in fact her biological father, the one who looked between the other two in age. You chatted with them for a little bit as they confessed to being nervous since this was Soongie’s first time away from the coven. You filled them in on how well she did at camp, downplaying the horrors of the first night to put their minds at ease. Soongie gave you one last big hug before all four of them left with huge smiles on their faces.

Ningning was driving herself and some of the other junior counselors home, and you sent them off with a wave, the witch honking her horn in return. When things around the lot were finally quiet, you saw that all the campers were gone, and the lead counselors were even beginning to disperse as well. Jaemin was already walking up to you, his duffel bag on his shoulder.

“Heading out?” You asked, trying to hide your disappointment.

“In a minute. Now that pick-up’s done…” He grabbed one of your wrists with one hand and tugged your friendship bracelet from Soongie off with the other.

“Hey, that’s—”

“Your bad luck charm.”

You looked between him and the gift in confusion. “What?”

“Soongie didn’t do it on purpose. Witches that little have no control over their powers. I didn’t say something before because I know you wouldn’t have gotten rid of it while you were still around her, and all it’s been doing is minorly inconveniencing you.” He turned the bracelet around in his fingers to look at the plastic beads. “If it was seriously hurting you, I would’ve intervened.”

“Wait, so when I tripped on my shoelace…?”

“And when the canoe flipped, and all the spots at the mess hall being taken, and probably anything else that went wrong this whole month.” He tossed it up in the air and caught it before pocketing it. “Unless you’re usually that unlucky?”

“No, I just figured it was because this was my first year. Learning the ropes and stuff,” you shrugged, still bewildered as suddenly everything was clicking.

“Unintentional sabotage.”

“Well, good thing I had you then, huh?” You joked, nudging him with your elbow. “My guardian dryad.”

He pretended to wipe sweat off his brow. “It was tough work, keeping an extra close eye on you.”

“Aw, and here I thought you were hanging around me so much because of our great chemistry?”

“That too.” Jaemin looped an arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, peppering kisses on your cheek as you giggled and futilely tried to hide your face from him. “Mostly that.”

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