mafiadad5

[mafiadad5]

Tramp stamp: prologue / preview || P. Jisung

𐙚📷꒱ camgirl!reader x tattooartist!jisung

𐙚📷꒱ Release date- August 5th

𐙚📷꒱ synopsis- You weren’t supposed to find out your new tattoo artist was also your subscriber, but now that you have, why not make it interesting? It was supposed to be business— now he’s in your bed, on your screen, and way too deep under your skin.

𐙚📷꒱ genre- smut/ porn with plot MDNI! 18+, fluff, hint of angst if you squint.

𐙚📷꒱ warnings- masturbation (for preview), bdsm themes, sexual filming. (Full list of warnings will be released in the main fic!)

𐙚📷꒱ W/c- 6.3k for preview, estimated 25-30k for full fic.

a/n- hiiii guyssssss :D! I’ve had this idea for a while, so I’m finally bringing it to life. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the main fic! Love you <3

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"Hello, do you have any openings for walk ins today?" You asked, stepping through the door of the shop.

The receptionist glanced up from her screen, tucking a pen behind her ear. "Yeah, let me check." She turned toward the hallway and called out casually. "Jisung, you down for a walk-in right now?"

There was a pause, then a voice drifted out— low and clear, with a hint of rasp. "Yeah, sure."

The receptionist smiled as she turned back to you. "He'll be right with you."

"Thank you." You gave her a small smile and sat on the black leather bench against the wall, pulling out your phone and scrolling idly.

A few minutes later, the soft creak of a door signaled his arrival. "Hey." He said simply, voice quieter now that he was closer. "What are you looking to get today?"

You looked up and paused.

Oh.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was attractive. Not just attractive— hot in that quietly intense way. Sharp dark eyes, and dark hair that was slightly messy.

"I want a tramp stamp." You replied with a slight smile, rising from your seat and stepping toward the front counter. You pulled up a photo on your phone and turned it to show him. "Like this."

He leaned in slightly, nodding with approval as he squinted at the image. "Classic." He said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Do you want it exactly like the picture?"

"Yeah." You nodded.

"Alright, give me a few minutes to get everything prepped and I'll come get you."

"Okay." You smiled again, watching as he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

You waited, glancing around the shop— walls lined with flash designs, portfolios, and random Polaroids pinned. You could hear him setting up in the back, faint clinks of metal and the hiss of something being sanitized. A few minutes later, he came back out.

"Ready?"

You nodded, following him through the hallway into the back room. His station was neat— organized trays, sterile packaging, a padded table in the center with a mirror on the far wall. The lighting was soft but clear, a gentle hum from the overhead bulb.

"Alright." He said, gesturing toward the table. "Where exactly are we placing this?"

"Low." You answered, a small smirk on your lips. "Right above my ass."

He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he grabbed a pair of gloves. "Got it. Go ahead and pull your pants down just enough to expose the area— stop right above where you want it, and lie down on your stomach."

You did as he said, adjusting your waistband and settling onto the padded table, your cheek resting on your arm. You heard him snap on the gloves behind you.

"This your first tattoo?" He asked as he grabbed a bottle and some paper towels.

You nodded. "Yeah."

"Cool." He sounded calm, relaxed. "I'm just gonna talk you through everything since it's your first, alright?"

"Alright." You murmured.

He came around beside you. "I'm cleaning the area first." He said softly, spraying a cool mist against your lower back. His gloved hand moved in slow, firm circles as he wiped the skin clean, the sensation oddly soothing.

"Now I'm applying the stencil." He said, dipping into a small pot of transfer solution and rubbing it gently into your skin. You felt the slight pressure of his hand as he pressed the stencil into place, fingers lingering for a second as he smoothed it down, then peeled it up.

"Go ahead and check it out in the mirror. Let me know if the placement works."

You sat up, stepping toward the mirror, turning to the side, you looked over your shoulder. The stencil sat perfectly aligned just above your curves.

"Perfect." You said, catching his gaze in the mirror for a moment before sitting back down.

"Great. Gotta let it dry for a few minutes, and then we'll get started." He said, giving you a small nod.

You laid back down, scrolling on your phone to distract yourself, though your heart was already starting to race in anticipation. A few minutes later, you heard the familiar buzz of the machine starting up as he returned, adjusting his stool beside you.

"You ready?" He asked, eyes flicking to yours.

You nodded, bracing yourself.

The first prick of the needle made your breath hitch, but you stayed still, jaw tight, brows furrowed in focus.

"You okay?" He murmured after a few seconds.

"Yeah, all good." You replied, your voice calm but breathy.

He continued slowly, steadily. The pain fluctuated— dull in some areas, sharp in others. At one point, he hit a particularly tender spot and body tensed slightly.

"Ou..." You let out, low and quiet, the sound almost a soft moan as your teeth pressed into your bottom lip. Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to breathe through it.

He paused for a second. Then without a word, his gloved fingers lightly rubbed the spot beside the sting gently.

"Yeah, I know." He murmured, his voice even lower now. His eyes flicked up to the mirror, locking with yours for a second too long. There was something there— something unreadable, like curiosity or heat or restraint. "Just breathe."

You nodded, letting out a slow exhale.

He continued, working in silence as you melted into the chair, pain giving way to the hum of the machine and the strangely intimate focus of his presence beside you.

Eventually, the buzzing stopped.

"All done." He sat back, pulling off his gloves. "Wanna take a look?"

You stood up slowly, your lower back still tingling, and turned toward the mirror, your mouth parting slightly.

"Oh my gosh." You said, eyes widening.

His face shifted slightly— brows drawing in for a second as he watched your reaction through the mirror. "Everything okay?"

"It's perfect." You said, turning to him with a smile. "So sexy."

He let out a quiet laugh under his breath. "I'll get you up front whenever you're ready."

You headed back to the counter, pulling your shirt down as he met you with a small stack of papers.

"Here's your aftercare— super important. Wash it gently, no soaking, moisturize with something unscented, and don't pick at it, no matter how much it itches."

You nodded, skimming the paper. "Got it."

"Alright, $350." He said, tapping the screen of the checkout tablet and spinning it toward you. "Card or cash?"

"Card." You pulled out your wallet.

As you glanced at the screen, you hesitated. "Is there a way to leave a tip on the card?"

"There was." He said, frowning. "It stopped working this morning though. If you've got cash I can take that, but if not, don't even worry."

"Damn." You said, pouting slightly. "You did such a good job. You were so gentle and it looks fucking awesome— I feel bad not tipping you."

He gave a small smile and shook his head. "Seriously, it's fine."

"Do you have, like... a Venmo or something I could send it to?"

He paused, considering. "No, it's cool... really." But then he tilted his head slightly. "Wait— this is your first tattoo, right?"

You nodded, swiping your card.

"Have I... serviced you before? With anything else?" He asked, eyes narrowing just slightly in curiosity.

Your brows furrowed, caught off guard by the phrasing. "No, I don't think so." You replied with a laugh. "Why?"

"I don't know, you just seem super familiar."

You smiled, shrugging. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

He paused for a second, then pulled out his phone. "Well, since you're new or whatever, I can give you my Instagram. Just in case you have questions or if anything feels off."

"Yeah, that'd actually be great." You said, unlocking your phone and handing it to him.

He tapped in his info and handed it back.

"Alright." He said, backing up behind the counter with a small grin. "You're good to go, hope the rest of your day's good."

"You too." You said, your voice light as you turned to leave, stomach still fluttering from the whole encounter.

You could feel his eyes on your back as the door closed behind you.

═════════════════════════

It had been a long day.

Jisung pushed open his front door and exhaled the second it shut behind him, leaning his weight against it for a moment like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His shoulders ached, his fingers were still stained faintly with ink, and his brain felt foggy from hours of back to back clients and constant buzzing.

All he wanted was a little peace— something that would pull him out of the numbing routine. 

He took a long shower, hot water pouring over him until his skin flushed, then towel dried his hair half heartedly and collapsed into bed. His sheets were still cool, the overhead light buzzed faintly in the corner of the room as he reached for his laptop.

He opened it without even thinking.

The muscle memory kicked in— typing the URL, logging in, clicking through to his subscriptions. Just one name there— the only one that mattered.

ControlFreak.

He swallowed as her profile popped up, thumbnail teasing the corner of a new upload. The second he saw the preview image— black lace, soft lighting, the gentle curve of her waist, he felt that familiar heat rise in his gut.

She was dangerous... way too good at what she did.

He was obsessed.

He didn't talk about it with anyone, obviously. No one knew about this part of him, but there were nights like this, when the exhaustion and silence hit just right and all he wanted was to watch her— listen to her voice, her teasing tone, the way she played with the camera like she could see right through it.

He clicked on the video, and her voice greeted him instantly.

"Hi guys!"

His stomach flipped.

There was something about the way she spoke— sweet and playful, but just a little commanding, like she knew you were already under her spell.

She was wearing a delicate black lace set that clung to her like it was made for her. Her body looked perfect— curved in all the right places, skin smooth and glowing under the soft light. He couldn't see her full face, just glimpses of some of her features, just enough to keep him hooked, but God, she was beautiful, he could tell.

"I hope you're all doing okay. You are now, at least, because I'm here... right?" She said, lips curled into a teasing smile.

Jisung chuckled quietly, already feeling the tightness growing in his sweats. He settled deeper into his bed, one hand absentmindedly running over his thigh.

"I bet you're already hard, aren't you?" She murmured, her voice dipping lower, more intimate. Her hand trailed up her inner thigh in slowly.

He let out a low breath, amused— and yeah, a little called out, but that was the point. She had a way of making it feel personal, like she was speaking just to him.

"First off." She said, sitting up a little straighter. "I have something to show you guys. I'm so excited, look."

He leaned in instinctively, licking his lips as he watched her shift on screen, turning slowly to reveal her back.

And then he froze.

She was showing off a tattoo, right above the curve of her ass. It was small, playful, flirtatious, sexy in the most obvious way, but more than that— familiar... too familiar.

The exact same design he'd inked on someone just two weeks ago. Same placement, same angle, same font even.

He blinked, sitting up straighter, the arousal in his gut suddenly tangled with a swirl of disbelief... fucking way.

He paused the video, staring at the screen like it would explain itself.

Could it really be...?

The girl from the shop. The one who'd walked in smiling and sweet, asking for a tramp stamp. The one who giggled when she said "right above my ass." The one who tensed under his hands when the needle hit a sensitive spot, letting out those breathy little sounds that made his stomach twist. The one whose voice had stuck with him longer than he cared to admit.

He ran a hand down his face, shit.

He stared at the frozen frame of the video, the tattoo clear as day, his own work staring back at him through the screen. His heart thudded a little harder.

He thought back to that day— your voice, the way your body moved on the table, the glance you shared in the mirror. You'd been flirty, confident, kind of unforgettable, if he was honest with himself.

And now, somehow this.

He let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. He probably should've been mortified, most people would've been. But instead, his hand moved back down, and he unhooked the waistband of his sweats.

He hit play.

Now that he could match your voice to your body, your expressions, your rhythm, your teasing, it did something to him he didn't even want to try to understand. It was like watching a memory from a different angle, something deeply personal he wasn't supposed to have.

But he wanted it.

"You like it, don't you? Can't stop looking?" Your voice teased from the video, light and cruel, soft laughter threading through each syllable.

He did, he couldn't stop looking. He thought the same damn thing back at the tattoo shop, the first time he caught a glimpse of you and couldn't tear his eyes away. His breath was shallow as he started to palm himself, movements tentative at first, drinking in every inch of you on the screen. The way you moved, the way you teased the camera like you knew exactly what he needed.

"Look at you, so pathetic, getting this turned on over a tattoo? I bet you are, aren't you?"

His hand sped up slightly, a quiet moan slipping past his lips. "Fuck." He breathed, almost too quiet for even himself to hear as the shame twisted deeper. His knuckles brushed the wet patch already starting to stain his waistband, and he swallowed hard, refusing to look away from the screen.

Then you turned forward again, your fingers sliding along the waistband of your underwear, teasing, legs spread just enough to make him go crazy.

"You want me, right? Tell me you want me. Tell me you want to see me."

"I want you." He whispered, rough and low, voice cracking with need. His head tipped back against the wall behind him, eyes still glued to the screen.

You giggled, sweet and sharp all at once, and his stomach clenched.

"Beg, not like you haven't done it before. Beg me to take them off."

A wrecked sound left him, his hand working faster, desperate now. "Please." He gasped, voice ragged. "fuck, please, oh my god."

"Harder, more." You commanded.

He obeyed instantly, his fist moving faster, rougher, moans tumbling out of him with no shame left at all. It was so dirty, so humiliating, but he didn't care— he couldn't. You owned every broken sound that came out of his throat.

"Shit." He gasped, pulse pounding. "I'm about to— fuck, please, please—"

Your voice stayed soft and mocking as he tumbled closer and closer.

"Look at you, so pathetic. You think you deserve this, huh? You really think you do? Well you don't, you don't deserve anything I'm giving you."

His eyes squeezed shut, a choked moan tearing from his throat, his whole body jerking as cum spilled out across his stomach, ropes marking his skin in humiliating streaks. His voice broke on a sobbing gasp, the pleasure cutting too deep to even process. He rode out the orgasm, nearly shaking, until he was empty.

"Maybe next time you'll get lucky." You laughed. "And can actually see me."

The screen went black.

He sat there, chest heaving, sweat cooling on his skin, trying to process everything that had just happened. The sticky mess clung to him, a filthy reminder of how completely he gave himself away to a screen— to you. He let out another shaky, stunned laugh, dropping his head back against the wall.

═════════════════════════

You've been loving your tattoo. Like, seriously obsessed. Every time you passed a mirror you found yourself twisting, lifting your shirt, checking it out from the side. It looked so good, it made you feel more like yourself, somehow.

So when the buzz of excitement hadn't faded two weeks later, you figured... why not get another?

Same shop, of course. Same artist, he'd been good— gentle, professional, and kind of hot in that quiet, messy haired, tired eyes way. You liked his vibe, it made sense to go back.

When you walked into the tattoo parlor, the bell above the door chimed softly. You immediately spotted him behind the counter, ringing up another customer. His head was bent slightly, focused on whatever he was handing over. Then his eyes flicked up, the second they landed on you his whole face changed.

His expression dropped, like he seen a ghost— or maybe something way worse. His shoulders stiffened, mouth opening slightly, then closing just as fast. He quickly turned back to the customer in front of him.

"Um, okay... here's your aftercare set." He said, voice a little tight.

He glanced toward you again and dropped the product right out of his hands.

"Shit, sorry." He muttered, crouching down to retrieve it. He stood and handed it off, forcing a smile. "Have a nice one."

Weird.

You stepped forward, a smile on your face, waiting for him to acknowledge you, but he didn't say anything— just looked at you, then quickly away.

"One moment, please." He said, voice low. Then he turned and walked straight to the back.

You blinked, brows lifting slightly. Okay... that was new.

A few minutes passed before he returned. When he did you noticed his eyes looked red— like he rubbed them hard or had a moment to himself he wasn't planning to share. Still, he came to the counter, clearing his throat, trying to keep his voice even.

"How can I help you?"

You smiled. "Oh my god, it's you."

"It's me." He said with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Do you have time for a walk in today?" You asked.

He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek, glancing up at you. "Depends on what you're getting."

"Nothing crazy. Just, like... two small hearts." You said, tapping the area above your chest. "Right here."

His gaze dropped briefly, to where you were pointing— right above your upper boob. You saw his jaw twitch slightly before he looked back up.

"I could do that now." He said, voice softer.

"Awesome."

"I'll just need a second to get everything ready." He said, disappearing again to the back.

When he returned, he gestured for you to follow him. The back room looked just like last time— sterile trays, the padded chair, low lighting, but somehow it felt... different.

"Alright." He said, snapping on a pair of gloves. "I'm gonna need you to take your shirt off."

You didn't hesitate, fingers hooked beneath the hem of your shirt and you tugged it over your head, tossing it aside.

You felt his eyes on you— his focus, thick and lingering. When you glanced at him, you caught him staring... hard. He blinked and turned quickly, grabbing the disinfectant spray, hands a little shaky.

He was unraveling. And you didn't know why, but it made your skin prickle.

He cleared his throat again. "Alright, just gonna clean the area first."

You laid back, letting him work. His hands were gentle again, careful, but his energy was completely different— tense and strained. He was trying so hard not to look directly at you. Every time your skin twitched, every time you flinched or exhaled too deep, you could feel the way his breath hitched.

Then he hit a sensitive spot. A soft, involuntary sound left your throat, half sigh, half whimper. His hand froze for half a second. His breath stuttered, he exhaled grounding himself.

"Breathe." He murmured. It wasn't just for you, you could hear it in his voice. "I'm almost done."

You nodded silently, resting your arm beneath your head, watching the soft flicker of the overhead bulb until he finally leaned back, wiping your skin clean one last time.

"What do you think?"

You sat up, eyes scanning the mirror. The tiny hearts were placed just where you imagined.

"Perfect." You said, smiling at your reflection. "Just like last time."

He gave a small, quiet smile. "Great, I'll walk you up front."

You followed him out, the air in the front room feeling weirdly heavier now.

"That'll be $95. Card or cash?"

"Card." You said, pulling out your wallet. "Are tips working this time?" 

"They are." He gave a soft laugh that didn't reach his eyes.

"Oh, and... I overheard you selling that aftercare kit earlier. Can I get one too?"

"You can... but honestly? You probably don't need it. Looks like your first one healed up perfectly."

You smiled at the compliment, then blinked. "Wait... how'd you know that?"

There was a moment of silence.

He froze.

His eyes darted to yours, wide and caught. "Uh—I... you're wearing low rise jeans." He said quickly. "I could see it."

Your brows lifted, skepticism flickering across your face. You nodded slowly, swiping your card. "Right..."

You grabbed your receipt and gave him a final glance. "Well, have a great one."

"You too." He said, still standing stiffly behind the counter, watching you leave like he couldn't figure out if he should feel guilty or grateful.

Later that night, you were scrolling through Instagram, half watching something in the background when a notification popped up: New request in Private Chat Room – $300.

You frowned, clicking it open. You only had to respond once to get the money. Then you could block, ignore, whatever. Easy.

Username: jjsungp12

Weirdly familiar.

jjsungp12: i have a question.

You squinted slightly, already bracing yourself for whatever dumb shit was coming.

ControlFreak: Hello to you too lol. What is it?

God, you hated when people messaged like they were entitled to you. Like they knew you, like you owed them softness.

jjsungp12: sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.

You raised a brow.

ControlFreak: It's ok. What's your question?

jjsungp12: would you ever fuck a fan?

Your eyes narrowed... here we go.

ControlFreak: Why, you feeling lucky?

jjsungp12: no, just curious lol. you're only ever by yourself.

That was... odd. Specific. Most guys didn't comment on that.

ControlFreak: Well... I think I would. For fun, maybe.

jjsungp12: okay. thank you for taking the time to answer.

ControlFreak: That's it?

jjsungp12: yep, thank you.

ControlFreak: You're welcome.

The conversation was over and yet, you just sat there staring at the screen.

It was weird. Not the message itself— it was suggestive, sure, but calm. Not demanding, not sleazy, just... odd. Like whoever it was had wanted the clarity more than the fantasy.

You stared at the username again: jjsungp12

Something about it scratched at your brain. You went through your social media, checking your recent followers, nothing stood out.

Then you opened your recent search history.

jisungpark12

Your eyes widened. You chuckled, rolling your eyes in disbelief... no way.

You'd been tattooed by a pervert, twice.

Suddenly everything clicked— the weird energy, the way he stared too long, the tension in his voice, the way he clearly recognized you but didn't want to say why. The way he fumbled through conversation like he was holding a secret in his mouth.

You thought he was just another hot guy with zero self control around a girl with her shirt off, but maybe it wasn't just that.

You bit your lip, considering.

He was hot.

And now that you knew he was into you...really into you, you were suddenly thinking about what to do with that power. Because he wasn't just another fan behind a screen, he'd touched you, tattooed you, fantasized about you.

And maybe now it was your turn to make him squirm.

═════════════════════════

The next day, you waited until late evening, just forty five minutes before closing when you finally sent the message.

Hey, this is Y/n L/n, the one who got my tattoo done yesterday. I don't know, something doesn't look right... if you're free could I stop by so you could just take a look at it?

You stared at your phone, watching the typing bubble appear... disappear... then nothing. Silence stretched until nearly closing time. Finally, the screen lit up again.

We're actually about to close soon, but if you're close by I don't mind just taking a peek.

You smiled to yourself.

Perfect.

You didn't waste time, you slipped on a long, oversized shirt— one that could be easily shrugged off, and a pair of pants that framed your body just right. You fixed your hair loosely, applied just enough gloss to your lips to catch the light, and grabbed your keys.

The tattoo parlor was only ten minutes away. When you pulled up, the lights inside were still on, and you saw him through the glass, already at the counter waiting.

When you walked in, the bell above the door gave a soft jingle. He looked up immediately, eyes locking on you.

"Hey." He said, voice cautious but warm. "What's going on?"

You glanced over your shoulder toward the door, then turned back to him. "Do you mind if we go somewhere more private?"

His eyes searched your face for a second, something flickering in them before he nodded. "Sure, come on."

He led you to the back again, into the same quiet space you remembered. "Is there anyone else here?" You asked casually, eyes scanning the room.

He shook his head, settling behind one of the stations. "Nope, just me tonight."

You stepped in a little closer, voice softer now. "So... something just doesn't feel right. It's really red and irritated. I thought that would've gone down by now."

He stood up quickly. "Mind if I touch?"

"Go ahead." You said smoothly, dragging the words slightly, watching him closely.

He grabbed a pair of gloves and slipped them on, stepping up to you. You slowly lifted the hem of your shirt, watching his eyes drop.

He placed a gloved finger gently on your skin, brushing it over the tattoo.

"You feel it?" You asked quietly, voice lower now.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours for the briefest second before darting back to the ink on your skin.

"This is actually pretty normal for this area." He said, his voice a little too fast. "More tissue here, so it gets inflamed easily. Just give it a few days— keep it clean, moisturized, no heavy friction. If it still looks irritated by then, let me know."

You smiled, tugging your shirt back down slowly. "Okay, thanks."

He stepped back, already walking toward the front. "Cool, I'll walk you out."

You followed behind him, your mind racing.

You were so close to calling him out, but the words hadn't lined up yet. It felt too sudden. Then just as your hand touched the doorknob the idea came. It was risky, very embarrassing if you were wrong, but the only way.

You paused, turning around. His head snapped up as you faced him again, your expression unreadable. He blinked fast, his whole body tense.

"I have a question." You said, walking slowly back toward the counter.

He nodded, guarded. "What's up?"

You tilted your head slightly, studying his face. "Would you ever..." You dragged it out. "Fuck a customer?"

There was a long silence, his brows furrowed, lips parted.

"That's... a little out of line, ma'am." He said, voice quieter now, unsure.

You smiled. "Is it? I wasn't sure because you asked me the same thing last night... jjsungp12."

His expression cracked. Mouth opened, nothing coming out.

"I— what?" He stammered. "I didn't. I don't even... I don't know you. I didn't message anyone."

You raised your brows. "Oh, so you think I'm dumb?"

"No! No, I— I don't think you're dumb." He rushed, panic creeping into his voice. "I just..."

"You're just what?" You interrupted, voice dipping with fake sympathy. "Just curious? Just a fan? Just a little too obsessed with a cam girl you accidentally tattooed twice?"

He froze. His body went still, hands twitching slightly at his sides, eyes wide and guilty and full of fear.

You let out a soft laugh, not cold, but amused.

"I know it was you." You said, walking toward the door again, but instead of opening it you locked it, the click ringing loud in the quiet room.

"Look." He said quickly, voice strained. "I'm sorry if I creeped you out. I didn't mean to. I just— shit, I didn't know what to say. I didn't think you'd figure it out. Please... please don't be mad."

You turned to face him again, slowly. There was a gleam in your eyes now.

"Oh." You said with a fake pout. "You're scared?"

He nodded, lips trembling. His voice came out like a whisper. "A little."

You stepped closer, eyes scanning his body and there it was clear as day. The firm, obvious print in his jeans.

You scoffed. "You're seriously hard right now?"

He didn't answer.

You tilted your head. "I'm confronting you about being a creep, and you're standing there with a boner like some pathetic little loser?"

He swallowed hard, eyes locked on you like he couldn't look away, even if he wanted to.

You laughed quietly to yourself and took a breath, letting the tension stretch.

"I should report you." You said, voice low, eyes unwavering as you studied him.

"I know." He whispered.

"But I won't." You added, watching the way his chest began to rise and fall faster with every second.

His eyes darted up to meet yours. "Why?" He asked almost too quickly, like he couldn't believe his luck and didn't trust it.

You tilted your head, letting your eyes drag over him one more time. His hands were still trembling slightly at his sides, his ears were flushed a deep pink, his breathing uneven, his entire body locked in place like prey trying not to spook the predator.

And then the obvious bulge pressing against the front of his jeans twitching slightly, helplessly. Shame swam in his eyes, but behind it... curiosity, humiliation, hunger.

You bit your lip thoughtfully. "Or maybe I will."

You watched the blood drain from his face. You weren't serious— but God, you liked the way he looked when he thought you were. The way fear and arousal spread across his expression, like he didn't know whether to run or drop to his knees.

"I— please, I'm sorry." He said quickly. "I didn't mean to be a creep. I'll do anything."

Your eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. "Anything?"

He nodded, too fast. "Yeah, anything."

You let the silence stretch for a moment, tension coiling thick in the air between you. You stepped closer, slowly, until you were close enough to see every twitch in his jaw, every shaky breath.

"Come." You said, turning your back and walking toward the rear of the studio again.

He hesitated only a second before following, his footsteps trailing behind yours like he was caught in your gravity. You stopped once you were far enough in the back, the lights a little dimmer.

"Get on your knees." You said, calm and clear.

He blinked, like he was trying to process if he heard you right, but then he obeyed. Slowly, he sank to his knees in front of you, the floor creaking softly beneath him, eyes never leaving yours.

You smiled. He was obedient, nervous, eager, you liked that.

You hummed to yourself, tapping your cheek with your finger. "Now pull down my pants."

He reached out carefully, hands warm and slightly shaky as he placed them on your hips and slid your pants down, dragging them gently over your thighs, your knees, to your ankles. He kept his head bowed, like he didn't know where to look. You could practically feel the tension radiating off of him, the way he breathed shallowly, afraid to make one wrong move.

"Go lower." You instructed, voice smooth.

He shuffled backward, settling at your ankles, eyes wide and waiting.

"Now." You said with a crooked smile. "Lick, all the way up to my thigh."

His eyes flicked up to yours, checking, hesitant, but you nodded once, so he did it. Slowly, he leaned in and let his tongue drag a line up your leg,. When he reached your upper thigh, he paused, planting a soft kiss there.

You grabbed his chin firmly and yanked his face up, forcing him to look at you.

"Did I ask you to kiss me?" You asked, your voice quiet but sharp.

His eyes went wide in panic. "N- No, I'm sorry— I didn't mean to. What can I do? I'm sorry."

"Apologize again." You said, studying his face.

"I'm sorry." He said quickly. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to disobey."

You smiled condescendingly and pleased. "Good, now pull my pants back up."

He nodded, still on his knees as he gently slid the fabric up your legs again, like he was dressing something precious.

"Now stand up, loser." You said.

He scrambled to his feet, standing awkwardly in front of you, flushed and breathless, his hair slightly messy, his jeans visibly tight with arousal.

You stared at him for a long moment. Then smiled, soft and mocking. "I guess I won't report you."

Relief broke across his face like sunlight. "You won't?"

You shook your head. "Nope, but you owe me."

"I do." He nodded quickly. "I owe you. Anything."

You raised a brow. "Careful." You warned, stepping past him slowly. "You don't even know what I'm gonna ask."

He ran a hand through his hair, nervous, still flustered. "Still, I mean it."

You glanced at him once more. The shame on his face, the restraint, the fact that he hadn't pushed, hadn't crossed the line even when he clearly wanted to. You liked that. You trusted it, maybe just enough.

You clicked your tongue and walked toward the front again. At the door, you looked over your shoulder. "You're lucky you're cute." You said, smirking.

Then you slipped out, leaving him standing there— stunned, hard, and absolutely wrecked.

You'd been thinking about it for a while now. Every time you went live, every time you rewatched clips to edit, every time your inbox flooded with fantasies, suggestions, and "you should do this..." messages— your mind always drifted back to the idea.

What if it wasn't just you?

You liked your solo content. You liked the control, the freedom, the mystery. You had your rhythm, your image, your comfort zone and it worked, but the curiosity had started to grow.

Especially after what happened in the studio. You didn't even realize how often he crept into your thoughts— those soft brown eyes flicking up toward you, the flush of his neck, the panic and arousal battling in his expression. You hadn't even touched him, barely let him touch you, but the power you had over him had stayed with you like a drug.

And now you were wondering... would your fans want to see that?

Would they even be into something more real— something suggestive but still in your control? No actual sex, no crossing that line... just a taste, a tease. Something hot, but boundaried.

So that night, you set up your camera and went live— nothing heavy, just you bathed in the glow of your ring light, lounging in a loose off the shoulder shirt and barely there shorts.

"Hey, babies." You said, smiling as the chat immediately lit up.

You tilted your head. "So I've been thinking about something. I wanna run it by you guys..."

Curious emojis flooded the chat.

You bit your lip, dragging out the suspense. "So. Honest opinion— no pressure. Would you wanna see me do content with... a guy?"

The chat blew up instantly.

YE S YES YES

only if YOU want to

depends on the guy 😏

would it be real sex or just like... teasing??

who is he???

pls collab I'm dying

You grinned. "Calm down." You teased. "I'm not saying anything's for sure yet, but if I did... it wouldn't be full on sex. Just... content. Still my style, still me."

You leaned a little closer to the camera, voice softening. "But with someone I trust, someone who knows how to listen."

He flashed in your mind again— those wide, guilty eyes, the way his voice cracked when he said please, the way his hands trembled when they grazed your skin.

The chat continued to spiral.

that sounds hot

I like the idea of you being in control still

honestly yeah even just kissing would be good

bring him on screen already 😭

just no dick, pls

You laughed softly. "Don't worry, I'll keep it tasteful, you know me."

You watched the flood of excitement fill the screen, and you felt it— that same control again. Not just over your audience, but over the direction of your content.

You had an answer now and you already knew who he was going to be.

You pulled out your phone, thumb hovering for a moment before you opened Instagram and tapped on his profile.

You: Hey, you free tomorrow?

He read it instantly. The typing... bubble appeared and then disappeared. You waited, watching the screen.

jisungpark12: no, not working tomorrow. another artist will be in.

You paused, tapping your fingers against the screen, then typed again:

You: No, I mean to go out. Get coffee or something. I need to talk to you.

He saw it immediately.

Typing... stopped. Started again, then stopped.

Read.

Five minutes passed, then ten... thirty.

Finally, a reply:

jisungpark12: yes. i'm free. let's meet up.

You smiled faintly, then dropped a location pin to a quiet little café you liked.

[mafiadad5]

you're so amazing 🥹

STOPPP. U GUYS ARE🫶

[mafiadad5]

omg tbh i felt like i almost cried on all three + epilogue of teach me to not love you 😭 a masterpiece if not heaven-sent writings

Oh em geeee. Thank you so much😭🩷

[mafiadad5]

Teach me to not love, Epilouge: Haechan’ s Journal.

Read: Teach me to not love -> Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

W/c- 1.3k

Now playing: Journey Mercies- Mark Lee

══════════════════════════

Journal Entry #1 – The Day You Left

I messed up.

I keep replaying her face from that night— when it all finally hit her. She looked so exhausted, so tired. Not just physically, but like her soul had been carrying too much for too long.

Yeah, Jaemin was part of it, but so was I. Probably more than I want to admit.

I tried to protect her, but it was too late— and in the worst way. I thought just being there, having feelings, meant I was doing something right, but love isn't enough if your actions don't show up with it.

I wanted to explain everything. I wanted her to scream, to cry, to throw something, anything but just walk away, but I slipped up, and made it worse. Everything she said before she left... about me ending up alone... it hurt. Not because it was new, but because I've told myself that for years. Hearing it from her made it real though. Because she tried, she gave me a chance, and I blew it.

I drank myself sick that night. Don't even remember calling her. But when I woke up and saw her there— water on the nightstand, trash can by the bed, I knew I didn't deserve her.

I don't really know if I'm writing this for her or for me, maybe both.

But I know one thing: I want to be better. I have to be.

══════════════════════════

Journal Entry #2 – A Week After You Left

Therapy's weird.

I hate silence, but this kind of silence... it pulls the words out of you. And once I start talking, it's like I can't stop.

Today I told him I feel like I ruin every good thing that touches my life. That even my own parents didn't really want to deal with me. He asked when I learned to survive like that.

I didn't say anything at first, then I said everything.

We talked about control, about how I hold back, how I try to manage pain by never letting anyone get too close.

I realized something. I didn't just want her, I wanted the moment she chose me and I wanted to hold on to that moment forever. That's not love, that's fear dressed up as romance.

Real love lets people walk away, and still hope they find peace.

I'm starting to understand that.

══════════════════════════

Journal Entry #3 – One Month Later

If she ever comes back, and that's a big if... I'm not going to be the guy who just says, "I've changed."

I want her to see it. 

I'll show her patience. Speak softly, even when I'm hurting. I'll listen, even when I want to argue.

If she needs space, I'll give it. If she says no, I'll respect it. If she doubts me, I'll understand.

Clarity is something I need to meet, not fight.

Now, I just want to deserve her.

══════════════════════════

Journal Entry #4 – The Night You Came Back

She came back.

It felt like coming up for air after being underwater too long.

She looked different, not in a physical way, but like... whole. Like she found pieces of herself I never even realized she lost.

When she said she was willing to try again— slowly, I didn't feel like I got her back. I felt like I was being given a chance to love her right this time.

And that's the only way this works.

If this is all we are... soft steps forward, quiet moments, a journal and a promise, I'll take it.

══════════════════════════

Journal Entry #5 – One Month Later

We're still taking it slow.

Some people think slow means uncertain. Like we're tiptoeing around something fragile, but it doesn't feel like that.

It feels calm. Like we're both learning to breathe again in the same space, at our own pace.

She smiles more now. Not the kind of smile that hides things. This one's different, it's soft, real, and sometimes when she doesn't know I'm watching, it breaks my heart in the best way.

I didn't know watching someone else heal could feel like healing too.

I still get urges to rush— reach for her hand, kiss her, ask if she's mine yet, but I don't act on them. Not out of fear, but out of respect.

And honestly? I like this version of us.

If love is slow and steady, I'm finally ready for that kind.

══════════════════════════

Journal Entry #6 – Two Months Later

I think I'm ready to ask her out.

Not in the casual, "let's see where this goes" way. I mean for real, with intention.

I've thought about what I'd say. I'd tell her this isn't about our past, it's about what we've built through it.

That loving her like this— slow and steady... with care, has been the best thing I've ever done.

If she says no, I'll be okay.

That's how I know I'm really ready. I don't need her to say yes to feel whole. I don't need her to love me back to believe I'm worth loving.

Still... I really hope she says yes.

══════════════════════════

Journal Entry #7 – Five Months Later

She said yes.

I asked her while we were walking, hands in my pockets, stumbling over my words. I was so nervous, it probably didn't even make sense.

She laughed, then she smiled and said yes.

It wasn't fireworks, it wasn't some big cinematic moment. It was quiet and it meant everything. 

We're not perfect. We still have tough days, we still talk things through slowly, but now there's honesty.

She doesn't wonder if I'll change. I don't worry if she'll leave.

We both did the work. First alone, then together and now we're here. Still growing,  still healing, but in love— for real this time.

And if this is where the story ends... I wouldn't change a single word.

══════════════════════════

You stayed up later than you meant to. The apartment was quiet, just the hum of the AC and the soft rhythm of Haechan breathing beside you, out cold after insisting he "wasn't tired" and falling asleep twenty minutes into the movie.

The journal sat open in your lap.

You hadn't expected him to hand it over so casually tonight. Just said, "If you're ready... I think I want you to read this now."

And you were ready, you didn't realize it until the first few lines, then you couldn't stop.

Entry after entry— his fear, his shame, the way he tried and failed, and tried again. The way he broke things, the way he realized he wanted to fix them... not just for you, but for himself. The way he started to become someone better, even before you said yes.

You wiped your cheeks more than once.

Not because it was sad— but because it was honest.

And now, sitting here in the glow of the hallway light, with his words still fresh in your mind and his arm gently brushing yours in sleep, you felt it for real. 

You weren't the same girl who spiraled at parties and mistook chaos for love. He wasn't the same boy who ran when things got too real. You both unraveled and then rebuilt yourselves in the quiet, and in doing that, you somehow found each other again, not as broken people clinging to each other, but as two whole people finally learning how to hold love the right way.

You closed the journal, laid it on the nightstand, and slid under the covers beside him. He stirred slightly, mumbling your name like it was instinct. You smiled to yourself, letting your fingers trace gentle patterns along his back.

You weren't sure what the future held, but tonight, you were sure of this:

You were healed. You were in love. And this time, you weren't losing yourself to keep him.

══════════════════════════

a/n- hi guys ! Thank you so much for reading, I truly hope you enjoyed it. I poured so much of myself into this, so it’s a little bittersweet to let it go… but also kind of a relief, lol.

Just a quick reminder: part one, two, and the beginning of three portray a VERY toxic version of love. This is not how you deserve to be treated, so If you ever find yourself in a similar situation— run 😭.

And with that… goodbye 💋 <333

© mafiadad5 2025

[mafiadad5]

Teach me to not love || L. HC (part 3)

𐙚 fuckboy!haechan x fem!reader (ft. best friend jaemin)

𐙚 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 + bonus epilogue

𐙚 synopsis- Jaemin's out for revenge after Haechan slept with the girl he liked. You're just supposed to be a distraction, something pretty to keep Haechan's mind off of what Jaemin was doing. He's cute, addictive- you should stay away... you really should, but when he touches you like that how are you supposed to remember what's right?

𐙚 genre- college au, smut/ porn with plot (MDN/ 18+), angst, slight fluff, second chance.

𐙚 warnings- alcohol use, black out, mentions of throwing up, sexual activity under the influence, fingering, masturbation, dry humping, markings, arguing, heartbreak, betrayal.

𐙚 W/c- 15k

Now playing: Exit Music (For A Film) - Radiohead

a/n- here it is, the finale. I want to thank you all for the support and I hope you liked it— let me know what you thought. Luv y’all, mwah mwah 💋

tags- @dnylwoo @haeclips @millis-diary @bbhbungee @sooohey @captainchrisstan @chocojiji @imnotrosiee @meatballsub420

══════════════════════════

Wednesday, a few days after he appeared.

Your mind was still spiraling— just a bit less now. You hadn't called him even though he told you to, it didn't feel right. Well, that and the fact that you were buried in projects, trying to keep yourself distracted, productive, anything but still.

You were sitting there, a little too idle now, having wrapped up your milestone for the day. 8:49 PM. You stared at the time for a moment, chewing at your bottom lip. A few more minutes passed like that. Fuck it. What could really go more wrong at this point?

You picked up your phone and clicked on his contact. It rang long, long enough for you to start regretting it. You were just about to hang up when his voice came through the speaker.

"Hello."

Your brows lifted, eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Oh— hello?" You said, the shock in your voice unmissable.

"Yo, wassup." He replied casually, his tone unreadable.

"Nothing, I'm just bored, y'know."

"Yeah, I feel you." A second passed. "Listen, sorry but I'm really really busy right now so I'll just hit you back later or something."

"Oh. Oh, okay." Your voice softened.

He hesitated for a second. "Oh, um— party tomorrow. You coming?" His words were quick, like he forced them out before changing his mind.

"I'll think about it. Kinda have a lot to do." You said honestly.

"Cool. Bye."

And just like that, he hung up. Alright then. It was the first time he'd picked up your call ever, so there was that at least. You didn't let yourself overthink it, just let it be.

The next night came quicker than expected. You finished everything you needed to do earlier than planned, you actually hadn't been this productive in a while. So, with little left to distract yourself, you went to the party.

You arrived, same scene, same crowd. Scanning for familiar faces, one in particular.

You found him quickly— but your smile dropped. There he was, same cocky grin, same glint in his eye, but this time he was standing with a girl too close... way too close. His arm lazily slung around her, leaning in, sharing sips from her drink.

Your stomach sank, breath turned shallow. Your body froze and burned all at once. Your thoughts scattered, unsure what to do, but before you could process anything your feet were already moving toward him.

"Um, hey." You said carefully.

He looked over, eyes changing when he saw you, but smile dropping. 

"Can we talk privately for a second?"

He exhaled dramatically, annoyed, but nodded. He followed you down the nearby hallway, away from the noise and attention.

"What are you doing?" You asked, your voice low but firm, eyes fixed on his.

"Chilling. Why are you being extra?" He snapped back.

"Why am I being extra?" Your voice lifted with disbelief. "You know what you're doing, you literally invited me. If this is still about what happened with your brother I told you I was sorry."

He scoffed. "First of all, I never invited you. I asked if you were coming and you said maybe. I didn't fucking beg you to show up tonight."

"Oh, but I'm 'always invited' right? That's what you said." Your voice cracked.

"Okay, Y/n." He said flatly.

"Okay? That's it?" You asked, hurt surfacing.

He sighed again and looked away briefly before turning back. "You know, honestly Y/n..." His tone shifted— colder. "I'm fucking bored with you, okay? I'm tired. I want something different tonight. Someone who doesn't make a big deal out of me not answering their calls. Someone who doesn't take everything so seriously and emotionally."

 He paused. "Someone who doesn't make me wear protection for casual, regular, simple sex."

You blinked, stunned as his words sank in.

"This is only about sex to you?" You asked quietly.

"Literally, yes. That's all it was ever supposed to be. We're not dating, we're not anything special. So just get over it."

His words stung like a slap. You stood frozen, chest tightening, breath catching as your mind scrambled to make sense of it.

"Get over it?" You questioned, voice shaky. "I can't believe you."

"Seriously, why are you surprised? You knew what you were getting into, you knew what this was— who I was. So yeah, get over it."

And just like that, he turned and walked away quickly, unapologetic, like none of it mattered.

You just stood there. The sting of his words burned beneath your skin. Your mind replayed it all— his kisses that felt too careful, the way he used to listen when you rambled like he cared. It didn't feel casual, it never did. You thought it meant something.

You should've left then. Should've gone out to your car and cried it out alone, but instead, you ended up in the kitchen, grabbing the nearest bottle, the biggest one. One shot became two, then three, then you chugging half the bottle while strangers  cheered like it was a show. You couldn't even hear them, everything blurred. 

You stumbled back down the hallway for a break, sliding against the wall until you hit the floor, bottle still in hand. You closed your eyes, maybe to stop the spinning, maybe to hold back tears, maybe both.

"Y/n?"

Your eyes fluttered open. You turned slowly to the voice.

"Jaemin? What the fuck?" You said, standing a little wobbly.

He stepped closer, a cautious steadiness in his eyes. "Can we talk?"

"You're fucked up." You replied.

"You're fucked up too. If we can still speak, we can talk." His voice was gentle, not defensive.

You looked at him for a long second, trying to focus through the fog before nodding. "Alright, talk."

He ran a hand through his hair, pausing before speaking. "Listen... I'm seriously sorry about everything I said to you."

"That all?" You mumbled.

"No." He said quickly. "I haven't been the best friend. I just... I wanted to keep you away from a guy like him. I know I wasn't always nice about it, but you didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve anything I said to you and I'm sorry. I love you, Y/n. I always have."

You smiled faintly. "It's cool."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but someone else's voice interrupted.

"There you are."

You both turned. It was the Mark guy from last time.

"Do you know where Haechan is bro?" He asked Jaemin.

Jaemin shook his head, lips in a tight line. "Naw."

Mark rolled his eyes slightly before pausing, turning to you. "What about you— do you know where he is?"

"Why would I know?" You questioned, laughing a bit. 

His brows furrowed slightly, confusion twisting his face. "You're like— his girl."

You paused for a second the word echoing in your mind 'his girl'. He didn't act like it, all that he said tonight and his friends are calling you his girl? Right. 

"Last time I seen him he was with a girl— he's probably fucking her." You said, the words coming out your mouth too easy, too bitter.

"Naw." Mark said, staring at the ceiling like he was thinking. "He wasn't with a girl when I saw him a few minutes ago. I don't know, I checked in his room, the backyard, everywhere— nothing. His car is still here though." 

He isn't with a girl? Since when. Your mind started racing again, trying to think as logically as you could in the state you were at right now. 

"I'm getting kind of worried." You said without thinking, eyes glossy.

"I'm sure he just took a car somewhere or something." Jaemin pipped in. 

Mark nodded in agreement, scratching his head, cursing slightly under his breath. 

"What do you need with him?" You asked, curiousity taking the best of you. 

"He has my blunt." Mark said in a sigh.

Jaemin chuckled lightly, honestly, more of a scoff. "Man, if you don't get the fuck on." He said, pushing Marks shoulder slightly.

"Shit, my bad. Didn't know it was that serious. Let me know if you see Haechan." Mark said, walking down the hallway, scratching the back of his head. 

You stared at him as he left, zoned out for a second too long before turning back. Jaemin's eyes were already on you— focused, something glinting in them.

"Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?" You asked, your words slurring slightly.

"Like what?" He replied, inching closer to you with casual ease that felt far too practiced.

"Like... that." You motioned vaguely, a tired, crooked smile tugging at your lips.

"I don't know." He said, smirking. "I guess I just missed you. Missed seeing your face, your eyes, your—" His gaze flicked down."...lips."

You just giggled lazily, your head falling back slightly as your eyelids drooped.

"You didn't miss me just a little bit?" He pressed, now standing directly in front of you, his expression filled with something light, teasing.

"What am I gonna do with you?" You murmured, shaking your head, half amused, half dazed.

"I've got a few suggestions." His voice dropped lower, smoother.

You opened your mouth to say something back, but then suddenly the room spun.

Your smile fell.

Everything hit at once, shutting your eyes, hand instinctively reaching for Jaemin to stay grounded.

"You okay?" He muttered, steadying you quickly. "Fuck— can you make it upstairs?"

You just nodded weakly as he wrapped your arm over his shoulder, raising you up. He guided you through the crowd, shielding you from the curious glances.

"Hang in there, I got you." He said, his breath a little rushed. He led you straight into the bathroom, flipping the toilet lid up and helping you kneel in front of it just in time.

"There you go, let it out." He said gently, one hand holding your hair, the other rubbing slow, comforting circles on your back as everything poured out of you.

You didn't say anything, just coughed, groaning softly, trying to breathe through the burn.

"I'll be right back, okay? Gonna grab you some water." He stood, hesitating for a moment, watching you slump against the wall before disappearing.

You sat there for a second, catching your breath. Once the spinning calm downed, you forced yourself up on shaky legs. You splashed cold water on your face with a washcloth, numbing your flushed skin. Your eyes found the bottle of mouthwash under the sink, and you took a quick swig, trying to rinse away the taste of shame and alcohol.

When Jaemin returned, he handed you a red cup of water and closed the door softly behind him.

"Thanks." You mumbled, taking a sip. The cold relief hit your throat like glass.

"You feeling any better?"

"Yeah." You nodded, slowly. "I just... I think I need to rest. I'll be okay after that."

"You drove here?" He asked.

"Yeah." You nodded.

"Then let me take you home. You can grab your car tomorrow."

"No, that's too much. I'm not leaving my car here." You said, waving a hand lazily. "I'll crash here a bit. I'll leave when I'm sober."

He stared at you like you just confessed a felony. "Y/n, that's a fucking terrible idea."

"Jaemin, seriously." You said firmly, cutting him off. "I'm not doing this with you tonight. I really don't have the energy."

He sighed, lips pressed into a tight line before nodding. "Alright. Just... text me when you get home. I wanna make sure you're alright."

"Noted." You gave him a soft, exhausted smile. "Thank you."

He lingered a second longer, like he wanted to say something else, but didn't. Then he left.

You pulled out your phone and shot Haechan a quick message— told him you were sick, asked if there was a room you could rest in, promised you'd be gone by morning... no reply.

You rolled your eyes, of course.

You made your way to his room anyway, tugging off your shoes and the uncomfortable pants digging into your waist. You sank into the bed, eyes shutting before your head even hit the pillow.

About an hour and a half later, your eyes snapped open.

Your chest rose quickly as you sat up, heart beating fast. You rubbed at your face, trying to blink the haze away. Everything still felt off— your body heavy, your mind foggy. You weren't even sure if it was just the alcohol anymore. You turned toward the nightstand, eyes catching on an unopened can sitting there, no label, no clue what it was. You picked it up, squinted at it, turning it in your hands.

The door creaked open.

"Was throwing up the first time not enough?"

Your head snapped up. Haechan.

You scoffed quietly, setting the can back on the nightstand without a word.

"Oh, you're ignoring me now?" He said as he stepped in, closing the door behind him and locking it.

You didn't look at him. "Your friends are looking for you." You said quietly, your voice flat. "You disappeared."

"They found me." He replied. "Was with my sister. The stupid fucker had my location."

He walked toward your side of the bed. "I got you some water." He said, placing a red solo cup down next to you.

Then, like nothing had happened, he sat at the edge of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head.

"Why are you acting like nothing happened?" You asked suddenly, voice cracking under the weight of your restraint.

He paused, head tilted slightly. "Huh?"

"Everything you said earlier. All that shit. You just walked away like it didn't matter."

He paused, then bent down, taking his shoes off. "Oh, that?" He said with a shrug. "Yeah, I changed my mind."

Your eyebrows shot up. "You changed your mind?"

"Didn't even fuck her." He added carelessly, like that erased it.

"I don't believe you." You said, voice cold.

He stood and began tugging off his pants. "Did you believe what I said earlier?"

You hesitated, then shook your head. "Honestly... I think I'm sober enough now. I'll just go."

You swung your legs off the bed, but the moment your feet hit the floor your body caved under its own weight.

"Yeah." He said quickly, pulling the blanket aside. "You're not going anywhere."

He settled beside you again comfortably... too comfortable.

"Just drink some water and chill. You'll be fine."

You didn't answer, you just turned your back to him, facing the wall.

"Are you really that mad at me?" He murmured, breath warm on your skin.

You didn't answer him, just exhaled irritated, flipping over onto your side, your back facing him. You rolled your eyes when you felt the bed dip as he moved closer, his chest pressing up against your back.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "C'mon." He murmured, coaxing. "You know I didn't mean it."

You scoffed, unmoved. "You know, you're the most exhausting person in the entire world."

"Yeah?" He replied lowly. His lips ghosted the shell of your ear, then drifted down to your neck, the touch barely there.

"Yeah." You snapped, though your voice was softer now. "And you're... you're the worst person I've ever met."

"I know." He whispered again, a little grin in his tone, like he liked the way you hated him, like he wanted to see how far you'd go before breaking.

His hand slid lower, trailing slowly down your torso. His fingers dipped under the waistband of your underwear, grazing the skin there before slipping inside.

You inhaled sharply as his fingertips brushed against your slickness, teasing your folds slowly. He pressed a kiss to your neck, hotter now.

"Wow." He breathed, lips dragging over your skin. "So wet."

You swallowed back a moan, breath hitching. "You really think you deserve to be fucked right now?" You murmured, voice low and shaky, but still sharp.

"I don't." He admitted softly, the words brushing against your skin. "But you do."

He flattened his tongue against your neck, licking a slow line up to your ear before whispering, "Use me."

That made you stop.

You turned your head slowly, facing him now. His eyes met yours, darker and glossier than before. He meant it, you could see it in the way his mouth parted, in the way his breath caught when your eyes locked.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked, voice eager in a way it's never been before.

"Keep going." You said quietly.

He smiled, but it vanished the second he dipped his head, mouth devouring your neck again, lips,  tongue, and teeth dragging across your skin. His fingers moved more now, rubbing slow circles over your clit before dipping down to tease your entrance, just barely pushing in.

"I'll do whatever you want." He whispered, fingers still working you open. "Just tell me."

His mouth stayed on your neck, trailing open mouthed kisses, tongue dragging across the skin like he was trying to taste every sound you made. But it was his fingers that kept you gasping, pushing deeper now, curling perfectly inside you while his thumb rolled slow circles over your clit.

You arched into his hand. He groaned lowly against your throat, the sound muffled, almost like he was trying to stay quiet, but couldn't help himself.

His fingers fucked into you harder, knuckles brushing slick heat with every movement. You were so wet, your arousal coating his hand and sliding down your thighs, the sound of it filling the room.

You cried out when he slipped a third finger in without warning, stretching you wider. Your hand shot out, gripping at the sheets trying to ground yourself.

Your body jerked when his thumb pressed harder, rolling faster circles right over the spot that made you twitch. He felt the way you clenched around his fingers, and he didn't let up.

He fucked you with his fingers like he knew you better than you knew yourself. Like he wanted to pull every sound out of you, every reaction, until there was nothing left of your pride— just need.

He buried his face in your neck, teeth grazing your skin, breath hot as he kept moving his fingers inside you.

Your thighs clenched around his hand, your body tensing, even then his fingers didn't stop. They kept driving into you, rough and fast, curling just right inside you. He had you locked in place, your back flush to his chest, his other arm wrapped firm around your waist, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

You choked on a moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as your hips bucked.

"Fuck." You whimpered out.

Your whole body jerked, clenching around his fingers as you came with a loud cry. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as your orgasm hit you hard.

He didn't slow down, even as you finished, he kept fucking you with his fingers, your nails were digging into the sheets.

Your body fell against him, boneless, twitching slightly as the aftershocks rolled through you.

Your breath was still shaky, body still twitching, but something shifted in you. You turned in his grip, and before he could process it you pushed him back, flipping him onto his back with force that even surprised him.

He hit the mattress with a grunt, eyes wide, caught between confusion and anticipation.

He reached for your underwear, fingers sliding to the waistband like he thought he was still in control.

"No." You said flatly, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down against the bed. 

He blinked up at you, eyebrows raised. "Seriously?" He muttered, cocking his head. "You're gonna make me wait like that?"

You didn't answer. Instead, your grip tightening on his wrists. "Did I ask you to speak?"

His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. He stared up at you stunned. For once, he had nothing to say.

You released one wrist and tapped his cheek lightly. "Aw, look at that. You're doing good already, such a fast learner."

He didn't respond, just stared at you like he didn't recognize this version of you— and maybe he didn't. Maybe he never knew how far you could push him.

You slid your hips forward once, just enough for your soaked underwear to press against him— enough for him to feel how close you were, how warm you were, without giving him anything.

He gasped.

You froze immediately, smiling wider. "I barely even moved." You whispered, tilting your head. "And you're already gasping?"

His hands curled into fists against the sheets, his jaw flexing, trying to hold it in.

Too late.

You rolled your hips again slower, dragging yourself against him, the heat and friction driving him crazy. He let out a low groan, biting his lip, but the noise still slipped free.

You laughed softly. "That's pathetic." You said, voice silky. "Already whining like I've done something special."

He arched into you slightly, but you pressed your palm against his chest, holding him down.

You didn't give him time to recover.

Your hips started moving again, slow at first, rolling into him with that same cruel precision, but the moment you felt the way he twitched under you, the way his breath caught and his fingers tightened in the sheets, you picked up the pace, faster and rougher.

Your nails dug into his chest for balance as you rode him, hips snapping against his, your soaked underwear still pressed between you both, friction building unbearably fast. His eyes were locked on you now. His mouth parted in a soundless moan, like he couldn't even form words anymore.

You leaned in close, lips brushing his jaw without kissing him. "Feels good, doesn't it?" You whispered against his skin, your breath heavy. "Getting used like this."

He didn't answer, couldn't. He just whimpered and it only made you grind down harder, circling your hips once slowly before slamming down again.

You were close, too. You could feel it starting to burn low in your stomach, spreading fast. Your rhythm grew more erratic, desperate even, but you refused to lose control. You kept him pinned, your hand against his chest, pushing down hard.

He bucked his hips up, trying to match your movements, chasing it, gasping now. His hands flew up to grab at your waist like he needed something to hold onto. 

His mouth was moving, voice cracking. "Fuck, please, I'm gonna—"

You slammed your hips down harder, cutting him off, and he cried out. You could feel him trembling under you, his whole body tightening.

"Please let me come, fuck. I need it, I can't... I'm so close, please—"

You smirked through your own breathing. "You're begging now?" You murmured. "Look at you..."

He nodded, barely able to breathe, a wreck beneath you.

You were right there too, your body shaking with restraint, trying not to come first— trying to hold on long enough to decide if you were going to let him finish at all.

You didn't slow down. Not when his moans got louder, not when his hands clawed at your hips, not even when his head tipped back and his mouth dropped open with a gasp that sounded more like a sob.

You felt it— his whole body tensing beneath you, a sharp cry coming from his throat as he came in his boxers, hot and messy between your bodies. His thighs jerked uncontrollably, his chest heaving, hands gripping you tightly, but you didn't stop, you didn't even pause.

You kept moving, dragging your soaked heat against him through the aftermath of his high, hips grinding harder.

"Look at you." You murmured with a soft laugh. "Didn't even last, came in your fucking boxers like some desperate boy."

He whimpered under you, blinking up at you like he couldn't believe you were still moving.

You rolled your hips again slowly, and his whole body shuddered violently.

"Fuck— fuck, please." He gasped, voice shaking, louder now, eyes wide. "I can't, it's too much."

You grabbed his jaw, forcing his face back towards yours. "Then take it."

"Please, I can't. I'll come again— please stop, please."

But you didn't.

You kept going, eyes locked on his, breathing heavy. His moans turned to gasps, then to whines, his body twitching violently with every pass of your hips.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his voice cracking.

Your hips moved faster, and the more he squirmed under you, the louder he got, the harder you rode him. His boxers were soaked now— warm and sticky.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum." You said, head falling back as your movements became messier. 

Your body tensed, a choked moan coming from your throat as you reached your climax, your thighs trembling. And under you he was still squirming, overstimulated, but you stayed on him, letting the last shocks of your orgasm pulse through both of you.

You finally slowed, thighs trembling slightly as you lifted yourself off of him.

He looked ruined— flushed, hair a mess, his boxers soaked and sticking to him in the most humiliating way. His chest was still rising and falling hard, but as you sat beside him, a smile broke across his face.

"Shit." He exhaled, glancing over at you with a dazed grin. "That was... fuck, so good. Round two? Can we— can we actually fuck now?" He said, with faint left over arrogance.

You didn't say anything right away. You just stared at him, eyebrows slightly raised, lips parting like you were considering it. Then you tilted your head and gave him a look so cold, so dry, it silenced him instantly.

"Honestly?" You said. "You can go fuck yourself."

His smile dropped. "W— what?"

"You heard me." You leaned back, propping yourself on your elbows. "You can go fuck yourself."

He blinked clearly confused. "Wait— like... actually?"

You gave him a dark smile. "Right here. With me watching."

He stared, completely stunned.

"Well?" You asked. "I'm waiting."

He swallowed hard, then his hand started to move, slowly slipping beneath the waistband of his ruined boxers, his eyes locked on yours the whole time.

You didn't blink, didn't look away, you just leaned back fully, legs still slightly spread, gaze sharp as you watched him obey.

He was flushed, chest still heaving from everything you'd already done to him, and now here he was... obeying you, shame blooming across his face as he started to stroke himself.

You tilted your head, eyes fixed on the motion, the slick sounds already starting to fill the quiet space between you.

"God." You exhaled, voice low and amused. "Look at you."

His eyes flicked up to yours, like he was searching for something, permission, praise, maybe relief? Whatever it was, you weren't going to give it to him.

"Didn't even last five minutes, and you're already hard again?" You taunted. "You're actually pathetic."

His pace faltering for just a second before picking up again— faster this time, more desperate.

"Don't slow down." You warned, shifting slightly to spread your legs wider, giving him a full view as you sat back, one hand dragging down your inner thigh casually. 

He bit his lip, nodding quickly, his hand moving faster now, breathing turning shaky again. His eyes stayed locked on you, taking in the way you sat there, smug, but still a bit flushed from your own orgasm. Your presence alone had him falling apart again.

"You gonna come again just from your hand?" You whispered. "With me watching you like this?"

He let out a shaky gasp, his hips jerking upward slightly and you caught it instantly.

"Oh my god." You said, laughing softly. "You're gonna do it, aren't you? Finish like this all messy and pathetic with me just sitting here." You reached forward, dragging a single fingertip up the inside of his thigh, not touching him where he needed, just enough to make him twitch.

His whole body tensed again, a broken moan escaping his throat as his hand sped up, gasping, eyes locked on you like he needed your gaze just to fall apart.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—" He cried out, voice cracking.

You leaned in, lips nearly brushing his ear.

"Do it." You whispered.

His whole body tensed up, a loud whimper escaping his throat as he came for the second time.

You just watched, your legs spread lazily, one hand propping you up while the other dragged absentminded patterns against your inner thigh like you weren't even all that impressed, like he wasn't anything special.

"Aw. Was that hard for you?" You asked, voice filled with condescension. 

He didn't answer, couldn't. His lips parted like he might try, but nothing came out. Just a shaky exhale as he turned his head to look at you, face red, chest flushed, hands twitching slightly like he didn't know where to put them now.

"Twice in one night." You said, dragging your finger up your thigh again. "Didn't even need to touch you the second time." You said, laughing under your breath.

You stayed still for a moment longer, watching him breathe, his chest still rising hard. 

You tilted your head slightly. "Come here."

He didn't hesitate, just nodded, crawling forward slowly. His knees shifted across the mattress until he was right in front of you waiting, still caught in whatever trance you'd pulled him into.

You gave a soft sigh, pausing for a second, looking at him. "On second thought... I'm bored with you."

His face dropped slightly, eyes growing just a little wider, and his mouth opened like he didn't know if he'd heard you right.

"W— what?" He said, blinking fast. "No, no, wait, I can— I can make you not bored. Just tell me what to do, I'll do anything, really."

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're really this desperate?" You said flatly. "For... casual, regular, simple sex?"

He paused, didn't answer right away. "I'm sorry." He said quickly, too quick. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean— I mean I just.. please, I didn't mean to make it feel like that. I didn't mean to ruin it—"

"Stop talking." You cut in. "I'm done with you."

His mouth hung open, chest still moving, eyes searching yours for any sign of mercy.

"Now please..." You said, voice dropping colder than ever. "Go shower, you're fucking disgusting."

He froze, letting out a faint exhale.

And then absurdly, he smiled. Just a small twitch at the corner of his mouth, nodding. "Yeah, okay."

He stood up slowly, and left the room without another word. You laid back down, flipping onto your side again, the exact same position you'd been in before all of it started, your lips curved up just slightly in a satisfied smile.

══════════════════════════

You woke up to the soft light filtering through the blinds. For a moment, you didn't know where you were, but sheets smelled faintly like him— distinctly Haechan. You blinked the haze out of your eyes, gradually sitting up.

Next to you, Haechan sat propped against the headboard, absently scrolling through his phone like it was any normal morning. You turned slightly, watching him for a second. He looked relaxed, completely unbothered, like last night never even happened.

"Oh, you're awake." He said, glancing over at you.

You didn't respond right away, just swung your legs off the side of the bed, grounding yourself with your hands in your lap as you stared down at the floor. Your head still felt slightly heavy, the remnants of everything from the night before pressing down on your chest.

"Um, you hungry?" He added, his tone light.

"I'll probably just pick up something on the way home." You muttered, about to stand.

"Wait—" He said quickly, sitting up straighter. "I can... I can just cook us something."

You shook your head gently, already pushing yourself to your feet. "You're good, I swear—"

"And I have to talk to you about something." He added, cutting you off mid sentence.

You froze.

A long moment of silence stretched before you gave in with a quiet sigh and nod, slowly settling back on the edge of the bed.

"Okay." You said simply.

He offered a faint smile before hopping up and leaving the room. "Okay, I'll call you when it's done."

Twenty minutes passed before he called your name from downstairs. You took your time going down, still slightly dazed, still unsure what exactly he had to say.

When you got to the kitchen, the table was set. He was already sitting down, looking up as you walked in.

"Wow." You said with a small smirk. "Didn't know you knew how to cook."

"Surprise." He said with a casual shrug.

 You took a bite of the food, eyebrows lifting slightly in approval.

"Good." You muttered, almost reluctantly.

"Oh, thank you, thank you." He grinned, but then: "Oh, what the fuck was that last night?"

You looked up, expecting to see his defenses up, ready to brush things off as a mistake. Instead, his face was lit up with amusement, a grin on his face, no shame.

You giggled, the corner of your mouth twitching. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" He echoed dramatically, setting down his fork. "I mean, how you acted. I've never tried anything like that before."

You tilted your head. "Did you like it?"

"Did I like it? I loved it." He said without hesitation. "I've always wanted to try something like that out before, but I just didn't really trust anyone like that. It just turned me off with other girls, you know? But you—"

He was rambling now, his words flowing fast and unfiltered. "We definitely have to do it again, I mean— if you were into it?"

You smiled faintly, but there was a heaviness sitting behind your eyes. "Oh, so you're not bored anymore, huh?" The words left your mouth before you could pull them back.

The atmosphere immediately changed. He stilled, the brightness in his face dimming as the sound of your fork scraping the plate echoed like thunder in the silence.

"That's what I have to talk to you about, actually." He said, voice low.

You nodded, waiting, watching him gather himself, but then a loud knock suddenly hit the front door.

Both of your heads turned.

He frowned slightly, standing from his chair and walking over. You exhaled slowly, your lips tightening into a strained expression when the door opened.

It was her— the girl from last night.

"Hey, cutie. I think I left my bra here, can I come in?" She said brightly, smiling at him like you didn't exist.

"It's not here." Haechan said, his voice noticeably hushed, like he hoped you couldn't hear.

"No, I'm sure it's here." She said, taking a step forward. "C'mon, let me just take a quick look. Won't take me long— unless you want it to be long."

You didn't have to see him to know he looked exhausted. "Make it quick." He muttered.

She walked in, eyes scanning the place like she owned it. She made a dramatic turn toward the stairs.

"You know it's not up there, so cut it out." Haechan called out, annoyed.

She giggled. "Oh right, silly me. I just figured you would've put it away for me after I left it. Didn't think you'd seriously leave it in the bathroom for anyone to pick up."

Your jaw clenched.

She spun around again, searching the room, and then her gaze landed on you, her smile widening.

"Oh my goodness, this must be your sister? Hi! You're so pretty!"

You scoffed, an actual scoff, sharp and disbelieving as you turned toward Haechan. His eyes were already on you, guilt written all over them.

She disappeared around the corner and returned moments later, holding a black lace bra between her fingers like a trophy. "Found it!" She said, beaming.

"Good, now get out." Haechan snapped.

"Aww, okay." She said playfully, heading for the door. "See you later, cutie."

"Right." His voice was hollow as he shut the door behind her with a loud slam.

Silence.

Then you stood up slowly, pushing your chair back.

"Y/n, I swear—" He started, voice low and cautious.

"Yeah." You said softly, turning towards the stairs.

"Fuck. Y/n, wait—" He reached for your wrist.

You yanked it back. "Get the fuck off of me."

"Can you just let me explain?" He pleaded.

"Let you explain what? Every time you explain, the story changes. There's nothing to explain!" Your voice cracked at the edges, anger and betrayal spilling out in equal measure.

"Look, I know how it looks, but I swear I didn't fuck her."

"Oh?" You scoffed. "Her bra just teleported into your bathroom and now nobody knows what happened? You knew exactly where it was."

"Yeah I know, but we didn't do anything." He insisted.

"So what— she took her bra off for shits and giggles?"

"Yeah." He said, voice shaky.

You just shook your head. "You're a fucking joke."

You walked past him, storming back into his room to grab your pants. He followed you, desperate.

"We didn't fuck, we didn't even kiss— you've gotta believe me."

"Well, I don't. How can I fucking believe you?" You shouted, your voice breaking now as you shoved your shoes on. "You're nothing but a sex addicted, sorry excuse for a human being, and you think I'm seriously gonna believe you?"

He stood there quietly, his chest rising and falling, then something in him snapped.

"Oh, I'm a sorry excuse for a human being?" He shouted. "All that shit you did a year ago and you're talking about me? Take a look at yourself. You run back, don't you? You don't believe me, but you still let me touch you last night, right?"

You stopped dead in your tracks, your whole face twisting, rage bubbling up in your throat.

"Fuck you." You spat, venom in your voice.

"Fuck you." He shot back, almost automatic.

You stormed up to him, eyes burning, jabbing your finger into his chest. "I loved you. I gave you chance after fucking chance and you still fucked it up. People like you will always be lonely, no matter how many girls you fuck or how many you break. No one wants to deal with you."

He didn't speak. His mouth opened slightly, but the words didn't come as his eyes glistened.

"I really thought— God, I really thought that somewhere in there, you had love. That you actually cared about something more than yourself, but you're just a selfish fucking prick."

He opened his mouth again. "Oh, I'm a selfish prick?" His voice cracked now, raised but not loud— just hurt.

"Yeah." You said bitterly. "And I give up, I'm done with you."

You turned and headed for the stairs. He followed again, footsteps frantic behind you.

"Done with me?" He scoffed. "Leave then. I don't give a fuck."

You were already crying as you hit the bottom of the stairs, rushing toward the door. Tears streamed down your face, but you didn't care.

"You're nothing but a body to me. You really think I care?" He called after you, the words landing like a slap.

You stopped cold, hand on the doorknob. Then turned back to look at him one last time.

"Fuck you, Haechan." You whispered through your tears. Then you yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind you, storming to your car without looking back.

The drive home was chaotic, your mind spiraling the entire way. Your grip on the steering wheel was tight. Everything blurred together: Haechan's voice, the girl's face, the slam of the door behind you, it rang in your ears long after you pulled into your driveway.

The second you stepped through the door, you headed straight for the shower. You didn't bother to undress carefully— your clothes were on the floor within seconds. The water was scalding, but you barely noticed. You stood there, letting it rush over you like it could wash away the ache, the sting in your throat from screaming and crying. You scrubbed until your skin was aching, but no matter how hard you tried, the weight inside your chest stayed exactly where it was.

After drying off and pulling on a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt, you dropped into bed, damp hair soaking into the pillow. You sat there in silence, the room was still... too still.

You didn't want to be alone— not right now. Your roommates were out, like always. You stared at the ceiling for a moment before biting your lip, reaching for your phone. Your fingers hesitated over your screen, but then instinct took over.

You dialed Jaemin.

It rang once... twice.

Then his voice. "About time I hear from you."

"Jaemin." Your voice cracked around his name, tears you thought were gone welling again.

"What's wrong?" His tone changed immediately. You could picture the way his brows furrowed, his whole face shifting into concern.

"Can you come?" Your voice was so small.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'll be there in... fifteen minutes." He paused, then sighed. "Thirty."

"Okay." You whispered.

Thirty five minutes later, a knock landed at your door.

You opened it slowly— and there he was standing with your favorite takeout in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other. His expression was soft, warm, like he was showing up for someone he deeply cared about, and he was.

Your lips wobbled, a pout forming as you tried to keep it together, but your chest caved in again.

"Oh my gosh..." You mumbled.

"Aw, poor baby." He stepped inside immediately, shutting the door behind him before pulling you into his arms.

The moment you buried your face in his chest, you broke. Your tears poured out, soaking his shirt as your fingers clutched at him like you'd drown if you let go. You stayed like that for a while— no words, just his hands gently rubbing your back, his chin resting on your head.

When you finally pulled away, a large wet patch stained his shirt.

"Damn, girl." He said with a soft laugh, tugging at the fabric and inspecting it.

"Sorry." You sniffled, letting out a half laugh through your sorrow.

"It's okay. C'mon, let's go to your room."

His hand settled on your back, guiding you down the hall.

You sat on the edge of your bed, eyes still swollen, nose stuffy, while he placed the food down and peeled off his shirt. He paused, looking down.

"Through the tank top too." He laughed, pulling that off as well.

That's when your eyes landed on his skin— and the faint outline of hickeys scattered across his chest and collarbone.

"Wow." You blinked, eyes widening.

His brows furrowed at first before realization hit him and he chuckled. "I could say the same thing to you." He murmured, walking toward you. His fingers gently ran along the markings on your neck, ghosts from the night before.

You hummed, a quiet sound in your throat as you looked up at him with a small smile.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened now?" He asked gently.

You looked down for a second, then back up at him. "I don't wanna talk about it. Can you just... stay?"

"Yeah, of course." His smile was soft, understanding.

You both climbed into bed. His arm rested around your shoulder, his fingers tracing slow circles into your arm. Your legs brushed under the blanket, your body gradually settling into the quiet comfort of his presence.

After a while, you turned to him. "Why did it take you so long to reach back out?"

He didn't look away. "I just wanted to give you space. I didn't wanna overstep. I figured when you were ready, you'd talk to me, but I couldn't wait anymore so I took the initiative."

"Oh." You nodded slowly, then turned to face him fully. "You really thought I'd reach out first after everything you said?"

He looked at you, guilt flickering across his features. "I realized how stupid that was."

"Mmm." You hummed softly.

Silence followed again. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head against his bare chest. His skin was warm against your cheek, the steady beat of his heart grounding you.

That's when the thoughts came back, rising fast.

"Bro... I don't know." You whispered into his chest. "I really thought he loved me."

His voice was gentle. "Yeah?"

"He acted like he did— sometimes." You said, pulling your head back to look up at him, your eyes glassy again. "I don't know why I'm even still crying over him."

"I understand." He said quietly. "I told you he was trouble."

"I know." You sighed. "I should've listened. Ugh— I really thought I could change him."

That made Jaemin chuckle softly.

"It's not funny." You muttered, swatting his chest lightly.

"I know, I know." He smiled, brushing your tears away with his thumb.

"Listen, it's over now." He murmured, hand sliding down your cheek to cup it softly. "And everything's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay, right?"

You groaned, turning your head away, but his fingers caught your chin and gently guided your face back to his.

"Okay?" He repeated.

You nodded, barely. "Okay."

The space between you changed. His eyes stayed on yours, soft but intense. His hand didn't leave your face and you didn't move either. You leaned in slightly, then stopped yourself.

"It's okay." He whispered, his voice low, his breath brushing against your lips. "Do it."

You hesitated again, but then he leaned in,  pausing just an inch away. "Or I will." He added, before finally closing the space.

His lips met yours gently at first, then deeper. You didn't pull away, you melted into him instead— his mouth, his touch, the comfort you hadn't known you needed. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer. The kiss intensified, growing heavier with each second. His tongue slid into your mouth, slow but sure, as his hands roamed across your body, searching and warm.

Your phone buzzed beside you.

Neither of you paid attention.

He pushed you gently onto your back, settling over you. His lips trailed from your mouth to your cheek, then down your jaw.

Your phone rang.

You glanced over, blinking— and froze.

Haechan lit up the screen.

You closed your eyes, heart twisting, fingers tangling into your hair as Jaemin's lips moved across your neck, leaving kisses— soft at first, then rougher.

His mouth found a sensitive spot, and you gasped, your body reacting before your mind could keep up.

The phone rang again.

Then again.

You tried to ignore it, tried to stay in the moment, but the name flashing on the screen was too loud.

Jaemin kissed you again, lower now, but your mind was somewhere else.

The phone rang once more.

"Wait— wait." You interrupted, breath catching as your eyes snapped open.

Jaemin pulled back immediately, eyes wide with concern as he sat up. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." You replied quickly, trying to steady your breathing. "I'm just— my phone's blowing up, and I'm really distracted and like..." You paused, pressing your lips together before biting down on the bottom one. "Sorry, can we just... do this later?"

His expression softened, cheeks still a little flushed. "Of course." He said gently, offering a small smile. "You don't have to be sorry."

You exhaled slowly, sitting up further and grabbing for your phone. "Who's blowing up your phone?" Jaemin asked, shifting beside you, propping himself on an elbow.

You thumbed through the notifications, scanning them from the bottom. "Spam." You muttered, dismissing a message from an unknown number.

"And... Haechan." You added, your voice quieting. You turned your phone toward Jaemin. "Four missed calls, two voicemails."

Jaemin scoffed, his jaw tensing slightly. "When did he get so fucking desperate?"

You shrugged, trying not to let the knot in your chest twist tighter, but something poked at you— nagging and insistent. "I never asked." You said, turning to him with a squint. "But... how do you even know this guy?"

"Oh." He said, blinking like he hadn't expected the question. "I met him last year. We had a class together, I don't know how he was a junior and I was a freshman, but hey. I started hanging out with his friend group, got super close, and that's it."

"So you're close?" You asked, head tilting.

"Yeah, something like that." He said, casually shrugging.

"Mmm." You hummed in response, nodding slowly. Then your thumb hovered over the voicemails. "Do you wanna listen to the voicemails with me?"

You tried to play it off with a smile, but truthfully your heart was racing. You were going to listen to them anyway— you just didn't want to be alone when you did.

Jaemin leaned back, resting against the headboard. "Sure, sweetums. Whatever makes you happy."

You gave a faint laugh, then opened the phone app and turned your volume all the way up. The first voicemail clicked on.

For a second, there was only heavy breathing, then his voice burst through the speaker— shaky, broken.

"Now you can't answer the fucking phone, huh? I know you see my calls, Y/n."

Your mouth dropped open slightly as you and Jaemin froze, listening.

"I fucking loved you— I love you, and you're just gonna walk out on me like I'm nothing? You're nothing—"

His voice cracked, like he was barely holding back tears.

"I'm gonna kill him." Jaemin shook his head in disbelief.

"Shh." You cut in quickly, swatting at his arm, your eyes not moving from the phone.

"I— and you're probably with Jaemin right now, aren't you?" Haechan's voice rasped.

You glanced at Jaemin with a twitch of a smile, but it dropped instantly.

"Like he isn't the cause of all this— like he didn't set this whole thing up. Yeah, bet you didn't know that, did you? That little jealous, selfish fucker. Trying to take you away from everyone, but can't even love you himself. And you're there? With him? Pitiful."

The room dropped into silence, tension thick enough to choke on.

You turned to Jaemin slowly, your expression tight, unsettled. "What the fuck is he talking about, Jaemin?"

His eyes stayed on yours, but something darker lingered in his gaze now. "He's lying."

"He's lying?" You echoed, brows furrowing. "Yeah, well it doesn't sound like he's lying."

"He's fucking lying to you, Y/n." Jaemin said firmly.

You shook your head, struggling to breathe evenly. "Why would he— he wouldn't— why would he say that though? Of all things, why that? He has no reason to lie... not about you. He doesn't even know what you are to me, he doesn't know we're this close, he probably doesn't know we even know each other."

"You're really about to question me right now?" Jaemin asked, voice rising with disbelief.

"I just don't know why he would say that." You admitted, voice cracking, hands shaking slightly as you stared down at your phone.

Then, something sparked in the back of your mind— the unknown number from earlier. You'd thought it was spam, but the area code was local, and something about it gnawed at you now.

"He's lying to you. You're seriously gonna let him shake you up like this—"

"Just shut the fuck up for a second, Jaemin. Please." Your tone was urgent, as you unlocked your phone and opened the text.

Unknown [4:28 PM]:

"Hey girly. Sorry to text you like this, I'm the one who left her bra at Haechan's house and I'm sorry about that. I didn't know stuff was serious between you two or that I was wrecking anything. I was completely left in the dark... I would never purposely do that. I was told you were just one of his hookups. Me and him never even fucked— he rejected me and left. I left my bra there on purpose so I could come back, just in case you were there in the morning. I hope this clears everything up. I'm sorry for the mess we caused."

You stared at the message, heart thudding.

You [4:48 PM]:

"Who's "we"?"

She replied instantly.

Unknown [4:50 PM]:

"Jaemin. That asshole. He knew I liked him, and he told me to be all up on Haechan, to try to hook up. Told me to leave my shit there so I could come back if the girl (you?) was still there in the morning. He described your car, said to be as annoying as possible. Told me he'd get with me if I did and I was stupid and believed him. We met up earlier today, he got head and left. Said 'this was fun' but he had to go. So fucking sick of men lol. Sorry again girl, I hope you get everything sorted out."

Your entire body went cold. Your hands trembled as you read the message once... then again.

"Jaemin." Your voice was flat now as you turned to him slowly. "The girl just told me what you did."

He rolled his eyes. "Great, now he's got a bitch lying on me too."

"You really believe that?" He added. "You believe them over your best friend?"

"I don't know what to believe right now." You said, breath unsteady. "But all I know is that Haechan would not go this far to lie...  about you."

"Right, okay." He scoffed, shaking his head. "This dude broke your heart a million times, fucked a girl, had her pop up outta nowhere with a literal bra as evidence, and you believe him over me? After everything? I've always had your back. Yeah, I fucked up once or twice, but I always looked out for you— and you're really gonna believe them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, to agree with him, honestly, but then something snapped into place.

Your eyes narrowed. "How the fuck did you know that?"

Jaemin blinked. "Know what?"

"How did you know that she left her bra?" You repeated, voice rising. "I never told you that. So how do you know?"

His silence was immediate.

"How do you know, Jaemin!?" You sat up in the bed, your voice cracked and full of betrayal.

He let out a sharp breath, a bitter laugh escaping his throat. "Shit."

Your eyes welled up, you couldn't believe this. "It's you." You whispered.

"Y/n—"

"It's been you." You said, more firmly now, shaking your head in disbelief.

"Will you just relax." He muttered, calm in a way that only made it worse.

You stared at him, stunned. "Relax? You tried sabotage my relationship."

"You weren't together. So I didn't do anything." He said flatly.

"I loved him." Your voice trembled as tears filled your eyes. "I actually loved him and  you ruined us— you ruined me."

"I ruined you?" He said with wide eyes, voice incredulous. "That's not how I remember it. I remember saving you. Keeping you from drinking too much, from drugs, from dying, but I ruined you?"

"Yeah." You said, voice sharp through the sob in your throat. "You're the reason."

He scoffed again. "I protected you. I was knocking out obstacles. Look what happened with the last guy, you healed when you were with me. You didn't need him, and you don't need Haechan either. As long as I'm here, you'll be fine, you'll have someone who actually loves you."

"You rejected me." You said, your voice a whisper.

"Yeah?" He shrugged, unmoved. "But I want you now, so..."

You froze. A single tear slipped down your cheek and you wiped it away with shaking fingers.

"You... you want me now?" You said with a bitter laugh.

"Mhm." He nodded. "Not like you haven't chosen me before. Do it again. e can be together."

Your jaw clenched. "I don't want to be with you."

His expression dropped, his eyes finally showing emotion.

"I don't want to see you again." You said, standing up. "I don't even want to know you."

"Wow. After everything I've done for you?" He snapped.

"Get out." Your voice cracked through the air.

"Seriously?"

"Get your shit and leave— now." You pointed to the door.

He scoffed again, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Let's see how long until you come crawling back."

You stood there, arms crossed, chest aching as you watched him gather his things, not saying another word, and when the door slammed shut behind him, you didn't cry. You just stood there in the silence, your thoughts racing like a storm you couldn't outrun, crashing into each other with no direction. 

You paced around your room, feet dragging over the floor like they couldn't decide where to go next. Then your eyes landed on the flowers and takeout bag sitting on your dresser— Jaemin's "comfort gifts" a gesture that now felt so calculated.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed them both with trembling hands and marched to the trash can, shoving them inside like they were toxic. The flowers crumpled, petals breaking beneath your force. The food spilled open, untouched, as the bag collapsed into the bin. You stood over it, chest rising and falling, arms tense at your sides.

That's when you realized tears were falling now. They slipped quietly down your cheeks, and you didn't even feel them until they hit your lips. You wiped them away hastily with the back of your hand, sniffing hard as you made your way back to your room, sitting down slowly on your bed. 

You grabbed your phone, thumb hesitating over the screen before you tapped back into the voicemail from earlier. You played it again, letting Haechan's broken voice echo through the room, analyzing every syllable, every pause, hoping— desperately hoping that you'd catch something off, something that would prove he was lying, that Jaemin hadn't been the villain after all.

But deep down, you knew.

You weren't looking for the truth, you were just looking for something to hold onto.

Your eyes drifted to the second voicemail— the one you hadn't played yet. It sat there like a wound you hadn't touched. You stared at it, your thumb hovering over the play button, part of you wanted to delete it, let it die in the silence, move on.

You needed to, you knew that. It was the healthy thing to do.

But your heart didn't want clean, it wanted closure, connection. Something... anything, to explain why this all hurt so much.

You took a deep shaky breath, then hit play. There was silence at first like the last, then his voice— rough and cracked, the sound of someone unraveling.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't know what to do, Y/n. I really don't."

You blinked, heart already pulling tight.

"I didn't do anything— I didn't do anything with her. Can you just come back and I'll explain everything, I swear. Just please... come back. Fuck, please, I love you. I'm sorry, I do. Just come back."

A pause. You could hear the faint clatter of something in the background. Then... a breathless, broken sob.

"Come back."

The voicemail ended, but the silence afterward felt louder. You sat there for a long moment, your mind numb, your heart in your throat. You swung your legs off the bed, planting your feet on the ground, tapping one nervously against the floor as your hand curled into a fist. You bit down on your lip, hard, then stood. You didn't even grab a jacket, you just grabbed your keys and walked out the door.

The drive was a blur.

Your thoughts were spinning too fast to keep up. What were you doing? What were you expecting? Maybe he wasn't even home anymore, maybe he'd already moved on or maybe— maybe this was you being weak.

But still, you kept going.

When you got to his place, you knocked. Once... twice, then harder— nothing.

You waited another moment before pulling out your phone and dialing his number. No answer, your fingers hovered over the doorknob. You hesitated, then tried it and it was unlocked.

"Haechan?" You called softly, peeking your head inside.

No answer.

You were ready to walk away. You were so close, so close to leaving it all behind, but then your eyes landed on the full sized bottle sitting open on the counter, almost empty.

You stepped inside cautiously, shutting the door behind you. "Haechan?"

No response.

Your fingers tightened around the bottle as you picked it up, eyes narrowing in worry. Something didn't feel right. The air was still, too still. You moved through the kitchen, then slowly up the stairs, calling his name again, voice low but urgent.

You checked the bathroom, empty. Then you turned to his bedroom— and your heart stopped.

He was there, sprawled across his bed, deathly pale. One hand rested limply on his stomach, the other clutched his phone, your contact still lit up on the screen. On the nightstand beside him sat another half drained bottle of liquor.

"Shit." You whispered, rushing over.

You dropped to your knees beside the bed, pressing your hand to his cheek... ice cold.

Your panic surged, but you quickly placed two fingers against his neck. There it was, a pulse. Weak, but steady.

You exhaled, body trembling in relief. "Jesus." You muttered, rubbing your temples as you looked around the room. You reached for the trash can, dragging it beside the bed in case he threw up, turning his body to the side. Then you grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and carried it downstairs, pouring what was left into the sink.

You filled a glass with water, your hands shaking slightly as you brought it back upstairs and set it down beside him. You watched him for a second, debating. You should probably go, he wouldn't even remember this, but as you looked at him—his lashes resting softly on pale cheeks, his chest rising and falling slowly, the phone still gripped in his hand, your feet didn't move. You sat on the edge of his bed, scrolling through your phone, not even seeing the screen. You stayed there, just... watching him, listening for changes in his breathing, checking to make sure he didn't roll onto his back again or get sick.

Eventually, your body gave in to the weight of the night. You curled beside him, not too close, but close enough, eyes slowly beginning to drift shut.

Your eyes opened slowly, a low throb at your temples as you blinked through the dim room. It was dark, the soft hum of the ceiling fan above breaking the stillness. You glanced at your phone. 1:02 a.m.

You sighed, sitting up carefully. The air in the room was heavy and quiet, your body aching in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. You rubbed at your eyes, brushing away the fuzz, and glanced over at Haechan.

He was still knocked out, body sprawled carelessly across the bed. You noticed the empty water glass on the nightstand, then the trash can beside the bed— once empty, now not. You scrunched your nose at the smell, stepping past it and picking up the glass quietly.

You hadn't even heard him get sick.

Downstairs the faucet's low pressure fell into the cup. You stood in the kitchen in silence, the chilled water settling in the glass as you stared out the window. When you returned and placed the glass down beside him, his voice cut softly through the quiet: "Thank you."

You jumped, not expecting him to be awake.

He was lying there, eyes open now, watching you with a mixture of exhaustion and something else.

"Mmm." You hummed in response, brushing it off with a nod. You turned away without another word and headed for the door.

"Your stomach's been growling all night." He said behind you, voice low but casual.

You paused, half smiling bitterly. "Yeah." You murmured, then kept walking.

"You wanna get some food? We could go downtown or something."

You stopped again, letting out a slow, heavy breath. "Kinda far, I'll probably just hit a late night diner."

"Let me take you." He offered.

That was it. You turned, already irritated. "You really think I'm gonna let you drive me anywhere after the state I found you in tonight?" Before he could answer, your voice cut sharper. "That means no, you cannot take me."

He hesitated, eyes flickering down, before looking back up. "Can I come with you then?"

You stared at him, unblinking. "You just don't give up, do you?"

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You wanna talk, don't you? Why else would you be here?"

"Not over food. So there's no reason for you to come."

He didn't respond, just gave you that look— soft.

You rolled your eyes and exhaled. "Fine, come on."

The car ride was dead silent. The glow of the streetlights washed over both of you, passing over your face like waves. You stared straight ahead, gripping the wheel, jaw tight. When you pulled into the diner parking lot, the familiarity hit like a punch to the chest. You didn't know why it stung— maybe because you'd sat here before with Jaemin, laughing, maybe because it used to feel warm. Now it just felt like a graveyard of memories.

You walked in, Haechan following behind. At the counter, the cashier's eyes flicked between the two of you.

"Is it separate or together?" She asked.

"Separate—" You started, but was cut off.

"Together." Haechan said quickly, pulling out his wallet without even glancing at you.

You looked at him coldly, then turned back. "Tenders and fries, please."

The cashier nodded. You walked away without waiting for him and slid into the booth by the window, arms crossing over your chest as you stared out into the parking lot. Your fingers fiddled with the napkin dispenser, anything to avoid thinking about the seat across from you— the one Jaemin had used to sit in.

Eventually, Haechan made his way over, setting two drinks down and sliding one across to you. You didn't look up, just took a sip.

"Look." He began, voice careful. "I know it's a lot right now, but—"

"You need help." You cut him off sharply. "I seriously thought you were dead."

He blinked, surprised at the force of your words. You looked up for the first time, and the look in your eyes stopped him mid thought.

"I didn't even drink that much." He said, trying to justify it.

"If I didn't come, you would've been gone." Your voice cracked slightly. "You were on your back when I found you, you could've choked on your own vomit."

His expression softened. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"Don't apologize to me. Get help."

He went quiet, then his brows furrowed slightly. "Are you sober?"

You shot him a warning look, eyes narrowing. 

He swallowed hard, nodding. "I'm— I'm gonna go get the food." He slid out of the booth and walked away, his eyes lingering on you until the last second.

When he returned, he set the tray down gently. You didn't speak— you just picked up a tender and took a bite, the warmth immediately grounding you. Your shoulders relaxed slightly, the food didn't solve anything, but it filled the aching pit in your stomach you didn't realize had formed. You ate quickly, staring at the plate the whole time. When you looked up, Haechan was staring.

"What?" You asked.

"Nothing." He smiled. "You just... look like you feel better. You were definitely hangry."

You shook your head, almost laughing through your nose, he wasn't wrong. Hunger mixed with betrayal and heartbreak made a vile combo.

"I just can't believe this. Why is this happening to me?" You said softly. You paused, staring into your cup. "He was my best friend."

Haechan nodded. "Yeah, I understand."

You looked at him suspiciously. His words felt... rehearsed, familiar, like they weren't really his.

"Are you hiding anything from me?" You asked, eyes locked on him.

He avoided your gaze. "You said you didn't want to talk over food."

You nodded slowly... that was not a no.

Once the meal was over, you got back in the car.

"Can we make a stop? Please?" He asked before you pulled off.

"Haechan—"

"Please." He said again. "It's not far."

You sighed heavily and handed him your phone. He typed in the destination quietly.

The drive wasn't long, but the confusion in your chest grew stronger with every mile.

You pulled into a small, empty parking lot surrounded by nothing but open land. Before you could ask questions, he was already getting out of the car.

"C'mon." He said, walking around to your side.

You followed slowly, suspicious but curious. He took your hand gently, guiding you down a gravel path, and there it was.

A glowing rose garden, soft lights woven around the path like stars had melted into the earth and at the end sat a single bench facing the sea of red.

You froze, heart twisting. It should've been beautiful— romantic even, but all you felt was suspicion.

The flowers, the food, the timing. It was all too perfect... too planned.

"Why are we here?" You asked, voice low and guarded.

He turned to you. "You said red calms you down... so I thought it would be the best place for us to talk."

You swallowed hard, blinking back the heat in your eyes. You nodded once, quietly, and sat beside him. Your hands folded in your lap, your gaze locked on the roses.

"How much did he tell you— what did he tell you?" Haechan said, voice steady.

You didn't answer at first, you just turned your head toward him, eyes heavy with exhaustion— not just from the night, but from everything. The silence was answer enough.

He nodded slowly, inhaling through his nose. "Okay." He said, the word landing like a weight. "I'll just start from the very beginning."

You turned back toward the glowing field of red, letting the gentle sway of the roses distract your thoughts as you waited.

"I guess this whole thing started the third time you came to one of my parties— when he tried to get revenge on me through my sister."

You turned your head, surprised. "You knew about that?"

He gave a dry chuckle, his gaze lowered. "Yeah, I'm not stupid. I figured it out the second time, it didn't take much."

You just nodded, letting him continue.

"I confronted him about it, kind of threatened him, I guess, but I wasn't really worried about him and my sister. I was more worried about you. I was... interested, wanted to know more about you, but I didn't have your number and nobody seemed to know much, except Jaemin."

He shifted slightly beside you, hands in his lap.

"So I told him to bring you again. He got weird— defensive even. Kept saying it wasn't a good idea. Seemed like he was genuinely trying to protect you, but I didn't care. I told him it was gonna be a problem if he didn't, and next thing I knew, you showed up again." He shrugged faintly.

You blinked slowly, jaw clenched. A lot of the missing pieces were starting to surface now, things that once seemed random now had weight.

"That's when we started to get close and he started to distance himself from me. I figured he was still wrapped up in the whole thing with my sister. He probably thought I'd flip out or get hurt, but I didn't care. He thought I would... but I didn't." He gave a bitter laugh. "I knew my sister, I knew she'd never really fall for someone like him."

You stayed quiet, your arms folded tightly against yourself.

"Then that one night— where I was really fucked up and you were there... I don't remember much, but I remember waking up and holding you. And I panicked, I kicked you out because I didn't know how to process it, I've never felt that way before. So I sat on it for a while and ended up telling my friends, including Jaemin, that I liked you— that I thought I was ready for something real."

Your breath caught slightly in your chest. You turned to face him again, eyes wide and glassy. He liked you, he had wanted something real. You thought you would never hear those words from him. Your heart clenched as your gaze slowly fell away again, back to the roses.

"It took a lot of growth for me to get there." He continued. "I'd been through so much shit— things that made me feel like I wasn't capable of love. My friends knew that, they were happy for me. All of them, except Jaemin. He just... went cold, looked almost sad."

Haechan's voice lowered, like he was reliving it. "I asked him what was wrong. That's when he told me— told me that you were the one who hurt my brother badly. I didn't believe him at first, but then he showed me the picture."

Your jaw clenched instantly. Of course.  Jaemin was the only one who had it, you should've questioned how Haechan ever got it, but you hadn't. You didn't think you needed to.

"I felt like everything shattered at once." He said quietly. "Everyone just stared at me. They knew how bad that whole situation with my brother had been, it broke me. So I panicked, I called you over to confront you. But I didn't know how to handle it— I was overwhelmed, scared you might hurt me the same way, so I lashed out. I hated myself for it right after. I felt ashamed, like I could never get things right. So I told you not to talk, not yet, because I needed to think."

He let out a long sigh. "I ended up talking to my brother. Told him about you, about how I felt. And you know what he said? He told me to do whatever felt right, that he didn't care about the past, that he wouldn't stand in the way just because of what happened before, that he wasn't gonna cockblock me over something that was done."

He chuckled softly, almost with disbelief. "God, I love him."

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat.

"After that, I started thinking again, really thinking, and then I realized something didn't sit right. Like... why didn't Jaemin tell me this before? He's known my brother so long, if he knew about what happened, why wait until now?"

You bit your lip, voice low. "He probably didn't think it mattered. Thought I wouldn't fall for you."

Haechan nodded slowly. "Yeah, exactly." He shook his head. "None of it added up. That's when I knew— I had to hear your side for real this time. So I texted you, I wasn't sure if you'd even reply. I could tell you were checking out, but you did and when I came over and you told me everything... it clicked." His voice softened.

"It was not you that was problem with my brother, at least not the after math, it was Jaemin. He took you when you were most vulnerable, and he manipulated you, he manipulated you and hurt my brother while doing so."

You stared ahead, the numbness seeping back in. A slow burning cold spread through your chest. He was right, that's all Jaemin ever did. Took what he needed when he needed it, made you feel like something valuable— until he didn't. 

"I confronted him a few days later." Haechan went on, voice bitter now. "I was about to beat the shit out of him, honestly. My friends held me back. I told him straight up that I was going to be with you, and there was nothing he could do to stop me."

He paused, jaw clenched.

"That's when he threatened me. Said he had nudes of my sister, and he'd expose them if I didn't back off. I didn't know if it was true, but I was terrified. He already hurt one of my siblings— I wasn't about to risk another."

Your hand trembled slightly in your lap, but you said nothing.

"Then you called. Of course, perfect timing. He told me to answer, told me to invite you to the party. Said we were gonna make sure you left for good and made up some big plan— some twisted scenario where I'd hurt you, make it so bad you'd never come back. I told him you wouldn't come, but I think... deep down I knew you would. I prayed you wouldn't, but I knew you would."

His voice cracked slightly.

"I called my sister after, desperate for clarity, but she was on some trip with no data, I was alone in it. Then you walked in and everything fell apart. I couldn't stop anything, I didn't know what to do, there was nothing I could do. So I disappeared to the bathroom, that girl followed me, started undressing— I wasn't into it. And then finally my sister called back and came to pick me up so we could talk in person at her place. She said she had never sent Jaemin anything. He was bluffing, just buying time and I'd let him."

He ran a hand through his hair.

The memories from the night flooded in, seeing them together, Jaemin slipping in and apologizing out of nowhere, his friends looking for him and saying he wasn't with a girl. 

"I was gonna confront him again. Do worse this time, but you texted me... you needed a place to crash and I realized, that was it. That was my chance, I needed to be there for you, not focus on him."

You swallowed hard.

"I wanted to tell you everything that night." He said. "But you were out of it, I just needed to keep you there till morning, and when I was finally about to explain... she showed up and it ruined everything. I knew it was Jaemin, but before I got the chance you started leaving and saying all that stuff to me. I panicked again, said things I didn't mean. I didn't even know why, I just wanted to hurt you before you could hurt me anymore."

"She came back later. " He continued. "Crying, saying Jaemin ghosted her. I gave her your number, told her to tell you what she told me. I didn't know if you'd believe it, I just... hoped. I started calling you, figured you were with him and the next thing I knew... I blacked out and that's it."

Silence.

You stared at the roses, their soft red glow blurring in your vision. You felt raw, carved out.

"You okay?" He asked, gently placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing it with slow comfort.

You didn't answer. Just sat in the silence, letting the hum of the wind and the ache of everything fill the space.

Then finally, you whispered: "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" He asked.

"When you said you love me."

He paused, looking away, then back again. "I think so." He said honestly. "I can't stop thinking about you, I only want you. That... feels like love to me."

You parted your lips, about to speak, but stopped. You sat with it, with everything.

"Haechan, I know most of this isn't your fault, but you've never really treated me well. You've made me feel like shit about myself. Like I deserved this, and I don't."

"You don't." He said quickly. "I know you don't. I just... I don't know how to do this, Y/n. I'm trying."

"I know." You whispered. "And I get that. But you're not a child, Haechan. I can't keep sitting here, waiting for you to figure it out while I bleed for it. I'm tired and I'm hurt."

His eyes glistened under the low lights, lips slightly parted.

"Yeah." He said, voice tight. "Okay, I get it."

Minutes passed in silence again. You took a deep breath. "I'm ready to go now."

He nodded slowly. "Okay."

Back in the car, the drive to his house was quiet again. He didn't get out right away. He looked at you, something fragile in his expression.

"I'm just gonna give you space, okay?" He said. "Tell me when you want to be near me again. Just come over... I'll be here. Waiting."

You nodded. "Okay."

He offered a small, sad smile, then got out and closed the door behind him. And you just sat there, still, the glow of the roses lingering in your mind like a memory you weren't sure was real.

When you got home that night, everything crashed down on you. The silence in your room was deafening, your thoughts tangled and felt heavy like they were weighing on your chest. Nothing felt real, and everything felt like too much. You sat on the edge of your bed, running your hands through your hair, heart pounding in your ears.

You needed out. Out of this town, out of yourself.

Without thinking twice, you grabbed your laptop and stayed up the entire night researching— flights, hotels, long stays, trains, trails, anywhere with space to breathe. By morning, your eyes were bloodshot and your screen was filled with confirmation emails. You were going, it was done.

══════════════════════════

One week passed. It was quiet, almost suspiciously so. You packed everything you needed into the back of your car— luggage tucked neatly, passport ready, playlist queued. There was only one stop left before the airport.

You pulled into the familiar street, parking in front of his house. It looked the same— quiet, still, like the world didn't know everything that had happened inside it. You stepped out, the air thick and warm, and walked up the steps. Your knuckles hesitated before they knocked softly.

He opened the door after a few seconds, hair tousled like he'd just woken up. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of you. There was surprise there, but not disbelief.

"Okay... I didn't expect it to be this soon." His voice was soft.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head as you stepped inside, the faint scent of him still lingering in the air.

"I'm going abroad for a bit." You said it casually, looking around the space like it was already behind you.

"What's... 'a bit'?" He asked, his voice hesitant.

"A month, maybe two, possibly three." You turned to face him, eyes honest.

His brows lifted. "Wow, that's not 'a bit', that's a full on escape plan."

You chuckled softly. "It's short for me. Honestly, I wanted to leave for a year."

He paused, then nodded like he understood. "Yeah I get it, but... I'm gonna miss you." His eyes met yours. "You're not gonna ditch me completely, are you?"

"No." You said quickly, then hesitated. Your voice softened. "But I need you to not contact me, at all. I felt guilty blocking you, so... I just wanted to let you know before I go."

He pressed his lips together, nodding slowly. "Mmm." There was a flicker of hurt there, but he tried to mask it. "I'll try not to."

You gave him a look.

A small smile cracked across his face. "Okay, fine. I won't."

There was a pause, a quiet tension building in the stillness. You looked down at your watch. "Well, I should get going. Don't want to miss my flight."

"Right." He nodded, stepping forward as you turned to leave. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you against him in a familiar, grounding way.

"Do you know exactly when you'll be back?" He asked, his voice muffled against your shoulder, like he didn't really want to know the answer.

"I'm not telling you." You laughed softly into the hug.

"So how am I supposed to know?"

"You'll feel it in the air." You teased. "Or... I don't know, just call me or something."

He leaned back to look at you, rolling his eyes. "Oh. I see what you did there." He sighed. "Whatever. Just... have fun, okay? Stay safe and let me know if you need anything, anything at all."

Your eyes locked with his— warm, sad, familiar. You reached up, gently cupping his cheek before leaning in to press your lips against his. The kiss was long and quiet, full of everything you couldn't bring yourself to say out loud.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes were glossy, searching yours like he wasn't ready to let go.

"I don't know... that felt like a goodbye forever." He said quietly.

You took a breath. "More like... I need some time alone to heal."

He nodded, eyes soft. "If I figure everything out before you get back... will you be ready?"

You paused, looking away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "I don't know." You were honest.

"But you should try anyway." You added. "For yourself."

He nodded. "Okay, I will."

"Promise?" You asked, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

He held out his pinky. "Only if you promise to at least come check when you get back."

You shook your head with a soft laugh and linked your finger with his. "You better hold your end of the bargain, Haechan. I'm not playing."

"I will, I promise." His pinky curled tight around yours.

"Bye." You smiled.

"See you." 

You walked out, the door clicking shut behind you and just like that, you left.

Not running, not escaping, but reclaiming something— space to breathe, space to think, space to heal.

A whole year's worth of chaos packed into a suitcase, and finally... you were letting it go.

══════════════════════════

Two months later, you finally landed in the city again. As the plane wheels slid across the ground, the familiar skyline greeted you like a memory— familiar, once suffocating, now softened around the edges. You had expected the ache in your chest to return the second you stepped back onto this soil, but it didn't, or maybe it did just a little less loudly this time.

You made it back to your apartment and set your bags down quietly, eyes scanning the room. Everything was exactly how you left it. The old memories echoed in the walls, but they didn't scream anymore, they just... lingered.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you glanced at the time.

10:33 PM.

Thursday.

That day used to mean something else, something bittersweet, familiar, the quiet routine of wanting more but never asking. You stood there for a moment, torn. You made a promise, just to check, just to see.

You weren't sure what you expected— maybe to find he moved on, maybe to prove to yourself that you had. But hope, as annoying as it was, always knew how to sneak in.

You threw on something a little nicer— something that made you feel a bit like yourself again, and headed out. The house was alive with sound, music pulsing through the walls, laughter spilling. You wove your way through the crowd, faces both familiar and distant flashing past, but no Haechan.

You ended up in the kitchen, where a neat line of unopened bottles sat on the counter. You picked one up absentmindedly, turning it over in your hands, unsure if you even wanted to open it.

"You're drinking without me?"

You froze, smile appearing on your lips before you even turned around.

And there he was. Standing there with that same crooked smile, looking at you like you never left— like he'd been waiting.

"I'm sorry, who are you again?" You teased, eyebrow raised.

He laughed. "I knew you were back, I felt it in the air."

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. "I guess that's just the effect I have, huh?"

He took a step closer. "How have you been?"

You exhaled softly. "Good. Refreshed...happy."

His face broke into a genuine smile. "I'm really glad."

"And you?" You asked, studying his expression.

He shrugged, eyes still warm. "Been hanging in there."

You paused, tilting your head. "I came to check on you. I kept my end of the promise... did you?"

His grin turned sheepish, but he didn't answer. Instead, he gently took your hand and led you upstairs. The hallway felt familiar beneath your feet, but quieter now, less heavy.

When you entered his room, you noticed the small things first. A vase of fresh roses and sunflowers sat on his nightstand— alive and blooming, next to it a journal.

He picked it up and held it out like it was a metal.

"My therapist told me to start writing stuff down. My feelings, my thoughts, all of it. It was hard at first, like... really hard, but I did it and it helped— a lot." His smile was proud but a little shy.

"I'm so proud of you." You said, eyes soft. "Can I read it?"

He nearly choked. "Uh uh, absolutely not. Not yet."

You laughed, backing off with your hands raised. "Okay, okay, don't freak out."

He carefully placed it back on the nightstand, then turned to face you fully. "I'm trying, is that good enough for you?"

You stood there, caught in a quiet moment, eyes on him as your thoughts swirled. You missed him, that was undeniable, but there was still that voice— the one that warned you not to fall back into something that hurt.

You took a deep breath. "I— I don't know." You said honestly.

His face didn't fall, he just nodded patiently.

"I understand."

"But." You added, meeting his eyes again, "I'm willing to take things slow... something calm."

His face lit up instantly, hope returning to his eyes. "Really?"

"Really." You nodded. "But I swear— one wrong step, one moment that hurts me again, and you're done."

"Okay." He said quickly, almost too quickly. "Deal, a thousand percent."

You let him pull you into a hug, arms wrapping around you tightly like he wasn't quite convinced you were real yet. You didn't let go either, not for a long moment.

When he finally leaned back, his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin gently.

"Is this too fast?" He asked.

You blinked. "What?"

"If I kissed you, and didn't stop."

You stopped, a small grin on your face. "Yeah..." You said slowly. "But... I can make a few exceptions."

His grin deepened, and without another word, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss. It wasn't rushed, or messy, or desperate.

It felt like relief, it felt like trying again.

For once you weren't chasing clarity in someone else— you had found it in herself. You've done the hard work, peeled back the layers, and realized that your healing didn't have to mean shutting everyone out. You could choose love and still choose yourself. You could stay, not because you needed to be saved, but because you wanted to give love a chance without losing who you were in the process. Maybe that was the difference this time— you weren't afraid to walk away, but you didn't have to.

══════════════════════════

Epilouge: Haechan’ s Journal.

══════════════════════════

[mafiadad5]

omgggg i just finished part 2 of Teach me to not love and it was so good?!!!!??!! the push&pull, toxicity, angst, self-sabotaging…

i have a sneaking suspicion that the person who sent hc the photo from her past was jm 😶‍🌫️ because he seems to be very petty about her “rs” with hc, and of the way he treated her in general (rejecting her, leaving her, and suddenly coming back into her life like nth happened and wanting to take care of her!!?) all these toxic men and their issue smh

anyway i’m hooked and i can’t wait to read part 3 and the epilogue you have planned out!!!! personally i hope it’s a redemption arc for hc because i am kinda getting bad vibes from jm 🤷🏻‍♀️

please let us know if you have a date for when it’ll go live <3333

Thank you so much, I’m glad you enjoyed it!!! Part 3 + bonus epilogue will be out July, 2nd! <333

[mafiadad5]

Teach me to not love || L. HC (part 2)

𐙚 fuckboy!haechan x fem!reader (ft. best friend jaemin)

𐙚 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 + bonus epilogue

𐙚 synopsis- Jaemin's out for revenge after Haechan slept with the girl he liked. You're just supposed to be a distraction, something pretty to keep Haechan's mind off of what Jaemin was doing. He's cute, addictive— you should stay away... you really should, but when he touches you like that how are you supposed to remember what's right?

𐙚 genre- college au, smut/ porn with plot (MDNI 18+), angst, slight fluff.

𐙚 warnings- drug use, alcohol use, pool sex, fingering, handjob, car sex, protected and unprotected sex (don’t do), oral (male receiving), degrading, praising, markings, rough sex, hair pulling, choking, sex under the influence, mentions of death.

𐙚 W/c- 17k

Now playing: Do I Wanna Know?- Arctic Monkeys

a/n- thank you all so much for the love on the last part, i appreciate it <3. Here’s part 2, I hope you enjoy it ! Let me know what you think, and if you want to be tagged in the final part! Luv y’all.

tags- @dnylwoo @haeclips @millis-diary @bbhbungee @sooohey @captainchrisstan @chocojiji @imnotrosiee @meatballsub420

══════════════════════════

Tuesday — 12:03 PM

The apartment was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that made you hyper aware of every small sound. You sat cross legged on the couch in one of Jaemin's old hoodies, something he'd left months ago and you never returned, not even after Sunday's fallout. It still smelled faintly like his cologne, and you hated that it made your chest ache.

Two days— no texts, no calls, nothing from him, not a single word. And you weren't about to reach out first. Not when he'd called you a slut to your face.

Still, that didn't mean it didn't hurt— it stung deeply. A thousand small wounds under your skin that kept reopening every time you thought about the way he looked at you before slamming your door. Like he didn't recognize you.

You picked at your cuticles and tried not to think about it anymore, tried to redirect your focus, but then your mind went somewhere else you didn't expect.

Haechan.

His name echoed in your head in a way that was more frustrating than comforting. You didn't know why it lingered— why he lingered. You weren't supposed to care about him, you were supposed to have a one night thing and be done with it. That's what people did, right? Hook up and move on? 

But you couldn't forget how warm his hands felt, how easy it was to laugh with him, how his voice went all soft and low when he said your name. And yeah, maybe you liked the way he kissed you too much, the way he touched you like he actually wanted you, not just your body. And that sucked because clearly he didn't care.

You chewed your lip, staring at your phone sitting face up on the armrest beside you. He hadn't texted, hadn't followed up, nothing. You weren't dumb, you knew what that meant.

You exhaled slowly and then against your better judgment you tapped his name and hit "call."

It rang... and rang... and rang.

No answer.

You let the silence settle after the last ring before locking your phone and tossing it face down onto the couch beside you. That was it then, whatever little thread you thought existed between you and Haechan had snapped the second he walked out without a second thought. He gotten what he wanted, you were just another girl in the pile.

You leaned back and stared at the ceiling, blinking against the heat behind your eyes.

"Stupid." You mumbled to yourself. "So fucking stupid."

8:04 PM

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, screen lighting up once, twice, before your heart jolted.

Incoming Call: Haechan

You sat up slowly, phone already in your hand, staring at it like it might vanish. Then you pressed accept before your nerves could get the better of you.

"Hello?"

"Hey." He said, casual as ever. "You alive?"

You frowned, heart pounding. "You're calling me now?"

"What do you mean now? What, was I supposed to set an alarm?" He teased, voice light, and infuriatingly charming.

"You missed my call earlier."

"Did I?" He said, not even trying to sound apologetic. "My bad."

You scoffed a little, but before you could call him out, he continued.

"You wearing anything decent?"

Your mouth parted, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Decent." He repeated. "Like, sexy. I wanna go downtown tonight."

You blinked. "That's the definition of decent?"

"For me, yeah." He said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. "C'mon, you in?"

There was a pause, then quietly: "Yeah."

He didn't miss a second. "Cool. I'll come at ten."

The knock at your door made your heart jump. You checked yourself one last time in the mirror, smoothing your skirt down over your thighs and adjusting the neckline of your top. You looked good, better than you had all week.

You opened the door, and Haechan was standing there, looking way too good for someone who called last minute. Black pants, dark shirt with the top buttons undone, a silver chain around his neck. He gave you a quick once over, eyebrows lifting with clear approval.

"There she is." He said, pulling a cart from his pocket, setting down a brown paper bag with two canned drinks inside. "Pregame?"

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. The drinks were stronger than they looked, and so was the cart. By the time you were calling a car, the tension in your shoulders had dissolved into laughter and warm energy.

The city was alive— neon lights, music spilling out of bars, and people moving in along the sidewalks. You and Haechan moved together, going into bar after bar, sampling drinks, snacks, cheap cocktails for no reason at all.

At one bar, you tried to pay for your fries and drinks, but he didn't let you.

 "You know I can pay for my own stuff, right?"

He barely looked at you, handing over his card. "Congratulations, i'm happy for you."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help laughing. Everywhere you went, it felt like your own little bubble, Haechan's hand on your lower back, his voice in your ear, the two of you stumbling out of one bar, arm in arm, drunk and giggling.

You ended up in the shadowy corner booth of the last bar, pressed against each other, tasting the cocktails on each other's mouths. His hand was on your thigh, your fingers curled in his shirt, you didn't care who saw.

"Let's go." He murmured against your mouth.

The door slammed shut behind you, but neither of you noticed. You stumbled together through the hallway, laughing into each other's mouths, kissing with the kind of urgency that made you dizzy. Hands fumbled with buttons, tugged at belts, pulling fabric free until your shirts and pants hit the floor in a trail behind you.

He pressed you back onto the bed, his mouth warm on your neck, then your collarbones, then lower. You could feel his smile against your skin, each drag of his tongue making your breath catch.

"You've been driving me crazy all night." He murmured between licks, his voice low. "The way you looked at me across the table like you already knew I'd end up here."

You laughed, fingers curling in his hair. "Maybe I did."

His hands gripped your hips, his mouth exploring the line of your stomach. "You kept crossing your legs like that," He went on, lips brushing just above your waistband, "like you didn't want me to notice, but I noticed."

You gasped softly as he nipped at your skin, his fingers slipping beneath your underwear. "Do you have a condom?" You asked.

He paused for just a second. "I don't." He murmured, mouth still grazing your skin. "Doesn't matter though. I want you so bad, I don't care."

You froze slightly, hand on his shoulder."It does for me." You said softly. "If there's no condom, there's no sex."

He pulled back a little, brows raised. Then he nodded once and sat up, not annoyed, just neutral. "Okay."

You watched as he grabbed his shirt from the floor, sliding it over his head.

"You're leaving?" You asked quietly, still half naked.

He didn't look at you as he reached for his phone. "Yeah, gonna get going."

"You sure you don't wanna stay?" You tried again, a hint of something soft in your voice.

"I'm good." He said simply.

Your stomach twisted a little as he made his way to the door. You thought it was over again— done and dusted, just another night, but then he paused at the doorway, turning back to glance at you.

"You coming to the party Thursday?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "Am I invited?"

He smiled, that same crooked grin. "Always." Then he turned around, tugged the door open, and called over his shoulder: "See you Thursday, Y/n."

The door clicked shut behind him.

══════════════════════════

The music's already echoing down the block when you pull up, muffled bass thudding through the humid night air. You hesitate for a second on the sidewalk, adjusting your shirt. No one's waiting for you, no one knew you were coming except him, and you hate that it feels like you're chasing someone again.

Still, you push forward.

You step inside and it hits you instantly— everyone is half naked.

Swim trunks, bikinis, sun hats and cheap sunglasses. You blinked, trying to process what you'd just walked into. 

And then you saw him. Standing near the kitchen with a beer in one hand and his head tilted back in a laugh, his tan skin glowing beneath the party lights. His swim trunks clung low to his hips.

Of course he spotted you... of course he grinned.

He was walking toward you in seconds, weaving through the crowd. You didn't even try to pretend you weren't watching him. You were and so was every other girl in the room.

He stopped in front of you, raking his eyes over your outfit with a smirk.

"Damn." He said. "Didn't get the memo?"

You crossed your arms. "Maybe because the person who invited me didn't mention it was a beach themed party."

He raised an eyebrow. "You blocked me."

You blinked. "What? No I didn't, text me right now."

He pulled his phone out casually, his thumb tapping a message, and seconds later your phone buzzed.

Haechan [11:37 PM]: 

"I lied. Let's drink."

You looked up at him, trying not to smile. "You're actually insufferable."

He handed you a red cup anyway. "And yet, you're still here."

You took the drink. "Barely."

He held up a gummy between two fingers. "Edibles?"

You hesitated, then shrugged and opened your palm. "Might as well."

You popped it in your mouth and washed it down with the drink, already feeling yourself loosen. The lights felt a little warmer, the music easier to sink into.

And then without warning he grabbed your hand and pulled. "Come on." He said.

You didn't ask where, you just followed. He led you through the kitchen, past half naked bodies, through the back door and into the yard. The pool shimmered in the dark, glowing from the lights beneath the water. No one else was out here, just you and him.

Then he let go of your hand, took a running start, and leapt into the pool.

The splash was loud, water flying everywhere, and when he surfaced he was grinning like a kid— hair slicked back, skin wet and glistening under the moonlight.

"Get in." He said, laughing.

You stared at him. "I'm literally in clothes."

He shrugged. "So? You've got a place to crash and you can wear my clothes."

You tilted your head, amused. "Do I really?"

His hand shot out of the water, splashing you right in the stomach.

"Oops." He said, with a smile. "And now you're wet."

You blinked at the spot on your shirt, then looked back at him, biting back a smile. "You're an idiot."

"Still waiting."

With a quiet breath, you kicked off your shoes and stripped slowly, just to annoy him, down to your bra and underwear. You walked to the edge of the pool and dove in.

The water was cool and soft against your skin. You came up with a laugh, flipping your hair back, and he was already swimming toward you.

For a while, it was just fun. You laughed, splashed, floated near each other in that slow haze where nothing really mattered.

Eventually, you drifted to the side of the pool and leaned back against the tile, catching your breath.

Then you saw him coming, that look on his face— those eyes.

He glided through the water until he was right in front of you, hands sliding underwater to your waist. You let him pull you closer, your arms slipping up around his neck without even thinking.

He looked at your mouth. His voice came low, barely audible over the hum of the distant music. "Your lips look soft right now." 

You laughed. "There's people inside, we might get caught."

He leaned in, mouth ghosting over your jaw. "They know to leave me alone."

That's when his eyes flicked past your shoulder toward the patio door. He paused before smirking.

You turned, confused and then saw him.

Jaemin.

He stood behind the sliding glass door, face unreadable, just staring. You can't tell what he's thinking— his arms crossed, his jaw tense, but his eyes were locked on you like he was burning holes through the glass.

Haechan smirked, head tilting slightly. "An audience already? You were right."

You freeze, caught between the temperature of the water and the sudden chill in your spine, but Haechan's fingers curled under your chin, gently turning your face back to him.

"Focus." He said softly.

Before you could blink he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours softly, but quickly it deepened. His hands slid down your body, his lips leaving yours only to trail lower, pressing open mouthed kisses along your jaw, then your neck. He lingered there, teeth grazing your skin as his breath tickled the sensitive spot beneath your ear. At the same time, his hand slid into your underwear with ease, fingers slipping through the heat and wetness he found there. 

He teased you, slow circles that made your hips subtly roll toward him, aching for more. Then he paused, lifting his face from your neck, eyes locking onto yours. Still watching you, he pushed a finger inside. You let out a soft moan, your head falling back slightly as he began to move slowly, steady pumps that had you clinging to his shoulders.

He added a second finger, this time a louder gasp escaped your lips. His pace quickened, fingers curling just right, stroking that sensitive spot that made your vision blur. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body tightening around him as his touch brought you closer and closer to the edge.

You don't know what took over you, but your hand slides from the back of his neck, trailing down his torso, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his swim trunks. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly at first, trying to match the rhythm of his fingers still moving inside you. His jaw tightened, a low groan leaving his throat as you touch him, your bodies locked.

His breathing grows heavier against your neck, the muscles in his arm flexing as his fingers continue their rhythm inside you faster. Your hips grind into his hand instinctively, desperate for more. Every stroke sends heat spiraling through your core, your grip on him tightening.

"Fuck." He muttered against your skin, voice low. His lips brushed your collarbone, then your shoulder before he sunk his teeth gently into your skin. His free hand curled around your waist, pulling you tighter against him as his cock twitched in your palm. You can feel how close he is, how much restraint he's barely clinging to.

"Shit, keep going, just like that." He said, voice thick with lust. 

You stroke him a little faster, your thumb brushing over the tip. His fingers grew more urgent inside you, thrusts rougher, curling with every motion until you're clenching around him, moans escaping your lips.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum." He muttered, voice rough now, his forehead resting against yours. "So fucking tight around my fingers."

The filthy sweetness of his words, the intensity in his eyes, the pressure building inside you pushed you even closer.

You could barely breathe now, every nerve in your body burning. The tension in your stomach tightened with each thrust of his fingers, each rough stroke of your hand around him.

"Fuck, baby." He panted against your lips, voice wrecked. "You gonna cum for me?"

You nod, unable to form words, only gasps and whimpers as his fingers drive into you fast. He curls them just right again, and your body falls apart, pleasure crashing over you like a wave. Your hips jerk as you tighten around him, your walls pulsing.

Your hand doesn't stop moving on him, if anything, you grip him tighter through the aftershocks of your orgasm, stroking him faster.

"Shit, just like that. Fuck, your hand feels so good— gonna cum baby."

You meet his eyes, dazed but focused, lips parted as you keep stroking. "Then do it." you whisper. 

With a low, broken whimper, he presses his forehead to your shoulder, his whole body tensing. "Fuck—" His hips jerk as he spills into your hand, his cock twitching in your grip. You keep stroking him through it slowly as he breathes heavy against you.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your breathing, trying to return to normal. He finally lifts his head, eyes still dark, but softer now, a smile forming on his lips.

He leaned his forehead against yours with a breathless laugh, eyes half lidded.

"C'mon." He murmured. "You're not sleeping in wet underwear."

He grabbed your hand, tugging you out of the pool, water dripping from both of you onto the patio. He doesn't bother drying off before leading you through the back door and up the stairs.

His room is quiet, darker than the rest of the house. The walls were still humming with bass, but it's distant.

He lets go of your hand once you were inside and headed straight to his dresser, pulling out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

"Shower's down the hall, second door on the right. There should be towels and wash cloths in there, but if not, yell."

You nodded slowly, taking the clothes from his hand.

Then he paused by the door, rubbing the back of his neck. "I gotta go back down."

You nod again, this time a little quieter. "Ok."

He lingered for a second, like he wanted to say something else, but then he just gave you a faint smile and slipped out.

The shower's quick, you pulled on his clothes afterward. You found your way back to his room, flipping the light off and sliding under the covers. The sheets are cool against your bare legs, and the noise of the party downstairs feels far enough away to pretend you're not still in his house.

But you can't sleep.

You lie there for what feels like an hour, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Your thoughts spin, circling Jaemin's expression, Haechan's kiss, the way his fingers held your waist like he didn't want to let go. Everything feels like a dream, a really vivid reckless one.

The door creaks open and you sit up a little too fast. "Hey."

He steps inside quietly, running a hand through his hair as he closes the door behind him.

"You're awake?" He asked.

You nod. "Couldn't sleep."

He kicked off his shoes before sitting at the edge of the bed, glancing at you with a little grin. "Too many thoughts?"

You laugh softly. "Something like that."

There's a moment of silence between you, not awkward, just normal. He shifts onto the bed properly, lying beside you on top of the covers, hands behind his head as he stares at the ceiling too.

You glance over at him. "So... that was a scene earlier."

He laughed under his breath. "What, the pool?"

"No, you kissing me in front of that guy like that."

"Oh." He said, before turning his head to look at you, completely unbothered. "Yeah, that."

"You planned that?"

"Nope." He said casually. "But I saw him watching, figured it was the perfect time."

You squinted. "Why?"

He shrugged. "He doesn't know how to leave well enough alone."

You don't ask more, you don't have the energy to unravel anything, not tonight.

He turned towards you slightly. "You should get some rest."

You nod, eyes heavier now. "What about you?"

"I'm gonna shower, then maybe I'll crash."

He slipped out of the room again, and this time, you let your eyes close.

You woke up to sunlight creeping in through the blinds and the feeling of warmth beside you.

You blinked slowly, vision adjusting— and there he is.

Haechan was on his side, breathing steady, hair tousled from sleep, one arm slung casually over the pillow between you, lips parted slightly.

You sat up in a panic. "Shit. Shit— what time is it?" You fumbled for your phone, eyes wide... you missed class.

Haechan groaned beside you, blinking awake. "What's wrong?"

"I missed class. I never miss class— fuck."

He propped himself up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes. "Chill." He muttered. "It's one class, you're fine."

You groaned, falling back against the pillows. "Still, I was supposed to go."

He yawned, then stretches and finally asks: "You hungry?"

You paused, then a small smile broke across your lips. "...Actually, yes."

He reached for the nightstand, grabbing his wallet, flipping it open and pulled out a folded bill.

"Here." He said, holding it out to you.

You blinked at it. "What?"

"Take it, go get food." He sighed, smirking. "There's some good spots on the way back to your place from what I remember."

You finally smiled, taking the cash, folding it slowly between your fingers.

"Thanks." You said quietly.

He moved to the dresser, grabbing your clothes from last night and hands them to you, turning his back to give you privacy as you get dressed.

"What do you have planned today?" You asked, pulling your shirt over your head.

He shrugged, still turned away. "Not much. My brother's coming to visit, so we're just chilling."

"Oh." You say, tying your shoes. "That's nice."

He turned back around once you're ready, watching you with unreadable eyes.

You nod toward the door. "I'll head out then."

He just gave a small nod. "Ok."

And you leave quietly.

══════════════════════════

It was that time again— Thursday, the day you waited for all week. The day that had somewhere along the way become routine, a strange kind of comfort.

You showed up like always, stepping through the door and immediately spotting him across the room. Haechan met you with that familiar smile, only tonight it looked a little worn, like it was more out of habit than genuine ease.

"You ok?" You asked, your hand instinctively rubbing his shoulder. Your fingers pressed lightly against him, like you could ease the tension you already sensed.

"Yeah yeah, I'm just— can I talk to you for a second?" His voice dropped low, like he didn't want to be overheard.

You nodded, brows tugging together slightly. "Yeah, of course."

He led you upstairs, the floorboards creaking beneath your steps while the music from the party thumped under your feet. Once you were in his room, he shut the door behind you with a quiet click and let out a deep sigh. He didn't speak right away, just ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head like he was trying to scatter his thoughts.

"Is everything okay?" You asked again, your voice a little softer this time.

"Just needed a fucking breather." His words were blunt, but not angry. He turned toward the door, checking that it was locked. When he looked back at you the smile was there again, this time stretched wider than before, too wide.

"If you came with me, they won't bother."

You tilted your head slightly, a playful smirk curling on your lips. "Who are you running from?"

"One of my best friend's brother." He started, pacing a little as he talked. "He's in town for a few days and of course he's gonna be at my parties, he's family, but something about him dude. He practically talked me sober, and that's hard to do— how did he even manage that? I just needed a break."

You giggled, crossing your legs on the edge of his bed. "You distressed over a party? Never thought I'd see the day."

He gave you a look, but it lacked any real irritation. "Would you kick out your best friend's sibling?"

You hesitated, shrugging unsurely.

"Exactly."

"No problem kicking out girls though." You muttered under your breath, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

His head turned toward you, eyebrows raised. "Yeah? You're right. Probably about to do it right now, actually."

"Do it then." You challenged, eyes narrowing.

He paused, his gaze hardening just slightly, a quiet tension rising between you. "Get the fuck out my room."

You blinked, caught a little off guard. "You serious?"

"What do you think?" He asked, eyes still locked on yours, tone unreadable.

Your chest tightened slightly as you stood, hesitating for a beat as you reached for the doorknob. You twisted it slowly, almost dragging out the motion like you were hoping he'd stop you. He didn't, not even a word.

You stepped into the hallway, the party noise rushing in like a wave, voices and music swirling around you.

"Y/n." You heard behind you.

You turned quickly. He was standing there again, keys in hand. "You hungry?"

You blinked, a bit surprised. "No... not really."

"I don't care." He shut the door behind him with one hand, shaking his keys in the other. "You're coming with me."

"Oh— okay." You followed him down the stairs, weaving through bodies.

"Wait at the door, I'll be right back." He said.

You nodded and did as you were told, leaning against the doorframe. Your phone buzzed and you looked down at it, just a meaningless notification, but when you looked up again, your eyes landed on Jaemin. He was walking toward the porch, and your stomach dropped slightly.

Your eyes met. There was a flicker of recognition, of something. His mouth opened slightly like he wanted to say something, but before he could, 

Haechan was there sliding in beside you and grabbing your hand. His fingers laced into yours.

"Alright, let's go." His voice was loud enough for Jaemin to hear, and you watched as Jaemin's gaze dropped to your joined hands, then back to your face. He didn't say anything, just walked past with a blank expression.

You looked down at your hand in his. "This is new."

"Relax." Haechan said, lips tugging into a smirk as he let go of your hand once you made it to the car.

You climbed into the passenger seat, adjusting your bag on your lap as he started the car. The engine roared louder than expected, and the ride was... bumpy, literally.

"You're kind of a bad driver, you know?" You teased, pulling out your lip gloss from your pocket.

"It's the road, not me." He shot back, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel.

"Sounds like something a bad driver would say." You started applying your gloss, only for the car to hit a bump, your hand jerking, smearing the gloss down your chin.

"Shit, Haechan." You turned toward him groaning as he just laughed.

"Do you have napkins in here or something?" You asked, flipping open the glove compartment. Inside, a few napkins... and a box of condoms still sealed.

You paused, taking a deep breath. "Really?" You said, holding the box up.

"Eyes on the road, sweetheart." He said, completely unfazed.

"I'm not the one driving!"

"Ok, you call me a bad driver, but then want me to take my eyes off the road? What kind of sense does that make?"

"Haechan—" You glanced between him and the road. "We're at a red light."

He bit his lip, clearly holding back a laugh as his eyes flicked over to you.

"Yeah, what now?" You said, narrowing your eyes.

"I was in the store and I thought about you, so I decided to pick them up."

You scoffed, dropping the box back into the compartment and slamming it shut. "Wow, how refreshing. You thought about me and instead of, hmm, flowers or something, you bought contraceptives. Is that why you invited me out— you just wanted to fuck?"

"I could do that at home." He said plainly, pulling into the parking lot.

You went quiet, stunned at the bluntness of it. "Whatever."

He pulled into the space and stopped the car, hands still on the wheel.

"Listen." He said, turning slightly. "I actually wanted to go out with you. If you're just gonna bitch and moan about what you think I want, then we can just get into the backseat right now and get it over with. If not, then let's eat— I am starving, impatient, and too fucking sober."

You swallowed. "Ok." You said, quieter this time.

"Ok." He repeated, flipping off the ignition.

You followed him inside, a low lit bar with creaky booths and laminated menus. You slid into a booth together, menus in hand. 

"What do you want?" He asked.

"I'm not really hungry." You said with a shrug.

He didn't blink. "What do you want?"

You sighed. "Okay, um... I'll just take whatever you're having."

"I'm getting a burger and fries, it's pretty big— are you sure?"

"I'm taking some from your plate, so I'm sure." You smiled innocently.

"Uh uh. Just get your own."

"Feels better knowing it's yours though. It'll taste better."

"Whatever." He muttered, already flagging the waitress. "Do you actually want my food? I'll get a large basket of fries."

"That would be nice." You said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

The order was placed, and for a while, you just sat there in the buzz of low music and clinking glasses.

"So." You broke the silence. "You like flowers?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to figure out where you were going with it.

"You, um— you had a lot in your backyard. And in your room, some plants too."

"You're observant." He said, sipping his drink.

"It doesn't take much effort to just pay attention to someone."

He nodded once, like he didn't disagree. "Yeah, I like flowers. It's been a hobby. Peaceful, nerdy, I guess."

"It's kinda cute." You said in a smile.

He chuckled. "Yeah? What's your favorite flower?"

"I don't know... you should teach me."

"About flowers?" He asked, amused. "That sounds like a setup. Who really doesn't know their favorite flower?"

"Setup to what?"

He didn't answer, just shook his head again.

"I guess I just like all flowers." You continued. "I like the ones in my favorite color, the color matters more to me."

"And what's that?"

"Red, pink too."

"So roses— why didn't you just say that?"

"That's like... the most basic answer. I had to be different."

He shook his head, a smile on his face."You are... surely something else."

"What's your favorite?" You questioned.

"Sunflower." He answered simply.

"Why? Those die fast."

"They only die because people don't take care of them. From what I'm hearing, you're one of those people."

"Hey, don't get mad at me. I asked you to teach me, remember? You said I was setting you up, don't throw a tantrum." 

His head tilted, eyes squinting. "Yeah, how'd you know they die fast if you don't know about flowers?" 

"I just guessed." You shrugged defensively.

Your food arrived shortly after. He pushed the fries toward you. "Help yourself."

You frowned. "Where's the sauce?"

He blinked. "What sauce?"

"You don't eat sauce with fries?" You questioned.

"No, they're good alone." He said, lips in a thin line. 

You raised your eyebrows. "They're basically raw fried potatoes." 

"They're fried, that's flavor enough." He said in a shrug.

"You're out of your mind."

"You're out of your mind." He repeated.

You waved down the waitress for sauce, shaking your head in disbelief.

The meal continued and between bites and sarcasm, you found yourself studying him— how his expressions changed, how casually he sat.

"I still can't believe you eat fries raw."

"Everything's better raw." He said, licking salt off his thumb.

You blinked. "Yeah, of course you say that you freak."

He grinned. "I didn't even— I'm just being honest."

Your head tilted with curiosity. "Why are you so into that anyway?" 

"I just am. I don't know. I like the feel, the look— it's hot.” He hesitated for a moment. "What about you— what are you into?"

"I don't know." You said honestly. "I've only had sex with you."

"You don't have any fantasies in that pretty head? I didn't put any in there?"

"Nope. You probably took some off my list, honestly."

"Me? I took some off your list?" He leaned in slightly.

"You're not as good as you think, you know." You said.

"I'm not?" He challenged. 

"Nope." 

"No?" He turned towards the waitress. "Excuse me, can I get the check please?"

"Uh uh." You said, shaking your head.

"Okay." He smirked, tossing his card on the table.

"Okay." You taunted, mirroring his smug tone.

He slid his card back into his wallet, then turned to you. "Let's go."

You stepped out into the warm night air, the echo of your footsteps quiet against the pavement. He followed behind you closely, but not rushing. You stopped at the passenger side of the car, fingers brushing the handle, waiting for that familiar 'click', but it didn't come.

Instead, he brushed past you with that maddening calmness, heading for the backseat. He threw you a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"You started it." He said lowly, before pulling the back door open and slipping inside.

You laughed under your breath, glancing around the nearly empty parking lot, then at the car's tinted windows. With one last glance over your shoulder, you opened the door and climbed in after him, shutting it behind you.

He was already waiting, leaned back against the seat, legs spread just enough to make a point, eyes heavy on you as you crawled into his lap. His hands went to your hips instinctively, but he didn't pull you in yet.

He leaned closer, lips parting, but you pulled back just slightly, a teasing smirk on your face.

"Oh, you're teasing?" He asked, a laugh caught in his throat, eyes flickering to your lips and back.

"Maybe." You answered in a light giggle, fingers sliding up his chest, soft and slow, settling at the side of his neck. You rubbed your thumb along his jaw, letting your lips hover over his without quite touching.

He let out a low, amused breath. "I promise." He said, voice dipping. "I will get the last laugh."

His hands slid down your back, gripping your ass as you finally leaned in, closing the distance between your mouths. The kiss was messy, tongues tangling together. You broke away first, breathless, trailing your mouth down his neck. It started soft, but quickly grew rougher. You sucked harder, kissed deeper, and when you found that spot— the one that made his whole body flinch, you didn't let up.

His breathing grew heavier, his voice catching in his throat as a gasp slipped out. You kept going, grinding slowly in his lap while your mouth worked that sensitive patch of skin, drawing out more moans from deep in his chest. His hips bucked beneath you, hands gripping your waist harder.

"G— get a condom." He gasped out, voice filled with need.

You lifted your head, lips swollen, red marks already blooming along his neck. You nodded wordlessly, turning to reach for the glove compartment. You opened the box, grabbing one before turning back around, but before you could get settled, he moved fast.

In one quick motion, he spun you around, pushing you forward. You let out a startled breath, your confusion turning into a sharp gasp as he tugged down your jeans and underwear in one firm motion, then landed a stinging slap to your ass.

"Wha—?" You started, but he was already pulling you back adjusting your hips, lining himself up behind you. You felt his cock, pressing at your entrance.

"Don't move." He murmured, tearing open the condom behind you. Then his hands gripped your hips tightly as he slid in slowly, filling you inch by inch. A moan escaped your lips at the stretch, the pressure, the feeling of him completely inside you. He groaned right behind you, forehead pressing into your shoulder for a moment.

Your hands found his thighs, trying to stabilize yourself, breath shaky. Then you felt his hand slide up your torso, settling at the base of your neck. Slowly, he wrapped it around your throat.

"Move." He whispered in your ear. "Ride me, show me how bad you want it."

You began to move slowly at first, rolling your hips against him. The stretch still had your legs shaking slightly, but the ache felt good, addictive. His grip on your throat tightened just a little, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who was in control. 

You pushed yourself up a little, grinding down on him, adjusting your angle. The reaction was instant, his free hand digging into your hip guiding your rhythm, not letting you escape the pace he wanted.

"Fuck." He muttered, eyes locked on where your bodies met. "Look at you— taking all of me like that, feels so fucking good."

You moved faster now, riding him with more purpose, each bounce pulling moans from both of you. His grip on your throat slipped up, fingers tangling into your hair, tugging your head back just enough to expose your neck to him again.

"Think you can tease me, huh?" He growled, lips brushing your ear. "Look at you now—moaning like a slut in the backseat. You love this shit, don't you?"

"Yes." You gasped barely able to speak, each thrust now hitting that perfect spot inside you. Your fingers dug into his thighs, desperate to stay grounded, your body already close to unraveling.

He pulled you flush against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw now as he pounded up into you. "Say it again."

"Yes— fuck, yes I love it." You choked out, your voice cracking on the edge of your orgasm.

Your body tensed, heat exploding in your stomach. Your thighs quivered around him as pleasure overtook you.

"Oh my god." You gasped, voice cracking. 

You clenched around him, your body shaking violently as the orgasm rolled through you in powerful waves. You could barely breathe, your nails digging into his thighs, holding on for dear life as you rode out every last pulse.

He groaned loudly, his control completely slipping at the feel of you squeezing him so tightly.

"Shit, I'm gonna—" His hips snapped up, body tensing as he came hard inside the condom, curses spilling against your shoulder. You felt the pulsing throb of him inside you, your bodies jerking together in a final desperate grind.

The sound of your gasping breaths filled the space, sweat slicking your bodies, your thighs trembling as you stayed draped over him.

You both took a moment to collect yourselves before slipping back into the front seat, clothes adjusted, hair smoothed. Your breath hadn't fully settled yet, and your thighs still ached faintly.

He leaned back in the driver's seat, exhaling slowly as he ran a hand through his hair then he glanced over at you.

"Did you drive to my house?" He asked, his voice low and casual.

You shook your head. "No, called a car."

He nodded once, turning the key in the ignition.

"Why?" You asked.

"So I can take you home." He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh." You hesitated. "I'm not going back to your place?"

He turned his head toward you, brows raising slightly. "Do you want to?"

Your lips parted, caught off guard by the way he asked. God you did, not even just for the sex or the comfort of his bed, you just wanted more time with him. Wanted to be near him even in the quiet moments when nothing was happening.

"Um... it's up to you." You said softly, eyes dropping to your lap.

"Uhh..." He paused, his gaze drifting toward the windshield like he needed help finding the right words. "Just go home. You'll probably just be alone if we go back to my place, so... kinda pointless."

"Oh." You nodded, swallowing down the small lump forming in your throat. "Okay."

You tried to smile, tried to keep your expression neutral, but the edges of it faltered before you could stop them, and you looked out the window to hide it.

He turned back to look at you, studying your face for a long second. Then his hand reached out, warm as it cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed lightly along your skin before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, like he was trying to make up for what he couldn't say.

"Let's get you home baby." He murmured against your lips.

"Okay." You offered a small smile, this time a little more real.

The rest of the ride passed mostly in silence, the kind that wasn't quite comfortable, but not heavy either. You leaned against the window, watching the city blur by in streaks color and lights.

Finally, he pulled up in front of your apartment building, shifting the car into park. "Here we are." He said, glancing over at you.

"Thanks." You said quietly, fingers already curling around the door handle.

You opened the door, the night air rushing in to meet you, cooler than you remembered. You stepped out, shutting it gently behind you. He waited a minute longer before driving off, and you stood there for a second longer than you needed to, watching the taillights disappear down the street.

You didn't really want to go inside, but you did anyway.

══════════════════════════

Life's been... okay.

Not terrible, not amazing either. Just somewhere in that weird middle space that never really feels like enough.

You haven't spoken to Jaemin at all— not since that night, and he hasn't spoken to you either. At first, it felt like a breath of fresh air, not having someone hovering, asking for things, pushing for more, but lately the silence has crept in. You missed him, missed the way he always showed up, even when you didn't ask. How he brought you your favorite food every time you were sick, how he took your side even when you didn't deserve it. He was constant in a way that no one else had been.

You guess that's over now, at least until he decides to grow up and apologize.

You were lying on your bed, eyes on the ceiling, mind wandering as it usually did. The morning sun streamed through your blinds, warm on your skin. Your phone buzzed beside you, you just turned your head lazily.

Haechan... of course.

This was the part of your life that made it "okay." Not boring, at least. It was always the same cycle with him: He'd ignore your calls during the day, always calling back at night asking to hang out, or to just hear your voice because "he missed it." You rarely saw him during the week except Thursdays, when you showed up to whatever party he was hosting.

But you liked him, you liked him more than you wanted to. You didn't know why you were so pulled in, why this routine made your life feel fuller. Maybe it was the way he always felt like a distraction you wanted to get lost in.

You answered the call, putting it on speaker as your phone rested on your stomach.

"Hello." You said.

"Hey, precious. How are you?" His voice had that familiar smoothness, like he was stretched out somewhere with the sun on his skin.

"I'm good. How are you, Haechan?" You replied, voice soft.

"I'm okay."

"You didn't answer my call yesterday." You said.

"Yeah, I was busy. I'm free now though, and I really wanna go watch the sunset at the beach tonight... and get high."

"Then go do that, baby." You said dryly.

"I wanna do it with you. I rented out a beach house for the night."

"I wasn't invited, so have fun." You joked.

"You were invited."

"I didn't hear a 'Y/n, I would love for you to come to the beach with me, please.' Now did I?"

He laughed. "Wow, you want to hear it that bad, huh?"

"Yep."

"Alright, well I guess I'll see you when I get back then."

"Woww." You said dramatically. "I can really tell how much I mean to you. Whatever, what's today?" You swiped your screen. "Friday, 10:34 AM. I have class in like two hours anyway."

"You can miss it."

"I can't keep missing class, Haechan." You said, sighing.

"You're smart, grades are still good from what you told me. So why does it matter?"

"You always do this. I can't keep skipping out just because of you."

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" He said, voice playful.

"Yeah, it is." 

"Well then, I take full accountability. And I'm about to take full accountability for doing it again. Please, I want you there with me."

You sighed, staring at your ceiling for a moment. "Okay, fine."

"Yeah?" He asked, you could hear the smile in his voice.

"Only because I want to watch the sunset on the beach."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there in thirty. Wear something comfy, we've got a bit of a drive."

You hung up smiling, already rolling off your bed to pack your overnight bag.

The drive was long, but the windows were down, and the music was loud. His hand found your thigh more than once, lazily rubbing circles there when he wasn't steering or rolling the blunt he promised to light later.

By the time you got to the beach house, the sun was out, bright in the blue sky. The place was beautiful, right on the water with a private stretch of sand.

You put on a swimsuit and he changed into his own. Swim trunks hung low on his hips, a silver chain glinting against his sun-warmed chest. It was impossible not to stare.

Soon, you were both down at the beach, waves kissing your ankles as you ran through the shallow water. He chased you, dramatic and loud, lifting you off your feet and tossing you into the water as you screamed. You splashed him back, water dripping down your face as you laughed like a child.

You played for what felt like hours— kicking through the water, jumping into the waves, lying side by side on the wet sand. 

As the sun dipped lower, melting into the ocean in shades of purple and orange, he was deeper in the water, you just at the shore sitting on the sand as waves hit your legs.

"Come here." He called.

You nodded, floating towards him.  "Yeah?" You questioned. 

He pulled you close, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping the back of your thighs. "Just wanted you near me." He said, smiling.

You smiled, wrapping your hands around his neck. "The sun is setting."

"I know."

"You wanted to smoke." You said, your hand reaching to cup his cheek. 

"I know." He said again, chuckling before pulling you into a kiss. 

He pulled you out of the water and led you to the towel he'd laid out earlier. You sat down, and he lit the blunt with one hand, passing it to you.

"I like it here." You murmured.

"Me too." He replied, his voice softer now. "It's nice when it's just us."

You didn't say anything, just stared out at the horizon letting yourself think. This felt real. Like maybe, just maybe, whatever you two were building was starting to mean something. You didn't say it of course, but the thought lingered in your mind as the sun finally setting.

"You know." You said through the silence, as you both sat at the towel. The cool ocean breeze chilling your skin, waves sounding in the background as the moon reflected off the water. "I'm terrified of the ocean at night."

"Why is that?" He questioned. 

"It's just, it's like a void. You can't see anything, what's beneath." You replied. 

"You're scared of the dark?" He asked.

"I never said that." You giggled, hitting his arm playfully. "I'm just, things that seem, terrifyingly repetitive. Something so big that you don't know what's ahead of you." 

He nodded.

"What about you— what are you scared of?" You questioned.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing."

"That can't be true. Everyone's afraid of something."

Everything was quiet for a long moment. He looked up at the moon, eyes reflecting.

"Commitment." He said finally, his voice low. 

You paused for a second before turning to him. "Why?" 

"Just to put your heart into something, your love, your soul, just to be disappointed and let down. It's terrifying don't you think?" He said, the contact never breaking from the moon.

"It is." You agreed. "But if you spend all your time thinking about how it might go wrong... you'll ruin it before it even begins. That's not protecting yourself, that's self sabotage."

He paused for a second, eyes flicking down. "I don't think I can do it."

"Then what are you doing now?" You asked.

He paused, before he turned to you. He just stared into your eyes, saying nothing— but his eyes spoke a million words. You weren't sure what those words meant, but it was something. Then he looked away again, back toward the sea. You turned back too, looking at the stars as quietness settled again. You leaned your head on his shoulder, your fingers sliding into his as your hands met.

The drive back was full of laughter, music, the two of you playfully arguing about which snacks were superior and what song should play next. It felt good... normal. For a second you let yourself imagine doing this more often. Just... being with him.

But eventually, the ride ended. He pulled up to your apartment, putting the car in park. 

You turned to him. "I had a really good time." You said honestly. "Thank you."

He gave a slight nod, lips pressing together. "Yeah."

There was a long pause, the engine still humming. "Just... call me or something." He added.

You hesitated. "You never answer when I do."

He paused, then licked his lips. "Just... take your chances."

You gave a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Okay."

And then you got out, closing the door behind you.

══════════════════════════

Your days had blurred together, a messy tangle of deadlines and group meetings. It was the busiest you'd ever been, and you hadn't even realized it was Thursday until your phone rang, yanking you out of a half dazed focus as your fingers hovered over your keyboard.

Haechan's name lit up the screen.

Your heart jumped before your brain could catch up. You had taken your chances just like he told you to. Called him on Friday...nothing. Sunday... ignored. Tuesday...same. After that you gave up, told yourself he didn't owe you anything. Still, he hovered in your mind constantly, a weight on your chest even when you were trying to write about something completely unrelated.

You swallowed, pressing the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

"Hey." His voice casual and unbothered. "Where are you?"

"Home." You said a little too flatly.

"Why are you not here?"

You blinked. "Why would I be?"

"To see me." He replied, like that should've been obvious.

"You haven't even been answering my calls." You said, trying not to sound hurt, failing. 

"I was busy, what do you want me to do? Didn't know it fucking mattered that much."

You flinched slightly at the way his tone sharpened. "You told me to call and then you just left me hanging." You said quieter.

There was a moment of silence. "Can you just come?"

"No, I'm busy." You replied, firmer this time. "I'm working on a book report right now."

"That can wait."

"No, it can't. If you want to see me that bad, you come here."

"Can't. My friends are already on my ass about ditching my own parties."

You sighed, the irritation in your chest threatening to spill over. "Well, I don't know what you want me to do."

"Come." He repeated, more insistent this time.

"I really need to get this project finished, it's worth fifty percent of my grade, and I'm already slipping in the class."

"When's the due date?"

"In like... a month, but still—"

"Oh my god, Y/n." He let out a laugh, half amused, half exasperated. "You literally have time, just come over."

You bit your lip, hating how easily you crumbled. "Okay... but I'm not getting dressed."

"Fine with me." He said, like he was smiling. "See you in a minute."

You hung up the phone and just stared at the screen. You didn't know why your mind worked this way, why you kept doing this to yourself— shifting your priorities, pushing aside your own needs, just because he called. But you were already grabbing your bag.

The music was loud through the door when you arrived, per usual. Eyes scanning the crowd instinctively until they landed on him standing near the kitchen, drink in hand.

"You made it." He said, lighting up when he saw you.

"Yep." You smiled, letting him pull you into a brief hug.

"Fuck, can you take a shot with me?" He asked, eyes a little glassy. Definitely not his first drink.

"Yeah, sure."

You downed it in one gulp, the burn settling into your chest. The two of you talked like usual, until three guys came over, breaking the moment.

"Yo, what's up." Haechan greeted, dapping them up. "This is Y/n, yeah— you guys know."

You gave them a polite wave and a smile and they did the same, none of them offering names though.

"Dude, have you seen Jaemin?" One of them asked.

Your stomach dropped at the name.

"Nah, he just always fucking disappears." Another chimed in.

"He's here?" Haechan asked, sounding surprised.

"I'm not even sure anymore." The first guy muttered, looking around. "I'm just gonna go look for him and smoke."

"Without me? Shit, I'll come too." Another said, and the two of them disappeared, leaving one guy behind.

Haechan turned away to fix himself another drink.

"So, Y/n, right?" The guy said, leaning in a little closer.

"Yep." You nodded, keeping your voice polite.

"You're seriously really pretty." He said, smiling.

Before you could respond, Haechan turned around, giving him a warning face.

"Thank you." You said softly, trying to defuse it.

"You should spend your time with me tonight instead." The guy laughed.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Haechan snapped, fully turning now.

"It was just a joke Haechan, chill." The guy said, raising his hands.

"Some shit isn't funny, Mark." He muttered, before turning back around.

You touched his shoulder gently. "Baby, relax..."

He turned his head slowly to look at you, his expression unreadable. "Baby? Yeah, right." The words came out low and sharp.

Ouch.

He downed the rest of his drink and walked away without another word, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there, caught in the awkward silence with Mark, your skin burning.

"I should probably..." You mumbled, gesturing toward the dance floor.

He nodded, and you slipped away. You looked everywhere— through the crowd, up the stairs, even outside in the backyard, nothing. 

Finally, your feet brought you back inside, through the hallway, the same one where everything first started with him, and there he was leaning against the wall, head tilted back like he was trying to calm the storm in his head.

"Um... hello?" You said, stepping closer.

He looked over at you slowly. "Hello."

"What, you're embarrassed of me now? What the hell was that out there?"

He pushed himself off the wall, inching toward you. "No. No, I'm not." His voice was quieter now. "Listen, Y/n— baby, I'm just... he's so fucking annoying. Talking to you like that, like you're some kind of slut. You wouldn't do that, right?"

You blinked, taken aback. "Do what?"

"Fuck my friends." He said, his voice filled with distress.

You stared at him. "No, I would never do that."

"I know you wouldn't." He said quickly. "But he keeps bugging me, and I—" He trailed off, jaw clenching.

Before you could say more he reached out, pulling you into him by the waist.

"You need to calm down." You said, your voice soft, eyes searching his.

He didn't respond— at least not with words. Instead, he kissed you, hard and sudden, like kissing you was the only way to shut his thoughts up. Like it was the only thing that made any sense in his fucked up head.

The kiss grew rougher, needier— his hands tangled in your hair, your lips moving in sync. Then without warning he broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at you.

His eyes lingered on your face, dark and intense, you could feel your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Can you do something for me?" He asked, his voice low and almost too calm, like he already knew the answer.

You swallowed, your breath shallow. "What is it?"

He didn't answer, instead he gently took your wrists and guided you down, lowering you to your knees in front of him. Your heart thudded in your chest as you looked up at him, your hands resting lightly on his thighs.

"But..." You hesitated, eyes darting nervously. "What if someone sees?"

"No one will." He said firmly, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your eyes flicked back to his, uncertainty flickering in your expression.

"It's—" You began, your voice quiet, almost unsure. "It's also my first time... doing this."

He looked down at you for a long moment. 

"Don't you think we're a little past that?" He said. "You've already had me inside you, you want this."

You stayed quiet, your teeth catching your bottom lip as the weight of his words settled over you. There was truth in them, too much truth. You couldn't deny the heat pooling in your stomach at the way he looked at you now.

Slowly you reached up and began to unbutton his pants. He didn't move, didn't say a word, just watched you. Eyes dark, lips parted, waiting.

"You don't have to be perfect." He murmured, his voice suddenly softer. 

You looked up at him again, nervous.

He let out a slow breath, his hand resting lightly at the back of your head, thumb grazing your cheek. "Go on."

You stared at him for a moment longer, lips parted, heart pounding.You leaned in slowly, hesitating for a moment, then pressed a tentative kiss to the tip.

"That's it." He whispered. "Just go slow."

You licked your lips, tasting him, then did it again— longer this time, feeling every twitch, every subtle response in his body. His muscles tensed under your touch. You could tell he was holding back, letting you set the pace.

You opened your mouth and took him in, just the head at first. His reaction was immediate, his hips jerking ever so slightly.

"Fuck... yeah, just like that." He muttered, eyes locked on you. "You're doing so good."

You pulled back, lips wrapping around him tighter, watching his reaction as you went lower again, taking a little more. Your jaw ached slightly, but it was drowned out. You were getting lost in the rhythm, his quiet moans, the way his hand cradled your head now, guiding you but never forcing.

His voice dropped. "Look at you... so pretty."

You started to move with more confidence now, hollowing your cheeks slightly, using your hand to stroke what you couldn't take. You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, losing yourself, but he gently tugged your hair.

"Eyes on me." He said.

You looked up, mouth still wrapped around him, and the look on his face nearly made you melt, like he was barely holding himself together.

You took him deeper, relaxing your jaw, tongue pressing along the underside of his shaft. His hips jerked slightly, and this time he didn't hold back. His hand fisted in your hair and you could feel the shift in him, the restraint slipping, the patience wearing thin.

He looked down at you, eyes dark, lips parted breathing hard. "So eager now, huh? Acted all shy a minute ago, now you're drooling on my cock."

Your hand worked what your mouth couldn't reach, pace growing rougher.

"Look at you— on your knees. You love this, you love being used."

You whimpered, and he groaned low in his chest, tightening his grip in your hair. "That's it. Take it, fucking take it."

He began thrusting into your mouth with more force now. Your eyes watered, throat flexing around him as he pushed deeper, only to pull back and do it again.

"You feel so fucking good." He groaned. "You gonna let me finish in that pretty little mouth?"

You nodded the best you could, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as spit slicked your chin. He was getting close—you could feel it in the desperate sounds spilling from his lips.

"Keep going— don't stop." He muttered, thrusts erratic now.

Then his grip locked in your hair, his whole body tensed, and with a whimper, he came. You felt the heat of it hit the back of your throat, his hand holding you down just a moment longer as he rode it out, panting hard.

When he finally released you, you pulled back slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He looked completely wrecked— head thrown back, chest rising and falling fast, shirt pulled up halfway up his torso. 

"You good?" He asked, eyes heavy lidded, 

 voice hoarse as he looked down at you breathless.

"Yeah, yeah." You said, catching your breath and clearing your throat, trying to steady yourself.

"C'mon, let's go upstairs." He mumbled, pulling his pants back up.

You followed him up, still in your oversized tee and shorts. You honestly thought he'd pull you right back into something the second the door shut behind you, but instead he headed straight for his desk, settling into his chair like nothing happened, opening his laptop.

You blinked, taking in the room, on his dresser sat a vase full of vivid red roses.

"These are pretty." You said, walking over to get a closer look, fingertips brushing the soft petals.

He turned just slightly, glancing over his shoulder. "Yeah, they were for you." He said casually, shrugging as he turned back to the screen. "But I thought you were gonna ditch me tonight, so I just put them up."

Your brows raised slightly, caught off guard. "Were they really?" You asked, warmth creeping up your cheeks despite yourself.

"Yeah." He said, a soft chuckle leaving him. "I don't like roses."

Before you could say anything else, he stood from his chair and walked over, motioning to the desk. "Here you go. Sorry if downstairs is a distraction, but I mean it's something, right?"

"What do you mean?" You asked, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

"You can work on your project." He said, motioning lazily to the setup. "It's online, I assumed, so just use my stuff to get what you need done."

"Wait, actually?" You asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, no trouble at all. Do what you need to do. I'll just text you the user and password just in case and yeah, I'll be downstairs."

You watched him move to the door. "So you don't want me to just leave?"

"No." He replied. "Just work here. I might need you later."

"Oh, I see." You muttered with a small smirk.

"Well, I'll be downstairs if you need me." He said, then disappeared into the hallway.

You settled at the desk with a sigh, opening tabs, pulling up sources, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you got to work. Two hours passed before you even looked up again, then the door creaked open.

"Hey." Came a slurred voice behind you.

You turned around, catching Haechan stumbling slightly into the room. His shirt was wrinkled, hair messy, and his hand was wrapped around a red Solo cup.

"Hi." You said, standing instinctively, walking over to him, noticing how he swayed as he walked.

"I brought this for you." He said, holding out the cup proudly.

"Thanks." You replied with a cautious smile, taking it from him. You gave it a sniff and got immediately hit with the sharp burn of straight liquor. "Nothing more I love than a few shots of liquor to help me work."

He let out a loose giggle, clearly noting the sarcasm in your tone. "It stimulates the mind." He slurred.

"How much have you had, Haechan?" You asked, leading him carefully toward the bed.

"I dunno." He answered, grinning up at you with heavy eyes as he sank into the mattress.

"Ok, time to close your eyes and rest for a little." You said gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"No, no, I'm good. I just came to check on you." He insisted, trying to sit up again. "I'm going to go drink."

He stood too fast, stumbling before falling right back into bed with a thud.

"Yeah, okay." You said with a small laugh, returning to the chair and the warm glow of the computer screen.

"Y/n." He called out suddenly from where he laid.

"Yes, Haechan." You replied, still typing.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." You said, smiling slightly to yourself, already expecting something ridiculous.

"You don't, like— really like me? Like, actually like me, right?"

You paused, your fingers hovered over the keys.

Your chest tightened, air catching slightly in your throat. Of course you did, you liked him more than you wanted to admit, more than you could justify. And yet he made it so difficult— treating you like an afterthought one second and the only thing that mattered the next.

"Why?" You asked instead, turning slowly in your chair with a small, tired smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

He sighed. "I dunno. They're all just like... making fun of me. Like, all my friends and stuff."

You frowned, turning back to the computer. "Is that so."

"Yeah, and—" He started, then just laughed quietly. "Can we kiss?"

You turned around again, rising to your feet and walking toward him. You leaned down, placing a soft peck on his lips.

You turned to leave again, but he reached out. "Wait. Can you lay with me, please?"

You paused, heart caught somewhere between affection and fatigue. "Ok, but promise you'll close your eyes and not speak if I do."

"I promise." He mumbled.

You shook your head with a smile, slipping under the covers. He wasted no time pulling you in, chest to chest, his arms wrapping snugly around your waist, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

You ran your fingers slowly through his hair, holding him.

"You know—" He began.

"Haechan, shh." You whispered, eyes still closed.

"Sorry." He mumbled, and after that everything became silent.

His breathing slowed, and he finally drifted off, but you couldn't, not even with your eyes closed.

Your mind was a storm of questions, of feelings, of why he said things like that if he didn't mean them, why he pushed and pulled, how he looked at you like you mattered and then dropped you like you didn't.

You laid there for what felt like hours, the hum of the party now distant, muffled by the door. Then you heard footsteps, voices— a knock.

"Haechan, it's us. We're coming in to make sure you're not dead... stop us at any time if you don't want us to come in."

You were about to speak, about to let them know he was ok, but he was finally asleep and for once he looked peaceful. So you stayed quiet, eyes closed, pretending.

The door opened, laughter spilling in before it abruptly quieted.

"They fucking?" One of them asked, then a pause. "Wait, no. They're asleep."

"Haechan is in here cuddled up, what the fuck." Another voice muttered.

Then there was a second of silence and another voice broke through.

"Dude... he's so in love."

"Something like that." Another chimed in with a giggle.

And though your eyes stayed shut, your chest clenched tightly.

They left soon after, their laughter retreating down the hall, swallowed again by the hum of music and distant shouting from downstairs, but that one sentence didn't leave with them.

"Dude... he's so in love."

You laid still, your body locked in place, his arm still draped over your waist like it belonged there. Like it always belonged there, like he wasn't drunk and asking if you liked him just an hour ago, like he wasn't someone who made you question every other word he said, then undid you completely with a single glance.

Love.

They said it so casually, so easily. Like they knew something you didn't or maybe, something you were too scared to believe.

Your hand still rested in his hair, your fingers curled gently around the strands, and you debated pulling away, getting up, putting distance between your body, but you didn't. Because some part of you wanted to hold onto it, to him, even if it hurt.

Because that's what he always did to you, wasn't it?

He gave you just enough to keep you there. Just enough softness to believe he cared, but never quite enough to settle into.

You tried to tell yourself the alcohol was talking. That none of this was real, that tomorrow he'd wake up and probably tease you for cuddling him or pretend he didn't remember half the things he said.

Maybe he loved you in a way he couldn't say sober, maybe he only knew how to want you in pieces, maybe this was what love looked like to someone like him and maybe it was enough for someone like you.

You let your eyes close, pressing your cheek into the pillow. Not to sleep— your mind wouldn't let you, but just to stay still. To pretend for a second that it didn't matter, that you didn't care so much, but you did.

God, you did.

And somewhere inside you, the truth was slowly blooming like those roses on his dresser.

The room was still dark when your eyes opened. That hazy blue hour just before dawn crept faintly through the window.

Your body ached slightly from how you'd slept— curled against him, one of his arms slung heavy around your waist. You could feel his breath, slow and warm against your shoulder.

It almost made you forget everything... almost.

You shifted slightly, trying not to wake him. Just enough to stretch your legs or maybe find a less tangled position, but he moved almost immediately. His eyes fluttered open in a daze, and then widened slightly when he realized how close you still were.

He pulled back fast.

"Shit." He muttered, untangling his limbs from yours, sitting up and running a hand through his hair, still foggy, but clearly panicked.

"Sorry." You said quietly, sitting up too, pulling the blanket around you a little. "I didn't mean to wake you, I was just trying to stretch. Are you ok? You were really messed up last night."

His eyes flicked to you, but didn't linger. "I want to be alone." He said flatly.

You blinked. "It's really early." You said, voice soft. "I can just go sit at the desk or—"

"I don't care." He snapped, sharper now. "Just go."

It hit harder than you expected, the shift, the chill, the coldness where warmth had been hours ago.

You nodded slowly, swallowing whatever emotion was threatening to rise and stood. "Okay."

You barely made it to the door before his voice called out again."Get the fucking flowers." 

You paused, turning slowly. "What?"

"I don't want them here." He said without looking at you.

Your eyes flicked to the dresser, the roses still blooming in the soft light.

"What about the vase?"

He exhaled through his nose, not quite a scoff, but close. "Take it." He said, his voice emotionless. "Just— take it. Get out."

You stared at him for a moment longer, trying to understand what just happened, trying not to let it show on your face, but you just nodded.

You walked back across the room, lifted the vase and left without another word.

The hallway was cold.

You hadn't realized how warm his room had been until you stepped out, vase clutched to your chest. The roses swayed slightly as you walked.

You moved down the stairs where empty cups and crumpled napkins were scattered, your fingers curled tighter around the glass. You didn't know why you took it— why you didn't just leave them there, why you obeyed so easily, like some part of you was still waiting for him to call you back again, but the silence behind you stayed silent.

You stepped outside, the early morning air hit your skin, you took a deep breath, walking to your car, placing the flowers beside you.

He held you like he wanted you, kissed you like he needed you, talked to you like he trusted you, asked you if you liked him, pulled you close and made you believe maybe just for a second it was real.

And then he told you to get out.

You swallowed hard, jaw clenching to keep the sting from reaching your eyes. You hated this part of yourself. The part that showed up every time he called, the part that wanted to believe his words even after his actions said something else, the part that still thought the flowers might mean something— even now, when he couldn't stand the sight of them.

You looked over at them, beautiful and unwanted— just like you.

You blinked away the blur in your vision, taking another slow breath. Then you started your car and drove away. Because what else could you do?

══════════════════════════

He was the only thing flowing through your mind.

You tried not to think about him, tried to focus on your projects for the next week, tried to drown your thoughts in deadlines, but during those quiet blind spots— when your hands paused on the keyboard, when your gaze drifted away from the screen, it was only him.

It didn't matter how hard you tried, he always found a way in.

Your thoughts had gotten the best of you... again. You texted— just a simple 'are you okay?' even after he hurt you, even after everything, but he never answered.

After that, you didn't call, you didn't try. You hadn't even gone to the party and he never called to ask why. It was pretty much over to you and maybe that should've been enough.

You replayed the scene in your head, skimming over every detail you could remember— how he shifted away from you, how his voice went cold, how he didn't even look at you. You tried to fathom what happened, replaying every word, every moment. Was it something you said? Something you did?

You wanted to just leave it. For him, yes, but more for you. For your own dignity, whatever was left of it. You felt embarrassed every time you thought about talking to him again. Embarrassed every time your mind wandered to his touch, his mouth, his company.

It was pathetic... you were pathetic, truly.

You were sitting in your bed, mind floating everywhere except the subject in front of you, while your fingers moved absently across the keyboard, then your phone rang.

You sighed, expecting it to be one of your roommates, maybe a spam caller, but it was him— Haechan, of course it was.

Of course he was calling after kicking you out. After ignoring your message when you were just checking in. Of course it was so easy for him to reach out after all this time. Or... maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just as hard for him as it was for you. But you weren't the one scared to look like a loser. Either way, it was stupid.

Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it.

Your heart said, or maybe your mind. You weren't sure anymore, but you didn't listen.

To yourself, obviously. Not the call.

That— you picked up a little too fast. Like nothing even mattered anymore except him and maybe it was the case, and you hated that. You hated it so bad, but you couldn't change it, no matter how hard you tried, it was like a curse.

"Hello." You said quietly.

"Come over." His voice was hoarse.

You didn't fight it, you didn't ask why he hadn't reached out, didn't beg for an explanation or an apology.

"Like... right now?" You asked, voice catching slightly.

"Yes." That was it.

You looked at the date and time glowing on your computer screen: Saturday, 7:38 PM.

Your eyes flicked up to the file you were working on. Book report, due in three weeks. You had maybe 30 out of 75 pages done and barely the energy to finish another sentence.

You bit your lip in hesitation, then took a deep breath.

"Okay." You said quietly. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

He said nothing back, just hung up.

You got up immediately, grabbing your keys. The drive was quiet, your mind raced, heart even faster. When you got there, you knocked on the door and waited.

After a few seconds, it opened.

There he was, hair messy, eyes dark and unreadable.

"Hey." You said, offering a small smile, but he didn't say anything. He just stepped aside, letting you in, the door shutting behind you with a soft click.

Weird.

He walked to the kitchen without a word, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a drink, not even offering you one. You just stood there awkwardly, while he leaned against the island— probably the cleanest you'd ever seen it, his palms flat on the surface.

"You know..." He started, clearing his throat, still not looking at you. "Someone sent me a photo."

Your brows furrowed, confused. "What was it?"

"You." He finally looked at you then, and the look in his eyes made your stomach twist, like he was holding back something.

"A photo of me?" You asked with a nervous laugh. "Okay... what was it?"

He chuckled, but it was flat, empty. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, scrolled, and placed it on the counter without a word.

You moved slowly toward it, his gaze heavy on you as your eyes landed on the screen.

You froze. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach.

"Where— where did you get this?" You stammered, voice shaky.

"I'm assuming this was last year? At your old uni, right?" He said, tone thick with something you couldn't name— disgust, betrayal... maybe both?

"I— how did you get this?" You said again, voice trembling, lip starting to quiver.

"I didn't know you were a hardcore partier like that." He said, smile curling bitterly. "No wonder you can handle liquor like it's water."

He looked back down at the photo. "Did you lie about taking drugs too? Or was it actually your first time smoking weed? Cause... looks like you did other shit."

You stared at him, eyes starting to water.

You never forgot about your past, even though you tried. You thought you got away from it, left it behind, but now it was back. Slapped into your hands by someone who had already hurt you. Who was now throwing it all in your face like you deserved it.

"Who's this?" His voice cut through your spiral.

You didn't even have to look, you already knew who he was pointing at— the guy in the photo. The one with his arm around your waist, the one you were kissing.

"Someone I used to talk to." You said quietly, the most coherent thing you could get out.

"Oh, really?" He said, his voice filled with sarcasm.

"Why do you even care so much?" You blurted out, your voice cracking now, barely holding it together. "You don't even want me."

He paused, looking straight at you. "That's my fucking brother."

Everything in you went still, cold. Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

"Yeah." He said, tilting his head, expression dark. "Nothing to say now, huh? What the fuck is actually wrong with you? Do you even know what you did to him?"

"It was a mistake." You said, voice breaking. "I didn't mean to hurt him, I swear. I didn't do anything on purpose."

"You didn't mean to?" He repeated, louder now. "You didn't do anything on purpose? You took everything from him. Got him addicted to pills, addicted to you, and then what— just left? Like he meant nothing? He had to go to rehab, he almost died and it was just a mistake?"

"I'm— I'm sorry." You whispered, the words trembling out of you.

"Right." He scoffed. "Like that's gonna fix anything. He really liked you, you know. You were all he knew, all he loved and you just left him for dead."

Your throat was dry. You couldn't defend yourself, not really. You'd done things you weren't proud of.. hurt people and now it was all crashing back.

"So what now?" He said. "You thought you could play me too? What, did my sister do something to you, so now it's 'get back at the family one by one'?"

"No. No, I swear." You said quickly, stepping forward. "That's not what this is. I'm not playing with you."

He laughed bitterly. "Then what is this? You're a fucking hypocrite. You preach to me about commitment and what was it— self sabotage? But you can't even follow your own bullshit."

"I can now, I'm not that person anymore. I was just in a dark place, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't care who I took down with me because I didn't even care about myself."

You stepped closer, eyes shining, voice shaking. "I'm not lying to you. You've seen it, you've seen how much I care. How much I need you."

"Yeah?" He questioned,voice low.

You were standing in front of him now, your hand reaching up to his cheek, gently touching him like you were scared he'd disappear.

He didn't pull away.

You whispered. "Please."

His breathing changed, slower. Like he was holding something in his chest he didn't know what to do with. His eyes searched yours, the space between the both of you had shrunk. And the way his jaw tensed, the way his hands gripped the edge of the counter like they needed to hold onto something— like they needed to hold onto you.

You could feel it, like the only thing left to do was move closer, or burn from standing still.

Something snapped.

He grabbed you suddenly, dragging you into him by the waist, his mouth crashing onto yours like punishment. It was messy, angry. His hands were already tugging your clothes down, fingers digging in like he wanted to rip right through the fabric. Your underwear was shoved down before you could catch your breath, and his pants were already halfway undone.

You gasped as he turned you around, chest slammed against the counter, your hands barely catching yourself. Before you could fully process it, he kicked your legs open wider with his knee as one hand shot up and wrapped tightly around your throat, fingers digging in just enough to pull your head back against his chest, your spine arching slightly under the pressure.

"If you want a condom, go to my car and get one." He whispered, voice low and rough.

You froze for a second, breath shuddering as his hand tightened slightly. Then, swallowing hard, you shook your head slowly.

"I'm fine." You murmured, voice barely audible.

"Pathetic."

Without warning, he pulled your hips back, lining himself up with your entrance, before pushing in all the way. A loud, sharp cry came from your lips as the sudden stretch overwhelmed you.

He didn't slow down or wait— just started thrusting hard and fast, pounding into you relentlessly, ignoring every sound you made.

He slammed into you harder, his hand tightening around your throat, fingers pressing cruelly against your skin, cutting off your air just enough to make your heart race.

"Look at you." He panted, voice dark. "Pathetic little slut, can't even handle something simple like this."

You gasped, the pressure in your throat making it hard to speak, but the pounding pushed deeper inside, and slowly your body started to adjust to him.

His thrusts grew harder, like he was losing himself in the moment, hips snapping into yours faster and heavier. His grip loosened for a brief second, fingers brushing your skin almost tenderly before tightening again.

You moaned louder, the pain fading as your body started to catch up with him, heat pooling deep inside.

His pace turned harder hips slamming into you with no rhythm now, just need. The hand around your throat suddenly released, only to tangle in your hair and yank your head back hard.

You cried out, not just from the pull but from everything— your body shaking, tears slipping down your cheeks without you even realizing.

He noticed,  laughing slightly. "Pathetic. Can't even take it, crying like a little bitch."

His grip in your hair tightened as he drove into you even harder. "But you like it, don't you?" He snarled, voice louder now, strained with how close he was. "This is what you wanted."

"Yes." You gasped, breath hitching around a sob, your body arching into his with every rough thrust.

His breaths grew loud and uneven, voice breaking into low groans and occasional whimpers, like he was falling apart right behind you.

He let go of your hair suddenly, and your upper body collapsed forward, your chest pressing flat against the counter. Both of his hands clamped down hard on your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you deeper.

His fingers dug into your skin as his body started to tense, his thrusts becoming sloppy, the sound of his low whimpers mixing with your own moans.

"You're— fuck, so tight..." He choked out, voice cracking as he buried himself in you again and again.

His pace turned erratic, hips jerking forward like he couldn't stop himself, like his body had taken over.

His grip on your hips bruised, pulling you back into every thrust like he was trying to bury himself as deep as possible. His whole body trembled, his moans turning into whimpers.

You just moaned out softly beneath him as he lost it— hips jerking erratically now, hands clutching you like you'd disappear if he let go.

"Shit." He gasped, voice wrecked. "You feel so— fuck."

His whole body tightened, shuddering as he came hard inside you with a strained whimper. 

He stayed still for a second, shaking, breath caught in his throat, still pulsing inside you.

You were right there— right on the edge, body tense and desperate, but then he pulled out suddenly and stepped back.

He laughed, low and cruel, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Aw, were you about to cum?" He said, mocking, breath still heavy. He pulled up his pants, voice cold again. "Too bad." He said before walking up the stairs with heavy steps, no backward glance.

You sat still for a moment, breath shallow, skin still warm from his touch, heart trying to piece together what this meant—if it meant anything at all.

Your eyes wandered, trying to find a single object in the room that would ground you. You stared at everything blankly, waiting. Maybe for him to come back and say something soft, something honest... anything at all.

Eventually, he did come back, but it wasn't what you expected.

His steps were quieter this time. No eye contact, no sigh, no hesitation, just a folded fifty dollar bill that he slipped into your hand like it was a transaction. Like this was something to close out, something to be done with.

"For the plan B." He muttered, eyes flicking to the side, avoiding your expression. "And for you to not say anything else. To just... just go."

You held the cash loosely in your fingers silent. The room blurred for a second, vision not quite focusing, but your body still moved on autopilot. You nodded quietly, not bothering to fix your hair or wipe your face.

You didn't cry, not yet. You didn't ask questions, you didn't fight, you didn't even look back.

You just left, the door clicking shut behind you.

The streets were quieter than usual for a Saturday night or maybe you just weren't really listening. Maybe the noise had dimmed around you, your mind doing that thing where it zooms out, pulls away from everything like it doesn't belong to you.

You drove to your favorite spot. That shitty little corner diner that stayed open late and never judged you for showing up in sweatpants or smeared mascara. You walked in and ordered the usual without thinking.

"Chicken tenders, fries, extra honey mustard." You said, voice small, like you were 12 again and just needed something familiar.

The cashier didn't smile, just nodded and took the crumpled bill from your hand— the same one he gave you.

You sat by the window with your tray, staring out at the parking lot as yellow lights buzzed.

You dipped a fry into the honey mustard, then stared at it before finally taking a bite. You weren't really hungry, not truly, but chewing helped. It gave your mind something else to do besides replaying what happened. What he said, the look on his face when he gave you the money.

You didn't even need the money for a morning after pill. You been on birth control for your periods for months now.

You thought about how it all started. How much you tried to bury the past, how much effort you made to grow, to become someone better. You weren't perfect— god, you knew that, but you were trying. You  been trying, you wanted him to see that, you wanted him to see you.

But maybe he never really did.

You sat there for a while, eating slowly, the food growing cold on the tray in front of you.

══════════════════════════

You were sitting at home a few days later, just working, thinking, trying hard not to think.

$60 for a Plan B and for you "not to say anything else and just go" what the fuck. 

Your phone buzzed, not a call, just a text.

Haechan [10:39 PM]:

"U home?"

Literally— what the fuck. 

You were confused, stuck, you just wanted clarity, something solid, something that would tell you where his mind was, where his heart was. You were too scared to ask, too scared you'd scare him away if you pressed too hard. But this? This was getting ridiculous.

You [10:42 PM]:

"Why?"

You texted back. Okay, yeah. Maybe not the hardest stance you could've taken, but this was your definition of standing on business. Who were you kidding? You couldn't even ignore the text for more than five minutes.

Luckily, he didn't answer. Maybe that was your answer— the real one. Maybe silence told you where you stood with him more than anything else. But then again, his actions said something different. The way he held you, the way he looked at you sometimes. You couldn't help but feel like he did care, like maybe he loved you even just a little.

Or was that just you projecting? Was this your idea of love? Was this what you were settling for— and if it was, did that mean this was what you were worth? Because honestly, it didn't feel like it. But then... sometimes it did.

Right before your thoughts spiraled any further, three shallow knocks hit your door. Your expression twisted slightly, confusion brushing over your face. You stood up from your bed, slowly making your way to the front door, opening it. Of course... there he was.

You just sighed.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

He didn't answer right away, just looked over your shoulder into the room. "Your roommate's home?"

"No, one's gone for the weekend, and the other's out with her boyfriend. Why?"

"Can I come inside?"

"Why? Don't you hate me?"

He just chuckled soft and dryly, then silence. He didn't answer, and neither did you, you just stepped aside and let him in. He moved past you, settling on the couch as you shut the door gently, walking over slowly.

"Tell me everything." He said, turning to look at you. "From your side."

You didn't have to ask what he meant, you already knew.

"Well.." You started, taking a deep breath. "I was doing fine before. I had friends here, I was making straight A's— it was never really hard for me. Then my mom died, and that took a big toll on me."

"Where's your dad?" He asked.

"Hell if I know." You looked up at him. He just nodded in response, saying nothing.

"So, yeah, I was alone. I had people— my best friend since childhood actually, but I still felt so lonely. So I decided to take a break from here and just leave. I went to school in a different state."

You paused, gathering the words that still sat heavy in your chest. "It started off fine, I mean as fine as it was gonna get, but then my best friend started getting distant. He always cared for me, but he started doing his own thing— making new friends and everything. It hurt because I needed him... I loved him."

"You loved him?" Haechan asked, brows slightly furrowed.

"Yeah, a lot. I, um... he came to visit me early on when I moved, and I told him how I felt, but he rejected me— told me he just wanted to mess around with people and not be locked down. And yeah, that hurt... like a lot. I guess I thought he felt the same... he acted like it. And when he started ignoring me after that? That's what really messed me up."

You looked down at your hands as you kept going, your voice quiet, but steady. "So I ended up making new friends. Not great ones. I started partying, trying to fill this empty void in my life. Got addicted to the lifestyle. One party, someone offered me weed, and that was a big no for me because — duh." You let out a small, self deprecating laugh.

"But then they introduced me to pills. That felt different, not the same thing as weed in my head, so I did it. I drank, I did drugs, barely went to class, but when I did..."

You paused, tilting your head back, staring at the ceiling. "It just seemed like he was always waiting for me, like he was the only one who didn't judge."

"My brother." Haechan said quietly.

You nodded. "He was obsessed with me. Like I was the most precious thing in the world— no offense to him." You looked up, waving your hands a bit.

"I was just... confused, confused why. He didn't even know me, but he kept trying, and I was at my lowest.. at a point where I felt like no one else wanted me, not even my best friend— so I gave in. We texted. I wasn't always great at responding,  I was always out doing shit, complete opposite of him. He was smart, focused, kind and I was basically nothing. But even then, he still wanted me, so much that he started doing what I was doing and I didn't think anything of it. Just another guy to me. No offense... again."

Haechan chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Just finish."

"He started partying, harder than I did even. Started drinking like me, taking the pills I took and honestly, it was fun. He made me feel like I wasn't the only one who was falling apart. Like we were nothing together." You shook your head slowly. 

"It's so messed up, but I didn't know better. Stuff happened between us. Not sex!" You blurted out. "I'm... well, was saving myself. And yeah, I liked him a bit. He felt like commitment, like the only one I could count on to stay."

You exhaled, the weight of your own memories thick in your throat.

"Then my best friend just... came back. Completely out of nowhere, acting like I was the world to him. Telling me to stop doing drugs. I don't know what changed, maybe he was scared I wouldn't come back for summer. Which, I really wasn't going to. But he asked me to visit at least, just at the beginning of the summer and I agreed."

You kept going, not pausing now, just unraveling it all.

"So I went back home, stayed with him. Then he tried to do some rehabilitation bullshit on me or whatever. Told me he'd help me change, and would 'fix' me. I was hysterical. I felt betrayed. He left me, I got like this, and now he wanted to act like I was a project. Like I was just some druggie or party whore who needed saving, which I guess I was." You laughed softly, sadly.

"I told him I had someone who cared about me— someone who loved me, but he said it wasn't love. That I needed to focus on myself, not a boyfriend, and I believed him. I cried in his arms and I stayed. I got sober, started fresh over for the summer. Then... he begged me to just stay permanently, said he wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I was okay."

You looked at Haechan then, eyes softer now. "So I did. I told my best friend I needed to explain to your brother what was going on, that I wanted to stay in contact. But he told me to leave the past behind, that he'd just get over it. So I left, no reason, no goodbye, just silence. I had no idea what happened to him after. That he got addicted, that he went to rehab, I just assumed he'd move on too. I tried to reach out again at the beginning of this year, but I was blocked, rightfully so."

You looked at each other, silence. 

"Is that why you're still with me?" He asked, voice quiet. "You get treated like shit, but you know I care enough. You feel guilt... so you allow it, right?" 

His voice cracked slightly. "Is it guilt?"

You looked away, eyes trailing up toward the ceiling. You bit your lip hard before turning your gaze back to him.

"I really do love you." You said, voice almost a whisper, eyes glossy. "Is that all you wanted to hear?"

He nodded, once. "Yeah." He said softly.

Silence again, but not empty.  The moonlight shined through the blinds, his eyes glinting the reflection as you two stared at each other.

Then slowly, he leaned in. His hand reached up, gentle against your cheek, thumb brushing the side of your face like he was afraid you would flinch.

It wasn't rushed, it wasn't desperate, it was soft— slower than either of you expected. You kissed him back, just as slow, just as quiet, your hand curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt.

When he pulled away, he stayed there for a moment. His forehead nearly touching yours, his breath warm, eyes glassy.

He cleared his throat, scooting back slightly. "I should probably get going." He said, voice low.

"Yeah." You nodded.

"Okay, I'm about to leave." He said, not moving an inch.

"Got it." You smiled a little, lips still tingling.

"Right now." He said again, like he needed to convince himself.

You leaned in, giving him one last kiss, just a soft peck, but it lingered.

"Go." You whispered against his lips.

He finally stood, walking to the door, you following behind him.

"If you get the chance, would you tell him to unblock me?" You asked, voice low but sincere as he reached for the doorknob. "I really want the chance to apologize... check on him personally."

He paused, his hand still on the door, then he turned just slightly, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

He gave a small nod. "Yeah." Then after a moment, quieter: "Just... call me or something."

You let out a tired chuckle, shaking your head gently, a half smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"Yeah." You whispered, more to yourself than to him.

And then you closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet room.

══════════════════════════

[mafiadad5]

I'm waiting for part 2 :)

Tmr 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

[mafiadad5]

hi, i just wanted to say that teach me not to lobe is absolutely amazing!!! i was wondering if you could add me to the taglist please??🙏

Yes, of course! Thank you so much, love <33

[mafiadad5]

teach me not to love was so good!!! could i get added to the taglist for the next two parts?

Absolutely 😏

[mafiadad5]

OHHHH THAT HYUCK FIC (RECENT) IS GOLDDDD i love it alr

ILYYY MWAH MWAH TY 💚

[mafiadad5]

just finished the new fic and DESPERATE SLUT!?!&?&???!?! that seriously made me laugh like he cannot be serious😭ooooo he needs a good punch in the throat ANYWAYYY it was soooo good🤭

TYSM <333

[mafiadad5]

Teach me to not love || L. HC (part 1)

𐙚 fuckboy!haechan x fem!reader (ft. best friend jaemin)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

𐙚 synopsis- Jaemin’s out for revenge after Haechan slept with the girl he liked. You’re just supposed to be a distraction, something pretty to keep Haechan’s mind off of what Jaemin was doing. He’s cute, addictive— you should stay away… you really should, but when he touches you like that how are you supposed to remember what’s right?

𐙚 genre- college au, smut/ porn with plot (MDNI 18+), angst, slight fluff.

𐙚 warnings- drug use, alcohol use, sex under the influence, lost of virginity, protected sex, oral (fem receiving), marking, praising, sorta rough sex, arguing, slight sexual Jaemin moment, mention of death.

𐙚 W/c- 14k

Now playing: House of balloons/ Glass table girls- The Weeknd

a/n- hi guys! I really wanted to post this all in one part, but tumblr had other plans loll. I’ve poured months (and a few breakdowns T.T) into this, so I really hope you enjoy it! let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part, and I’d love to hear what you think <3

══════════════════════════

It was a typical Thursday night—  your desk lamp casted a soft glow over your notes as you flipped through flashcards for your biology test. You were focused, head down as you muttered terms under your breath, determined to cram as much into your brain as humanly possible before crashing, then came the voice.

"Oh, Y/n!!!"

Your door flew open with no hesitation. You didn't even have time to respond before Jaemin strolled in like he owned the place, grinning from ear to ear.

"What the fuck." You muttered under your breath, barely looking up as he waltzed in and flopped himself onto your bed. 

"Jaemin, what are you doing here— how did you even get in?" You asked, spinning in your chair with a look of disapproval stretched across your face.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Your hot roommate let me in."

You raised a brow. "The one who has a crush on you?"

"The one I may fuck." He said with a grin as he stretched out, hands behind his head, settling in like he had no plans of leaving anytime soon.

"Ok, yuck. Didn't you literally fuck the other one?" You said flatly, turning back to your desk, scooping up your stack of color coded flashcards with a sigh. "Seriously though, what are you doing here? I told you I'm locking in tonight."

"You lock in every night." He said, dragging out a dramatic sigh.

"And that's why our intelligence levels are not in the same bracket." You joked, a small smirk appearing on your lips, even though your eyes stayed focused on the pile in front of you.

"So you don't love me, I guess?" He asked, his voice tilting into that overly dramatic tone you knew too well.

"Exactly." You said, spinning around to face him again.

"Wow... so cold. After ten years of friendship, this is how I'm treated? Unrequited love, what a tragedy." He said, clutching his chest, face twisted in fake agony.

"I love you, Jaemin. I've loved you since we were nine. You're my best friend ever. There, happy now?" You said deadpan, raising an eyebrow.

He froze for a second, then grinned slowly. "Wow... so you really love me? Like, really love me? You'd do anything for me, because you're so in love with me, right?"

You narrowed your eyes immediately. You knew that tone, it was the 'I need something' voice.

"What do you want Jaemin?" You sighed, already regretting humoring him.

"Ugh, you know me too well. Ok, hear me out." He said sitting up now, a bright smile spreading across his face. "I need a favor. A small one— tiny really."

You crossed your arms. "What kind of favor?"

"I need you to come to a party with me tomorrow night."

You blinked. "A party? Jaemin, you know I don't do parties. Especially not when I have class the next day."

"You have class at noon on Fridays." He countered quickly. "You'll be fine."

You gave him a long, skeptical look. "So all I have to do is... go to a party with you? That's it?"

He opened his mouth and hesitated.

You instantly leaned back. "Nope... nope, you're already pushing it. What's the real reason?"

"Wait! Just... let me explain, please." He clapped his hands together in a prayer gesture.

You sighed. "Ok fine. I'm listening, speak."

He sat up straighter, his grin faltering just a bit. "There's this guy, Haechan. I'm really fucking pissed at him."

You tilted your head. "Why?"

"He slept with the girl I really liked. Like, genuinely liked, not just thought was hot liked."

"Oof, I'm sorry." You said. "And... what does that have to do with me?"

He looked at you, dead serious now. "I want revenge."

You squinted. "What kind of revenge?"

"I want you to distract him. Just talk to him, keep him downstairs at the party, keep him busy, while I... you know."

"Jaemin." You said slowly. "Distract him from what?"

He hesitated for only a second, then smiled. "From me."

Your eyes narrowed. "If you're doing anything illegal, I'm out."

"I'm trying to fuck his sister."

There was a full beat of silence as your mouth dropped open, eyes wide.

"You what— seriously?" You said, disbelief and a reluctant laugh bubbling up all at once.

"She's hot!" He defended, already laughing. "And it's perfect, he'll lose his shit when he finds out."

"You couldn't just... I don't know, hook up with a girl he likes or something? Call it even?" You asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah well, Haechan doesn't like girls." Jaemin said casually.

You blinked, your brows furrowing slightly. "...hmm?"

He held up a finger with a small smile. "Not like that, don't look at me like that."

You leaned back, smirking. "Mmm, sure."

"What I mean is, he doesn't have feelings for anyone. Not girls, not really anyone. He just uses people— gets what he wants, then tosses them aside. He's emotionally detached. Kind of fucked up, honestly."

You frowned slightly. "You're just being dramatic."

"He's dramatic!" Jaemin shot back. "The man throws house parties on Thursdays for no reason. He once invited a girl over, got head, and then called her a uber while she was still on her knees."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Damn, he sounds like a real asshole. How does someone like that have this big of a name already?"

"He's a senior." Jaemin said with a roll of his eyes. "But all he does is throw parties, drink, and do drugs. He's a loser honestly."

You exhaled. "So... all I have to do is distract him— nothing else?"

"That's it. Just talk to him, keep him downstairs for like twenty minutes. If he tries anything, call me and I'll come get you. Promise."

You bit your lip, thinking. "Ok Fine, but only this once."

"YES! Oh my god, I love you so much, you're actually the best." Jaemin said, beaming at you.

"Yeah, yeah. Now you owe me, pick up those flashcards." You said, tossing the stack into his lap as you turned back to your desk.

He caught them and gave a smile. "Delighted, my queen."

You just rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered as you reached for your pen.

══════════════════════════

You finished the final touches on your hair, giving yourself one last glance in the mirror before grabbing your phone. Right on cue, Jaemin's name lit up the screen with a text:

Jaemin [11:47 PM]:

"I'm outside."

Stepping outside, you spotted him leaning against his car, arms crossed and a grin already spreading across his face as he saw you approach.

"Damn." He said, letting his gaze travel from head to toe with an exaggerated nod of approval. "You look sexy."

"Thank you, Jaemin." You replied smoothly, brushing past him with a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

He opened the passenger side door for you, but paused before you could step in. "I mean... we don't have to go right now, you know. We could go upstairs instead— chill a little, you and me... one on one." He tilted his head, giving you the same smirk he always uses when he's up to no good.

You raised your hand and snapped your fingers right in front of his face. "Focus."

"I am focused." He said, blinking slowly. "Just... not on the party anymore."

"Seriously." You said, sliding him a look as you walked to the car. "Is it your life's mission to try and sleep with every girl you meet?"

"Not every girl." He replied, shrugging as he followed behind. "Only the special ones."

You raised a brow. "And what would your mother think of you throwing yourself at someone who's practically your sister?"

"Ew, don't say it like that." He scowled, visibly shuddering. "That ruined it for me, thanks."

"Good." You smirked, climbing into the car.

He got in on the driver's side and started the engine, throwing you a side glance. "You're lucky I love you, anyone else and I'd have driven off by now in heartbreak."

"Right, so tragic." You said with fake sympathy, adjusting your seatbelt. 

Jaemin chuckled, turning up the music just enough to fill the space between you. The drive was short, maybe ten minutes at most, but the energy shifted just slightly as the neon lights of the house party came into view down the street.

He slowed the car and looked over at you. "Hey... real talk for a second."

You turned toward him, a little wary. "What?"

"I know I joke a lot." He said, eyes flicking over your face, a little more serious now. "But I'm not gonna throw you into the deep end or anything. If this gets weird or Haechan gets weird, just call me and I'll come get you, no questions."

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his voice. "Jaemin..."

"And if you wanna bail at any point." He added. "Just say the word."

A small smile appeared on your lips. "Thanks. I mean it's just a distraction mission, right? I think I can handle that."

He nodded, but his gaze lingered on you. "I know you can. You're... careful, thoughtful— like you think ahead."

You gave a dry laugh. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not." He said. "Just means I won't have to worry about you doing something stupid."

Your eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you trying to say?"

He hesitated, then said it gently: "I remember that conversation we had last year. About how you were still, you know... saving yourself."

Your cheeks flushed instantly. "Wow, really bringing that up right now?"

"I'm not judging." He said quickly. "I actually think it's cool. You're not like the rest of them, that's why I care if you're ok."

You looked out the window, the beat of the music fading under the weight of his words. "Thanks, I guess."

Jaemin parked across the street, cutting the engine. "I know I'm an asshole sometimes, but I wouldn't bring you into this if I didn't trust you."

You exhaled slowly, then met his eyes. "Ok, let's do this."

"Hell yeah." He grinned, hopping out and circling around to open your door once more.

You stepped into the house, instantly hit by the loud bass of the music and the scent of weed, alcohol, and too much cologne. Bodies swayed under strobe lights, some grinding against each other, others already too far gone to care how they looked. Jaemin kept a casual, but protective hand on your lower back as he guided you through the crowd, eyes scanning the room like he was on a mission.

"That's him." He muttered, leaning down so only you could hear. He nodded subtly toward the kitchen.

Your gaze followed and landed on a guy behind the counter, restocking a row of liquor bottles.

You paused, he was... hotter than expected.

Black hair, tan skin, a body that made a plain black tee and jeans look like he was born for it. His movements were effortless, confident. His smile, charming. There was something in the way he looked people in the eye when talking, like they were the only person in the room. Your lips parted slightly as you took him in, eyes dragging over the way his shirt clung to his waist, the veins on his forearm flexing as he adjusted a bottle.

"Oh no." Jaemin teased, pulling you out of your trance. "Are we losing you already?"

"No." You said too quickly, blinking yourself back into reality. "No, just observing."

"Mmhmm." Jaemin smirked. "Well, he's your target babe. You've got all night."

"Lucky me." You muttered half sarcastically, but then he grabbed your arm gently.

"You sure?"

You turned toward him. "Yeah, are you?"

He nodded, though a flicker of something uncertain passed over his face. "Just, wait." He reached into his pocket and held something out, a condom.

"Jaemin—"

"Just in case." He said, tone serious now. "Even if he insists, don't let him talk you into going raw, I mean it."

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. "I'm not gonna do anything, relax."

"I know you won't, Y/n." He said, softer now. "But he'll try and sometimes the heat of the moment sneaks up on you. So just... have it, please."

You took it with a small nod and shoved it into your back pocket.

"Good luck with your girl." You said.

"Good luck with your guy. If you need me, call me."

And with that, you were on your own.

You straightened your shoulders, pulled your confidence up, and walked toward the kitchen— eyes locked on him the whole time. He didn't notice you at first, too busy rearranging cups and pouring mixers, but when he turned, his gaze landed on you like a spark.

"You look a little bored over here all alone." You said, voice smooth.

He looked you over slowly, thoroughly. "I am, are you gonna do something about that?"

"Maybe." You smiled, tilting your head. "But are you really worth my time?"

He grinned, a cocky thing that only made him more irresistible. "Maybe."

You watched as he accidentally slammed a bottle of tequila a little too hard on the counter, too distracted by your presence.

"I don't know..." You said, stepping closer. "You can't even handle a bottle. What makes you think you can handle me?"

He leaned a little closer, voice dropping. "I can— when I'm drinking."

"That doesn't sound very fun." You teased, watching the way his eyes flickered down to your lips.

"It is fun." He said. "Especially with a pretty girl like you."

Your hand slid over his on the counter, fingers brushing against his skin as you lifted the bottle from under his touch. "Then why aren't we drinking?"

He paused for a second, watching you intently. "Why aren't we?"

"You're still hogging the bottle." You murmured.

For a moment, you were locked in a wordless gaze, one of those silences that say more than anything spoken. You held it, tested him with your eyes.

"Are you just gonna stare." You finally said. "Or are you gonna pour me a shot?"

He smiled and grabbed two glasses, pouring quickly.

"What are we cheering to?" He asked.

You smirked. "To wherever this night takes us."

He clinked his glass to yours. "Dangerous words."

You both downed the shots, the tequila burning its way down your throat. You didn't even shudder.

"Wow." He said, licking his lips. "You took that like a champ."

"I can take a lot." You replied, wiping the corner of your mouth and not looking away once.

"That so? He said, exhaling slowly, pausing for a second. "Then take another with me."

"Don't you wanna wait?" You asked, your voice hinting a bit of concern. 

"I thought you said you could take it." He challenged.

"Are you calling me a liar?" You raised a brow.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I guess I am."

You grabbed your glass, poured another, and tossed it back without blinking, and he followed right after. That turned into a third, then a fourth.

By now, your skin was buzzing, cheeks flushed with heat. The line between performance and reality blurred fast.

You talked about nothing— music, parties, stupid shit, other people you both barely knew, but everything had a spark to it. The way his gaze lingered when you laughed, the way his hand brushed your waist when reaching for more cups, the subtle way your knees touched.

"You dance?" He asked, stepping just slightly closer.

"Depends who's asking."

He gave that dangerous smile again. "You know who's asking."

You glanced at your phone, and still no text from Jaemin. Thirty minutes of flirtation— of temptation. You looked back up at Haechan, something electric passing between you.

You smirked. "Let's dance then."

The music pulsed around you as he led you out of the kitchen and into the crowd. The beat was dark, seductive, and you let yourself move to it, swaying your hips, letting the rhythm take you. His hands found your waist. You didn't stop him. His body pressed behind yours, chest to back, his lips brushing close to your ear every time he said something teasing.

His hand slid lower and you turned to face him, now chest to chest, bodies moving in sync.

He leaned in close, mouth brushing your ear. "You wanna go upstairs?"

You paused, swallowing hard. "Mmm... I don't know..."

He pulled back just enough to see your eyes. "Why not?"

"I don't want you to think I'm some kind of whore or something." You admitted, voice quieter now.

He blinked, then tilted his head, gaze softening just slightly. "Then let's not go upstairs."

You blinked at him, not responding.

He leaned closer again, voice husky. "Come here."

Before you could respond, he took your hand and led you down a dim hallway off the side of the living room, the noise of the party muffled behind you. It was quiet here, secluded . You were suddenly aware of how your pulse picked up.

He pushed you against the wall, hands bracing both sides of your head.

"This okay?" He asked.

You nodded slowly, heart racing and then his lips were on yours.

It was hot, insistent. His mouth moved like he already knew how you liked to be kissed— like you were meant to be tasted slowly, like his hands couldn't decide whether to cup your cheek or grip your hip tighter.

He pressed closer, lips trailing down your neck, his hand tugging lightly at the hem of your shirt. You gasped, your body reacting faster than your brain could catch up.

And then your phone buzzed, twice.

You broke the kiss breathless, and fished it from your back pocket. Jaemin.

"Clear. Let's go."

You looked up at Haechan, his lips kiss bitten.

"Aw, I gotta go." You said softly, smiling while biting your lip.

He blinked, still catching his breath. "Seriously?"

You said nothing, just shrugged.

He smirked, eyes glinting. "You leaving now makes me want you more."

You backed away slowly, keeping eye contact as you fixed your shirt. "Good."

You turned, leaving him in the hallway, the taste of tequila still tingling on your lips. 

You met Jaemin at the front door just as he was coming down the porch steps, his hair slightly tousled, lips flushed, and a dazed kind of grin stretching across his face. His shirt was wrinkled, and he looked like he'd just barely remembered how to walk straight.

You raised an eyebrow, smoothing your own hair out with your fingers. "What took you so long?"

He laughed, wiping his mouth like he was still catching his breath. "Got caught up in the moment."

You rolled your eyes as you both started walking down the sidewalk, leaving the pulse of the party behind you.

"I've never seen you this messed up in person." He said, glancing at you. 

You just shrugged, before turning to him. "How was your night?"

"Fucking amazing." He said, letting out a blissed sigh. "She was... yeah, worth it."

You smirked. "I'm happy for you. Sounds like you had fun." 

He turned to look at you, a little more alert now. "What about you? How'd it go?"

You shrugged with a soft smile, brushing your fingers against your lips almost unconsciously. "It was... fun. He's fun and hot— too hot, honestly."

Jaemin groaned dramatically, dragging his hand down his face. "Oh god, please don't tell me you slept with him."

You gave him a shove. "No, chill. He tried like you said he would, but I didn't. We just made out."

Jaemin gasped. "Y/n, you definitely have like, mono now."

You laughed, shoving him again. "He's not that bad."

"He's that bad." Jaemin said, shooting you a look. "How was he looking at you? It was probably like he was deciding how to ruin your life in the hottest way possible."

You gave a dreamy little sigh. "Yeah... I noticed."

Jaemin gasped. "Oh my god, you're into him."

"No I'm not." You tucked your hands into your jacket pocket, smiling to yourself. "He's just... magnetic. Like, he knows exactly what to say and exactly how to look at you when he says it."

"Uh huh, that's called manipulation." Jaemin said.

"I mean, maybe." You admitted. "But he was also weirdly... sweet? Like, he actually listened to me talk and he didn't push when I said no."

Jaemin raised a skeptical brow. "Ok, maybe a half point for consent, but let's not pretend this is some romance. You got lucky. I've seen girls fall for his type before, and they don't come out looking as cute as you do right now."

You gave a laugh. "I don't think I'm going back anyway. Not my scene."

"Good." Jaemin said with a little relief in his voice. "Because he's probably not gonna let you step foot at another party anyways because you rejected him. That boy's ego is fragile."

You tilted your head thoughtfully. "Well, if I never plan on going back, it doesn't matter what he thinks of me."

Jaemin grinned. "And that's why I love you."

You rolled your eyes but smiled back. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

He reached over and draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a sideways hug as you walked. "Seriously, thank you. You saved my ass tonight."

"I know I did." You grinned, letting yourself lean into him for a second. "You owe me, like, five coffees and a weekend of doing whatever I want."

"Done." He said immediately. "As long as 'whatever you want' doesn't include throwing yourself at Haechan again."

You laughed. "He threw himself at me, thank you very much."

"Right, right." He said, laughing. "Just remember who's actually got your back when you get those 'u up?' texts at 2 AM."

You gave a smile, already hearing the echo of Haechan's voice in your head, the taste of tequila and heat still lingering on your lips.

"I won't forget." 

══════════════════════════

It had been about a week since the party, and life had mostly returned to normal. School, studying, sleep, repeat. But he kept showing up uninvited in the quiet moments between thoughts. The memory of his voice, the glint in his eyes, the way his hands felt when they slid around your waist like he'd done it a hundred times before. You hated how he stuck in your head.

Still, it was whatever. You weren't going to do anything about it. You had your routine, and it didn't include making out with cocky boys in back hallways at house parties.

You'd just wrapped up another cram session for your Thursday Bio test—highlighted notes and color coded flashcards spread across your desk, when you heard it. A familiar, echoing voice in the hallway.

"Y/n!"

You didn't even look up. "You never knock."

Jaemin burst into your room like he owned the place, arms wide, his signature grin already plastered on his face. "My beautiful Y/n, I have arrived."

You leaned back in your desk chair, crossing your arms. "I can see that."

He walked over to hug you, and you let him, even though you were still recovering from the mental strain of studying.

"You know." You mumbled as he pulled back. "One day you're going to bust in here and catch me changing or worse, touching myself."

"Even more reason to keep doing it." He smiled.

You rolled your eyes. "You're actually such a creep."

"Yeah, yeah." He laughed it off, but then paused. His smile lingered familiarly, but you saw the hesitation flicker in his eyes.

You squinted. "What do you want, Jaemin?"

He gasped dramatically. "Y/n! I'm hurt, you think I only come here when I need something?"

You gave him a look, one he couldn't argue with.

"Ok, fine." He said. "But in my defense, we help each other equally."

"You mean I help you and you buy me coffee once a month?"

"Exactly." He grinned.

You sighed. "What is it this time?"

Jaemin scratched the back of his neck. "So, remember how you said you wouldn't go back to the party again?"

You blinked slowly. "Yeah..."

"Well, technically I'm not asking you to go for you. I'm asking on behalf of... well, her. His sister, she invited me again, practically begged— and I think we both know how that's gonna go."

He glanced at you cautiously.

"And you want me to keep Haechan busy again." You finished for him, leaning back in your chair.

"Look, I wouldn't need you to, but it'd be... really helpful." He said carefully. "I just need him not in the way, just for a little while."

Your brain flickered back to Haechan. His smirk, the way he made you feel both seen and exposed. The way he leaned in like he already knew what you'd do next. You told yourself you were over it, just a one time heat of the moment thing. But even now, something twisted in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

"Listen, I know you said you're not—"

"I'm down." You said, the words escaping before your brain caught up.

Jaemin blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, sure. You need me, right?"

His eyes narrowed. "Wow you really like this guy."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm just looking out for a friend."

Jaemin crossed his arms, fake pouting. "I don't know, I'm reconsidering this whole plan now. First he gets the girl I liked, now it's my best friend? I might need to keep you on lockdown."

You smirked. "Maybe that was my plan all along, you should just stay in."

"Nope." He said, pointing at you. "We're going, but this is the last time, I swear. And for real, don't do anything with him. Now I'm actually worried."

You held up your hands in surrender. "It's my job to distract, that's what I'm gonna do."

"I don't know if I trust you with that anymore." He shook his head, even though he smiled.

"You should." You said quietly.

He paused. "I'm teasing." He said after a minute. "I do. I guess."

You just smiled, the kind that said you already made your decision.

The house was louder this time. Packed tighter, music thumping harder, the kind of base that made your bones vibrate. You stood with Jaemin for a moment, eyes scanning the crowd.

You told yourself this was just a favor, a distraction like last time.

But as soon as you saw him— Haechan, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, sipping something from a red cup with that lazy grin on his face, all of that logic began to melt.

He looked even better than you remembered. Black hoodie, chain peeking from under the collar, dark hair slightly damp.

He spotted you instantly, his smirk curling as he straightened up.

You glanced over at Jaemin. "You owe me."

"I owe you my life." He said, already making a beeline toward the stairs. And just like that, you were alone, again... with him.

Haechan pushed off the counter and met you halfway.

"Well, well." He said, voice low. "Look who came back for seconds."

You tilted your head. "Maybe I'm just here for the drinks."

His eyes scanned you, slow and deliberate. "You look like trouble tonight."

You stepped in, closing the gap just enough to be suggestive. "You think I wasn't trouble last time?"

He laughed, licking his lips. "No, last time you were temptation. Tonight? I don't think I'll be able to behave."

You let yourself smile just a little.

"Try to." You said, smirking as you hit Haechan's shoulder, weaving through the crowd and heading straight to the kitchen. The music thumped through the walls, as you grabbed a bottle of tequila from off the counter.

"You're already hurting my feelings." Haechan said from behind you, his voice dipping just enough to graze your nerves in that playful, confident way.

"How's that?" You asked turning, only for him to close the gap between you. His arms casually caging you against the counter, hands resting just close enough to your hips.

"Drinking without me." He said, smoothly taking the bottle from your hand like it belonged to him.

You tilted your head. "I'm sorry, who are you again?"

"You should know. It's my party, after all." He replied, that teasing grin never leaving his face as he leaned in just enough to test the space between you.

"You're cocky." You gave him a playful shove, but didn't move far.

"I'm Haechan. Who are you? I never got your name last time."

You raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Kissing a girl and not even knowing her name? I've heard about you, you know... what you do to girls, the type of person you are."

That made him pause for a second, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he held your gaze. "But you're still here, aren't you?"

You didn't reply, just smiled slowly, head tilting amused at his boldness.

"So." He leaned in again. "Are you gonna leave me alone, or tell me your name?"

"Y/n."

"Pretty." He said, the smile that followed unusually soft, like he actually meant it.

You eyed the bottle still in his hand. "Are you just gonna stand there and smile at me, or pour the damn shots?"

"I thought you'd never ask." He reached past you, his arm brushing yours as he grabbed two shot glasses. His cologne hit you, mixing with the alcohol and the buzz in your chest.

The tequila burned on the way down, but it made your limbs feel warm, relaxed.

"Is tequila your favorite?" He asked, eyes not leaving you.

You shook your head, setting the glass down. "Vodka mixed drinks. I don't like taking things straight."

He grinned at that, grabbing a red solo cup. He poured vodka, rum, and a splash of something creamy and white—the scent immediately familiar.

"Pina colada mixer?" You asked, brow raised.

"You seem like the type. Plus, you told me last time." He said with a smile.

"You remembered?"

"Of course. You're kinda hard to forget." He said, clinking his cup to yours before sipping.

You looked down for a second, smile slipping in without warning. "I really shouldn't be talking to you."

"Says who?"

"Myself, my conscience."

He shrugged. "You're a big girl, smart too. You know what you're doing. Just let go a little, everything doesn't have to be heavy all the time."

You gave him a playful side eye. "No?"

"Nope. If it was, it wouldn't be fun."

Before you could reply, someone passed by and handed him what looked like a vape.

"Fuck yes." Haechan muttered, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly, the smoke curling out the side of his mouth.

He held it out. "Want a hit?"

"Nah, I don't vape."

He blinked a little surprised, then laughed. "Baby, this is a cart, not a vape."

"Oh." You giggled. "That makes sense. Smelled... different."

"So do you want it?" He asked again.

"I don't know, I don't really do drugs."

"It's just weed. It's chill— makes everything feel good." He said, his tone smooth, not pushy.

You hesitated, biting your lip.

"I'm not forcing you, but trust me— it's fine."

"...Okay, fine." You took the cart, cautiously bringing it to your lips and inhaling. It hit your lungs faster than you expected, making you cough, but after a few seconds you got used to it, taking a few more hits. Warmth spread through you, you felt light and weightless.

"Haechan." You murmured, blinking slowly, finishing the drink in your hand. "Let's dance."

He didn't argue. You pulled him onto the dance floor where bodies swayed and moved like one blur of motion, but you were only aware of him. His hands on your hips, guiding your movements. His breath brushing the curve of your neck. His mouth near enough to graze your ear when he laughed at something you said.

And then you kissed him.

You didn't think— your lips were on his, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as he melted into it. The kind of kiss that made everything else disappear.

"How about we take this up to my room?" He whispered into your mouth, voice low.

"I told you I felt like—"

"You're not a whore." He cut in gently. "I want you. That doesn't make you anything except someone I want."

You hesitated for a second, the distant part of your brain catching up. "I don't know, my friend might come looking for me. He was supposed to—"

"He's not here right now." Haechan's voice was low and coaxing. "You're here, with me. You can make your own decisions."

You didn't answer,  just grabbed his hand and followed him upstairs.

You were halfway down the hallway, your heart fluttering, when you passed a room and the unmistakable sound of soft moaning filtered out from behind the closed door.

Haechan paused, head turning. "What the fuck?" He muttered, steps slowing.

Shit... Jaemin.

Before he could say anything more, you spun him to face you, grabbing his face urgently, your hands warm against his cheeks. His brows lifted in surprise.

"Focus on me." You whispered.

And then you kissed him again, deeper and slower this time. Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer as your bodies melted together. His hands found your waist again, but they didn't stop there, traveling up your sides, fingers over your bare skin as his mouth moved against yours with increasing hunger.

He backed you gently into the nearest wall, lips never leaving yours as the kiss deepened. Your back arched into his touch, your hands tugging at the collar of his shirt, desperate to feel more.

His mouth dragged from your lips down your jaw, kissing, teasing, then down your neck where he paused, sucking gently at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"Room's this way." He murmured between kisses, and you followed him, half stumbling into his room, laughing softly as he shut the door behind you.

The moment it clicked shut, he was back on you, lips on your neck, hands guiding you toward the bed.

He pushed you down onto the bed, his body pressing against yours as he climbed on top. One hand slid roughly up your thigh, bunching your dress higher, never breaking contact with your neck as his mouth stayed hot against your skin.

His fingers played with the edge of your underwear for a moment, teasing, before pulling them down to your knees.

He paused then, lifting his head. His eyes met yours, and for just a second something shifted, uncertainty flickering across his face. He licked his lips like he was thinking, maybe even questioning, but before you could say anything, he lowered himself again, kissing a slow path down your body, lips soft against your thigh.

His breath was warm against your skin as he kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and steady, his hands holding your legs apart. Every movement felt like he wanted to make sure you felt everything— every kiss, every brush of his lips.

He glanced up at you once more, eyes darker now, the hesitation from before gone. Then he lowered his head again, his mouth finding the tender spot just above your knee, then higher. His fingers slid up your thighs, anchoring you in place as his mouth moved closer, teasing you.

You could feel your body tightening beneath him, breath catching in your throat as he finally reached your folds, his lips brushing against your clit, gentle at first.

Then he gave in completely, his mouth working you with focus, his hands gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

His tongue slid over you as he teased you with soft flicks and gentle pressure, each movement sending a wave of heat through your body. Your hips shifted under his touch, instinctively searching for more, but he held you steady, his grip firm on your thighs.

He looked up at you again, eyes heavy, mouth glistening. Then he dove back in, hungrier this time, his tongue moving with purpose now, circling, pressing. The sounds he made vibrated against you, adding to the overwhelming sensation building fast inside you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, needing something to hold onto as he drove you higher. He responded to every twitch, every gasp, adjusting his pace, his pressure, as if he could read exactly what your body craved.

Then he slid one finger inside you slowly, deeply, curling just right. The rhythm of his hand and mouth worked in perfect sync, pulling you closer to the edge with each passing second.

That's when your phone buzzed, the vibration low, but sharp against the haze in your mind. Your eyes blinked open, lashes heavy as you glanced down. A message lit up the screen.

Jaemin [1:35 AM]:

"I'm ready. Meet me outside."

"Ignore it." Haechan murmured against your thigh, voice deep and muffled. His lips brushed warm against your skin, but your eyes stayed on the message.

"Mmm... I have to go." You said, sitting up slowly, the daze of alcohol and drug weighing your limbs.

"What?" He asked, looking up at you with hooded eyes, lips still wet.

You smiled, pushing hair from your face as you stood fully. "Leaving you on a cliffhanger again."

"You're evil." He smirked lazily.

"Mm, bite me." You teased with a wink, turning for the door.

"Wait." He cut through.

You paused, glancing back over your shoulder with a raised brow.

"Can I at least get your number or something?"

You shook your head, a quiet laugh slipping past your lips. "Where's the fun in that?"

And then you were gone, the door clicking shut behind you. Haechan just smiled to himself, letting out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair. "Unbelievable."

Outside, the cool air hit your flushed cheeks as you stumbled into the night, spotting Jaemin.

"There she is." He grinned. "Somebody's fucked."

"You are too, shut up." You giggled, smacking his chest lightly.

"Nah, just you. I'm only a little bit drunk." He gave you that smug, crooked smile that always made your stomach flip.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." You muttered with a grin, stumbling into him slightly.

His arm came around your shoulders without thinking steadying you, but then he stopped, glancing at your face more closely, his smile fading.

"Y/n." He said slowly. "Are you... high?"

You paused, lips parting like you hadn't even thought to lie. "Maybe." You giggled.

Jaemin stared at you, concern overtaking every line of his face. "You never do that shit... you barely drink anymore— what the hell happened?"

"Relax, Jaem. It was just weed, a few hits. I'm fine."

"You could've had a bad trip." He said, eyes narrowing. "Or what if it was laced? You don't know who the fuck gave you that. You don't know what could've happened—"

"Can you chill?" You said, laughing. "You sound like my parent."

"That's what I gotta be when you do stupid shit like this." His voice dropped, rough with something deeper. "I just... I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

You smiled. "I'm fine, I swear."

"Alright. I'm staying at your place tonight."

"Damn, thanks for asking."

He gave you a look and just giggled again.

When you got home, your shoes hit the floor one by one as you peeled off your jacket, then the thin dress that clung to your skin. You collapsed face first into your bed in only your bra and underwear, the sheets cool against your flushed skin.

Jaemin followed behind. He dropped into your desk chair with a heavy exhale, pulling his hoodie off and tossing it aside. He leaned back, phone in hand, scrolling casually.

"You look good in this lighting." You said, voice smooth and thick as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

He looked up at you over his screen, lips quirking. "You're really saying that right now?"

"Mmhmm." You let your eyes drag down his figure slowly. "You've always been pretty Jaemin."

He laughed under his breath, glancing back at his phone, but not before you caught the slight flush in his cheeks.

You sat up more, letting your legs dangle over the side of the bed, posture relaxed, but eyes sharp with mischief.

"Come here." You said.

He raised an eyebrow. "To the bed?"

"Yeah, just wanna be close."

He hesitated for half a moment before standing. "You're so high." He muttered with a smirk, making his way over. He sat beside you, hands propped behind him on the mattress.

You leaned into him, fingers brushing up his arm softly. "You smell good." You murmured, eyes locked on his lips.

"Do I?" He asked, amusement threading through his voice.

"You always do." Your fingers trailed over his chest now, dragging down to his stomach. His muscles tightened slightly beneath your touch, but he didn't stop you. "And your skin's soft..."

Jaemin watched you, breath slower now. "You're really flirting with me right now?"

"I'm not flirting." You said, tone quiet. "I'm appreciating."

Your lips ghosted along his jaw, then lower to the curve of his neck. He tilted his head slightly, allowing the contact. You kissed him there— slowly, sensual, your lips lingering just a second too long.

He swallowed hard.

"I know you like it." You whispered.

His hand slid instinctively to your thigh, gripping gently as your lips traced down the side of his throat. He leaned into it, breathing deep through his nose.

But then—

"Wait." He said suddenly, pulling back. "I can't."

You blinked, stunned by the shift. "Why not?" You asked, voice low as you stared up at him.

"You're my best friend." He said, the words stuttering off his tongue.

"Oh, but when you ask to fuck me it's a different story?"

"It is." He said.

"Mmm, really?" You smirked, sliding your hand up his torso again, fingers trailing.

"Yes." He said firmly. "You're not sober and you don't actually want me right now, you're just under the influence... as fuck."

"I always want you." You said, eyes locked on his.

He sighed, the tension in his body slowly fading into something softer. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you against him gently, tucking you under his chin.

"Please go to sleep, Y/n. I'm right here, just rest."

And... you listened. Eyes fluttering closed, breath slowing as the world dimmed into his warmth.

══════════════════════════

Your eyes fluttered open, vision blurry and head pounding. The sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains. You slowly sat up, blinking against the ache throbbing in your skull.

Jaemin was sprawled next to you on top of the blankets, one leg stretched over the edge of the bed, scrolling casually through his phone. 

He glanced over. "Relax, it's just me." He said, offering a small smile.

You exhaled deeply, rubbing your temples with your fingers. A sharp pain spiked behind your eyes, a groan escaping your lips as you reached for your head.

"Here." Jaemin said, reaching down for a plastic bag on the floor. "I got you some water, some food, and Advil— for your headache." He set it on the bed beside you. 

"How'd you know I have a headache?" You asked, unscrewing the cap of the water and popping the pills into your mouth.

"Jesus, Y/n." He scoffed, sitting up straighter. "You were shit faced last night, obviously you're gonna have a hangover."

"Right." You said with a smile. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Yeah, of course." He returned the smile briefly, his attention sliding back to his phone.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn't entirely comfortable. Your brain was still catching up to reality, glimpses of last night flickering through your mind in half lit flashes. Laughter, music, moaning in the hallway. Haechan, and Jaemin... your heart beat a little harder at that last part.

"Hey..." You started cautiously. "Did we—" You hesitated. "We didn't do anything, did we?"

He chuckled, but didn't answer right away. The silence stretched a second too long, just enough to make your stomach flip.

"You tried." He said finally, his voice was calm, almost amused, but the words made your chest tighten. "But I stopped it, and you went to sleep— so, all clear." He gave you a lazy smile.

"Phew." You exhaled, falling back onto your pillow in relief.

"Damn." He teased, raising a brow. "Am I that bad?"

"No, no." You said quickly, laughing. "I just don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"All good over here, you don't." He replied, eyes flickering back to his phone.

You shook your head, grinning. "Damn, I'm such a horny freak."

"I see how you get when you're drunk... and high." He added, glancing over at you, disappointment flickering in his gaze.

"Stop, Jaemin." You groaned, pushing his shoulder playfully.

"I'm still disappointed about that." He said, his voice a little firmer. "You need to be more careful. That's the last time you're going there ever again."

"You can't tell me what to do." You teased, lips quirking into a smile.

"Ahh, I guess I can't." He said dramatically, reaching over and grabbing the bag of food.

"Stop, give it." You laughed, stretching across him to snatch it back. Your fingers brushed against his hand, and your eyes caught his for a long, silent moment.

Your voice softened. "You know... I'm seriously grateful that you take care of me when I need it."

He blinked, lips twitching into a small smile. "Yeah, yeah. Now can you eat?"

You nodded, finally opening the container and taking a bite of food. "I almost accidentally got you caught, but I saved it." You said between bites, your voice cheeky.

"How, come?" He asked, only half listening as he scrolled.

"We came upstairs and we heard moaning." You said with a grin. "I'm guessing your party."

"You came upstairs to do what?" He looked up sharply now, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

You didn't respond, just smiled to yourself as you continued chewing.

"Did you fuck him?" He asked suddenly, sitting up straighter, eyes locked on yours.

"No, no." You answered quickly. "He just gave me head." Your voice was quieter now, but the confession hung in the air.

"He gave you head?" Jaemin blinked, dumbfounded. "YOU?" He repeated. "And he didn't get anything else from you? No sex, no head, not even a handjob?"

You shook your head. "Nope."

"Dude, he never does that... ever." He looked like he was short circuiting. "What's up with these guys just giving you head man? I'm impressed."

"First off, it only happened once before, so don't do that, and you know we don't talk about him, ok?" You said in a on edge voice.

"Ok, ok." He held up his hands in surrender.

"I guess I just gave the magic touch." You said with a smug smile.

"Damn, me next!" He cheered jokingly, grinning.

"Shit, maybe." You said with a smirk. "Haechan didn't even make me finish— well, because we were interrupted by someone." You shot him a playful look.

"Aw shucks." He said, chuckling. "Jaemin here to crash the party always."

"Partially." You replied. "I think he's not done with me though. Before I left, he asked for my number."

"He asked for your number— like, first? While you were leaving him?" Jaemin exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yep." You said.

"Did you give it to him?" He asked, leaning in like a gossipy teen.

"Nah. I don't think that's someone I should have access to at all times— for my own safety you know." You said, giggling. 

"You're so smart, that's why I love you so, so much." He said with a bright smile... before it faltered slightly.

"I'm not smart for not giving him my number. I'm just not dumb." You said, brushing off the moment.

He recovered with a quick grin. "Maybe you aren't as bright as I thought, because that is the same thing."

"Shut up." You laughed, nudging his shoulder. 

"Damn, I actually can't believe he did all this for you." Jaemin said, eyes wide again. "Nothing wrong with you of course, but he just— never acts that way with anyone. You might be his soulmate."

"Ew, shut up. Yes he's hot, but I could never imagine dating someone like him." You said, scrunching your nose.

"Good, because I doubt you're welcomed at any more parties after the double rejection you gave him." He said with a laugh.

"Didn't you say that the last time?" 

"Yeah, but I mean it this time. You rejected him like four times."

"Okay, enough Haechan talk." You set the now empty container aside and leaned back. "I appreciate everything, but you should get going to freshen up. Plus, I have class in like an hour."

"You're still going?" He asked, brows raising.

"Absolutely, I'd never miss class."

"Okay, well..." He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitant. "Do you think we can meet up for dinner later?"

You paused, your tone shifting gently. "I think I need to be alone right now. I also have a project due on Tuesday that I'm cramming for because I got a little lazy. Let's meet... maybe Wednesday?"

He nodded. "Sounds good." With one last smile he stood up, grabbing his hoodie off the chair and slipping it on.

══════════════════════════

It was finally Wednesday, after days of cramming, sleepless nights, you had just submitted your project and shut your laptop with a dramatic sigh of relief. You sprawled out on your bed for a moment, eyes fluttering closed, the weight of the past few days slowly lifting off your shoulders.

The front door creaked open and slammed shut again, followed by the familiar shuffle of sneakers on hardwood.

"Yo." He called out, stepping into your room with a plastic takeout bag in hand.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, noticing something was off immediately. His voice lacked its usual playful energy. No cheeky grin, no snarky comment about your workaholic tendencies, just... a weird kind of stillness in his tone.

"What's up?" You asked, brows furrowing slightly at his hesitance.

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before meeting your gaze again. "I need you to come to the party with me again."

You blinked, half in disbelief. "Again?" You let out a soft giggle, sitting up fully. "Weren't you the one who banned me from that place like... twice?"

"Yeah, I know." He said with a sigh, plopping down beside you on the bed and setting the takeout between you. "But you're the only one who can distract Haechan well it appears, and fuck, that girl is so—"

He stopped himself mid sentence, biting his tongue. You stared at him, your smile fading slightly. He was always joking— even when things were serious, but right now he looked more anxious than amused.

"Right." You said slowly, nodding as you studied his face. You didn't press it— whatever that girl meant, you could guess, and it wasn't your place to dig.

"So... will you?" He asked again, voice low.

You hesitated for a second before shrugging. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

His shoulders relaxed, just a little, and the smallest hint of a smile broke through. "You're a lifesaver."

You reached into the takeout bag, pulling out your container with a soft smirk. "You owe me something good for this."

"Oh, I got you extra fries." He said quickly, handing the container toward you like it was a peace offering.

You rolled your eyes. "Bribery works I guess."

══════════════════════════

The party was already fill by the time you and Jaemin arrived per usual. As soon as you stepped inside, Jaemin melted into the crowd like a ghost.

You didn't even bother calling after him. You just sighed, brushing past a couple making out near the stairs as you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a drink.

The fridge was wide open, someone rummaging through it carelessly. You reached past them for a can of something and cracked it open, sipping without thinking.

"Is this gonna be a pattern?" A familiar voice teased from behind you.

You turned, already knowing who it was, of course.

There he stood, eyes on you like you were the only person in the room. His head tilted just slightly, like he was already amused.

You crossed your arms and let out a short sigh. "Is what a pattern?"

"You drinking without me." He said smoothly.

You shook your head, watching as he took a sip from his own cup. "You're drinking without me too, so I'm not sure that makes sense."

"Just casually." He grinned, his voice light. "Take a shot with me."

You eyed him for a second, then gave a small nod. He reached over to the counter, pouring two uneven shots, one for each of you.

You raised yours with a quiet "cheers" before knocking it back. The alcohol settled in your stomach, hot and quick.

"You know I'm not doing anything with you, right?" You said once the warmth hit your chest.

He raised a brow, grin widening. "Did I ask?"

You huffed a soft laugh, unable to hide the way your lips curved despite your better judgment and his smirk deepened like he won something.

"It's loud in here, come outside with me." He said, already reaching for the bottle again, refilling both your cups without waiting for an answer.

You hesitated, something in you buzzing—nerves or excitement, you weren't sure, but you nodded anyway.

Outside, the backyard was a complete contrast to the chaos inside. Quieter, almost peaceful. Blue and purple led lights in the pool, casting a neon glow in the water. The heat of the night clung to your skin, but the moment you dipped your feet into the cool pool, relief washed over you.

He sat beside you, pulling a pre rolled blunt from his pocket and lit it with a flick of a lighter. For a second, the flame highlighted his face, features softened by the glow.

"How are you?" He asked, voice quieter now. "How was your week?"

You turned to him, blinking. "You actually care? Wow, that's new."

"You're so negative." He said, exhaling smoke before offering it to you.

You stared at it for a moment, fingers twitching slightly. Then you took it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling slow. You held it for a second before letting it go with a sigh.

"I'm cautious." You murmured, passing it back.

"Mmm." He hummed, nodding, puffing again. 

"Why do you never disagree? Defend yourself when people say shit about you?" You questioned, turning to him. 

"Because it's true. I'm not afraid to admit it." He said, exhaling slowly. "But sometimes people talk and over exaggerate, make it seem like I'm just heartless. If they're scared and stay away, that's their problem. But if they know what they're getting into— or think they do, then why should I waste my energy proving them wrong? In my eyes, they're just as fucked up as me."

You were quiet for a moment, then nodded slightly in agreement. He passed the blunt again, and you took two more puffs in silence. It wasn't awkward, just still.

"So." You eventually said, eyes drifting to the lit up pool. "How do you have such a big house as a college student?"

"My parents." He replied, tone casual. "They pay for everything while they go prance around in different countries, leaving me and my siblings behind."

"Siblings?" You echoed, surprised. You knew he had a sister, but hadn't heard anything about more.

"Yep. A younger sister and brother." He said, taking another hit. "My sister's a junior, doesn't live with me, but I keep a guest room here for when she wants a break from her roommates."

"And your brother?"

"He's a sophomore, goes to college a few hours from here— said he wanted a fresh start. I still check in with him a few times a week. He's had his ups and downs, but he's a good kid."

"I get that." You said. "I went somewhere else freshman year too. Only stayed for a year before transferring back here this year."

"So you are a sophomore." He said, nodding. "I figured."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He only shrugged, sipping his drink.

"What's your story?" He asked, glancing over. "Why'd you want a fresh start?"

"My mom died about two years ago." You said, the words escaping before you could filter them.

His face shifted. "Oh shit, I'm sorry."

"It's good." You said quickly, brushing it off. "It's actually kind of stupid, out of all the drugs, she died from weed. It was laced."

"Damn." He muttered. "Is that why you were so hesitant earlier?"

You nodded. "Yeah. People don't realize how terrifying it is, it's real."

"Fuck, now I feel like an asshole." He said, running a hand through his hair, a tired chuckle leaving his mouth as he put the blunt out.

"Don't." You told him. "You gotta grow up and not be scared sometimes. Plus, I can make my own decisions."

There was a pause before you added with a lazy smile, "I don't even know why I'm talking to you."

"What— because I'm 'evil'?" He teased, one brow rising.

You laughed. "No. Because you're a stranger."

He leaned back dramatically. "Wow, you kissed a stranger. What did you say? Whore."

"Oh, shut up." You rolled your eyes. "I guess you're not too much of a stranger."

"Exactly." He grinned. "But sometimes you just need someone to be there for you, stranger or not."

His eyes lingered on you now, more serious than before. "But... we don't have to stay strangers— I don't think we should."

You raised a brow.

"Just give me your number." He said, voice softer.

You squinted at him, half amused. "Is that what this was all about?"

"No." He said quickly, then paused. "I just... you're different and I'm curious about you."

"Curiosity." You said, rolling your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

"There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" He leaned a little closer. "We should just mess around, find out more about each other. You must be curious too?"

You stared at him for a second, lips pressing into a tight line. "I'm not."

"Ouch." He laughed, not entirely believing you, but to his credit, he didn't push.

You paused, then let out a sigh. "Fine, I'll give you my number."

His grin widened as he pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to you.

"Thank you." He said genuinely.

"Maybe now we don't have to only talk to each other on Thursdays." You said, punching in your digits and handing it back.

"Mmm." He smiled, his gaze lingering on you.

As if on cue, your phone lit up with a text.

Jaemin [12:58 AM]:

"Let's go."

You looked up, Haechan already watching you.

"Well, I've got to go." You said, standing and brushing off your skirt.

"Is there a night where you're not gonna leave me?" He asked, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked up at you.

"Mm... don't hold your breath." You smirked, waving before slipping back inside.

Jaemin was waiting by the door, hands in his pockets, a smile on his face.

"Well, well." He said as you approached. "What did you do tonight?"

"My job." You said with a giggle, eyes slightly hooded from the buzz in your system.

"Oh, you're high again?" His smile faded just a bit.

"Yeah, not a big deal." You said, casually hooking your arm around his like it was second nature.

"Right, and I can't even stay with you tonight."

"Why not?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Because you can't control yourself under the influence." He said bluntly.

"Wow, don't say that." You laughed. "I'm not even that fucked up, I could totally control myself."

"Right." He smirked. "But I probably can't."

"Yeah... maybe you shouldn't stay with me tonight then." You teased.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head as the two of you disappeared into the night.

══════════════════════════

Saturday | 11:37 PM

You were curled up in bed, knees tucked beneath you, your laptop warming your thighs as the glow of the screen illuminated your face. The essay you've been chipping away at all day was only half done, and your focus was slipping fast. You already reread the same paragraph three times when your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Unknown Number [11:37 PM]:

"Come over. Chill for a bit."

Your brow furrowed as you set your laptop aside and picked up the phone, thumb hovering over the screen.

You [11:37 PM]:

"Who is this?"

You already had a guess, but you weren't about to make it easy.

A few seconds passed.

Unknown Number [11:38 PM]:

"You know who it is."

You let out a quiet scoff, one corner of your mouth curling into a smirk, of course it was him.

You [11:39 PM]:

"Mmm, no I don't. So I guess that's a no."

Another pause, longer this time.

Unknown Number [11:40 PM]:

"Come over. Please."

Your thumb hovered again. You should've just gone back to your work, should've tossed your phone aside and shut the whole thing down. 

You [11:41 PM]:

"I seriously can't, busy rn."

Unknown Number [11:41 PM]:

"Bummer."

You stared at the message, your bedroom suddenly too quiet. The flicker of curiosity and something else sat in your chest.

You [11:42 PM]:

"You can come over later though. We could watch a movie or something."

His response was fast.

Unknown Number [11:42 PM]:

"Later? It's already 11."

You [11:43 PM]:

"Ok, then don't."

Silence. Then...

Unknown Number [11:44 PM]:

Send the address.

You hesitated, biting your lip for a minute too long. Then you dropped a pin and hit send.

1:27 AM

You opened the door, blinking against the cooler air spilling into the hallway. Haechan stood there, hair tousled, a six pack of drinks in one hand and a smirk pulling at his lips.

"Didn't think you'd actually send it." He said, stepping inside without waiting.

"Didn't think you'd actually come." You replied, locking the door behind him.

"We're just sitting in the living room." You said, already making your way towards the couch.

"Perfect." He said, slipping off his jacket and tossing it over the armrest as he followed.

You pulled up something half decent on Netflix, something neither of you would end up watching, and settled in. He handed you a drink, and you clinked your cans together quietly.

He was the first to speak.

"How've you been? Since Thursday." He asked, voice soft, watching you from the side.

You took a slow sip, eyes on the screen. "Busy. Regretting life decisions."

He chuckled, amused. "Yeah, which ones?"

"Letting you text me."

A grin tugged at his mouth as he leaned back, one arm draping lazily along the back of the couch. "You're the one who invited me, sweetheart."

"You begged."

"I don't beg."

You gave him a look. "You literally said please."

"I'm just a convincer." He shot back smoothly.

"Manipulator." You corrected with a smile.

He laughed again, reaching into his pocket. "Mind if I hit this?"

You glanced at the sleek cart between his fingers, then at the hallway.

"Even though my roommates aren't here, they're still strict about smoking in shared spaces." You said. "No vape, no carts— none of it."

He blinked, pausing. "Damn. I can go if—"

"No." You interrupted, standing. "We can go to my room."

His eyebrows arched in interest as he rose to follow.

Your room was dim and cozy, washed in soft fairy lights. You pushed the door closed behind him and leaned against it for a moment before crossing to the bed.

"This is cute." He said, looking around. "You always have a vibe."

"Try not to ruin it." You said, climbing onto the bed and settling into the pillows. He leaned against your desk, then raised the cart again and took a slow pull, the scent hitting your nose.

"You want?" He asked.

You rose from the bed, stepping toward him and plucked it from his fingers without breaking eye contact.

His brows lifted. "Woah."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't be selfish now."

He smirked, but his voice dropped just slightly as he teased, "What if it's laced?"

"Not funny." You said.

He held his hands up, surrendering, though his grin said he enjoyed every second.

You took a slow puff and handed it back.

"That's all I'm doing." You murmured.

But that wasn't true.

Time slipped, the air thickened, you kept passing it back and forth, voices growing lower, laughter softening.

At some point, you looked up and noticed he was still standing.

"You've been standing there whole time." You said, eyes a little glassy, lashes fluttering as you sat up straighter.

"Yeah, I know. Why?" He asked, inching closer.

"Just curious why you don't want to be near me." You said with a teasing shrug.

He stepped in front of you now, close enough that you could see the shift in his expression. "I'm near." He murmured.

"Not close enough." Your voice was soft but firm as you reached out, trailing your hands up his arm and guiding it onto your shoulder.

His fingers stayed, curling gently over your skin. His gaze dropped to your lips, then flicked back up.

"Don't look at me like that." He said, eyes low. 

"Like what?" You asked, guiding his arm again until his hand cupped your jaw.

"Like you want me to ruin the night."

His hand lingered against your cheek, the warmth of his palm spreading through your skin. Your breath hitched, fingers curling softly around his wrist.

You tugged him closer, his face now just inches from yours as he leaned over you, one hand settling on your thigh. "Maybe I do."

He closed the distance between you instantly, his lips crashing against yours with desperately. The hand that had been gently cupping your cheek slid to the back of your neck, fingers curling as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

Your hands found the hem of his shirt, gripping it tightly as you tugged, urging him to shed the barrier between you. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. His sweats hung low on his hips, revealing the sharp lines of his v-line.

He climbed fully onto the bed, hovering over you, claiming your lips in a heated, breathless kiss. His hands moved, tugging your shirt and pajama shorts off in one swift motion, never once breaking eye contact, the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss— wet and messy. As his mouth moved against yours, he nudged your legs apart with his own, his knee slipping between them, pressing softly against your heat.

His lips left yours only to travel down your neck, trailing gentle kisses that quickly turned rougher. He latched onto a sensitive spot just below your jaw, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. The sensation paired with the slow pressure of his knee drew soft moans from your lips. Your fingers found his hair, tangling in it as your hips shifted unconsciously in response.

"I don't have a condom." He murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

You were just about to leave it, but Jaemin's voice sounded in your head: "Don't let him fuck you raw." 

Without thinking, you reached over to your nightstand, fingers finding the familiar shape of a silver foil square that you got a few weeks back. You pressed it to his chest, your eyes meeting his.

He paused, a slow amused smile spreading across his lips. A soft chuckle escaped him. "Smart." He said under his breath.

He rose to his feet, pushing his sweats and boxers down in one fluid motion. Tearing the foil open with his teeth, discarding the wrapper carelessly onto the floor, then rolled the condom on with ease, his eyes never straying far from you.

He grabbed your legs with firm hands, dragging you to the edge of the bed, his gaze locked onto yours intensely. Without a word, he hooked his fingers into your underwear and yanked them down, leaving you bare beneath him.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another deep kiss. His mouth moved over yours, but as you pulled back your eyes shimmered.

"I haven't— this is my first time." You admitted, voice barely above a whisper, breathless and shaking.

For a moment everything stilled. His expression shifted, something flickering behind his eyes— part surprise, part fascination. 

"I'll try to be gentle." He said softly, his voice low and tight with restraint.

He stood, hands skimming down the length of your legs until they reached beneath your knees. He lifted them slowly, spreading you open softly.

He positioned himself between your legs, his body tense. He paused, eyes locked on yours for a moment, as if waiting for any sign of hesitation.

Then he pushed into you. The sting was sharp, and you gasped, your breath catching. He froze for a second, his forehead pressing lightly against yours.

"Breathe." He whispered, his voice rough. He gave you a moment, just enough to adjust before he asked, "Ok?"

You nodded, too breathless to say anything, but when you didn't pull away he pushed further, the pace picking up as he moved into you again, harder and deeper this time.

He gripped your legs tightly, forcing you open as he thrusted into you, his movements rougher now, more desperate. The initial sting quickly faded into a pulsing heat that had you gasping with every thrust, each push a little harder than the last.

"You feel so fucking good." He muttered, voice thick with desire. His hands tightened on your legs, and he slammed into you with more urgency, his pace picking up, rougher and less controlled. The air was thick with the sound of skin meeting skin, the room vibrating.

The tension in your body kept building, the pleasure mixing with the intensity of each thrust. His breath was uneven and shallow as he moved faster, harder, his grip tightening. There was no slowing down now.

"Fuck." He groaned, his movements becoming more erratic, less restrained. "So fucking perfect."

The care he showed earlier was gone. His pace didn't slow, only grew faster, more frantic. Each thrust hit deeper, more forceful, and you could feel every inch of him filling you completely. You clung to him, nails digging into his skin as he fucked into you without restraint.

The sounds of your bodies crashing together filled the air, a mix of moans, heavy breathing, and the wet, slick noise of each push. He didn't give you time to adjust, didn't pause to check in again. He just kept going, his grip tightening on your legs, forcing them open even wider as he moved harder.

The pleasure was building, overwhelming you, the pressure mounting with every thrust. Your body felt like it was on fire, heat pooling low in your stomach as his thrusts drove you closer to the edge.

"You like that, huh?" He groaned, his voice rough. His eyes flickered down to where you were joined, watching how he moved inside you. "You're so fucking tight."

You couldn't form words anymore, only moans escaping your lips as your hips instinctively moved against him, meeting each thrust, urging him deeper. Every motion felt like a jolt of electricity running through you, tightening your core, making everything spin.

His hand slid down from your legs, gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, driving into you with more force. The friction built, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"God, I'm gonna make you cum." He grunted, his own pace stammering just slightly as his own release neared. "Hold on."

His hips snapped into yours recklessly, his movements growing more urgent. His grip on your waist tightened as he pounded into you, each thrust harder than the last, the sound of your skin meeting his filling the room.

"You feel fucking amazing." He whimpered, his voice strained, the force of his movements making your whole body shake beneath him.

He cursed under his breath as your nails scraped down his back, and with one last, brutal thrust, you felt everything snap—your body tensing, your legs trembling as the pressure exploded inside you. A loud, breathless moan escaped your lips as your orgasm ripped through you, your whole body convulsing around him.

He didn't stop though, didn't give you a second to breathe. His thrusts only grew more erratic, chasing his own release as you clenched around him, each movement pushing him closer to the edge.

"Fuck, yes." He groaned, his eyes locked onto yours as he slammed into you again. 

"I'm there..." He buried his face into your neck, movements sloppy as he finally came, his body shaking as he released with a low groan.

He collapsed against you, his body still trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment neither of you moved, lying there tangled together, trying to catch your breath. His head rested on your shoulder, his chest rising and falling against yours. The tension in his muscles slowly started to melt away, and you felt the steady rhythm of his heart begin to slow.

He shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze softer now. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek, brushing away a strand of hair.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, unable to find the words just yet. He gave a small smile. "I didn't mean to... push too hard."

You shook your head, pressing your palm to his chest. "It was... good." You whispered, your voice still shaky, but calm now.

"Good." He murmured again.

══════════════════════════

The day after – 1:18 PM

You woke up to loud, insistent banging on your door.

You blinked your eyes open, lashes heavy with sleep, your body sore and aching in ways that immediately brought back hazy memories of the night before. You reached for your phone on the nightstand, and the screen lit up— four unread messages, all from Jaemin.

Jaemin [12:38 PM]:

"u want chicken tenders or a burger?"

Jaemin [12:44 PM]: 

"Hello? I need u to hurry I'm in line."

Jaemin [12:57 PM]:

"Just got chicken tenders u took too long, otw."

Jaemin [1:17 PM]:

"Dude, open the door wtf?"

Your stomach dropped... shit.

It was Sunday, your Sunday. Movies and lunch with Jaemin, your thing since middle school, the one routine neither of you ever skipped and was always on time for.

You sat up too quickly and instantly regretted it. A sharp pulse radiated through your thighs, your knees folded slightly beneath you as you stood. You hissed through your teeth, muttering a quiet curse. The soreness, the silence in the room, the disheveled sheets tangled behind you and...

No Haechan, not a trace.

You probably weren't going to hear from him again. If anything, he'd gotten exactly what he wanted and maybe... so had you.

You slipped into the first pair of underwear you could find, pulling on an oversized t-shirt and not even checking the mirror. You couldn't be bothered. Your body felt heavier than usual, limbs slow, mind foggy.

You stumbled to the door, fingers fumbling over the lock before it clicked open. Jaemin stood there with a takeout bag in one hand and annoyance on his face. "Where the fuck—" He froze. 

His expression shifted fast, first frustration then concern as his eyes scanned your face, your hair, the obvious haze of sleep in your eyes. "Are you okay?"

You nodded once, voice scratchy. "Yeah. Just... come in."

You turned around, not realizing how stiffly you were walking until you heard his voice again behind you.

"You're walking weird."

You glanced over your shoulder, trying to play it off. "I just woke up, Jaem."

But his brows drew together, and he followed you with quiet suspicion. He spun once in your desk chair before planting his feet and letting his eyes roam, and stopped.

You didn't notice at first, but his gaze lingered just a little too long on your neck.

"Those weren't there last time I saw you." He said. 

You forced a small laugh, brushing your hair back casually. "What, you keeping track now?"

"It's hard not to when it looks like someone marked you up like a vampire." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

You turned away, cheeks flushing, but you stayed silent.

He held up the takeout bag. "I got you food, don't know if you saw my text."

"I didn't." You said, hovering at the edge of your bed. "But thanks, I'm starving."

He smiled for real this time, but just as he reached to hand you the bag something on the floor caught his attention.

His hand froze mid air. He bent slightly, reaching down beside your nightstand. A second later, you watched his fingers close around a small, crinkled square of foil.

An empty condom wrapper.

He stared at it, his jaw twitching once before he tossed it into the trash without another word.

The air in the room changed instantly. You stood still, frozen as he looked at you.

You tried to lighten the mood, your voice forced. "The one you gave me, remember?"

But he didn't smile, didn't even blink. His voice dropped, almost too calm. "Did you...?"

You hesitated, then sighed. "Yeah. Last night."

He blinked once, and then again. He opened his mouth, but for a second, no sound came out. "Thought you were saving yourself."

You gave a slight shrug, arms folding across your chest. "Guess I changed my mind."

Another moment of silence. He tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips now, confused. "Who was the lucky guy?"

You hesitated, biting your bottom lip.

His eyes narrowed before he scoffed. "I know that face... no way."

Still, you said nothing.

He let out a short, stunned laugh, humorless. "No fucking way." Jaemin stood up, the desk chair creaking loudly behind him.

You met his gaze, heart thudding. "Jaem—"

"You let him?" His voice rose, disbelief mixed with something else— hurt, maybe. "Out of all people, him? Seriously? What, he texted you 'come over' and you just—fucking hell Y/n."

"It wasn't like that." You murmured.

"You ghost me for hours, you never miss our Sundays. I show up and you're sore and covered in hickeys—"

"I was asleep, Jaemin."

He scoffed. "Name one time you've ever slept past noon this year?"

You stayed silent.

"Exactly."

"I didn't plan for it to happen." You said quietly.

"That's the problem... he did!" He snapped. "I didn't think you were so easy. What, he called you pretty and that's enough for you to spread your legs?"

"No, I—"

"What, you've known this guy for like a month? You knew he just wanted to use you and you went along with it?"

"I was okay with that! That's what I wanted."

"You were okay being used for sex by some guy you barely even know?"

"No, not like that—"

"So then what? Because to me, it sounds like you're just a desperate slut."

You blinked. That word hit harder than you expected.

"Oh, I'm a slut?" Your voice was sharp now. "One body and I'm a slut, yet you dance around fucking anything with a pulse. You're disgusting... and easy."

"I'm disgusting and easy?" He snapped. "You let a senior fuckboy you don't even know take your virginity. It's actually sickening."

You stepped toward him, jaw clenched. "Would it have been sickening if it was you?"

Silence. His face froze, jaw locked as his eyes flickered, and he didn't say a word.

You let out a breath. "If you're so disgusted, then leave. First of all, it's none of your business who I sleep with— I don't stick my nose into yours. You've fucked girls I can't stand, and I never made it everyone's problem."

Your voice rose now. "You're my best friend— not my parent, not my boyfriend, and definitely not my mentor. So if you came here to judge me on every move I make, then you can go fuck yourself."

"Excuse me for being the only one that fucking cares about you."

You opened your mouth, but he was already tossing the takeout bag onto your bed with more force than necessary.

"Here." He muttered. "Since he couldn't even feed you."

Then he turned and the door slammed behind him.

The silence that followed felt like a vacuum, like the air had been sucked out of the room the moment the door slammed shut.

You stood there, unmoving, arms still crossed tightly around yourself. Your chest rose and fell a little too fast, like your body hadn't caught up to your brain yet.

"Desperate slut."

You could still hear it. Loud in the quiet and it hurt. God, it fucking hurt.

You sank down slowly to the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the takeout bag he'd thrown toward you. You let out a shaky breath and dropped your head into your hands.

He'd looked so angry, so betrayed, like you done something personally to him. But he wasn't your boyfriend, he never was, he never wanted to be.

So why did he get to act like this? Why did it feel like you were the one who done something wrong? You hadn't expected Haechan to stay. You hadn't expected Jaemin to explode and yet here you were, alone.

He was supposed to be your best friend.

But best friends didn't call you disgusting. Best friends didn't throw insults in your face and storm out. Best friends didn't look at you like you were less for doing something you had every right to do.

You didn't even realize you were crying until the tears hit your thighs. Silent, hot, and angry.

You swiped at them roughly, jaw tightening.

He didn't get to reduce you like that. He didn't get to decide what your choices meant, and he definitely didn't get to pretend like he was some kind of savior when all he'd ever done was hover just close enough to make you want more and then pull away every time you reached.

Some part of you still wanted him to come back. Still wanted him to knock again, to take it all back and say he was sorry.

But another part of you was done waiting on Jaemin to treat you like you mattered only when it was convenient for him. Because you didn't regret what happened.

Not the choice, not the experience, not even the consequences.

You only regretted giving someone like Jaemin the power to make you feel small.

══════════════════════════

[mafiadad5]

No Strings attached || P.Jisung (PART 2)

˖ ࣪⊹🎸Rockstar!Jisung x fem!reader (ft. crush!haechan) || PART 1- read here

˖ ࣪⊹🎸 synopsis- Everyone's been raving about Black Horizon, and now they're in town for a concert. You never paid them any mind-didn't even know who they were, that was until you discovered that their lead guitarist is your long lost childhood best friend. You're finally reunited, but at what cost?

˖ ࣪⊹🎸 genre/warnings- toxic friends with benefits, fluff, heavy angst, arguing, cursing, heartbreak, misunderstanding, mental illness mentions.

˖ ࣪⊹🎸 W/c- 14.7k

˖ ࣪⊹🎸 Playlist- Leave me Lonely- Ariana Grande, Nervous- The Neighborhood, White Ferrari- Frank Ocean, You get me so high- The Neighborhood, Free- 6LACK, Best Mistake- Ariana Grande, i hate fruits- NCT DREAM, I Love You, I’m Sorry- Gracie Abrams, Journey Mercies- MARK, Back To You- Selena Gomez, In Love With You- Erykah Badu.

══════════════════════════

The bar was quieter than usual tonight. You'd been on autopilot all evening—pouring drinks, wiping down counters, moving through the motions without much thought.

Haechan, of course had other plans.

"You seem off today." He said, leaning against the counter as you filled a glass with ice.

"I'm fine."

He squinted at you. "No, you're being all weird and distant."

You rolled your eyes, setting the glass down. "I'm working."

"You always work, but you always talk back." He pouted dramatically. "What, did I do something? Did I lose my touch?"

You sighed. "Haechan—"

"Or..." He grinned, propping his chin on his hand. "Did he say something?"

Your hands froze for a split second before you went back to wiping the counter. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, please." He scoffed. "No way he didn't have a fit about us talking so much."

Your grip tightened around the rag. "It's not like that."

Haechan hummed knowingly. "Uh huh. So if I said something like—" He reached over, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, voice dropping slightly. "You look really pretty tonight, you wouldn't get all stiff and awkward?"

You swallowed hard, stepping back slightly. "I'm cutting you off."

"Yikes, he really got you." He grinned, but there was something softer in his expression now like he knew.

"Don't do that." You muttered, focusing back on the counter.

"Do what?" He questioned.

"You know."

Haechan exhaled, shaking his head with a small smile. "Yeah, I do."

You both let the silence settle, the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

The last hour of your shift passed in a blur, the crowd thinning out, the weight on your chest settling. You were more than ready to go home—to sleep, to not think.

And then of course he walked in.

He didn't say anything at first, just slid into his usual seat at the bar, fingers tapping lightly against the counter. His presence alone sent a warmth through your chest.

Haechan let out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, great— my competition is here."

Jisung arched a brow. "Competition?"

"She's been avoiding me all night." Haechan stated. "Tell your boyfriend to stop scaring off the clientele."

You groaned. "Haechan, shut up."

Jisung just smirked. "She's going home with me either way."

Haechan scoffed, looking between the two of you. "Gross."

You just sighed, tossing your rag onto the counter. "I'm clocking out."

Jisung stood staring at Haechan tauntingly as you grabbed your things, waiting by the door. When you turned, he was already holding the door open for you.

Haechan watched the two of you with a shake of his head. "Pathetic— truly pathetic."

"Goodnight Haechan." You called over your shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hope you trip on the way out."

Jisung laughed under his breath, placing a hand on the small of your back as you stepped outside. The night air was cool against your skin, the streetlights casting a soft glow over everything.

Neither of you spoke as you walked. You didn't have to because at the end of the night you always ended up here, with him.

══════════════════════════

Morning light spilled through the small gap in the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The air was still, filled only with the quiet sound of Jisung's steady breathing beneath you. His arm was loosely draped around your waist, your head rising and falling gently with his chest.

Then, a vibration.

Your brows furrowed slightly as the sound cut through the stillness, but you barely moved, your body too warm and comfortable to care.

Another buzz.

Jisung shifted slightly beneath you, turning his head toward the nightstand for a split second before deciding against it, exhaling deeply and relaxing back into the pillows.

Then his ringtone pierced loudly through the silence.

His arm tensed around you before he groaned, blindly reaching over to silence it. He barely glanced at the screen before declining the call, his fingers quickly finding your waist again, pulling you closer.

Then it rang again... and again.

"Who is that?" You murmured groggily, rubbing your eyes as the relentless buzzing continued.

Jisung sighed, finally grabbing his phone. His brows knitted together as he squinted at the screen.

"It's my manager." His voice was deep and scratchy, barely above a whisper as he swiped to answer the call.

You let your eyes flutter shut again, sinking back into the warmth of the bed. Whatever it was, it could wait, but then Jisung shot up, sitting against the headboard so fast it nearly jolted you awake.

"What—how?" His voice had lost all its sleepiness, now sharp and alert.

Your stomach tightened as you sat up beside him, watching his face closely.

"How long has it been out?" His jaw clenched, eyes flickering to you for half a second before darting away.

"What is it?" You said lightly, chest feeling tight. 

"No, I'm at her place." He said into the phone, his voice curt. His fingers were gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

You swallowed hard, heart hammering as you searched his face for any kind of answer.

"No, no we aren't. I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "I'll be there soon."

The call ended and the silence that followed was suffocating.

Jisung threw the blankets off and climbed out of bed in one swift movement, grabbing his clothes with an urgency that made your stomach drop.

"Jisung." Your voice was firm but filled with worry. "What's going on?"

He yanked his shirt over his head, barely looking at you as he moved. "My manager is flying in. I need to meet him at the hotel."

"Is everything okay?" You pressed, swinging your legs over the bed, anxiety curling in your gut.

He hesitated for half a second before answering. "Something got leaked."

Your breath caught.

"What—your album?" Your brows knitted together, trying to make sense of his reaction.

Jisung didn't answer right away. He pulled his jeans on avoiding your gaze, his lips pressing into a thin line.

You stood up. "Jisung."

"A video." His voice was low.

You froze. "A video?"

His fingers curled into fists for a moment before he exhaled. "Of us."

A cold chill ran down your spine. "Us?"

He finally looked at you. "Outside the bar."

Your stomach dropped.

The memory came rushing back— the cool night air against your skin, Jisung's hands gripping your waist as he pressed you against the brick wall.

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Jisung grabbed his keys from the dresser, his movements stiff. You forced yourself to move, slipping into a shirt and shorts before following him out of the bedroom.

"Us making out—that's what got leaked?" Your voice was slightly uneven.

"Yeah."

"Jisung, what does this mean? How bad is it?" You rushed after him, heart pounding.

"I don't know yet, ok?" He snapped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Just—just give me some time. A little space."

You stared at him, your stomach twisting.

"Time and space?" Your voice was sharper now, panic creeping in. "Jisung, I'm in this video too. What about me?"

His eyes darkened. "Y/n—"

"If my mom finds out about this, she's going to freak." Your voice wavered slightly, your breath unsteady.

Jisung let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Y/n, you're twenty three. If your mom freaks out over a kiss, that's her problem."

A lump formed in your throat. "It's not about the kiss Jisung." Your voice was quieter now, but filled with something deeper.

His expression shifted slightly as he paused, finally really looking at you. "What?"

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You couldn't say it— couldn't tell him the real reason this was more complicated for you than it was for him.

Instead, you took a deep breath, forcing a small shaky smile. "Nothing, I'm sorry. I'm just freaking out—please, go handle everything."

Jisung studied you for a moment, his jaw still tight, his eyes scanning your face as if he knew there was more, but he didn't push.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Okay."

And with that, he was gone. ══════════════════════════

A week.

Seven days without a single word from Jisung. Seven days of checking your phone, hoping for a message, a call, anything to prove he hadn't just disappeared into thin air, but there was nothing— no missed calls, no texts, not even an Instagram story to let you know he was alive and scrolling.

You tried to push it aside, pretend it didn't bother you as much as it did, but then your mom had asked about it.

You knew something was off the moment you answered the phone and heard the hesitation in her voice.

"Y/n..." A pause— too long. "Someone told me something today."

Your stomach had plummeted. You didn't need to ask what it was, you already knew.

"There's a video." She continued, her voice slow. "Of you... and Jisung."

It had taken everything in you to keep your voice even, to brush it off like it was nothing. You mumbled something about the internet twisting things, about how people overreacted and you two just met for drinks, to catch up only once. 

Your mom had sighed, clearly unconvinced, but she didn't push. The conversation ended with a soft "Just remember what I told you, ok?" 

And the moment you hung up you exhaled in relief, but the relief didn't last.

Now you're at work, standing behind the bar, forcing smiles and pretending everything is fine, but your hands feel unsteady, and the usual rhythm of your shift feels off.

Haechan notices while you two are closing

"You okay?" His voice is softer than usual.

You freeze for half a second before resuming wiping the counter. "Yeah."

His brows lift slightly. "You sure? You've been off... all week."

You force a small smile. "I'm fine, really."

Haechan doesn't look convinced. His fingers tap lightly against the counter as he studies you. "Jisung hasn't been here either."

Your grip tightens around the rag and Haechan catches it immediately. "So... what's going on?"

You swallow. "Nothing."

He frowns. "Y/n—"

"Nothing, ok?" The words snap out before you can stop them, sharper than you intended.

He blinks clearly taken aback, but doesn't let it go.

"Y/n." He tries again, gentler this time. "Talk to me."

You exhale sharply, the frustration bubbling up despite your best efforts to push it down.

"A video got leaked."

Haechan's face remains neutral for a second, as if he's trying to process what you just said, then his brows knit together.

"A video— what kind of video?" You can see the confusion settle in.

"Of me and Jisung."

His eyes widen slightly. You can see him trying to piece things together, but when you don't elaborate his brows furrow. "Wait, what happened? I haven't seen anything."

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "I don't know. Some paparazzi or fan or someone caught us outside the bar last week and now it's out. Jisung's manager flew in, and I haven't heard from him since."

Haechan stares at you for a moment, tapping his fingers against the counter in thought before he pulls out his phone.

"I seriously don't know what you're talking about. I'm not on social media much when it comes to that stuff." He mutters, unlocking the screen.

You don't respond, you just watch as he starts typing, curiosity flickering across his face.

Then he finds it— you know the exact moment he does, his entire body stiffens. His expression shifts, eyes scanning the screen, lips pressing into a thin line, fingers gripping his phone just a little tighter.

He's quiet for too long.

"Haechan?"

He didn't answer.

You see the way his throat bobs as he swallows, the way his fingers hesitate before scrolling again.

The air between you grows thick. Then, suddenly he's typing frantically, fingers flying across the screen.

Your stomach twists. "Who are you texting?"

Haechan didn't answer, then his phone rang. His whole body went rigid at the name on the screen. He doesn't hesitate,  turning away, walking quickly toward the back exit.

"Haechan." You call after him, but he doesn't stop. 

The door swings shut behind him, leaving you standing there. As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Jisung [12:08 AM]: "Hey."

You stared at the screen. Hey? That was it? After all this time—after a full week of silence and radio static, that was all he had to say?

The frustration bubbled in your chest as your thumb hovered over the screen. You didn't hesitate calling him, pressing the phone to your ear.

The call rang once, then clicked.

Declined.

Jisung [12:09 AM]: "Can't talk otp rn, sorry."

You let out a scoff, sharp and breathy, your chest rising with disbelief. Was this seriously happening? Everyone around you was acting like the world had just exploded. Haechan had disappeared in the middle of your shift like a ghost and now this? 

You typed quickly, fingers tapping harder than they needed to.

You [12:11 AM]: "What is your deal?"

No response.

You shoved your phone back into your pocket as you tried to distract yourself. Cleaning up the bar by yourself, wiping down counters, stacking glasses—anything to fill the silence that Jisung left, anything to quiet the storm in your head.

When you finally made it home, you thought maybe a hot shower and the pure weight of exhaustion would dull your mind enough to let you sleep, but when you laid in bed, your mind wouldn't slow down.

You kept reaching for your phone, your thumb dragging down your notification screen... nothing new.

One hour passed—your eyes shut, only to snap open again with every creak in your apartment.

Then another hour—you tried shifting positions, curling up tighter, then lying flat on your back staring at the ceiling, begging your brain to shut up.

Then two more—your eyelids finally started to flutter closed until his name raced across your mind for the, what, 43rd time that night?

You sighed and grabbed your phone again, checking the notification center like it might magically change.

4:43 AM.

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

You turned to your side and curled into yourself, defeated. You hadn't asked for this—hadn't asked for the confusion, the ache, the way your chest felt like it was being squeezed by something invisible. It was supposed to be casual and simple, but here you were losing sleep over someone who'd vanished without warning.

You didn't even know if you were more scared about the video... or the possibility that you had lost Jisung— again.

Eventually you drifted into a restless sleep, not peaceful, but quiet.

Then your phone started ringing.

Your eyes flew open, heart slamming in your chest as you sat up in bed. The room was still gray with early morning light. You blinked at the alarm clock, 7:28 AM, before throwing off the covers and scrambling to find your phone under the sheets.

There it was. Jisung's name lit up your screen like some cruel joke. You rubbed your eyes and looked again, nope, it was definitely him.

You answered instantly, breath caught in your throat.

There was a long pause before his voice cut through the silence.

"Hey."

It was calm... too calm, like nothing had happened. 

"Hey?" You repeated, your voice raspy from sleep, but full of anger.

"I missed—"

"No." You interrupted, sitting up straighter. "Is that seriously all you have to say? After everything? After disappearing, texting me randomly just to ignore my call? That's it?"

"Y/n, woah... slow down—"

You nearly laughed, humorless and bitter. "I've been slow. I've been patient. I gave you time, space, all the freedom you clearly needed. And the whole time I was sitting here going crazy, worried about you, worried about us, and now you want me to slow down?"

His breath wavered slightly on the other end. "I'm sorry... I just- I had to wait—"

"No." You said, voice trembling now. "I don't want your lame excuses and I definitely don't want some stupid last minute apology like that's going to fix anything. I just... I want you to leave me alone. Don't call me, don't text me. This has gone too far."

The silence on the line was immediate and loud. It sat between you like an invisible wall, thick and hard to breathe through and you couldn't take it, not another second.

You hung up.

The moment the call ended, your phone buzzed again. You groaned, but you looked anyways.

Jisung [7:34 AM]: "Listen, I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean to leave you in the dark. I was just as worried about you as you were for me. My manager told me no contact for a few days, and I thought I was free again and texted, until he told me not just yet. I just got the okay this morning and I called you as soon as that happened. I understand if you never want to talk to me again. Again, I'm sorry about everything."

You stared at the message for a long moment, your thumb hovering over the screen.

You [7:38 AM]: "Yeah, I get it. I just... I overreacted. I guess barely getting any sleep is catching up to me. I don't want to stop talking to you, but I do need a little break. Just to breathe and reset."

Jisung [7:40 AM]: "Sounds good to me. Just text when you're ready. Hope you feel better soon."

You set the phone down on your nightstand and leaned back into your pillow, your chest still heavy, but lighter than it had been an hour ago. ══════════════════════════

It had been a few days since you'd last spoken to Jisung—or anyone really. After what felt like a lifetime of headaches, you finally had your long awaited days off, and you spent them doing absolutely nothing. No texts, no calls, no small talk, just silence and it felt... good. Or at least, better. You needed to breathe, to sit in your own head without someone else's voice filling the space, but even in that quiet, a dull ache lingered—like something unfinished was hovering over your chest, waiting to be addressed.

That afternoon, after dancing around it for long enough you finally opened your conversation with Jisung.

You [4:43 PM]: "Hey, I'm doing much better now."

The response came sooner than you expected.

Jisung [4:50 PM]: "Hey, I'm glad you're doing better."

Short. Simple. Uncomplicated. You liked the message, lips pressing into a line before setting your phone down. It was time to get ready for work.

Just as you were about to walk through the bar's front entrance, your phone buzzed again.

Jisung [5:32 PM]: "Hey. Sorry I should've said more and updated you earlier. Are you free to meet up right now?"

You sighed, thumb hovering over your screen. You wished you could. A hundred things ran through your head—questions, things unsaid, moments that deserved more time.

You [5:33 PM]: "I really would like to, but I'm at work. What about when I get off?"

The answer came quickly.

Jisung [5:35 PM]: "Can't. My flight's tonight at 11, gonna be gone for a while."

You [5:36 PM]: "Damn. That sucks."

You walked inside, shaking the feeling off as best you could. Work came first, life didn't pause just because your heart was playing hopscotch.

You set down your bag and moved toward the floor when a familiar voice greeted you.

"Long time no see." Haechan smiled, leaning back against the counter with that usual glint in his eyes.

"Long time no see." You echoed, forcing a small smile in return.

"How was your break?" He asked.

You pulled your apron over your head, tightening the straps. "Much needed." You replied honestly.

"That's good." He said.

Your phone buzzed again making you glance at the screen while wiping your hands on a bar towel.

Jisung [5:47 PM]: "I know. Anyways uh, about the video. It didn't really spread too much so we're good."

Your eyes narrowed slightly, your thumb immediately typing back.

You [5:48 PM]: "It did spread."

You didn't even wait for his reply. You just shoved your phone back into your pocket, trying to focus on the customer in front of you. As soon as they were taken care of, your curiosity got the better of you, and you pulled your phone out again.

Jisung [5:53 PM]: "Ok captain obvious, duh. But it's better now, and my manager has it handled so it shouldn't get worse. Did anyone you know bring it up?"

You [6:01 PM]: "Yep. A few of my friends texted me about it. Also Haechan found it in front of me... it was embarrassing lol."

You waited, eyes flickering up to glance across the room. Haechan was talking to another bartender, casually tossing a bottle back.

Jisung [6:02 PM]: "Oh. I'm sure he didn't mind watching it lol. Sorry about your friends tho."

You [6:03 PM]: "Nah, don't worry about it. My friends were hyping me up ofc lmaoo. My mother wasn't too happy tho."

There was a pause.

Jisung [6:04 PM]: "Your mom found out?"

You [6:04 PM]: "Yes."

You saw the little typing bubble pop up, but no message came. Before you could dwell on it, another customer came in, and you returned to the flow of work—smiles, drinks, small talk, tips.

When you finally had a breather, you checked your phone again.

Jisung [6:05 PM]: "Omg, that must suck. I know how much you didn't want her to know. I'll stop by to personally apologize to her for all this mess."

You froze, scanning the message again.

Then again.

Your heart dropped a little.

You [6:38 PM]: "What lol? Don't. Like actually... seriously do not."

You shoved your phone back into your pocket, silently praying he saw your message in time. The last thing you needed was that.

A buzz.

Then another.

Then two more.

You groaned under your breath. "Damn Jisung..."

Then your phone started ringing.

You glanced at the screen and your stomach twisted in knots.

Not Jisung.

Mom.

You let the phone ring, pulse pounding in your ears. Your thumb hesitated over the screen as you slid down the notification bar instead.

Four texts lit up your phone—three from her, one from him.

Mom [7:12 PM]: "What is Jisung doing at my front door?"

Jisung [7:15 PM]: "Too late, but I don't feel very welcomed."

Mom [7:17 PM]: "I really don't want to bother you at work. Can you please reply or get him to leave?"

Mom [7:20 PM]: "Y/n, get here immediately."

Your heart stopped. You could practically hear your mother's voice in those texts—tight and stern. The kind of voice you hadn't heard since high school.

You rushed out from behind the bar, panic rising with every step.

"Haechan." You called, your voice shaky. "I'm—I'm having a family emergency, can I please leave?"

He turned toward you, immediately concerned. "Oh my god, are you okay—?"

"Can I leave?" You snapped, a little louder than intended.

His eyes widened. "Yes—yeah, go ahead."

You didn't waste another second. You grabbed your stuff with trembling hands and darted out the door, barely remembering to clock out.

The drive was a blur.

Forty five minutes of silence, your fingers tightly grasping the steering wheel, your thoughts spiraling. The only sound was the pounding in your chest, the voice in your head whispering every possible outcome—none of them good.

When you finally pulled up to your childhood home, your stomach twisted all over again. His car was still parked out front. You barely put your car in park before flinging the door open, slamming it shut behind you as you stormed toward the porch, heart in your throat, breath ragged.

This wasn't happening.

This couldn't actually be happening.

You rushed through the front door, your chest rising and falling with sharp breaths, adrenaline still running hot in your veins. The moment your eyes landed on them—Jisung and your mother sitting stiffly at the kitchen table, you felt your heart stop.

They were talking or at least attempting to. The air was heavy with discomfort. Jisung sat awkwardly, posture rigid, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve while your mother sipped tea like it might keep her temper from bubbling over. Their words were quiet and polite, but strained, like two people trying to speak without saying anything at all.

Then, they both noticed you.

Jisung's face lit up, relief washing over his features. "I thought you were at work." He said with a small hopeful smile, standing from his chair.

You barely opened your mouth before your mother's voice sliced through the air.

"Y/n." She said sharply. "May I have a word with you... privately?"

Your breath hitched as you nodded, gaze flicking between them. Your mother's expression was cold, her jaw locked in that way you knew too well. Jisung glanced at her, then back at you, his smile fading completely. He studied your face with soft, searching eyes trying to read the emotions you were fighting to keep down.

"Is everything okay?" He asked you quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. "Can you please go?" You murmured, eyes not quite meeting his.

He blinked. "I—are you—?"

"Leave, Jisung." Your voice came out sharper than you intended, but you couldn't take it back.

The room fell still and for a brief moment he just looked at you. Really looked—like he was trying to memorize something. His eyes shone with something close to sorrow. Then, without another word he nodded and stepped past you toward the door.

The click of it closing behind him echoed like a gunshot as you stood in the silence, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, eyes fixed on the floor. You could feel your mother's gaze burning into you, but you didn't look up.

She was the first to speak.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Her tone was low, but it held the weight of a storm.

You stayed quiet.

"Do you know how humiliating that was?" She snapped, her voice rising with every word. "He just showed up at my house uninvited, trying to apologize like that would fix everything. What were you thinking?"

"I didn't tell him to go—" You started.

"But you let it happen." She cut in, slamming her cup down onto the table. "You invited him back into your life after everything we've been through? After what you went through?"

Your chest tightened. "He didn't mean for any of it to happen."

"He didn't notice you were falling apart Y/n." She hissed, stepping closer. "You were sinking—drowning, and he was too busy chasing his music and flirting with you to even see it."

She exhaled sharply, trying to keep her composure. "You think I wanted to pull you out of school? You think I wanted to isolate you? No. I did it to protect you. You could barely get out of bed, you barely spoke, and all he ever did was make you feel like you had to pretend you were fine."

"That's not fair." You said quietly, your voice cracking. "He didn't know— I didn't tell him."

"You shouldn't have had to!" She snapped. "A real friend would've seen it. He would've known something was wrong, but no—he got to live his dream while you stayed behind, broken."

Tears stung at your eyes. "You don't understand, he was the only thing that made me feel normal."

"No." She said firmly, voice cold. "He made you feel dependent and I couldn't watch you crumble like that—not again. That's why I drew the line, that's why I said no more Jisung."

You looked away, jaw clenched, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. "You didn't give me a choice."

"I gave you a lifeline, Y/n." Her voice softened just a little. "I did what I thought was right, I didn't want you hurt again."

"But you hurt me." You whispered. "You took him away from me when I needed him the most."

She went silent and for a moment, all you could hear was the ticking of the clock in the hallway. Finally, your mom sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead.

"I'm your mother. I don't need to be liked, I need to keep you safe. Even if it means you hate me for a while."

You stood there, torn between anger and understanding, between heartbreak and the unbearable weight of love.

"...I don't hate you." You said at last, voice barely audible. "But you don't get to decide who I care about."

Her face twisted slightly, but she didn't speak and neither did you, because anything more— anything else might break you both.

"Get out of my house, Y/n." She spoke quietly, her voice calm—too calm. The kind of calm that comes right before something inside you breaks.

You didn't hesitate, you didn't even look back. You turned on your heel, heart twisting, fingers trembling at your sides. There was no room left for explanation, not that she'd listen anyway. You stepped out of the house with a mixture of hurt and utter exhaustion clinging to your skin, like it had been soaked into your bones.

You made your way to your car, slamming the door harder than you needed to. The silence was unbearable. Not even music would've helped—not when your thoughts were screaming louder than anything the radio could drown out.

The drive home was somehow worse than the drive there. You couldn't breathe past the lump in your throat. Your vision blurred, tears spilling from your eyes even though you bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood. You weren't supposed to feel like this, you weren't supposed to still feel like this.

By the time you reached your apartment, your hands were shaking as you turned the key in the door. You kicked off your shoes, barely registering them thudding against the wall. You just needed to get to your room to curl up in the dark where no one could see the mess inside of you, but just as you were about to disappear into that safe quiet, a knock echoed against the front door.

You froze.

Then it came again—louder. A fist against wood like whoever was on the other side knew you were there and wasn't leaving until you answered.

You stormed toward the door, your feet heavy with dread and rage and something else you couldn't name. You yanked it open without a word—

And there he was.

Jisung.

His eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised by your expression, but you didn't give him time to speak.

You scoffed, the sound bitter. "Showing up unwanted again, I guess."

His brows furrowed slightly, hurt flickering in his eyes. "What?"

Then, without asking he stepped inside.

"Is everything okay Y/n?"

Your heart sank further, and the anger boiled right up behind it. "Is everything okay?" You repeated, your voice filled with disbelief. "Is everything okay? I told you not to talk to my mom, I told you to just leave it, and I guess you took that as 'go to her house and completely bombard her?'"

"I just went to apologize for all this mess I caused. Why is that such an issue?" He asked, his tone defensive, but still trying to stay calm.

"Because I told you not to! I told you not to, and you purposely ignored me—was it just to make yourself feel better?" Your voice cracked.

"It wasn't to make me feel better." He said quickly. "It was to make you feel better because I knew how anxious you were about it. I did this thinking about you, and this is what I get in return?"

"Jisung." Your voice rose higher than you intended, trembling. "I told you no. I told you no, and you did not listen to me."

"Ok, I'm sorry." He said, voice low and sincere.

You laughed bitterly, taking a step back like you needed physical space to handle the ache inside. "You're always sorry and I'm sick of it. We wouldn't even be in this situation if you weren't so childish and jealous."

His chest rose, a slow inhale through his nose before he responded. "Oh, of course it's all my fault. Of course, because it's never yours, right?"

"What are you talking about?" You questioned.

"Yeah, what I did was wrong—but you're acting like you're innocent in all of this." His voice was sharper now, angrier. "You never talk to me about anything. You shut me out every time I get close. The second I ask something that makes you uncomfortable, you run. You shut down and expect me to just be okay with it, but I'm not. It's really fucking frustrating Y/n."

You stared at him, stunned by the rawness in his voice.

"You don't get to be angry at my choices when you don't give me any reason not to make them. You don't talk, you don't trust me—and then you blame me when shit falls apart. Saying 'don't' or 'leave it' isn't enough. You can't just shut me down and expect me to read your mind."

Your lips parted, the pain bubbling under your ribcage. "Are you actually serious? Jisung, I don't know what you expected. I shouldn't be forced to talk about my personal life or my trauma— it's not your business."

His eyes flashed. "It is my business when it affects me, when it's about us. First it was you disappearing with no explanation. Then your mom hating me out of nowhere and I'm just supposed to sit here and say nothing while you keep pushing me away?"

You clenched your jaw.

"It's like you know you're in the wrong." He continued. "And instead of owning up to it, you push everything into a box, lock it, and throw away the key. Then you blame me for not figuring out the combination."

"I'm in the wrong Jisung? Fine. You're right, I'm wrong. Are you happy now?"

His voice cracked, softer this time. "I don't care about being right. I just wanted... something, an apology, an explanation, anything, but you couldn't even give me that."

You swallowed hard. "Okay, I'm sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear? I should've told you."

His eyes softened, just barely. "Then tell me."

Silence. Your mouth opened, but nothing came as a tear slipped down your cheek.

"I—"

"Can't? Thought so." He finished for you, his voice full of quiet resignation.

You couldn't speak, couldn't even move.

He stared at you for a long, aching moment. Then without a word he turned around, heading for the door, but before he opened it, he glanced back at you one last time.

"You know... you're not as nonchalant and mysterious as you think you are." He said, his voice hollow. "You're just unbearable."

The words hit you like a slap, a cut you didn't see coming. Then the door opened, and he was gone.

You stood there in the silence, broken in too many places to count. Your heart pounded against your ribs like it was trying to get out. You felt hurt, the same hurt you felt when blocked him in high school. You loved him, you couldn't lie, but it wasn't supposed to feel like this... or maybe it was? Maybe you meant to feel this hurt, maybe it meant something. 

You didn't even think before you ran to the door. You flung it open, breath catching.

"Jisung!" You called out.

He turned, slowly.

His eyes glimmered beneath the streetlight, but he didn't speak.

"Can you come back?"

He paused, then nodded, following you back inside. As soon as the door shut, he just stood there waiting... bracing.

You faced him.

"Junior year." You said softly.

He blinked, face twitching like he didn't quite believe you were saying it.

"I was doing fine, until I wasn't. I don't know what happened—it just... hit me all at once. I was diagnosed with depression. My mom... she decided it was best to move me away."

He nodded slightly, his hands curled into fists.

"So what does that have to do with me?" He asked, his voice calm but strained. "I feel bad, but I don't understand why you didn't reach out, why you blocked me— why you painted me as the villain."

"My mom. She told me to stop talking to you, to block you."

"Again." He said, voice rising slightly. "What does that have to do with me, what did I do?"

You hesitated. "Because... you didn't notice. You didn't see me falling apart."

His jaw clenched. "What if I did?"

"Then why didn't you say anything?" You asked.

"Because you. Because you never let me in. You would've shut me down like you always did."

"Well, you could've tried." You said, biting back the sob climbing your throat.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Are you seriously blaming this on me?"

"I'm not blaming—"

"The obvious, right?" He said. "That I was a bad friend, that I was selfish, that I wasn't enough. That's what you think, isn't it?"

"I didn't say you were a terrible friend—"

"No, but you believed it."

The air between you felt like it might crack.

"I just don't understand why you kept it from me." He said, his voice breaking now. "I would've understood."

"Right." You scoffed. "Like you do now?"

"You know what—"

"What?" You shot back.

"I would understand if you were just fucking normal!" He snapped. "But you're not. You hide, you lie, you give half truths. You expect me to keep waiting for you to open up like I'm some fucking option."

"I tried." Your voice cracked. "I unblocked you when I was finally ready. I wrote it all out—the truth, everything, but you had me blocked."

He went quiet for a minute.

"Y/n." He said softly. "It's hard to unblock someone who hurt you."

You looked at him, eyes narrowed. "But it was easy when you wanted to hook up though, right?"

His expression froze.

"That was... not the same thing." He said after a pause. "It's been years. I'm not as hurt anymore. I don't care about you anymore. I don't want you to feel the way I did. Why is it so fucking difficult for you to use common sense?"

"Oh." You laughed hollowly. "You don't care about me anymore?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Get out of my house." You said, voice cold.

"But we're—"

"Get out."

And this time, he listened, but it didn't stop the ache from clawing its way through your chest as he walked away.

The door slammed behind him, echoing like a gunshot in the silence of your apartment.

You didn't move.

You stared at the space where Jisung once stood, your eyes burning from the tears welling in your eyes.

The silence in your apartment wrapped around you like a noose. It rang in your ears louder than his voice did, you could still hear it:

"You're not as nonchalant and mysterious as you think. You're just unbearable."

Unbearable. That word echoed and bounced in your brain.

Your knees buckled before you could make it back to the bedroom, hitting the floor hard. You pressed your forehead to your knees, arms wrapping around yourself to maybe hold yourself together long enough not to completely fall apart, but it was useless.

The sob came out rough, like your body had been holding it hostage. One turned into two, then three and then it was a flood. The kind of crying that makes your face burn, your limbs feel like they've been dragged through fire.

It had always been like this with Jisung. He knew you better than anyone, that was the worst part.

He knew exactly where to hit — the places you thought were buried so deep no one would ever find them, but he always did. 

And still... you loved him.

God, you loved him and it hurt— it hurt so much it made you sick.

You stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, maybe more. Eventually the sobs turned into hiccups, then silence again. You stared at the ceiling, your heart still pounding.Your head ached, your body felt empty and your heart was somewhere else entirely.

You didn't remember getting up, only the cold splash of water hitting your face in the bathroom sink. The ache in your eyes, the red around your waterline like you had been crying blood.

The next day felt like it moved in slow motion.

Your eyes were swollen, hidden behind makeup and caffeine, and your limbs dragged behind you like they hadn't caught up with your body yet. Work felt impossibly loud— the clinking of glasses, the music, the sounds of casual conversation all crashing against your headache.

You barely said more than a few words since your shift started and Haechan noticed, he always did.

You could feel his eyes on you from across the bar, quick glances when he thought you weren't looking. His brow creased just slightly whenever you sighed too long or lingered too long at the register like you forgot what button to press.

At some point between customers he slipped behind the bar beside you, leaning against the counter with a quiet thud of his shoulder.

"You're quiet today."

You didn't answer right away, just kept drying the same glass for far too long.

"Bad night?" He asked, voice low, but not pressing.

You nodded once, barely, and he didn't push further.

Instead, he glanced around the bar like he was making sure no one would hear before turning toward you, speaking gently. "Hey... you doing anything tomorrow night?"

Your head turned toward him slowly. "Why?"

"I was thinking." He started, tapping his fingers absently against the counter. "Maybe we grab dinner? I know a place with good pasta and wine, and honestly it just feels like you could use a distraction."

You blinked at him. "I'm not really good company right now." You admitted.

"Good." He said with a small smile. "Takes the pressure off, i'll talk enough for both of us."

You huffed, not quite a laugh, but the closest you had gotten to one all day.

"You're not gonna try to get me to talk about it?"

"Nope." He said easily. "Unless you want to, but I'm perfectly fine talking about something else."

You finally cracked the barest smile, shaking your head. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe." He said, bumping his shoulder lightly against yours. "But I'm still gonna pick you up at seven— that's okay?"

You paused your heart heavy, but the thought of sitting alone in your apartment again made your chest cave in.

"Yeah, that's okay." You whispered, and for the first time all day, you felt something close to okay.

Dinner wasn't fancy, it wasn't meant to be.

Haechan had picked a tucked away Italian place. The lights were dim, the tables were small, and the candles flickered. It was the kind of restaurant that didn't try too hard, just a place to eat, chat, and maybe if you were lucky, laugh.

And you did.

At first, it was hard. You smiled, but it didn't always reach your eyes. You listened, but your thoughts wandered. Still, Haechan didn't push, he kept the conversation light with bad stories about worse customers, impressions of your boss, dramatic retellings of awkward childhood crushes that had you nearly spitting out your drink.

He didn't ask about Jisung, he didn't ask why your eyes kept drifting to the window or why your fingers trembled slightly every time they brushed the stem of your wine glass. He just... let you be.

And somewhere between the laughter and the second basket of garlic bread, you started to feel something warm return. Not all the way, but something.

"I think you needed this." Haechan said, tilting his head toward you after the plates were cleared, his voice sincere.

"I did." You admitted softly.

"I'm glad." He replied, and the way he looked at you made your breath catch for just a moment. Like he was seeing you for more than just this evening— like he was willing to wait as long as it took.

With that, dinner became a thing between the two of you.

Not every night, not always planned, but often enough.

Sometimes it was ramen in styrofoam cups on your couch with a show playing in the background that you both barely paid attention to. Other times it was late night drives to diners that never closed, eating fries dipped in milkshakes while the neon lights outside reflected across the car windows.

It wasn't about the food, it was about the company.

Haechan had this way of making everything feel easy. He didn't ask for pieces of you that you weren't ready to give, he didn't dig, he just existed next to you effortless.

You laughed more, smiled without thinking, started to breathe a little easier when he was around and that was enough.

The drive back tonight was quiet, but not uncomfortable. The city lights blurred through the window, and you let yourself watch them. Haechan hummed something under his breath, and you weren't sure if it was a song or just a habit, you wondered if he always did that when he was nervous.

When he pulled up in front of your apartment, he didn't say anything right away. The car idled softly, your hand was already on the door handle when he spoke.

"Can I walk you up?"

You looked at him with a smile.

"You always do." You whispered.

The walk to your door was quiet, when you had reached your door you turned slowly, suddenly unsure of what you were supposed to say.

"Thanks." You said lamely. 

He smiled, stepping just a little closer. "Anytime."

He looked at you a second too long and you didn't back away. Before you could overthink it, before you could second guess the moment he leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft and hesitant, his lips barely brushing yours, and when they pressed a little firmer against yours, it made you feel loved— really loved. His fingers gently ghosted along your jaw and for a second you let yourself melt into it, but when you closed your eyes, it wasn't Haechan's voice that echoed in your memory.

It was Jisung's.

The way he used to say your name like it meant something, the weight of his stare when he was hurt, the way he walked out that night without slamming the door, like even his anger was soft when it came to you.

Your chest tightened, the kiss was kind, it was careful. Haechan deserved someone who could kiss him without thinking of someone else.

You pulled back, slowly.

"I should..." You whispered.

"Yeah." He said quietly, backing away. "Of course."

He didn't ask what was wrong. He just nodded like he understood, and stepped back.

"Goodnight Y/n."

"Goodnight Haechan."

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, your heart pounding for reasons you wished you could explain. The kiss was nice and sweet, it made you feel something— but it wasn't Jisung.

And that realization felt worse than any goodbye. ══════════════════════════

You were sitting at home after your shift, before your phone buzzed beside you, its glow cutting through the dimness of your apartment.

Haechan [1:25 AM]: "Hey, do you want to meet me at the park? I got sandwiches :p"

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. This wasn't out of the ordinary, if anything, it had become one of your favorite things at the moment.

You texted back a simple "Be there in 10", already slipping on your hoodie and grabbing your keys. Anything to get out of your head for a while.

When you got there, he was exactly where you expected him to be— sitting on the old bench that faced the lake. The moonlight bounced off the water towards him, but his eyes lit up when he saw you more than any reflection ever could.

"Hey." He smiled, already sliding a wrapped sandwich your way across the bench.

"Hey." You replied, taking it with a grateful glance. It was warm in your hands, the gesture alone already softening your thoughts.

You ate in comfortable silence at first, legs brushing once or twice but neither of you moving. Just the sounds of water rippling, the occasional bird call in the dark, the kind of night that could make you forget the world for a moment.

Then he spoke. "I can't believe you're about to leave me at the bar by myself in a few months." His voice was light and joking, but his eyes didn't quite match.

"Maybe you can be one of my employees." You teased.

He scoffed. "You? As my boss? Yeah right, I'd rather die." He laughed.

You rolled your eyes and hit him playfully. 

"I'm still proud of you though, that you really did it, but I'm gonna miss you." His smile faltered for half a second before he straightened up again. 

"Don't speak like that." You placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "We're still gonna hang out. You know you can come anytime you want free pastries, perks of knowing the owner." You smiled.

That got a laugh out of him and a small one. "I guess."

The silence returned, but it was heavier now. He was thinking about something, you could feel it.

Then he perked up. "Guess who's going on tour."

You looked up, curious. "Who?"

"Black Horizon."

Your entire body tensed at the name. It felt like someone had dropped a rock into your stomach.

"Yeah." He continued, clearly unaware of your reaction. "They dropped an album about a month ago, so I expected it. I'm excited though, this city's their last stop."

You nodded, forcing a smile so he wouldn't see the way your world had tilted just slightly. "Cool."

"We should go." He added, his grin wide.

Your eyes flicked to him, your throat tight. "You think?"

"Yeah, totally." He said. "It'd be so fun to go together, a concert date."

The words felt wrong in your ears. Not because of him, but because of everything else. The memories, the person attached to that band.

"I mean, it would be fun going with you." You said slow and carefully. "But... why that concert? Why not something else?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I figured you liked them because of... you know." His voice tapered off as if he realized too late.

"I don't listen to them." You said quickly, voice tighter than you meant. "What about that one girl you went with last time? Why not go with her?"

He looked surprised at the shift in tone, but didn't push it. "My best friend? I don't talk to her anymore— guess I'll be going alone." He said.

"Oops." You replied with a forced laugh.

He leaned forward slightly, his voice softer now. "How about I take you somewhere nicer to eat, then we catch a movie or go to the arcade. Something fun, you know?"

Your face faltered the moment he said the words before you could stop it, your chest squeezed painfully, like a bruise pressed too hard. That was your thing— you and Jisung's. The late dinners, the movies, the stupidly competitive arcade battles that ended in laughter or harmless bickering. You could still hear his voice yelling about rigged claw machines and how he always swore this was the one he'd win.

"Yeah, I'd totally be down." You turned around to face him, a forced smile on your lips, but it was too late. Haechan noticed— of course he did, he always noticed.

He studied you for a long moment, his expression a bit sorrowed, the energy between you shifting.

"You like him, don't you?" He asked quietly. "More than you like me."

The words hit like a slap, not because they were harsh, but because they were true.

You opened your mouth, but no words came, just silence. Silence, and the memory of Jisung's voice, his touch, his kiss. The look in his eyes when he walked away. The guilt, the confusion, the ache that never really left.

Haechan looked at you like he already knew. Like he had known from the beginning, but had been trying to outrun it anyway.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, the words barely getting past the lump in your throat.

He nodded, a tiny smile curling his lips. "It's okay."

But you saw it, the flicker in his eyes. The way something inside him dimmed just a bit, and without a word he turned around from you, facing the lake as he quietly sat staring.

You stayed there watching him, regret curling in your stomach. He didn't deserve this, to get caught in the crossfire between you and your confusing feelings.

"I should go." You said softly, your voice breaking a little.

He didn't look at you when he replied. "Okay."

You hesitated, wanting to stay, wanting to explain, but you were so afraid that you'd just make it worse.

So you left, but the whole way home your chest ached. You had wanted so badly to feel something real again, but maybe that was the cruelest part of it all— that even something good, something warm could still feel like it wasn't yours to have.

══════════════════════════

You were sprawled out on your stomach in bed, one arm curled under your pillow, the other resting limply beside your phone.

Your head throbbed gently, the weight of the night— no, the past few months crashed down on you all at once now that you were alone. Haechan's words echoed in your head, his expression still reflected behind your eyes. The disappointment he didn't fully voice, the heartbreak he tried to tuck behind a soft smile.

And then there was Jisung... always.

You were tired, but not in the way sleep could fix.

Your phone buzzed on the mattress beside you, the sound making your heart jump. You rolled over quickly, a rush of hope shooting through you for a reason you didn't want to name. You didn't even realize how desperately you were hoping it was him— until you saw the name.

Haechan.

You stared at the screen for a second before finally unlocking your phone. There wasn't a message— no words, just a single link.

A song.

"2(things) interlude – Black Horizon"

Your throat tightened the second you saw the band's name. It was stupid, just a song, but still your finger hovered over the play button like it might burn you. You closed the app instead, exhaling sharply.

You opened your messages.

You [3:37 AM]: "Listen Haechan, I'm so, so sorry about everything."

You stared at the blinking cursor for a second before pressing send. It didn't feel like enough, nothing would.

His reply came almost instantly.

Haechan [3:38 AM]: "It's ok. Just listen to it."

You hesitated, gnawing on your bottom lip as if it could somehow keep you sane. Then you sat up slowly, grabbing your headphones from your nightstand with shaky hands. The wire tangled slightly in your grip, and your fingers fumbled in your hurry.

You lay back down, plugging them in.

2(things) interlude – Black Horizon

You stared at the title, your thumb trembling above the screen. A song was just a song, but this one felt loaded... personal. It had to be if Haechan sent it.

Still, you pressed play.

The track started with a faint, ambient hum,almost like static or the distant buzzing of streetlights in the middle of the night. Then came the soft strum of a guitar. Not the pounding drums or gritty vocals you expected from the band. No, this was gentler.

A voice started listing things. Random things, things they loved and hated about relationships— about people. It was honest and felt intimate.

Then the question came softly : "What's two things you love about her?"

The guitar faded into a delicate pattern. Then... his voice— Jisung's voice.

Low and quiet, almost like he didn't know how loud his words would echo.

"Her smile." He said.

You blinked hard, tears already beginning to prick at your eyes.

"I love to see her smile. I love when her eyes light up, when she's happy."

Your bottom lip quivered. You could hear it in his voice, the ache, that he meant it, every single word.

There was a pause, the guitar giving space to breathe.

Then another voice: "Okay, two things you hate— no, regret about her?"

The silence after that question was the loudest part of the whole song.

You didn't realize you'd stopped breathing until he spoke again.

"Letting her walk away... again."

That was when the first tear slipped down your cheek, warm against your cool skin. You didn't wipe it away.

"And..." He continued, voice even softer now. "And saying I was okay with being just friends. I wasn't... I never was."

Your whole body felt still, heavy like the truth had settled into your bones. You could barely hear the voice that responded— a stunned, "Damn." Before the sounds dissolved into fading chatter, the guitar taking over once more. A few more soft strums, then silence.

The track ended, but the noise in your head didn't.

You laid there, your headphones still in, your eyes blurry with tears. Some part of you wanted to believe you were imagining it, but it all felt too specific. The meaning of his words, the way he said 'her' like she was the only one in the world— and those chords... they were familiar.

You knew those chords, the ones he used to play in your garage, your bedroom, the old rehearsal space you used to sneak into after school. The song he said he wrote just for you, the one he never let anyone else hear, the one he only ever played when it was just the two of you.

You sat up, swiping out of the music app with trembling fingers. Your heart beat loudly against your ribcage. You opened your messages, scrolling past Haechan's name and tapping on Jisung's.

The chat opened, blank, unsent messages sitting in your head like static.

You stared at the screen, your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure where to begin. What could you even say?

"Did you mean it?"

"Was that about me?"

"I miss you."

But none of those messages were sent. The words were stuck on the tip of your tongue, too fragile to push through.

Maybe time would fix things. Maybe fate would pull you two back together, the way it always did. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But deep down, you knew those were just excuses because the truth was, you were scared.

Scared of hearing the wrong answer. Scared of hearing nothing at all. Scared of what it would mean if he felt the same way— or worse, if he didn't.

So instead, you sighed, swiping away from the message screen, closing your phone, and tucking it under your pillow like hiding it could hide the feelings too.

But even as you lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling, his voice stayed with you.

"Letting her walk away..."

He didn't say your name, but he didn't have to.

You knew. ══════════════════════════

It had been almost two months since Haechan being the kind, frustratingly forgiving person that he was decided to let the past go. Not entirely, maybe, but he let you back in. Piece by piece, moment by moment.

You were sitting across from him at your favorite lunch spot. You picked at your fries, watching the way the sunlight caught the edge of your glass.

"So." Haechan said between bites. "Your grand opening's in two days, right?"

You looked up at him and smiled. "Yep. I'm excited— nervous, but mostly excited."

He grinned, resting back in the booth. "I know the boss is pissed at me, I'm taking off two days in a row."

You laughed softly. "Oh yeah, you're going to that concert tomorrow, right?"

He nodded, sipping his drink. "Mhm. You sure you don't wanna go?"

You paused, the smile faltering for a split second before you tucked it back into place. "I'm sure."

He didn't, just nodded like he always did, and the conversation moved on.

But the next afternoon, the quiet settled back into your apartment, the thought returned, constantly.

You weren't actually considering going to the concert... were you?

Except... you were— you really, really were.

You sat on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, thumb scrolling through every ticket site you could think of. Last minute prices were outrageous, but your mind wasn't really focused on that. It kept drifting, pulling you back to the things Jisung used to say. How he'd always promise that you would never have to pay to see them live. That your name would always be on the list, that he wanted you there, front row every time.

That was before, before the space, before the silence, but a part of you still wondered was it true now? Did he still think about you at all?

The hours slipped by. It was getting late, and if you were going to go, you had to make the decision now.

The walls of your apartment felt tight, like they were echoing back every excuse you've ever made. You always told yourself you were giving things time, that things would work out naturally if they were meant to, but maybe you were just scared. Scared of what you might find out if you tried and maybe for the first time you were done waiting.

So you went.

You barely remembered the drive, just flashes of traffic lights and the sound of your heart hammering in your chest louder than the music you had playing. Your thoughts were spiraling, you knew you weren't going to talk to him. That wasn't the point, you weren't expecting anything.

What if your name wasn't there? What if he had forgotten you, erased you like a phase he'd outgrown? What if he healed, moved on, found someone else who didn't carry the same weight you did?

What if he didn't care anymore?

You pulled into the venue parking lot. The crowd outside buzzed with energy, fans taking photos, laughing.

You felt like you were holding your breath the entire time you walked to the box office. When you reached the counter, the girl behind the glass smiled brightly.

"Hi there! Can I help you?"

You swallowed hard. "Hi... I think I'm on the guest list?"

She gave a nod, pulling out a binder" "Name?"

"Y/n L/n."

She flipped through the pages slowly. Your heart was pounding in your ears so loud you could barely think. She turned another page, then another.

You tried to prepare yourself for the letdown. For the soft apologetic smile and the quiet "Sorry, you're not here." You already felt the sting of it.

Then she paused, eyes scanning the page, before flicking back up to you with a smile.

She reached into a drawer and pulled out a lanyard with a glossy pass on the end, and slid it across the counter.

"You're all set." She said brightly. "Guests have access to a private section, just ask security when you get inside or you're welcome to stand anywhere you'd like."

You stared at the pass in disbelief.

"...Thank you."

You managed a smile, but inside, you were cracking. You didn't think it would actually work, you didn't think you still mattered, but you did, somehow you still did.

You slipped the lanyard around your neck and walked inside, guided to the small private section tucked slightly off to the side of the stage.

Then the lights dimmed, the music started and he walked on stage.

He looked... incredible, confident. There was something magnetic about him up there—how he moved, how the crowd roared the second he smiled.

He looked like he belonged here, like he was thriving, but what caught you most wasn't the way he looked... kinda— it was the music.

It wasn't what you expected, not really.

Each song bled emotion, honesty wrapped guitar tones. The lyrics were sharp, but delicate. You could feel the weight behind them, they weren't just songs. They were confessions, open wounds, pages torn straight out of a diary they never meant for you to read.

And suddenly, you hated yourself a little for not listening sooner.

You watched him from a quiet corner of the section, still and silent as the last song faded into the roar of the crowd and when the lights came back on you didn't move.

You just stood there, heart full of something complicated, something between closure and longing. It didn't change anything, not really. There were no confessions waiting for you backstage, no signs, no sudden moment that would fix what was already broken between you, but it was something.

It was enough to let you breathe again.

Maybe he had healed, maybe he still thought of you sometimes, maybe both were true.

But watching him up there, doing what he loved, being who he was meant to be made you happy.

Because no matter how much you wanted him, how badly you missed what you had... you were just happy he was happy. ══════════════════════════

The next day at your cafe's grand opening was everything you hoped it would be—chaotic, nerve wracking, beautiful. People came and went, congratulating you, leaving with little pastries and warm drinks in hand and through it all, Haechan stayed by your side like the saint he was. He charmed customers, restocked napkins, wiped down tables without being asked, and even fixed the Wi-Fi when it glitched.

You caught him grinning across the counter at one point and couldn't help but laugh.

"You know, you would actually make a good employee." You teased, leaning on the register.

"Wow, I was expecting 'business partner', but thanks I guess." He said, rolling his eyes playfully.

"Business partner, Haechan." You corrected, still giggling.

You were almost done for the day, the final rush fading out with the setting sun. You moved over to the register to start closing it down when the front door chimed and you glanced up instinctively.

"Hi, welcome, I'm sorry but—" Your voice faltered, words trailing off the moment your eyes met his.

There he was... Jisung. Standing just inside the doorway casual as ever, but with that subtle nervousness you remembered so well.

"You're closed?" He asked, eyebrows lifting as he sucked in his teeth . "I never make it on time man."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Your brain blanked under the weight of a million things you wanted to say but couldn't.

Haechan looked between the two of you, lips quirking into a smile as if he'd been waiting for this moment.

He stepped closer and pulled you into a soft hug. "I'll see you later." He said warmly. "Congratulations on all this, and please... talk it out. I bought Vip for this."

"You what?" You asked, startled.

He just put a finger to his lips like it was nothing, then turned toward Jisung. There was a pause, a look, something silent but heavy passed between them and Haechan mouthed a quiet "Thank you" before slipping out the door.

And then it was just you and Jisung, like the universe had pulled the strings to place you here, together... again.

Silence stretched between you, you couldn't even look him in the eyes for more than a second.

"Um, do you wanna wait on the bench outside while I finish closing?" You finally managed to ask, your voice barely steady.

He nodded wordless, and turned to step outside.

You didn't even realize how fast your hands were moving as you shut things down, locking the register, wiping counters, turning off lights. You were out of breath, hair a mess, heart hammering. Before rushing out, you paused at the pastry display, grabbing one of the cookies and headed for the door.

You half expected him to be gone. That maybe he changed his mind, realized this was a mistake, that you were someone he should've left behind, but he was still there. Sitting patiently on the bench, staring up at the sky.

You sat down beside him, the air tense with unspoken words. Silently, you slid the cookie into his hand.

"You finally learned how to bake these damn things." He said, laughing softly.

"Yeah, finally." You murmured as you smiled shyly.

He turned to you, sincerity shining in his eyes. "Congratulations on all this. I knew you could do it."

"Thank you." You whispered.

And finally, you let yourself breathe. Let yourself feel the apology that had been tangled in your chest for too long.

"I'm sorry." You started, voice cracking under the weight of everything. "I'm sorry for not being a good friend— now and back then. I'm sorry for shutting you out, and blaming you, for not communicating, for getting mad at you for caring. I'm sorry for everything."

You looked down at your hands, trembling in your lap.

He didn't speak at first. Then quietly, he said: "It's okay."

"No, it's not." You replied instantly, shaking your head. "I ruined everything. This is all my fault."

"We both weren't great to each other." He said gently. "But I want to fix it."

You turned toward him, barely believing it. "Do you really?"

He met your gaze. "Yeah, I do."

"Me too."

"How was the concert last night?" You exhaled, breaking the silence.

"It was good." He said, before he paused looking at you. "How was it for you?"

Your heart skipped a beat. "How did you know?"

"I saw your name checked off on the guest list." He said, giving you a sideways glance.

You smiled faintly. "You guys are good."

"Thanks." He chuckled. "Thank God that video didn't ruin my career, huh?"

You laughed. "Yeah... all this over a video I haven't even seen."

"Do you want to?" He asked.

You hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Yeah."

He pulled out his phone and handed it to you.

"Damn, we look hot." You joked, grinning.

He laughed with you, but then your eyes narrowed, your smile fading.

"Wait..." You paused the video. "That's... that's a security camera angle— from the bar."

"Is it?" Jisung asked, brows furrowing.

"Yeah, I'd joke about it every time I worked a shift. I used to posed for it— it was me and Haechans thing."

Jisung stared at you. "You and Haechan's thing?"

You nodded slowly. "Yeah. Because he's the only one who knows how to work—"

You stopped cold, the words dying on your tongue as realization slammed into you like a truck.

"No." You said, a disbelieving chuckle escaping you. "No. He didn't— he wouldn't."

Jisung didn't speak, just watched you unravel.

"No way." You whispered, standing up. "He—he wouldn't Jisung... he wouldn't do that to me."

He didn't try to convince you either way, that silence was its own answer.

"I—I have to go." You stammered, already pulling out your phone to dial his number.

Jisung just nodded, watching you go.

When you got to the park, he was already there, sitting on the bench like old times. The second he saw you he stood.

"It was you." You blurted before he could speak.

He blinked. "What?"

"You leaked the video." Your voice cracked with disbelief and betrayal. "You're my friend— how could you do that to me?"

"I—I didn't." He said, but his voice wavered, guilt already written on his face.

"Don't lie to me." You said, voice rising. "I know it was you, so just cut the bullshit. Why Haechan?"

His eyes were glossy. "Y/n, please let me explain."

"Then explain." You bit back, arms crossed, trying to keep from falling apart.

"I didn't do it on purpose." He said quietly. 

"That night, when Jisung had a breakdown and you walked in with hickeys all over your neck, I knew what happened, but I wanted to see it. I checked the cameras and yeah, it hurt... a lot. Because I liked you Y/n and seeing that—seeing him, was like someone punched me in the chest."

You swallowed hard.

"But you know what hurt worse?" He said, voice trembling. "Telling my best friend how I felt... and having her laugh at me."

A flicker of shame crossed your face.

"Yeah, it didn't feel great." He said, noticing the twist in your expression. "But you know what did feel good? Her celebrity crush kissing the girl I liked. It was like payback—a way to rub it in her face, to make her feel a bit of what I felt. I told her about it, and of course she didn't believe me, so I sent the video. I didn't expect her to spread it around. I told her not to show anyone—begged her not to, but she did anyway. I haven't spoken to her since."

He wiped his face roughly. "I fucked up. I was jealous. Not just of him, but of what you had. He's effortless, and I'm... me. I never meant to hurt you, that was never my intention."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off.

"But honestly Y/n... and I'm saying this as your friend, you're screwing yourself over. If you really care about him, if you weren't lying to me then what the hell are you waiting for? I bought VIP just to get you two to talk and you're here right now. You still haven't told him how you feel? You're just... waiting for something to happen? Get your shit together, seriously. You're pissing me off."

The honesty of it hit hard because he was right.

You stared at him, exhaling sharply. "Fuck, I'm supposed to be mad at you."

A grin cracked his face. "I honestly thought you were about to punch me."

You laughed, shaking your head as you swatted his shoulder. "No, you're right. I needed to hear that."

He looked at you, a little relieved. "Now go... please."

And for the first time in a while you didn't feel stuck. You felt like maybe just maybe you were finally ready to stop running.

You turned around to leave, your shoes crunching softly against the ground, the night air cool against your skin, but something made you stop—your heart tugging at you like it wasn't ready to let go just yet. You turned back around slowly, your eyes meeting Haechan's, who stood there with his brows knit together clearly confused.

You gave him an embarrassed look. "This is actually... kind of the perfect scenery, so—can you actually go, please?"

His lips parted in disbelief, a soft laugh escaping. "Could you possibly make this any more unbearable for me?"

You exhaled, half a laugh, half a sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Bye. Good luck." His voice was light as he walked past you, his shoulder brushing yours on purpose. A small smile on his face as he disappeared down the path.

The second he was gone, everything felt still. You turned toward the bench near the lake and slowly sat down, your fingers locking together tightly in your lap. The lake reflected the moon in ripples, like it was breathing along with you—anxious and quiet.

You stared for a long moment before reaching into your pocket and pulling out your phone. Your thumb hovered over Jisung's name, nerves crawling up your throat, then finally, you tapped.

It rang once... twice.

"Hey." He answered softly, like he already knew.

"I'll send my location. Can you come?" Your voice barely came out.

"Ok." He replied.

A few minutes later he was there, walking slowly toward you with his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. He stopped in front of the bench.

"Can I sit?" He asked.

You nodded, scooting slightly to the side to make room. He sat beside you, close, but not too close. The silence stretched again, but this time it just felt... fragile.

"I was gonna let you leave." You said, your voice breaking through the quiet. "I really thought I would. I thought if I didn't say it, maybe it would just fade, but it didn't."

He didn't say anything, just looked at you with those eyes—still... patient.

"I was scared." You admitted. "Still am. I've been running around in circles, pretending like I'm fine, pretending I don't want more than just whatever...this has been."

Jisung swallowed, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, but you kept going.

"When I finally got the courage, and I listened to that interlude—" You glanced over at him, your cheeks warming. "You know the one."

He gave a soft, crooked smile, the kind that told you he knew exactly which one you meant.

"I cried." You said, your voice barely a whisper. "I cried because I felt like you were telling me everything you couldn't say— or maybe everything I couldn't say. And it made me realize I didn't want to keep pretending I didn't feel it."

He blinked slowly, taking that in, not rushing you.

"I like you." You said finally. "I think I always have. Even when I tried to act like we were just friends, even when I said I didn't want anything serious... I think part of me was lying. Not because I wanted to hurt you, I just didn't know how to let myself want this."

Jisung looked down, his fingers tracing the edge of the bench before he looked back up, his gaze meeting yours.

"I was talking about you in that song." He said quietly. "Even when I was miles away, on stages I used to dream about, my head was still here, with you."

Your breath caught.

"I didn't know what we were." He continued. "Sometimes I thought maybe I imagined it all, maybe you just needed someone to fill a space, but then you'd do something—call me in the middle of the night just to hear my voice, or show up to my hotel room without telling me and I'd be right back to hoping again."

"I didn't mean to confuse you." You whispered.

"I know." He said. "I think we were both scared— of messing it up, of wanting something real and not knowing how to ask for it."

You nodded, a small tear slipping down your cheek. He reached over, brushing it away gently with his thumb.

"I don't need a label right now." He said. "I don't need promises or some perfect plan, but I want to try. Like... really try. Slow, honest, whatever it takes."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Ok, let's try."

A soft smile appeared on both of your faces, the weight between you easing just a little.

You leaned into his side, and he rested his chin lightly on your head.

For the first time in a while, everything felt possible again.

"You know what I want?" Jisung said after a quiet moment, still resting his chin lightly on your head.

You hummed. "Food?"

He laughed, pulling back to look at you. "I mean, yeah. But also..." He paused, his smile turning soft. "I want the usual."

You lifted your brows, confused. "Usual?"

"You know... dinner, arcade. That thing we pretend isn't a date."

Your smile deepened, and you nodded once. "Okay. Let's do the usual." ══════════════════════════

About a month had passed since you and Jisung started taking things slow. You stuck to your usual routine—dinner and the arcade, but that night he told you there was one more place he wanted to take you.

The drive was short, and even though he didn't say where you were going, you recognized the road.

When the car slowed down near the edge of a wide open stretch of land, your eyes glistened.

The field.

You hadn't been there in years.

It was just as you remembered. Wild grass swaying in the breeze, the slight slope of the hill that was perfect for lying on your backs. The stars above, spilling across the sky with no city lights to outshine them.

Jisung parked and got out first, walking toward the middle of the field like muscle memory. You followed, your steps slow.

He looked over his shoulder. "Still scared of bugs?"

"Yes." You didn't hesitate.

He grinned. "Still coming?"

You rolled your eyes. "Obviously."

When you reached him, he was already dropping onto the grass, lying back with his arms folded behind his head. You hesitated before sinking down beside him, copying his position, your shoulders brushing.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

The quiet didn't feel heavy, just... existed. Like the sky above you, like all the years between then and now.

"I use to lay here and think about getting out of this town." He said eventually.

You turned your head, looking at his side profile.

"And now?"

He paused before glancing at you. "Now I think about how I had everything I needed already, right here."

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbow. You followed, sitting up as well, knees brushing.

"I know I said we could take things slow." He said. "And I still mean that— we don't have to rush anything, and we don't have to put a label on it just to make it feel real."

You nodded, heart climbing into your throat.

"But I do want to say it out loud Y/n. I like you. Like... I'm done hiding it or waiting around for you to figure it out. I'm here, I want this— I want you."

You stared at him, chest tightening in the best possible way.

"So I'm asking." He said. "Will you go out with me? Like, officially."

You blinked back the sting in your eyes. "Is this your way of making me your high school sweetheart years too late?"

He laughed. "I'm reclaiming the timeline."

You giggled, heart racing. "Okay. Let's do it... officially."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

A pause.

"Can I kiss you now?" He asked quietly, his voice nervous in that soft, boyish way that made your stomach flip.

You smiled. "I'd be mad if you didn't."

So he did—right there in that same field where you used to dream together, where you once swore you'd never fall for your best friend.

And somehow, despite the past, the hurt, the long way it took to get here—it felt like the very beginning. ══════════════════════════

It had been a year since Jisung left again—off to chase stages in different time zones, to sing in languages you didn't always understand, but still listened to on repeat. You missed him like hell, but you kept yourself moving. There was always something to do: recipes to tweak, staff schedules to fix, orders to place, playlists to shuffle.

"Did you put in the Chai order for next week?" Haechan's voice rang out from behind you, yanking you out of your head.

You blinked, fingers still hovering over the keyboard. "I'm about to. You can chill, like, now."

"I'm literally just saving us from another shortage." He said, holding his hands up. "Not trying to die over lattes again."

You sighed, smirking. "One time. It happened one time."

"Exactly, once was enough."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the fondness in your smile. Haechan, as it turned out made a surprisingly great business partner. He was loud, dramatic, borderline annoying—but reliable, loyal, and somehow always two steps ahead when you needed it most.

You headed into the back room to finally add the damn Chai to the inventory list. You were halfway through typing when you heard a voice behind you.

"I think those cookies need to be restocked."

Your heart stopped.

You spun around so fast the chair nearly tipped. "Jisung?!"

He stood there in the doorway, hoodie zipped halfway, cap low over his eyes, but unmistakably him. Bright eyed and smiling like he was standing exactly where he was supposed to be.

"I thought you weren't supposed to land until next week." You said, pushing yourself up so fast you nearly stumbled toward him.

"I wasn't, but I missed you." He said simply, catching you in his arms. "So... surprise. Are you surprised?"

You didn't answer, just pulled him in for a kiss.

"I'll take that as a yes." He murmured against your lips.

Behind you, Haechan groaned dramatically. "Can y'all not defile the break room? I eat in here."

You flipped him off with a soft laugh, still tangled in Jisung's arms.

"I saw that." Haechan called over his shoulder as he passed by. "Now I'm reconsidering whether I'm still covering the rest of your shift."

You glanced between them. "Wait...covering for what?"

"Nothing." Haechan said too quickly, eyes squinting. "Go away."

You raised a brow. "I don't want to leave you here alone."

"It's the slow part of the day, and we have staff. I'll live, go." He made shooing motions without looking at you.

"Jisung." You said, narrowing your eyes. "What did you two plot?"

"Absolutely nothing." He said, already steering you toward the door with a grin. "Totally innocent."

The field looked just like it used to when you arrived. Golden with the late sun, like time had left it untouched. There was a blanket spread out this time, with snacks, drinks, and a small speaker humming quietly with one of your favorite songs.

"You did all this?" You asked, surprised.

"I did." He said proudly. "For my girlfriend."

You smiled. "How did you even get it all set up?"

"Haechan helped."

"Oh, so you like him now?"

"Well, he's not trying to steal my girl anymore, so yeah, we're cool." He said with a half smirk.

"You shouldn't be so sure." You teased, raising a brow.

He blinked.

"Kidding, relax." You laughed, nudging him.

There was a pause—just the two of you watching each other like you hadn't done it in far too long.

"When are you leaving again?" You asked gently, trying not to let the question tremble.

His eyes flicked to yours, then softened. "Wow. Just got here and you're already waiting for my departure?"

"No." You shook your head. "I just... I want to be ready."

He reached out, brushing your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek.

"Well, you don't have to be. I'm not leaving anytime soon."

You felt your shoulders drop, relief sliding over your bones.

"Good." You whispered.

"Just good?" He teased, leaning closer.

"Great, amazing, spectacular, merry." You added, laughing.

"Merry." He repeated with a snort. "Who even says that?"

"Me, your merry girlfriend."

He grinned before kissing you again, slower this time.

"I love you." You said against his lips.

"I love you too." He whispered.

You stayed there as the sun dipped below the horizon, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by the sound of wind and your own quiet breath.

Some things take time, some things take work, some things take a little heartbreak, a lot of healing, and the courage to try again.

Love doesn't have to be loud to be lasting. The right people don't just show up when it's easy, but when it's hard. When it's inconvenient, when it's uncomfortable— and they stay.

Not because they have to, but because they want to and sometimes, that's more than enough.

══════════════════════════

[mafiadad5]

No Strings attached || P.Jisung (PART 1)

˖ ࣪⊹🎸 Rockstar!Jisung x fem!reader (ft. crush!haechan) || PART 2- read here

˖ ࣪⊹🎸synopsis- Everyone's been raving about Black Horizon, and now they're in town for a concert. You never paid them any mind— didn't even know who they were, that was until you discovered that their lead guitarist is your long lost childhood best friend. You're finally reunited, but at what cost?

˖ ࣪⊹🎸genre/warnings- friends with benefits, porn with plot MDNI!, angst, fluff, multiple smut scenes, unprotected sex (don’t do.) oral (m.& f.receiving), fingering, car sex, sex under the influence of alcohol, jealousy, smoking, cursing.

˖ ࣪⊹🎸 w/c- 17.6k

Playlist- Come through and Chill- Miguel, Mascara- Deftones, Fill the Void- Lily Rose Depp, What you need- The Weeknd, Belong To You- Sabrina Claudio, Fallingforyou- The 1975.

a/n- omg omg took me forever. I really wanted to make it one part, but tumblr messed up, so two part series! I really hope u enjoy this and feel the rollercoaster like I did while writing. Love u mwah💋!

══════════════════════════

January 15th.

It started like any other night. You standing in front of your mirror, adjusting the tight ponytail. The soft hum of the fan filled the quiet room as you smoothed your hands over your uniform, ensuring everything was in place before grabbing your bag. Another long, late shift at the bar awaited you. The tips were good, but the exhaustion was there before you had even clocked in.

Setting your things down in the employee locker area, you barely had a moment to breathe before a familiar voice called out behind you.

"Hey Y/n."

You turned, instantly recognizing the warm tone, and found yourself meeting Haechan's eyes.

"Hey Haechan." You smiled instinctively, as if it was second nature.

He leaned against the doorway, his usual effortless charm on full display. His dark hair was slightly messy, his lips in that easygoing grin that always seemed to linger when he was around you.

"Thank you again for covering my shift tomorrow." He said with sincerity in his voice. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Yeah, no problem." You waved him off, though you couldn't help but appreciate the gratitude. "Anything to rake in some extra money."

His eyes lit up in understanding. "For your cafe, right?"

"Of course." You responded without hesitation.

The cafe had been your dream for as long as you could remember. Every extra shift, every tip jar stuffed with crumpled bills, it all went toward making that dream a reality.

Haechan smiled. "I would wish you good luck, but you don't need it. I know you can do it."

For a moment, you forgot to breathe. It always felt like he saw something in you that even you doubted sometimes.

"Aw, thanks Haechan." Your smile grew, warmth blooming in your chest.

Silence stretched between you for a minute too long, the kind of quiet that felt loaded. His eyes held yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.

Clearing your throat, you broke the moment. "Well... um, you should get going. To make sure you're ready for your date tomorrow."

His reaction was instant, an awkward giggle as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh yeah. It's not a date though, just going to a concert with my best friend."

"Your hangout." You corrected."Who are you going to see?" You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

"A band called Black Horizon."

You tilted your head. "Never heard of them."

Haechan smirked. "Yeah, that's typical. They're a relatively new band, but they're gaining a lot of popularity. You should check them out."

"I will." You nodded, making a mental note to look them up later.

He hesitated for a second, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You could feel it again, that silence that felt loaded,  but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

"Yeah, I'll see you later." He gave you one last smile before turning to leave.

You watched him go, exhaling softly once he was out of sight.

Haechan had been your coworker for 2 years. He was cute, kind, considerate— everything you wanted in a guy, but no matter how many moments like this passed between you, neither of you ever crossed that line. He didn't make a move, and you never dared to either.

With a deep breath, you pushed those thoughts aside and stepped onto the floor, slipping behind the bar. The night was just beginning.

The bar was buzzing per usual. It never really bothered you—if anything, the flow of customers made the hours slip by faster. There were moments like now though, when the chaos pressed in a little too much.

You turned your back to the crowd, facing the liquor shelf restocking bottles. In reality, you just needed a second. A second to breathe, to let the ache in your feet settle before another round of drink orders came in. The bar was packed tonight, but for once no one was calling your name. At least, not yet.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

You closed your eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. So much for a break.

"Give me a second, sir." You replied, turning around. Your breath caught in your throat. The face in front of you familiar, yet changed.

Your heart stuttered, then pounded. It had to have been, what, six years? Six years since you'd last seen him. Six years of brief thoughts about him, wondering where he was now. You had figured he was off chasing his dreams, too busy to look back, too far removed from your life to ever cross paths with you again.

And yet, here he was.

He blinked, his own surprise mirroring yours. His lips parted slightly, as if trying to confirm you weren't just some trick of the dim bar lighting.

"Y/n?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, his body instinctively leaning closer across the counter.

"Jisung?" You set the cocktail shaker down, barely aware of it leaving your hands.

He let out a breath, shaking his head with a disbelieving laugh. "What a fucking coincidence. I was just thinking about you."

"You were?" Your brows lifted slightly.

"Yeah, totally. I just landed back here after forever. How could my mind not wander to my closest friend growing up?" He grinned, though there was something unreadable in his expression.

You exhaled a small laugh, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest. "That's sweet." You forced yourself to slip back into professionalism, wiping your hands on a bar rag. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Shit—sorry, vodka lemonade please." He settled fully onto the barstool now, elbows resting on the cold counter. "How have you been?"

"I've been good. Just working, saving up." You started mixing his drink, pouring the vodka over ice. "What about you?"

"Life's been good to me lately." He admitted, a lightheartedness in his tone, but his eyes searched yours like he wasn't sure what to say next.

"That's amazing." You smiled, genuinely happy for him. "What brings you back here? I thought you moved away a few years ago and didn't look back."

Jisung chuckled, rubbing his jaw. "Yeah, I did, but I have a concert tomorrow."

You quirked an eyebrow. "Wait hold on. Is it for that Black Horizon group?"

His lips curled into a small grin. "Yep."

You groaned dramatically. "Why does everyone like this band except me?" You slid his drink across the counter.

"Ouch." He gasped, placing a hand over his chest in offense.

"I'm serious!" You laughed. "I've never heard of them, but somehow everyone else has. Even my coworker is going to the concert tomorrow."

Jisung tilted his head, eyes glinting. "You should come. Just to check it out. I bet you'd like it."

You hesitated, shaking your head slightly. "I would, but I have work. Besides, I don't have a ticket."

His response came instantly, a little too eager. "I can get you in—for free."

Your lips twitched into an amused smirk. "Are you trying to sneak me in? I didn't take you for a criminal Jisung."

He laughed, holding his hands up in innocence. "No illegal activity here."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Or do you work with the band or something?"

He hummed nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. "Something like that."

Your brows furrowed. "Wait, do you seriously work with the artist? That's sick."

His grin widened. "Yeah, the lead guitarist actually."

Your stomach dropped slightly. The realization hitting you. 

"Jisung... you're part of the band?"

He gave you a sheepish smile. "Surprise!"

Your eyes widened. "Are you serious?! That's insane. Is that why you left, to become part of a huge band?"

The excitement was evident in your voice, but as soon as you spoke, something in his expression shifted. His eyes darkened slightly, his playful smirk fading just a little.

"Okay, but let's not forget you left first." He pointed out, his tone a mix of teasing and something else.

Your stomach twisted.

"Jisung—"

"No, I'm serious. I'm still salty about that by the way." He finished off his drink in one last swig, setting the empty glass down with a soft clink.

You sighed, gripping the counter. "Look, it's not my fault my mom withdrew me junior year and cut contact with everyone. I didn't have a choice." Your voice softened, but there was a weight behind your words. "And let's not forget, you were the one who said you never wanted to talk to me again. So if anything, I guess I'm salty too."

Jisung exhaled, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he cracked a small, lopsided grin. 

"Whatever."

He reached into his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill and sliding it toward you.

"Let's make it up to each other." He said. "Come to the concert."

"I would, but I seriously have to work tomorrow. I'm covering someone's shift, so I can't back out. Sorry." You said, lips falling into a small frown.

Jisung nodded, though there was something unreadable in his gaze. "It's okay." He pushed the twenty closer to you, tapping his fingers against the counter.

"It was nice seeing you Y/n." His voice was quieter this time.

Before you could say anything else, he stood up, slipping away into the crowd.

Six years.

And just like that, he was gone again.

You tried to push the interaction with Jisung out of your mind.

Tried.

Even so, you focused on your work, keeping busy until your boss finally gave you the okay to step out for a break. You didn't hesitate. The moment you were free, you slipped outside, inhaling the cold night air as if it could wash away the weight of anything.

You leaned against the rough brick wall of the building, closing your eyes for a moment, letting yourself just be. Until a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

"You're off work?"

Your eyes snapped open, turning instinctively toward the sound. Jisung stood a few feet away, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, his expression unreadable under the dim glow of the streetlights.

Your heart jumped just a little. You hadn't expected to see him again so soon.

"Did you follow me out here?" You asked, a smirk tugging at your lips.

He grinned, rocking on his heels. "Maybe."

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. "A musician and a stalker. How many more surprises are you gonna hit me with?"

"I never changed." He shrugged.

His words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. Jisung pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket, flipping it open with ease.

He tapped one out, sliding it between his lips before angling the box toward you. You glanced at it, then back at him, shaking your head. 

"I quit."

Jisung's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn't question it. Instead, he closed the pack and tucked it away.

"And you never changed, huh?" You teased, watching as he pulled a lighter from his pocket.

He rolled his eyes with a quiet chuckle, flicking the lighter open. The small flame illuminated his face for half a second before he lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. Smoke drifted into the night air as he exhaled slowly, his gaze momentarily drifting before settling on you again.

"You know those things aren't good for you, right?" You said, crossing your arms. "Your words, not mine."

Jisung paused mid drag, giving you a pointed look before blowing the smoke out to the side.

"My words years ago." He corrected. "When you were sneaking around smoking at sixteen."

You scoffed. "Oh whatever. I was young and dumb. What's your excuse now?"

He hummed, rolling his cigarette between his fingers as he considered his answer. "I guess I have none." Another slow inhale... another exhale. "But shit changes."

You eyed him carefully. "That sounds like an excuse."

Jisung smirked. "I don't know, being young and dumb sounds like an excuse too."

"Is there a problem or something?" You asked, tilting your head slightly. "Why did you follow me out here?"

Jisung held your gaze for a second longer before flicking his cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with the heel of his shoe.

"I just wanted to talk, catch up a little." His voice was softer now, more serious. "Is there a problem or something?"

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "No, but I'm at work. So if you'll excuse me." You started, moving to step past him.

"You should come to my hotel room after the concert." The words tumbled out quickly, like he hadn't meant to say them.

Slowly, you turned back around, raising an eyebrow. "Why?" You tried to sound indifferent, but curiosity was evident in your voice. 

Jisung ran a hand through his hair, exhaling before meeting your eyes again. "Just to catch up."

"My mother taught me not to go places with strangers." You teased, a smirk on your lips.

"Oh, so I'm a stranger now?" He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly.

You didn't answer, just turned away with a small smile, but then his voice cut through the air, lower, almost hesitant.

"I missed you, I can't lie."

You stopped in your tracks as you turned back, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Missed?" You echoed, your tone teasing, but your curiosity genuine.

His gaze met yours, steady now, but serious in a way that made your heart skip.

"Just come."

You hesitated for a moment, searching his face. Then you smirked slightly, turning to walk away. "My number's the same."

Jisung stayed where he was, watching as you disappeared back inside. For the first time in a long time, he smiled—really smiled. Because whether you realized it or not, that was as good as a yes.

══════════════════════════ You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your ponytail like always. Same uniform, same shift, but something felt off.

Jisung never texted you.

Not a single message, not even a half hearted excuse, just silence.

You told yourself it didn't matter. That after everything—the history, the falling out, you shouldn't have expected anything, but the truth was it did bother you. Not because you were still upset about the past, but because you hated when people made plans and didn't follow through.

So why was there this unsettling feeling in your stomach? Was it disappointment? Annoyance? Maybe a mix of both. Whatever it was, you pushed it down and focused on work, pouring drinks, flashing polite smiles, letting the hours slip by. When your boss finally gave you the okay for a break, you stepped outside, inhaling the crisp night air, trying to clear your mind.

Then, your phone buzzed. Your brows furrowed as you pulled it out of your pocket, eyes flickering to the screen.

Unknown Number

You hesitated before opening the message.

An address. A hotel.

Your mind immediately went to Jisung. You had spent all night forcing yourself to forget, convincing yourself he already had, but he hadn't. He actually remembered. A slow smile tugged at your lips as you locked your phone, stuffing it back into your pocket.

When you finally clocked out, you were exhausted. You looked at your phone. 12:03 a.m. It was late, too late really. The rational part of you told you to go home, take a shower, and go to bed, but before you could make a decision, your phone buzzed again.

Jisung [12:04 AM]: "Are you still coming?"

You hesitated, fingers hovering over your keyboard. You should say no. You should tell him you were tired, that it was late, that catching up at this time was ridiculous.

You started to type out a polite excuse, but then for some reason you erased it.

You [12:06 AM]: "Maybe."

He read it instantly.

Jisung [12:07 AM]: "Well, I'm maybe waiting for you. And I'll maybe wait all night if I have to."

There was something about his answer that made it hard to ignore the curiosity in your chest. Why now? Why did he suddenly want to see you so badly? There was only one way to find out.

And that's how you found yourself standing in front of his hotel room door.

You hesitated for a moment, raising your hand before knocking lightly.

Seconds passed.

Then a full minute.

Just as you were about to turn and leave, the door swung open.

Jisung stood in the doorway, dark hair damp, skin slightly flushed, the faint scent of body wash lingering in the air. His t-shirt clung to his frame.

"Oh, hey." His lips curled into a small smirk. "You came."

You tilted your head slightly, crossing your arms. "Maybe." 

"Maybe." Jisung huffed a small laugh, stepping aside to let you in. 

You walked in, glancing around. The room was simple but elegant, a neatly made bed, a small couch, and a coffee table. But what caught your attention was the massive floor to ceiling window that showed the breathtaking view of the city skyline. 

"Nice view." You murmured.

"Yeah, it is."

You turned, only to catch Jisung watching you instead of the city. Clearing your throat you moved toward the couch, sitting down as he walked to the mini fridge.

"Is it okay if we drink?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yeah, for sure." You replied. 

He grabbed a bottle and two glasses, joining you on the couch. The way he moved was effortless, but there was something about the way his fingers lingered as he poured the drinks, something in the way his eyes flickered up at you as he handed you your glass. You clinked your glass against his before throwing back the shot, the liquor burning slowly down your throat.

"So." You started, setting your glass down. "How was the concert?"

Jisung exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. "It was good. Feels crazy seeing that many people singing along to our songs."

"Must be a wild feeling."

"It is." He leaned back, resting an arm along the back of the couch. "A few years ago, I was just some kid messing around on his guitar. Now, I'm on stage in front of thousands."

You smiled. "That's amazing, Ji. I'm happy for you."

He smirked pouring another round, sliding your glass toward you.

"What about you?" He asked. "What have you been up to?"

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Just working, nothing as exciting as you."

He tilted his head, eyes studying you. "I don't believe that."

"I promise you, my life is pretty boring."

"Doubt it." He murmured, taking another sip.

Silence stretched between you for a moment, like you both didn't know what to say next. 

Then Jisung sighed, swirling the liquid in his glass. "You know... I was pissed when you left."

Your entire body stiffened.

"I don't wanna talk about that."

He studied you, expression unreadable. "Y/n—"

"I mean it, let's not do this."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't let it go. "You disappeared— no calls, no messages. I didn't even know where you went."

You exhaled sharply, gripping your glass. "I didn't have a choice."

"You could've at least—"

"Jisung, stop." Your tone was firm, eyes locking onto his.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then slowly he leaned in, a smirk on his lips.

"Then make it up to me."

Your breath hitched slightly. "What?"

"You heard me." His voice was lower now, gaze flickering between your eyes and lips. "Make it up to me."

Something shifted in the air as the space between you shrank. The hum of the city outside faded into nothing, the only thing you could hear was the distant sound of traffic and the quiet rhythm of your own heartbeat.

You didn't know if it was the alcohol that had you both like this. Yes, you two kissed a few times in the past for fun, but that was when you were teenagers, and... closer. You didn't know what was happening now, but you didn't mind it.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" You questioned, even though you knew the answer. Your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flickered to his parted lips before meeting his eyes again. 

"You know how." He responded, his hand landing on your knee.

"Maybe, but I want to hear you say it." You responded, lips ghosting over his.

"I don't know." He said, his eyes darkly looking into yours. "I feel like if I kiss you, I won't be able to stop." His hand cupped the side of your face, the distance between you begging to be closed. 

"Then don't." You replied. 

The second the words left your mouth, he was on you, lips crashing into yours like he couldn't hold back another second. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him as his tongue slid into your mouth, deepening the kiss until you forgot how to breathe, forgot everything but the way he tasted and how he made you feel.

You climbed on top of him without thinking, straddling his lap as his hands immediately found your hips, gripping you tightly. The kiss grew rougher, more intense—his mouth moving against yours with need, your bodies pressed together.

He broke the kiss, breath heavy against your skin, and trailed rough open mouthed kisses down your neck. Each one sent a jolt through you, making you squirm in his lap. You couldn't help pressing against him, grinding just enough to feel how hard he was beneath you.

His hands moved you against him, slow at first, then harder. You leaned into him, arms wrapping around his neck, your fingers threading into his hair gripping tightly.

He leaned back in, kissing you again messily like he couldn't get enough. His hands slid up from your hips to your waist, grabbing at you like he needed to feel every inch,  one hand slowly slipping lower. The kiss didn't slow down—if anything, it got rougher, more intense.

"We shouldn't be doing this." You muttered, pulling back just enough to breathe, lips brushing his as you spoke. He looked up at you, lips swollen and plump, eyes half lidded. You knew you should stop, but the way he was looking at you made it really hard to remember why.

"Tell me to stop then." He whispered, his lips barely brushing against yours.

You paused, trying to gather your thoughts.

"Exactly." He murmured with a lazy grin before you could respond, pulling you back into a messy kiss, this time his hand slipping under your pants, sliding past your underwear.

His fingers teased your folds, moving in slow circles before slipping one finger past your entrance. You broke the kiss, a breathless sigh escaping as he moved inside, your body instinctively responding to the sensation.

"Fuck, so wet for me." He murmured against your lips, his voice rough. He pulled you back into another kiss, deep and heated, his fingers working you slowly as his other hand slid up to grip your waist keeping you pressed against him.

His finger teased at your entrance before finally slipping inside, making you break the kiss with a soft moan. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, watching every reaction as his finger started to pump in and out slowly.

You tilted your head to rest on his shoulder, unable to keep the soft moans from escaping as he moved inside you, each stroke sending a rush of warmth through your body. His touch was torturously slow, drawing out every sensation until you were lost in the feeling of him.

"Feels good?" He mumbled quietly, his finger curling deeper inside you, making a soft whimper slip from your lips. 

"Answer me." He pressed, his other hand gripping you tighter. 

"Mhm." You managed to get out, breathless.

"What, you can't speak now?" He teased, his voice low. "Does it feel good? Yes or no?"

"Yes." You whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair as your body reacted to every move, every breath.

"Oh yeah?" He teased, a sly grin forming on his lips. 

He pushed another finger inside, stretching you open with the pressure of his large digits, making you shiver at the feel.

"Oh my god." You moaned, your grip on his hair tightening as his fingers moved quickly inside you. The sound of your arousal grew louder, each thrust of his fingers driving you closer to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—" You gasped, the words barely making it past your lips as your head dropped to his shoulder. Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the heat coiling tighter and tighter inside you. He didn't slow down, if anything his fingers drove harder, hitting that spot again and again until you were clenching around him. Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his skin as you reached the edge.

"Let's go to the bed." He whispered, his voice low and rough against your ear as you tried to catch your breath. You nodded, still dazed, your body soft in his arms. Without hesitation he lifted you, your arms draped around his shoulders, fingers brushing against the nape of his neck as he carried you. 

He laid you down, eyes dark as he climbed over you, pulling you into another deep messy kiss. His hands moved fast, stripping your pants and underwear, tossed aside without a second thought. He broke the kiss just long enough to undress himself as he watched you, chest rising and falling.

"Are you sure?" He asked, voice low and breathless, his eyes half lidded but locked onto yours.

You nodded, a soft "Mhm" leaving your lips, your body already aching for him.

He kissed you again, slower this time, then he pushed in, stretching you inch by inch. Your breath stuttered, nails dragging down his back as your bodies met, heat curling through every inch of you.

"Fuck, you feel so good." He breathed, voice rough as he sank all the way in. He stayed there for a moment, chest rising and falling just watching you, letting you adjust, letting the feeling of you wrapped around him settle deep. His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs brushing your skin, the heat between your bodies unbearable.

"Tell me when." He murmured, barely holding back, eyes flicking over every inch of you.

"Move." You muttered, barely able to get the word out.

He didn't hesitate. His hips pulled back, then rolled forward again, slow at first. A low groan came from his lips as he set a steady rhythm, each thrust dragging a soft sound from your lips. His hands gripped your waist holding you close, eyes locked on where your bodies met.

"Faster." You whimpered, voice barely above a breath.

His eyes darkened, and he gave you exactly what you asked for. His hips snapped forward with more urgency, each thrust deeper, harder, the sound of your skin meeting filling the room. He moaned softly, his own pleasure spilling out in breathy sounds as he watched you, eyes fluttering, lips parted, taking him so perfectly it nearly drove him insane.

"Fuck." He groaned, one hand sliding up to grip your waist tighter, the other landing beside your head as he drove into you, lost in the way your body pulled him in, begged for more.

He started to move faster, hips snapping against yours with more urgency. He couldn't help himself, your warmth, the way you wrapped around him, the sounds you made, it was too much. His moans grew louder, more desperate, as his rhythm changed just slightly overwhelmed by how good you felt.

His teeth grazed his bottom lip, catching it for a second before letting it slip free, lips parted, breath fast and uneven. His eyes locked on yours, heavy with lust.

"Fuck... I'm close." He said in a low whimper.

Every muscle in his body tightened, chasing that edge as he started to unravel inside you.

"I'm almost there." You whimpered, your voice trembling as your hooded eyes met his for a second before fluttering shut. Your head dropped back against the mattress, fingers gripping the covers beneath you.

He let out a low shaky breath, pulling one hand from your waist and dragging it slowly up your body. He found your hands, lacing his fingers through yours, holding them tightly.

The change in angle had him thrusting even deeper, hitting that spot again, your whole body jolting with pleasure. His grip on your hands tightened, hips chasing your release like it was the only thing that mattered.

Your legs began to shake, trembling uncontrollably as you clenched around him. The sounds falling from your lips grew louder, broken and breathless mixing with the wet slap of his hips against yours. A ring of your arousal coated the base of him, the sight alone pushing him right to the edge.

"Fuck." He gasped, voice catching in a choked whimper as he fell apart, thrusts growing rougher, messier, desperate. He pulled his hands from yours, fumbling to yank your shirt up, needing to see you—needing to finish.

With a few last messy thrusts, he pulled out, hand wrapping around himself. His jaw clenched as he let out a shaky groan, coming across your stomach, his body shuddering as he spilled every last drop.

He collapsed beside you, chest rising and falling rapidly, body still trembling. His fingers gently traced the curve of your waist. His eyes softened as they met yours, a breathless smile appearing at the corners of his lips.

"Are you okay?" He murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He didn't need to ask, not really, but he wanted to make sure you felt as safe and cared for as he felt in that moment.

You nodded, your own breath finally starting to steady, fingers running over his chest. The quiet of the room felt like everything had slowed, each moment stretching out just enough for you both to catch up with each other.

5:00 AM

Your eyes fluttered open. The sheets were warm, tangled around your legs, and for a brief second you didn't remember where you were. Well, not until you looked beside you.

Jisung. Fast asleep.

You sat up quickly, rubbing the blur from your eyes, heart pounding just a little too fast. You never woke up this early—not naturally at least. Maybe it was your body's way of reminding you that you weren't supposed to be here, that this was real, that it happened.

Lying next to him had felt natural, like second nature, like slipping into an old habit you didn't know you still had. His warmth still lingered on your skin, the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the sheets, wrapping around you.

He looked peaceful like this.

Hair messy, his lips slightly parted, his breathing steady. He didn't look like the Jisung you had been reunited with last night—the one who was cocky, pushing your buttons just enough to get under your skin. No, this was the Jisung you remembered from before. The one you used to sneak glances at in class, the one who made you laugh without trying. 

A part of you, a stupid part of you wanted to lay back down, press yourself against him, bury yourself in the comfort of his presence. Wanted to let him pull you close in his sleep like he used to, wanted to pretend, even for a little while, that none of the years apart had happened. 

You swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts away. This was probably just a hookup to him—one last reckless decision before leaving the city, and maybe that was all it should be to you too. Before you could change your mind, you carefully slipped out of bed, grabbing your scattered clothes off the floor. You dressed quickly, barely breathing, barely thinking, just moving.

Jisung stirred slightly, mumbling something under his breath, but he didn't wake up. You slipped out into the cold, dark morning.

10:04 AM

Your phone buzzed beside you, the screen lighting up against the dark comforter of your bed. You weren't even sure why you reached for it so fast.

Jisung [10:04 AM]: "I had a fun time last night. When can I see you again?"

You stared at the message, fingers hovering over the screen. The easy answer was never. You could leave it at that—ignore him, let this be a one time thing and pretend none of it mattered. 

Another buzz.

Jisung [10:10 AM]: "Can we grab lunch together or something this afternoon?"

Your lips pressed together, exhaling a slow breath. Everything in you screamed that this was a bad idea. That seeing him again after everything would only make things worse, but he wanted to see you, again and maybe that was enough.

You [10:12 AM]: "Yeah, okay."

The restaurant was small, tucked away on a quiet street corner. A place you wouldn't have picked yourself, but the atmosphere was nice. Jisung was already there when you walked in, sitting in a booth by the window. His eyes met yours instantly, and that stupid smile of his tugged at his lips as he waved you over.

"You actually came."

"I said I would, didn't I?" You replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

"Yeah, but you also left me alone in bed this morning, so I wasn't sure."

You huffed, shaking your head. 

"What? It was kinda tragic." He grinned, leaning back in his seat. "Woke up cold and abandoned."

"Tragic, really?" You murmured.

"Devastating honestly." He sighed dramatically, then smirked. "Thought maybe I imagined the whole thing."

He didn't. You knew that. You both did.

"You didn't." You said dryly, picking up the menu. 

He chuckled, eyes still fixed on you.

"So." He said, tilting his head slightly. "What do you recommend? This was your idea after all."

"Excuse me? You invited me."

"Yeah, but you said yes."

"Which makes it my idea?"

"Exactly." He smirked.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile that slipped through. It felt familiar, like nothing had changed. It was in the way his gaze lingered on you a little too long, the way his fingers tapped the table, like he was thinking of saying something but holding back. It was also in the way you couldn't help but steal glances at him, like you were trying to find something in his expression that wasn't there before.

The waiter came, and you ordered, the momentary distraction shifting the mood back to something lighter for only a split second.

But then—

"Why'd you leave?"

Your hand stiffened around your glass.

You didn't look up. "Jisung."

"I know, I know." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You don't wanna talk about it, but—"

"But nothing." Your voice was sharper than intended, but you didn't soften it. "I told you I don't want to talk about it." 

His jaw tensed, eyes searching yours for something, but he exhaled and leaned back.

"Fine. No deep shit today." He paused, then smirked. "But you can make it up to me later."

Your breath hitched. "Jisung—"

"Relax." He grinned, reaching for his drink. "Just a joke."

It wasn't, but you let it slide.

"So, what's next for you?" You asked, shifting the conversation.

Jisung's smirk faded slightly, his fingers tapping against the table. "Heading to another city tomorrow. Last stop on the tour."

"Oh."

You didn't know why that answer made your chest tighten. It wasn't like you expected him to stay, it wasn't like this changed anything.

"You gonna miss me?" He teased.

"Not even a little."

He gasped dramatically. "Liar."

"Delusional."

"You wound me, Y/n."

You laughed, shaking your head. 

Lunch continued, and despite the underlying tension, it was... good.

You laughed more than you wanted to. Fell back into old habits, old inside jokes. For a moment, it almost felt normal, but as you walked out of the restaurant together reality hit. Jisung was leaving and you had no idea if, or when you'd see him again. He seemed to read your mind because he gave you a small smile. 

"You know, if you ever feel like seeing a Black Horizon show, I'll get you in."

"Oh, so you're offering me free tickets now?"

"I always was."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. The goodbye hovered between you. Neither of you wanted to say it, but it was inevitable.

"Goodbye Jisung."

His eyes softened slightly, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for you, but stopped himself.

"Yeah." He murmured. "See you around."

But as he walked away, you couldn't help but wonder— was this really the end?

══════════════════════════

It had been about a month since Jisung left, and honestly, you had forgotten all about him.

Well—partly.

His number still sat in your phone, not saved, but memorized enough that your eyes lingered over it sometimes. Sometimes you caught yourself staring at your screen, wondering if you should reach out, if you should at least say something, but you never did, never could. It was better this way, he should stay in the past—strictly.

It was time to focus on your future.

"You okay?"

A voice knocked you out of your thoughts, and you turned your head.

Speaking of the future.

"Yeah Haechan, I'm good. Just thinking." You flashed a small grin, trying to shake off the moment.

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. "About what?"

"Nothing you'd be interested in." You grabbed your washcloth, running it over the counter, focusing a little too hard on the streaks left behind.

"I'm interested." His response came quickly.

When you looked up, his eyes were locked onto yours, a grin forming at the corners of his lips. The moment stretched just long enough for warmth to creep up your neck before you turned away, cheeks feeling a little too hot.

The bar was practically empty now, the usual hum of voices gone, closing time. You always liked this part of the night—the slow, quiet moments when it was just the two of you finishing up, the outside world feeling distant.

"Just about life, that's all. Nothing I can really put into words right now." You finally answered.

Haechan nodded like he understood, turning back to organize the glasses behind the counter.

"Is it something you can put into words later?" He asked after a second. "Outside of work, maybe?"

His voice was quieter now, almost like the words slipped out before he could think twice.

Your hands froze mid wipe.

"What did you say?" You asked, turning to face him.

Haechan had his back to you, placing the last glass on the shelf, but when he turned around his lips were pressed together, cheeks puffed out slightly like he had been caught.

"Huh? I didn't say anything." His voice was light, but there was something a little nervous about the way he scratched the back of his head.

You squinted at him suspiciously. "I swear you said something. I must be imagining things—I'm exhausted." You giggled, shaking your head, but you didn't miss the way he let out a small breath of relief.

"Yeah, I get it honestly." He wiped his hands on a towel, eyes scanning the room before nodding in satisfaction. "Looks pretty good in here, I think you're good to go."

"Are you not coming with?" You asked, genuine concern slipping into your tone.

"Nah, the boss texted me and asked me to check out the security cameras since I'm the only one who knows how to work them."

You frowned. "I can learn—"

"I'm good, swear." He cut you off quickly, shaking his head. "Go home and get some rest. I'll see you in a few days, yeah?"

"Maybe tomorrow. The boss needs me for the afternoon shift, so we'll run into each other most likely."

Haechan sighed, his lips forming into a smile. "You've been working back to back Y/n, you need a break. Take tomorrow off— I'll cover you, I like working Monday anyways."

"No, it's okay, swear. I need the money anyway. It'll all be worth it when I have the—"

"Cafe, I know." He finished for you, his smile growing.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, sorry."

"No need to be sorry, I love hearing about it." His voice was soft, but firm. "But you're gonna be burned out by the time you open it if you keep working like this."

Before you could protest, he reached into his pocket pulling out a crisp hundred dollar bill and holding it up.

"Take a break Y/n."

Your eyes widened. "Haechan, I can't accept this."

"Yeah... I think you can." He shifted on his feet, his smile turning a little awkward, like he wasn't sure if this was too much. "Just... think of it like an early birthday gift, I guess."

"First off, my birthday is in 3 weeks. Second, how did you even remember that?" You asked, exasperated.

He raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips in a line. "It happens every year, kinda hard to forget."

You stared at him for a moment before sighing. "Okay, okay. I'll take the day off, but keep your money—seriously."

Haechan pouted dramatically. "So you're rejecting your gift? Wow, okay, I didn't know you hated me."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Fine." You grabbed the bill from his hand, rolling your eyes. "Thank you for the three week early gift, kind sir."

"You're welcome, madam. There's more where that came from." He smiled brightly.

"There better not be." 

His smile softened. "Well, I'll at least get you a little something more on your birthday. Even though you shouldn't set foot in this place on your birthday."

"Trust me, I won't, but the day after? I can't promise anything." You shrugged playfully.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't stop you that time, but I'll make sure I'm scheduled so I can give you your gift." He smiled comfortably.

"Okay, I'll be waiting on it."

Your eyes met his, and for a split second, it felt like something hung in the air between you, but before it could settle Haechan cleared his throat.

"Well, you should head out."

"Yeah, okay." You nodded, stepping away to grab your stuff from the back.

When you returned to the front, Haechan was still adjusting bottles on the shelves.

"I'll see you later."

He turned, a smile on his face. "See ya."

You pushed the door open, stepping into the cool night air. The smell of cigarettes hit your nose. Familiar... too familiar.

Before you could process it, a voice came from behind you.

"You're off work?"

Your stomach dropped. You turned slowly, eyes locking onto Jisung.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Jisung stood there, cigarette dangling between his fingers, dark eyes flickering over you.

"Well, I wanted a drink, but it looks like you're closed." He peeked through the glass doors before returning his gaze to yours.

Your arms crossed tightly. "Jisung, seriously. What are you doing here? I thought you were gone... for good."

He tilted his head. "I said I was going to another city for a stop, not that I was gone forever."

You narrowed your eyes. "I don't know, the way you said bye made it seem like—"

"I said see you around." He cut you off. "You said bye. Honestly thought you'd disappear again before I came back."

Silence.

You exhaled sharply. "Goodbye, Jisung." You turned to walk away.

"Wait. I came because I wanted to see you again. Don't act like you don't want to see me too."

"I don't." You shot back, rolling your eyes, your arms folding tightly across your chest.

His expression flickered, just for a second before he scoffed. "Why are you so damn mean all of a sudden? This new personality is seriously unlikable."

Your eyes narrowed. "I don't know, maybe because we haven't been friends for, I don't know—six years? So yeah, I've changed, and I'm sorry you don't like it." Your words were sharp, cutting.

"I'm trying to like it, but you're not making it easy." His voice was firm, frustration creeping into his tone as he leaned forward.

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "It's literally the second time you've seen me Jisung, relax. You're acting like you've been chasing me down for years."

"You left first, yet I'm the bad guy for trying to reconcile?" He spoke, jaw clenching.

Your stomach twisted, irritation bubbling up.

"You don't want to reconcile, you want to hookup. Which was a one time thing by the way." You snapped, crossing your arms. "What happened to gentlemen who take you out to dinner." You said rolling your eyes.

Jisung blinked, tilting his head slightly. For a moment, you thought you'd struck a nerve. 

"I will."

His voice was different now, lower.

Your brows furrowed. "What?"

"I didn't know you wanted to, but I will." His eyes met yours.

You huffed, shaking your head. A short exasperated laugh escaped you, like you couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Nah, you're good." 

But Jisung didn't let it go.

"No, send your address." His voice softened slightly, but the determination was still there. "You want me to take you out to dinner? I'll take you out to dinner."

"Right." You scoffed, lifting an eyebrow. "I bet you will." You said sarcastically, turning away from him, walking quickly. 

And he didn't call after you, didn't try to stop you, but you could feel his eyes on you.

══════════════════════════ You sat on your couch, phone in your hand, your knee bouncing slightly as you stared at the empty message thread. This was a bad idea, such a bad idea, but your fingers hovered over the keyboard anyway.

Jisung had gotten under your skin the way he always did—effortlessly. You could still hear his voice, see that teasing smirk he always wore when he knew he had the upper hand.

"You want me to take you out to dinner? I'll take you out to dinner. Tomorrow."

You huffed, this wasn't some big deal—it was just dinner, just food. You felt that you should just ignore it, let it go, prove that he didn't still have this stupid, frustrating hold on you. But instead, before you could overthink it, you typed out your address and hit send.

It took less than a minute for the read receipt to pop up. 

Jisung [6:24 PM]: "Oh? Someone came to her senses."

You rolled your eyes.

You [6:25 PM]: "Shut up. Are you picking me up or what?"

Jisung [6:26 PM]: "Relax Y/n. I'll be there at 8."

You could practically hear the cocky tone in his voice just from the text. This was going to be such a mistake.

Jisung pulled up in front of your apartment exactly at eight, which was surprising considering his usual habit of running late.

He rolled down the window, resting his arm on the door as he looked at you with a smirk. "Look at you, actually waiting outside for me."

You gave him a dry look, tugging the car door open. "I swear to God Jisung—"

"Ok, ok." He laughed, unlocking the door fully. "Get in before you change your mind."

The drive to the restaurant was... normal and that in itself was strange. There was no arguing, no sarcasm, instead, the conversation flowed naturally. He talked about the last stops of his tour, about how much he thrived on stage, but hated how exhausting the traveling was. You mentioned how much the city had changed since he left—how certain streets felt unrecognizable now, but some places stayed exactly the same.

By the time you reached the restaurant, you weren't sure what to expect anymore, but when you sat across from him, your menus open but untouched, Jisung leaned back in his chair and smirked. "Alright, let's talk about you."

You raised an eyebrow. "What about me?"

"Everything." He said simply, tapping his fingers against the table. "What have you been up to? What do you do when you're not pouring drinks?"

"I work. I go home. That's pretty much it." You said.

"Bullshit."

"It's not bullshit."

"No, see, that's bullshit." He leaned forward slightly, eyes locked onto yours. "You never just work, you always had something else going on. So?"

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the condensation on your glass. You weren't sure why you felt reluctant to tell him—maybe because it was personal, and you weren't ready to hand him pieces of yourself again, but still, you sighed and gave in.

"I've been working on opening a café."

Jisung blinked once, before letting out a scoff of amusement. "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"Knew you wouldn't let that go." He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You were obsessed with that idea when we were younger."

You frowned slightly. "Yeah, now I'm actually making it happen."

Jisung tilted his head, his smirk fading into something unreadable. "Why didn't you just say that earlier?"

You looked away, your fingers still trailing along the glass rim. "I don't know, you've been gone for years. I figured it didn't really matter to you."

His expression flickered, but he didn't immediately snap back with some sarcastic remark. He leaned back, watching you carefully. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" You asked, glancing up.

"Talk like I don't know you at all anymore." His voice wasn't teasing anymore. It was steady, a little softer than before. "Like I didn't spend years listening to you go on about this."

You cleared your throat. "Well, it's happening now. I have a location and the last bit of funding."

Jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Damn. You really pulled it off."

"Trying to." You corrected.

His lips curled slightly. "I'd go."

You met his gaze, eyebrow raised. "You better."

For a while, the conversation kept its natural rhythm. The teasing was still there, but it was balanced by genuine curiosity. It almost felt like nothing had changed. 

"How's your mom?"

Your expression dropped for a small second as you reached for your drink, stalling with a small sip. "Huh?"

"Your mom." Jisung repeated, tilting his head slightly. "How's she doing? I should stop by, say hello."

You let out a short, forced laugh. "Oh, I don't think she'll be too happy to see you."

Jisung's easy expression faltered slightly. "Huh?"

"Oh, no I'm just saying that she probably just doesn't want to see you." You said, a forced smile on your face as you brushed it off.

"What do you mean?" He questioned. 

"Nothing, just... I don't think she really cares about catching up with you, she doesn't really like having company y'know?" You said, keeping your voice casual. 

His fingers tapped lightly against the table. "Yeah, I understand. Why do I feel like you're leaving something out though?"

"I'm not." You said, forcing a small smile. "Seriously, it's nothing."

Jisung studied you, his gaze sharp, like he was picking apart the way you avoided eye contact.

"Does it have something to do with you leaving without telling me anything?"

Your shoulders stiffened. "Jisung, stop. Seriously."

"No." He pressed, his voice low. "I feel like I deserve to know—"

"I said stop."

The words came out sharper than you intended, a little too loud. A couple at a nearby table glanced over. 

Jisung leaned back slowly, raising his hands slightly. "Fine."

But the mood had already shifted.

Jisung cleared his throat, shifting slightly. "So... did you ever get good at baking?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Baking." He repeated, his voice forced light. "You used to suck at it, burnt cookies every time."

You let out a small, barely there laugh. "I got better."

Silence stretched between you. Jisung drumming his fingers against the table before trying again. "So, uh... do you live alone?"

"Yeah."

"Nice place?"

"It's alright."

"Any pets?"

"Nope."

Another pause.

He let out a slow breath. "Still listen to the same music?"

"Mostly."

"What happened to that one band you were obsessed with?"

"They broke up."

Jisung sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Okay, you gotta give me something here. I'm trying, but you're shutting me down."

You finally looked at him, shrugging.

He studied you for a second, then nodded, pushing his chair back. "Let's go."

The ride was quiet, the weight of the earlier conversation lingering between you both. Jisung pulled up in front of your apartment, resting his hands on the steering wheel.

"Okay, bye." His voice was flat, casual...too casual.

You glanced at him. "You're not coming in?"

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking up slightly. "Why would I need to come in?"

His tone was teasing, but there was something beneath it, like he was testing the waters.

You smirked, tilting your head slightly. "Come on."

Jisung stepped inside, hands shoved into his pockets as he looked around, taking in the space.

"This is a nice place." He said, his voice casual, but there was a hint of genuine interest behind it.

You huffed, kicking off your shoes by the door. "Yeah right."

"I'm serious." He replied, trailing after you as you walked into the living room.

You turned to face him, arms crossed. The air between you felt... off balance. Like you both knew where this was going, but neither of you wanted to be the first to say it.

"Would you like a drink?" You asked, your voice a little quieter now.

"Naw, I'm good." His reply was smooth, but his eyes never left yours.

Silence stretched between you, before you finally broke it.

"Okay." You said, the word lingering in the air.

Jisung raised an eyebrow watching you carefully, waiting.

You swallowed, exhaling softly. "We're on the same page here, right?"

His lips twitched slightly, like he was holding back a smirk. "I don't know, maybe. What are you thinking?"

His voice was lower now, he already knew what you were thinking, but wanted to hear you say it.

You hesitated for only a second before stepping closer. "I don't know." You admitted, your fingers brushing against the hem of your shirt. "But I think we should stop talking about it and make it happen—only if we're on the same page, of course."

Jisung's smirk deepened as he took a slow step forward, closing the space between you.

"Oh?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes had darkened slightly, his gaze locked on yours. "What happened to it being a one time thing?"

You felt your pulse quicken, but you kept your expression steady. "I mean... if you're not interested, that's—"

Before you could finish Jisung interrupted you, his lips crashing against yours, his hands finding your face, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you in like he'd been waiting for this. You barely had time to react before your hands instinctively moved to his waist, gripping onto him and pulling him even closer, surprising him slightly.

He broke the kiss for just a second, his breath fanning over your lips as he whispered. "I am."

Then his lips were on yours again. You truly thought that was going to be the last time, but first it started with him appearing in your notification center. 

Wednesday, 2/19

The first time was impulse.

You were in the middle of getting ready for work, standing in front of your mirror, smoothing out your shirt when your phone buzzed.

Jisung [6:47 PM]: "Hey, wyd tonight?"

You stared at the message, your fingers hesitating over the keyboard for a moment before you responded.

You [6:49 PM]: "Work, why?"

Jisung [6:50 PM]: "Can you come over after?"

It would be the last time. You'd make sure of it.

You [6:52 PM]: "Okay, but this is the last time."

Lying to him was one thing, lying to yourself was another because your mind kept drifting back to him—to the way he touched you, the way he felt.

Friday, 2/21

By the third time, it wasn't impulse anymore. 

You were curled up on your couch after a long shift, staring at your phone, fighting yourself over sending a text you shouldn't be sending, but then you did.

You [10:23 PM]: "Have you left yet?"

He opened it instantly.

Jisung [10:23 PM]: "No, why?"

You could still back out or you could do the exact thing you promised yourself you wouldn't.

You [10:24 PM]: "Do you want to come over?"

The moment you hit send, a wave of shame settled in your stomach. You shouldn't want this.

Jisung [10:24 PM]: "Of course, I'm on my way."

Saturday, 2/22

Jisung was leaving soon. This thing—whatever it was, would be over, and you'd be able to return to normal.

Jisung [4:19 PM]: "I leave tomorrow. Can I come over to see you before I go?"

You read the text twice, then a third time, before finally responding.

You [4:22 PM]: "You were just here yesterday lol."

Jisung [4:23 PM]: "I know. Just want to hang out and say goodbye. Maybe we can watch a movie?"

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head. 

You're not stupid.

You [4:24 PM]: "Right... watch a movie and say goodbye."

Jisung [4:24 PM]: "I'm serious."

You didn't believe him.

You [4:26 PM]: "Whatever, just come over."

Jisung showed up at your door, a bag of takeout in one hand, a smug grin on his lips.

"Brought food." He said simply, stepping inside.

The two of you settled onto the couch, the movie playing in the background, though neither of you were really paying attention. This was the most casual hangout you'd had since running into him weeks ago. 

Until it wasn't.

Until his hand drifted to your thigh and stayed there.

Until your gaze lingered on his lips longer than it should have.

Until his fingers traced small circles against your skin, slow and teasing, like he was daring you to acknowledge it.

And then you did.

And then his lips were on yours again.

And then you were leading him to your bedroom.

It felt like a never ending cycle, something you should have been able to stop but somehow never could.

It wasn't even about the number of times—four, maybe five. It was the way it felt natural, even when it shouldn't. Especially when you considered that this was Jisung. Your childhood best friend, the same person you could never see that way.

And yet, here you were.

Again.

You lay beside him, his arm draped lazily over your waist, the sound of his steady breathing filling the space around you. You lifted your head slightly, resting your chin against his bare chest.

"So, um." You started, voice softer than intended.

Jisung hummed, eyes barely opening as he tilted his head toward you.

"What is... this?" You asked.

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn't look surprised.

"I don't know." He said, his voice groggy but calm. "What do you want it to be?"

You hesitated before flipping the question back on him.

"What do you want it to be?"

He let out a quiet laugh. "I asked first."

You sighed, playing with the hem of the blanket. "Well, I know that I've had a good time with you."

"I agree." He nodded.

"But."

His eyes narrowed slightly, watching you closely.

"I think we should keep this... platonic."

Jisung's lips parted slightly before he let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"Platonic?" He scoffed. "I'm in your bed with no clothes on for the, what, third time this week—and you want to keep it platonic?"

You smirked slightly, shaking your head. "Not like that, Jisung."

His lips quirked up, but there was something else behind his expression now.

"This, but just... no titles, no relationship, no... feelings."

Jisung's grin faded for just a second. It was quick, so quick you almost missed it.

"So just friends?" He asked, voice unreadable.

"Right." You nodded, giving him a small smile.

There was a pause, then he exhaled, shaking his head with a smirk. 

"Sorry, but I thought that's what this was in the first place."

You searched his expression, trying to decipher whether or not he meant that.

"I never doubted that." You said quietly, watching the way his grin faltered just slightly. "But I just want to make sure it's in the air, that we're on the same page."

Jisung held your gaze for a second longer before nodding. "We are. No titles, no relationship, no feelings." 

"Got it." You smiled. "Now, I think it's time for you to leave." You added playfully.

Jisung clutched his chest, sucking in his teeth dramatically. "Ouch."

"Stop." You rolled your eyes. "I don't mind, but if you're anything like how you were years ago, then I know you need to go prepare to leave tomorrow."

"Whatever." He sighed, getting out of bed and getting dressed.

You walked him to the door, leaning against the frame as he lingered for a moment.

"When am I gonna see you again?" He asked.

"I could ask you the same question."

Jisung tilted his head slightly. "No clue." He frowned a little, then forced a small smile. "But I'll at least try to come for your birthday in a few weeks."

Your eyes flickered in surprise.

"You—"

"Remembered?" He raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

A small smile tugged at your lips.

"Hey, you can't blame me." You teased.

Jisung gave you a long look, like he wanted to say something—something you didn't want to hear. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and nodded.

"Safe travels and good luck with your band." You said.

"Thank you. I'll text when I make it back."

You paused, then nodded. "Cool."

"Cool?" He repeated.

"Yes Jisung. Goodbye."

He chuckled. "See you later."

Sunday, 2/23

Back to routine. Same shift. Same uniform, except this time, your phone buzzed.

Jisung [11:45 AM]: "Hey, I made it back. Whatchu up to?"

══════════════════════════

It was the usual tonight—customers flooding in, the hours passing by, keeping you busy.

By the time closing rolled around, it was just you and Haechan, wiping down the counters, stacking chairs, and finishing up the last of your closing duties.

"Happy birthday Y/n!" Haechan suddenly spoke, glancing at his watch before flashing you a grin.

You looked up from the register, momentarily surprised before smiling. "Thank you."

"What are you doing tomorrow—well, technically today?" He corrected.

"Just going out with family." You replied.

"Oh, nice." He nodded, setting the last of the clean glasses in place before turning to you. "You know, it's funny—I could've just brought your gift today."

You giggled, shaking your head. "Yeah, I don't know why you didn't."

"Guess I wasn't thinking." He admitted with a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're still working tomorrow, right?"

"No? It's my birthday tomorrow." You replied, stretching your arms with a grin.

Haechan cocked his head at you. "It's your birthday today."

You blinked, realizing he was right. Midnight had already passed.

"Oh, right." You laughed at yourself. "Sorry, my brain's fried."

"You need sleep." He teased. "But that means, yes—you're working tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll be here." You confirmed.

Haechan grinned. "Then I'll bring your gift tomorrow. The boss said I can work, so it's just gonna be the two of us."

"Sounds good to me."

With that, you finished closing up, locked the doors, and parted ways for the night.

The moment you stepped into your apartment, exhaustion finally hit you. You kicked off your shoes, sighing as you tossed your keys onto the counter, but before you could even change, your phone buzzed from inside your bag.

Jisung [1:07 AM]: "Happy birthday."

You smiled a little before responding.

You [1:08 AM]: "Thank you!"

A few seconds later, another message popped up.

Jisung [1:08 AM]: "I'll be there soon to take you out."

You [1:09 AM]: "Not today, already got something planned."

He didn't respond right away, but when he did, it was short.

Jisung [1:10 AM]: "Noted. I'll lyk."

You exhaled softly, locking your phone.

The past few weeks with Jisung had been... unexpected.

You weren't together, but somehow he was more present in your life than ever. You called each other almost every day, talking until one of you fell asleep. You texted constantly, sometimes about everything, sometimes about nothing. Even at work you found yourself sneaking replies between shifts, only to find out he was doing the same, sending you snippets of whatever he was recording or doing that day. So it wasn't really a surprise when your phone rang again the next day later that afternoon, just a few hours before your shift.

"How can I help you Jisung?" You said, holding the phone between your shoulder and ear.

"Ouch." He gasped dramatically. "That is not how you greet the person taking you out tonight."

"Well, thank god you're not the person taking me out tonight, because I have work."

"Y/n, no." He groaned, dragging out the word in a whine.

"Jisung, yes." You mocked his tone. "There's nothing I can do about it."

"Can't you take off? Get someone to cover you?" His voice had shifted from dramatic to genuinely pleading now. "I leave tomorrow, I have work to handle. I have a job, remember?"

"Yes, I remember. Do you remember that I have one too?"

"Please Y/n." His voice softened, making you rethink your decision. "I'm coming for you, to spend a birthday with you—something I haven't done in a while. Let me."

You paused, your lips parting slightly. A long silence stretched between you both before you finally exhaled.

"Let me call you back."

"Y/n, wait—"

"Shh, I'll call you back." You hung up before he could argue.

You scrolled through your contacts, clicking on Haechan's name. The phone rang a few times before he picked up.

"What's up?" He answered, his voice slightly winded like he'd been running around.

"Are you busy?" You asked.

"Yeah, a little, just at work. What's up?"

You bit your lip. "Do you think you can cover me tonight?"

The line went quiet.

You frowned slightly waiting for a response, but when he finally spoke, his voice was noticeably different.

"Um... I don't know. I'll be by myself on a Friday night, that's a lot."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. You were just the first person I thought of." You admitted. "But you could find someone else to help, right?"

"I could, but it's gonna be hard on such short notice."

"Maybe not." You countered. "People always want extra shifts. I got covered ten minutes before a shift once."

There was another pause.

"Right." He murmured, his tone unreadable.

Guilt spread through your stomach. "I'm sorry, these birthday plans are severely last minute. You can totally say no if you want—"

"Ok."

You blinked. "Ok?"

"I'll cover you tonight." He said, his voice forcefully light. "But you owe me."

"Oh my God, I owe you the whole world." You exclaimed, your voice almost painfully cheerful now. "Thank you Haechan, I love you for this."

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. Love you too." His voice sounded... off, but before you could linger on it, he spoke again. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You barely had time to say goodbye before he hung up. Shrugging off the weird feeling in your gut, you immediately called Jisung back.

"Oh, you actually called back." He teased as soon as he answered.

"Yeah, I did." You replied, your voice noticeably lighter now.

"You seem to be in a much better mood." He said with a hint of amusement in his tone.

"That's because you are the person taking me out tonight."

"Oh, am I?" His voice brightened, more than he probably meant for it to.

"Yes, you are."

Jisung let out a soft chuckle. "Well then, the person taking you out tonight is picking you up at six."

You smiled. "Thank you for informing me. See you then."

Jisung [5:58 PM]: "Outside. No rush, but also... hurry up."

You rolled your eyes but smiled, quickly slipping on your jacket before grabbing your phone and bag. You checked yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing out your outfit before heading outside.

Jisung was leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his expression unreadable until he saw you, then that stupid little smirk of his appeared.

"Damn." He said, looking you up and down. "You look nice."

"Shut up." You huffed, but you were smiling as you reached for the car door.

"I mean it." He added, a little softer.

You glanced at him, your heart skipping for half a second before you quickly slid into the passenger seat. He got in after you, starting the car as music hummed through the speakers. The air smelled like his cologne, mixed with the faintest scent of vanilla from the air freshener hanging from the mirror.

"So, where are we going?" You asked, buckling your seatbelt.

"Dinner first." Jisung said, glancing over at you with a small smirk. "Gotta feed the birthday girl."

Jisung took you to a small, cozy restaurant tucked between some buildings downtown. It wasn't fancy, but it was warm, intimate, the kind of place where the lights were dim, and soft music played in the background.

The moment you walked in, he casually placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you toward a booth. It was barely anything, but it sent a small shiver up your spine.

He slid into the seat across from you, leaning back comfortably. "Alright, order whatever you want. Birthday rules."

"Birthday rules?" You raised a brow.

"Yeah, you get whatever you want, and I don't complain about the price." He grinned. "And also, you can't get mad at me for whatever dumb shit I do tonight."

You laughed, shaking your head. "We'll see about that."

When the waiter came, Jisung let you order first before he placed his, and true to his word he didn't even flinch when you went a little overboard with your choices.

"So," He said once the waiter left, propping his elbow on the table. "How's twenty three treating you so far?"

"It's only been a few hours Jisung."

"Yeah, but do you feel different?" He wiggled his brows dramatically.

"No idiot." You laughed.

"Lame." He sighed. "I was hoping for some life changing wisdom."

"You just turned twenty three a few months ago. Where's your wisdom?"

"Ah, but I'm not the birthday person today." He countered, smirking.

You shook your head, but the smile never left your face.

When the food arrived, you both dug in immediately, the conversation never slowing down. There were moments where Jisung stole food from your plate without asking, moments where you flicked a fry at him in retaliation, moments where the laughter between you felt so easy—so natural, that almost made you forget all the years you spent apart.

By the time the plates were empty, you were both comfortably full, and Jisung looked across the table with a small glint in his eyes. "You ready for the next stop?" He asked, as you nodded with a smile.

The moment you pulled into the arcades parking lot you felt the nostalgia settle in your chest.

"Holy shit." You murmured, looking around once you stepped inside.

"Feels like high school, huh?" Jisung grinned.

The arcade looked almost exactly the same as it did years ago—the flashing lights, the smell of popcorn, the sounds of tickets printing, and people shouting in excitement.

"Come on." Jisung said, already heading toward the change machine. He pulled out a couple of bills, exchanged them for tokens, and handed you a stack. "Hope you're ready to get your ass kicked."

You scoffed, stuffing the coins in your pocket. "We'll see about that."

The first game you played was air hockey. Jisung was obnoxious about it, smirking every time he scored on you.

"Damn, you used to be way better at this." He teased.

"I'm warming up." You argued, huffing as you tried to block his next shot.

Then came racing games, basketball hoops, and a whack a mole battle that ended with both of you laughing so hard you almost forgot to keep score. Everything about it felt... familiar.

Then you saw it, the claw machine. You both used to be obsessed with it.

"No way." Jisung breathed, already walking toward it. "They still have it?"

"I can't believe this thing is still standing." You added, stepping beside him.

Jisung cracked his knuckles. "Alright. If I win, you have to admit that I'm the best at everything."

"And if you lose?"

"Not possible." He smirked before inserting a token.

He almost won the first time, then failed spectacularly the second.By the third time, you were laughing so hard you had to lean against the glass.

"Shut up." He groaned, focusing harder.

And then he actually won, turning to you, holding up a small stuffed animal with a shit eating grin.

"Bow to your champion." He said.

"I hate you." You grumbled, grabbing the toy.

"No, you love me." He corrected, his voice teasing, but his eyes soft.

You swallowed, ignoring the warmth spreading through your chest. "Where to next?" You asked. 

His grin widened. "You'll see."

The last place you expected Jisung to take you was a music studio.

"Uh, why are we here?" You asked as he led you inside.

He glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. "Just trust me."

The room was dark, blue and red lighting, a few instruments scattered around, soundproofed walls, but one stuck out to you.

A guitar— his guitar, the one he would always use when you both were younger... the one you had given him as a gift. 

Jisung smiled picking it up, settling into a chair before glancing at you.

"You remember your favorite song?" He asked casually.

Your breath caught. "You remember?"

"Of course I do. I couldn't get a break from it, always asking me to play it, even though I wasn't very good." He murmured, fingers strumming the first few chords.

And then he played and it was perfect. You just sat there watching him, feeling your chest tighten. When he finished he looked up, eyes locking onto yours.

"Happy birthday." He murmured.

You didn't say anything, you couldn't. All you could do was walk over to him, stand in front of him and stare into his eyes. Then you leaned in, closing the small space between you, and pressed your lips to his in a slow kiss. His hands found your waist almost instantly, pulling you against him like he couldn't stand another inch of distance.

The moment you reached your apartment you guided him to the couch, your lips never leaving his. With a gentle push, he sank onto the cushions, and you climbed onto his lap, pulling him into another messy kiss. Then you trailed your mouth to his neck, kissing down the warm skin slowly. Soft gasps slipped from him as you explored the sensitive spot just beneath his jaw, his hands gripping you tighter with every touch.

Your hands moved down his body, eager and a little shaky as you worked to undo his pants. You freed him, wrapping your fingers around him and stroking, slow at first. Soft moans slipped from his lips, his eyes locked on you. Then you slid down between his legs, settling on your knees in front of him, your touch never leaving him.

"No, I'm supposed to be treating you for your birthday." He said, breath hitching.

"I want to." You whispered, your thumb brushing over his tip.

"But—" He started, the protest dying in his throat the moment your mouth wrapped around him, cutting him off with a choked whimper.

His head dropped back against the couch, a low groan slipping from his throat as your mouth moved around him. You took your time, letting your tongue swirl around his tip before sliding deeper, feeling him twitch against your tongue.  

His fingers clenched the edge of the couch, knuckles white. Every soft suck, every flick of your tongue pulled a new sound from him—quiet moans, hitched breaths, curses whispered under his breath.  

He looked down at you through half lidded eyes, dark and dazed. One hand reached for you threading into your hair, not to control, just to feel you.

"Fuck... you feel so good." He breathed, his voice low and wrecked.

You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes as you sank down further, cheeks hollowing around him. The moment your pace quickened his hips gave a slight helpless jerk, and he bit his lip to keep another groan from spilling out.

You kept your rhythm steady, teasing him with just enough pressure to keep him right on the edge. Every time you pulled back, you let your tongue drag along the underside of him before taking him back in, deeper each time. His thighs tensed beneath your hands, a clear sign of how hard he was trying to stay still, to not lose control.

You let out a soft hum around him and he gasped, hips twitching as the vibration shot through him, his hand tightening in your hair.

"Shit—baby, wait..." He muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice, only pleasure and desperation. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before locking back on you.

You kept your eyes on him as you picked up the pace again, your mouth moving faster, more focused. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thighs tightened beneath your hands, the way his breathing turned shallow and uneven, every soft gasp turning into a ragged moan.  

His hand gripped your hair even tighter, hips lifting just slightly.

"Fuck, I'm—" He tried to warn you, voice cracking, but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

You didn't slow down, taking him deep, lips and tongue working him through it as he came hard, a broken sound tearing from his throat. His whole body tensed under your touch, breath catching as waves of pleasure crashed over him as he twitched, sinking back into the couch with a shaky exhale.

His hand loosened in your hair, fingertips brushing your cheek as he looked down at you, completely wrecked and grinning like he couldn't believe what just happened.

"This night was supposed to be about you." He murmured as he tucked himself away, then reached for you, gently pulling you up onto the couch. Before you could protest, he stood and dropped to his knees in front of you.

"I said I wanted to." You replied with a soft smile, your voice breathless as he pushed up your skirt, fingers slipping beneath the fabric to pull your underwear down to your knees.

"Mm, right." He said, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, hands firm on your thighs as he leaned in. His lips brushed along your leg, leaving slow lingering kisses that traveled upward. He never looked away from you, his gaze dark as he inched closer.

Each kiss grew slower, hotter, as he neared your inner thigh, the anticipation curling tight in your stomach. He paused, just breathing against your skin, making you feel every second stretch before he finally moved in closer.

Then finally, he leaned in.

His tongue found you in one slow stroke, and your head fell back against the couch with a sharp inhale. He moved with purpose, his mouth working you open smoothly, his tongue flicking and curling just right. One of his hands slid up to press against your stomach, grounding you as the other gripped your thigh, keeping you right where he wanted you.

You moaned loudly, fingers digging into the cushions as he kept his movements steady and deep. He pulled you in closer with every stroke of his tongue, every wet, open mouthed kiss he left against you, his eyes flicking up to watch you.

"You're already shaking." He murmured between strokes, his voice rough and hungry. 

And the way he was working you, tongue pressing just right—it wasn't long before heat coiled tightly in your lower belly. Your thighs began to tremble around his shoulders, breath catching as the climax crashed through you in waves.

He didn't stop right away. He eased you through it, mouth softer now, slower, until your body finally relaxed under his touch.

When he pulled back, lips slick, he looked up at you like he could devour you all over again.

He stayed close, brushing slow kisses along your thighs, like he couldn't stop touching you, couldn't get enough. His hand slipped into yours, fingers lacing together.

After a few quiet moments, he smiled and whispered. "We should probably go to the bed." Pulling back just enough to look at you properly

You gave a smile, brushing your thumb over his cheek. "Okay."

══════════════════════════

You walked into work, setting your belongings down and stretching out your shoulders before making your way to the floor. The dim lights of the bar cast a soft glow over the counter, the scent of citrus and liquor lingering in the air from the night's previous rush. Haechan stood behind the bar finishing up with a customer, his movements slow.

When he turned toward you, his tired eyes met yours. You offered him a small smile, but instead of his usual playful smile or greeting, he just stared at you blankly.

"I'm going on break." He muttered, turning away before you could even respond.

You blinked, slightly taken aback by his tone, but shook it off and got to work. When he returned, he seemed a bit more like himself—his posture wasn't as heavy, and he spoke a little more, but the exhaustion still clung to him. His voice remained low, and he couldn't stop yawning between sentences.

"You okay?" You asked once all the customers were taken care of.

"Yeah, I'm just exhausted." He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"It's you who really needs the break, huh?" You teased lightly, hoping to lift his mood a little.

"Yeah." He chuckled, but it was weak and forced. He turned away to wipe down the counter, avoiding your gaze.

"You're not usually this tired— what's going on?" You asked, genuinely curious now.

He hesitated for a moment before answering, still focused on the cloth in his hands.

"Well... working by myself last night didn't help." He muttered.

Your stomach twisted with guilt. "You couldn't find anyone to work with you?"

"Nope."

"Haechan, I'm seriously so sorry. Let me buy you a coffee or something."

"No, you're good." His voice was low, he wasn't mad just drained.

You let it go, working in silence beside him as the night carried on. The bar began to wind down, the crowd thinning as closing time crept closer. You stepped away for a quick break, heading to the bathroom, but as you walked back onto the floor, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

"I'm a big fan of yours, it's cool that I saw you around here."

Haechan's voice was animated, the tiredness gone replaced by something closer to admiration.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you turned the corner, only to lock eyes with Jisung. You immediately stepped back behind the wall, mentally cursing to yourself.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that." Jisung replied politely before making his way toward the bar toward you.

"Y/n." He greeted you with a small grin.

You rolled your eyes. "You just love coming to my job for absolutely no reason, huh?"

Haechan glanced between the two of you with his brows raised, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he studied the exchange.

"Can I not want a drink?" Jisung asked, taking a seat on one of the stools directly in front of you. "Vodka lemonade, please."

His smirk was taunting, like he was enjoying the way you flared up at his presence.

"I hate you." You muttered, turning around to make his drink.

"I'm sorry, I may be missing something," Haechan cut in, moving slightly closer to you. "Do you two know each other?"

"I wish we didn't." You muttered, making sure Jisung could hear you.

He only chuckled under his breath. "You didn't say that last night."

Your face burned as you whirled around, shoving his drink toward him a little harder than necessary.

"Okay! Here you go, sir. Now please be quiet."

Haechan's confusion only deepened. He stared at you both before turning to you expectantly.

"This is Jisung." You finally said, introducing him with a tight smile.

"I know." Haechan nodded.

Then you turned to Jisung. "And this is Haechan. One of my closest friends and coworkers— also, the reason we went out last night."

Jisung smirked at you, then at Haechan. "Wow, thank you so much Haechan. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Haechan nodded back, clearly still putting the pieces together. "Yeah... you're welcome?"

Jisung leaned forward on the counter. "Y/n, quickly, hand me a pen and a napkin or something."

"You don't know how to say please anymore?"

"Please." He murmured, his voice low and breathy. The way it sounded sent a shiver down your spine.

You sighed, grabbing a napkin and a pen before handing them over. He signed quickly and slid it toward Haechan.

"I wish I could give you more, but I can't." He said, a little dramatically.

Haechan let out a small laugh, taking the napkin and tucking it into his pocket. "I still appreciate it. Thank you."

"Now." You interrupted. "I think you should be on your way."

Jisung tilted his head, his expression shifting. "I need to talk to you though."

"Well, I'll see you at home in an hour or so." You replied, attempting to brush him off.

"At home?" Jisung echoed, his brows raising slightly.

"Yes. My apartment where I reside, so it's my home. I will see you at home." You maintained your serious tone, making Jisung chuckle.

"Right, I'll see you at home." He said, sliding a $20 bill across the counter before standing up.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Haechan turned to you.

"You didn't tell me you knew the lead guitarist of Black Horizon." He said, his expression unreadable.

"I mean, it's not something you just bring up in casual conversation." You replied. "I didn't even know before you went to the concert."

Haechan narrowed his eyes slightly. "Are you two like... dating?"

"No, no." You said quickly. "Not at all. We're just friends."

Haechan studied your face. "And how did that happen?"

"We used to be best friends when we were younger." You said, but your voice was softer now.

"That's sick. Glad you stuck together, you have excellent taste in friends." He said, finally turning away.

You hummed in response, but a lump settled in your stomach. You didn't really stick together.

When you finally got home, Jisung's car was parked in front of the complex. He leaned against it, arms crossed as he watched you approach.

"Took you long enough." He sighed.

"I'm so sorry that me working is inconveniencing you." You replied sarcastically.

He let out a short laugh before rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen... there's something I need to tell you."

You paused, something about his tone making your stomach tighten.

"Are you not coming in?" You asked. 

"We both know how that's gonna turn out." He replied, his eyes a bit wide as he gave you a face.

You couldn't help but giggle before shaking your head. "Ok, what is it?"

"I'm not going to be around for a while." He said carefully. "The band's touring in another country for the next few months, and after that... we have to go straight into working on the next album."

"So... you're leaving?" You asked, voice quieter than before.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, I am."

You forced a smile, though it didn't reach your eyes. "Right. Well... I guess this is goodbye."

Jisung looked at you for a long moment before sighing. "Yeah. I'll see you when I see you."

And with that, he got into his car and drove off, leaving you standing there in the dim glow of the streetlights, watching him disappear all over again.

══════════════════════════

Jisung had been gone for a few months now, but it never really felt like he had left. 

No matter where he was, no matter how far, you never failed to call, never missed a day to text. Sometimes it was just a simple "good morning" or a half asleep voice memo when one of you were too tired to type. 

You were just about to head out the door for work when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Jisung [5:48 pm]: "Hey, wyd?"

You glanced at the time, thumbs moving across the screen as you typed back.

You [5:51 pm]: "About to head to work, what's going on?"

Jisung [5:52 pm]: "I won't bother you, just have a good day at work."

You frowned at the message, pausing with one hand on the doorknob. He never texted like that.

You [5:54 pm]: "That's a first lol. Seriously, is everything okay? I'm getting worried."

Jisung [5:55 pm]: "Yea everything's cool. I was just curious lol."

Your brows furrowed as you stared at the screen for a second longer. You knew Jisung well enough to tell when something was off, but you didn't have time to pick at it right now. With a small huff, you slipped your phone back into your pocket and headed out.

The bar was already buzzing with low chatter and music by the time you arrived. Haechan greeted you with his usual smirk, wiping down a glass absentmindedly. These days, you and him had grown closer. 

"How's the night been so far?" You asked, setting your bag down and tying your apron.

Haechan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "Here by myself, no one to talk to, so not so good. Thanks for asking."

You blinked at him, tilting your head. "No, Haechan."

He gave you an innocent look. "No, what?"

You giggled, shaking your head. "I meant the customers— is it busy?"

His mouth fell open in fake shock. "Oh, I thought you were checking up on me. You know, because I was working alone and you were late."

You stared at him with narrowed eyes as he barely held in a laugh.

"I was only five minutes late."

"Ah, time is money, money is time. Get to work." He said, tossing a cloth in your direction.

You caught it mid air with a dramatic sigh, looking at him before fluttering your eyes, your voice sweeter. "Haechan, don't be like that."

He stared at you for a second unimpressed before scoffing. "Whatever. We get it, you're pretty, just occupy yourself."

The shift passed in a blur. Eventually, the rush died down, and the atmosphere grew quieter, more relaxed. This was always one of your favorite part of the night—the moment where you and Haechan had the most fun.

"You're wiping oddly slow." Haechan noted, watching you over your shoulder.

You turned, leaning against the counter. "And you're talking oddly fast... and a lot."

"Oh, I'm talking a lot?" He said, smirking.

"Yeah, you're talking a lot. Do your job."

"Oh yeah? I need to do my job?" He poked your side suddenly, making you jolt.

"Haechan, stop." You giggled, twisting away as his finger jabbed at your ribs.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The deep voice cut through the air, sending a jolt down your spine. You turned quickly, your stomach sinking as your eyes landed on the figure sitting at the bar, his hat pulled low.

"Jisung?"

He tilted his head up slightly, his face partially shadowed, but you could see the his expression.

Haechan glanced between the two of you before nodding to himself. "I have to go do something, I'll leave you two." His voice was casual, but as he moved past you, his hand brushed your waist—subtle, but noticeable.

Jisung's gaze followed him, a flicker of something passing through his eyes.

"Hm, that was weird." He muttered, finally looking back at you.

You hesitated for a second before shaking your head with a small laugh. "Jisung, what are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming back."

"It was a surprise." He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the counter before nodding toward where Haechan had disappeared. "You know, this doesn't seem too professional."

You blinked before realizing what he meant. A smirk tugged at your lips. "Jisung, are you jealous?"

His eyes flickered up to yours, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

"No." He replied simply, but the way his fingers drummed against the counter told a different story.

You grinned, leaning in just slightly. "Mhm, sure."

Jisung huffed, shaking his head, but there was something softer in his expression now.

"You're back." You said, voice quieter now. "I missed you."

"Did you really?" He murmured, the corner of his lips curling up a bit against his will. 

You nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah."

Jisung let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Well... I guess I missed you too."

You rolled your eyes pretending to be unimpressed, but deep down warmth spread through your chest.

"So." Jisung said, tilting his head. "Are you gonna serve me a drink, or do I have to watch you flirt with your coworkers all night?"

"Jealous." You smirked elongating the word, reaching for a glass.

"No." He said, but this time his voice lacked conviction, and somehow that made you smile even more.

"Ah, right." You giggled, sliding him the drink. "Well, I'm glad you came to visit." 

And after, that became the routine. Jisung would do whatever he had to do during the day, but at night he was here. 

First, it was just stopping by for a drink. Then, it was sitting there while you and Haechan closed everything out and of course, it always ended the same way—going home with you after work.

You never talked about it, but the pattern was clear. The moment you locked up for the night he'd be waiting, shoulders relaxed, an expectation between the two of you.

Tonight though, something was off.

Jisung never showed up before closing, so you didn't think much of it. You did what you always did—finished cleaning up with Haechan and got lost in conversation and somehow, that conversation led back to Jisung.

"Can you tell your boyfriend to hurry up and drop the album? I'm craving some new yearning music." Haechan teased, leaning on the counter with an amused grin.

"Oh, my boyfriend?" You scoffed, tossing the rag over your shoulder. "You like him more than I do. He's your boyfriend."

"I wish." He muttered, eyes widening playfully before bursting into laughter.

"Ew, Haechan oh my god." You nearly choked on your own laughter.

"I'm just saying." He shrugged, still grinning.

Before you could respond, the door swung open with a sharp creak.

"Sorry, we're closed." Haechan called out without glancing towards the person, the two of you still giggling.

"You do not want Jisung as a boyfriend." You joked, turning back to wipe the counter, only for the smirk on your face to vanish completely when your eyes locked onto him.

Your stomach dropped. Jisung stood there, his frame relaxed, his face unreadable, but there was something sharp in his gaze as he stared at you.

"Ouch." He said.

You froze. Your mind scrambled between apologizing or pretending nothing happened, but no words came out.

"Welp." Haechan placed a hand on your shoulder, glancing between the two of you. "You got that."

With that, he disappeared into the back, leaving you and Jisung standing in a thick, suffocating silence.

Jisung took a step forward, resting his hands in his pockets. "You're not gonna say hello?" His brows lifted slightly.

You swallowed. "Hello."

"Hello." He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "You don't want me as a boyfriend?"

"That was a joke, we were just joking." You forced out, letting out a nervous laugh, though your voice cracked slightly.

Jisung tilted his head. "Oh, so you do want me as a boyfriend?"

"No." Your answer was immediate, his expression faltering for a second. "We already talked about this, so you know the answer to that."

"Right." He nodded, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek before finally dropping into a seat at the counter. "I want a vodka lemonade."

"Well, you're gonna have to get that from somewhere else. You heard Haechan, we're closed."

Jisung exhaled dramatically. "Ah, bummer." He clicked his tongue. "Forgot we follow Haechan's rules now."

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you leaned in, elbows resting on the counter. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, he's all you talk about these days— Haechan this, Haechan that."

You blinked. "Well, I talk to him a lot."

"You talk to me too." He countered, fingers tapping against the counter. "Do you talk about me that much?"

You smirked. "You just heard me talking about you."

Jisung went quiet for a moment, staring at you before shrugging. "I guess."

Before you could say anything, Haechan peeked out from the back. "Am I intruding?"

You smiled. "No, of course not."

Jisung shot you a look before dropping his gaze to the counter.

Haechan grinned. "Sorry to say, but I kinda expected you to come tonight, so I brought a CD."

Your brows lifted. "Where did you even get that from?"

"I've had it." He shrugged. "Do you think you could sign it? It would mean the world to me."

Jisung barely lifted his head. "No, not allowed."

Bullshit. He just told you a few days ago he spent fifteen minutes signing things for fans after getting swarmed.

You grabbed the CD and marker from Haechan, slamming them onto the counter in front of Jisung. "Sign it."

His eyes lifted, visibly irritated. "I can't." His voice was louder now.

"Jisung." Your tone was firm. "Sign it."

His jaw clenched before he snatched the marker aggressively, yanking the cap off and scribbling his signature harshly across the CD, before shoving it back at you.

"Since you're gonna fucking die without it." He said pushing back from the counter, storming toward the door, shoving it open and leaving.

Haechan sighed. "I didn't need it if he couldn't do it."

"He's fine." You forced a smile, handing him the CD and marker.

Haechan gave you a look. "You can go talk, if you need to."

"If that's okay with you."

"Yeah, go ahead."

You stepped outside, and the scent of cigarettes instantly surrounded you.

"I know you're still here you big crybaby." You rounded the corner, finding Jisung leaning against the wall, cigarette dangling between his fingers.

He exhaled slowly, eyes meeting yours.

"What the fuck was that?" You asked, arms crossing.

He stubbed out his cigarette against the wall. "What's going on with you and that guy?"

You groaned. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about." He said, pushing off the wall. "He's all you've been talking about on the phone, now this?"

"Jisung, will you relax?" You said, shaking your head.

"You fucking him or something?"

"That's none of your business."

"I feel like it is though." He shot back. "We have sex—unprotected sex. If you're out whoring around, I need to know that."

You scoffed. "Whoring around? I'm the one whoring around? Don't act all innocent Jisung, I know you fuck other people."

"I don't." He said, stepping closer. "You're the only one."

"Not anymore since I'm such a whore apparently." You said, turning around from him, beginning to walk away.

"I never said that."

You turned, exasperated. "You literally just did."

"Ok look, I'm sorry— but I asked you a question, all you had to do was answer."

"I don't have to do anything." Your voice shook. "We're not together. I don't owe you anything. I don't owe you an explanation. If you're scared I'm whoring around then leave or shut up and get over it."

Silence. 

His eyes locked onto yours. You stormed toward him, inches from his face.

"Stop looking at me with that stupid face."

Jisung didn't move.

"Say something."

His lips parted. "I don't owe you any explanation."

Your breathing was heavy, your chest ached, fingers clenched into fists, but before you could react his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you in. His lips crashed onto yours, swallowing whatever words you had left and you melted instantly, fingers tangling in his hair. 

His hands tightened, pushing you against the wall, the cold brick cooling your hot back. The kiss was rough, his tongue brushing against yours, his grip possessive.

It wasn't enough.

Jisung broke away, breathless. "Car. Now."

You nodded, and in seconds, you were following him to the parking lot.

When you slid into the backseat, you barely had a moment to settle before he was on you, lips crashing onto yours once more.

His hands found the hem on your shirt, pulling it over your head. His hands lingered back up, landing on your jaw as he pushed your head up roughly, moving  down to your neck, kissing roughly before sucking, leaving markings in his wake. 

You moaned softly as his hand slid down your body. He unbuttoned your jeans quickly, tugging them down to your knees along with your underwear in the cramped space of the car. The cool air hit your thighs, but his hands were warm.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them slowly while his eyes stayed locked on yours. Then he reached down, parting your folds and running his slick fingers through you, dragging them over your clit before slipping one inside you without warning.

You gasped, your head hitting the back of the seat. He didn't ease in, thrusting hard and fast, his thumb pressing tight circles against your clit. His finger curled just right, hitting that spot again and again knuckle deep, wet sounds filling the space between your moans.

Your hips bucked into his hand, head thrown back and eyes closed chasing every stroke, every flick of his thumb. You were already close, your body clenching around him, desperate for more.

"Look at me." He said, voice low and rough, just before sliding another finger inside you. The stretch made you cry out, your back arching as he moved them fast.

"I'm gonna cum." You gasped, your body already tightening around him, but just as your climax started to rise, his pace slowed.

Your breath caught. "Why are you stopping?"

His eyes narrowed, tone sharp and possessive. "What's going on with you and that guy?"

"Jisung, what are you—" You started, but he cut you off with a sharp thrust of his fingers, rough and deep, forcing a whimper from your throat.

"Tell me." He said.  "And I might let you finish."

"Jisung, please." You begged, hips bucking, you were so close it hurt.

"Then talk or I'll stop." He said. 

His fingers sped up again, sending you right back to the brink, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, demanding an answer.

"We're just friends. I—I don't like him." You cried out, your head hitting the window as your body trembled under his touch.

"Oh yeah?" He said, darkly amused, his free hand wrapping around your throat pulling you back to him, forcing your eyes on his. "Say it again."

"We're just friends." You gasped, breath hitching as his fingers moved faster inside you.

"I thought it wasn't any of my business." He taunted, voice low and rough. His fingers curled deep, hitting that perfect spot that made your whole body jerk. "What changed?"

"I'm sorry—fuck, I'm gonna—" You could barely speak, the pleasure overwhelming as your stomach coiled tight, your legs beginning to shake.

"Are you?" He said, leaning in closer, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to make you dizzy. His face hovered just inches from yours, lips parted, eyes locked on the way yours fluttered shut.

"Yes." You gasped out, barely holding it together. Your orgasm hit hard, rolling through your body in waves as he kept going, thrusting into you fast and deep, fingers soaked.

"He'll never make you feel like I do." He whispered, watching your face as you came undone for him. "Never."

Your body slumped back against the seat, chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. The windows were fogged, your skin still flushed and tingling, your thighs sticky and trembling.

Jisung stayed close, his hand finally slipping out of you, fingers glistening. He looked down at them for a second, then wiped them slowly on your inner thigh teasingly. His other hand loosened around your neck, thumb brushing over the spot where he had held you, gentler now.

Neither of you said anything for a moment. The only sound was your ragged breathing.

Jisung leaned back slightly, eyes still on you as he slid his hand off your thigh.

"Go get your stuff so we can take this someplace else." He said quietly.

You blinked, still trying to steady yourself.

He smirked. "You've got five minutes, don't make me come in there."

══════════════════════════

(Part two)- read here

══════════════════════════

[mafiadad5]

hi!! when are you going to release that story abt jisung and he’s in a band?

Hey! So, the original release date was April 5th, but the way Uni and the writing is going it may be later in April or early May (ik sry🙂‍↕️). It may also be a two part series, so part one (POTENTIALLY) may get released early April, but I’m not too sure yet. If you commented to be tagged, don’t worry I got you. If you didn’t, I would check back here every once in a while. I’ll post an update soon!

ily, thank you for asking and being patient with me. mwah 🫶

[mafiadad5]

YOOO. Y’all I’m going crazy😭🙏 ts making me wanna write another one, plzzzz. This is exactly what I imagined and now it’s like seeing it in real life from him OMGGF.. sorry I’m blabbing.

Rent a boyfriend 20.0 [lmk]

♪ Now playing- 200, MARK LEE

♪ music major!mark lee x f!reader (ft. Jaemin and Chenle)

♪ summary- You’re tired of the teasing—you get it, everyone’s in a relationship. And with the Valentine’s Party around the corner the taunts were getting even more unbearable. You didn’t mean to drag Mark into this…you really didn’t, but then he made an offer you couldn’t refuse: Help him get an A on his project, and in return he’ll be your date to the party—your boyfriend. It’s just a simple deal, no strings attached. No way this could get complicated… right?

♪ genre/warnings- fluff, slight angst, mutual pining, fake dating, misunderstanding, university au, kissing under the influence of alcohol, drinking, y/n’s friend group is kinda mean, mentions of sex.

♪ W/c- 14k+

a/n- hey guys! So wanted to drop a valentines fic.. hope you enjoy!

You sat at the table, surrounded by your friends, the only one who had no one to hold. You didn't mind being single, you honestly didn't, but it was moments like these when everyone paired off, giggling and leaning into each other that made it just a bit unbearable. Somehow there was something worse than the PDA though—the teasing. Anytime someone brought up relationships, all eyes would land on you, and an offhand comment about how single you were would always come up. Today was no different. The group had decided to plan a cute Valentines party, for some reason. 

"But how's that gonna work when not everyone in the group is in a relationship?" Jaemin said with a smirk. Immediately, every head turned toward you. You shrugged, trying to keep your face neutral, and picked up your phone, scrolling, trying to look unbothered.

"Y/n... Can you like- just get cuffed for Valentine's Day or something?" One of your friends teased, laughing as if the idea was ridiculous. You rolled your eyes and kept scrolling on Instagram, trying to ignore it. 

"She would never... Y/n could never get into a relationship." Chenle spoke, his tone light, but it still stung a bit.

Your fingers froze mid scroll. You were so tired of being the target of their jokes. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

"Actually... I do have a boyfriend!"

Everyone's laughter stopped as they stared at you, clearly stunned.

"Oh really?" Jaemin asked, his eyebrow arching skeptically. "What's his name?"

Your heart raced as panic set in your body. You glanced down at your phone, searching for any kind of savior. Your thumb hovered over a random Instagram post, the username catching your eye: onyourm__ark. The name felt a little familiar, that could work.

"Mark." You said, looking up at them with a forced smile. "His name is Mark."

Jaemin tilted his head, his suspicion very apparent. "Mark?"

"Yeah." You replied, shrugging like it was no big deal.

"That's funny." Jaemin said, leaning back in his chair. "Why haven't I heard of this Mark character before?"

You froze again, you didn't really think this through before you spoke. Jaemin wasn't just anyone in the group, he was one of your closest friends. He knew almost everything about your life, and all of a sudden you have a boyfriend?

"I wanted to keep it a secret." You said quickly, scrambling for a believable excuse. "I didn't even know if he liked me back at first."

"Oh? So how'd you two meet?" Jaemin asked, clearly enjoying the way you got nervous from his questioning. It felt less like a conversation and more like an interrogation.

"In English." You answered, "We used to be in the same class, but we kept in touch after."

Jaemin narrowed his eyes, but then to your surprise, he nodded slowly. "You did mention a guy from your English class a while ago... I remember."

He did? You didn't remember saying anything remotely like that, but you weren't about to question it. "See? Told you." You said, forcing a laugh and rolling your eyes.

"Well, I'd love to meet him." Jaemin said, his tone still laced with suspicion. "Why don't you bring Mark to the next hangout?"

Your stomach dropped. "Okay, if that'll shut you up." You said, trying to sound nonchalant, but your hands tightened around your phone as Jaemin leaned back, a sly smile on his face. 

Internally, you were spiraling. You didn't have a boyfriend named Mark—or a boyfriend at all for that matter. What were you thinking? Now, you only had a week to figure out how to fix this mess before your lie caught up with you.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

You sat on your bed, phone in hand, trying to figure out what to do. You could always say that Mark couldn't make it to the hangout or that you had came down with the flu, but you knew your friends would see right through it. If they found out you were lying, you'd never hear the end of it.

Your thumb hovered over your phone screen as an idea struck you... Mark. Your freshman English class, Mark Lee, the guy you'd been paired with for a group project that lasted maybe a week. That was forever ago. You hadn't spoken to him in over a year, and you weren't even friends back then—just acquaintances. It would be so weird to reach out to him now, especially with such a weird request, but then again... what other choice did you have?

Your mind raced as you scrolled to his Instagram page, the username onyourm__ark staring back at you. You hesitated, typing out a message, deleting it, and typing it again. It had to be casual, like you weren't about to ask for the strangest favor of his life. Finally, you settled on something simple.

"Hey Mark, long time no speak. I don't know if you remember me, but we were in English together freshman year."

You hit send, your heart pounding. Seconds turned into minutes, and soon an hour had passed. Maybe this was a stupid idea. No, it was a stupid idea. You were already bracing yourself for the relentless teasing that awaited you when suddenly your phone buzzed.

"Hey Y/n, I remember you. How have you been? 🙂"

You nearly dropped your phone. Relief flooded through you as you scrambled to type back.

"I've been pretty good! What about you?"

His reply came almost instantly.

"I've been good as well. Is there any reason in particular that you're texting me? Lol, not in a rude way btw."

Your stomach flipped. He didn't sound rude, but the question made your request feel ten times more ridiculous. You stared at the screen, second guessing everything, but you were in too deep to back out now.

"Yeah... I'm sorry, but I have to ask you for a HUGE favor 😭🙏. Please hear me out."

"I'm all ears." He replied.

You hesitated again, biting your lip. This was beyond embarrassing, but then you thought about your friend's laughter and the endless teasing you would endure if this didn't work out. You had to at least try.

"So... my friends make fun of me because I'm the only single one in the group, and I got tired of it. I sort of... told them I had a boyfriend. Your post was on my feed, so I accidentally told them it was you. Now they don't believe me and want to meet you..."

You cringed as you hit send, practically feeling the embarrassment radiate off your phone screen.

Moments later, a new message appeared.

"LOL. Y/n this is crazy 😂. So, what? You need me to meet them and act like your boyfriend?"

"Yeah... that would be very, very awesome." You replied, your face burning with embarrassment.

"What do I get out of this? 🧐"

You stared at the message, trying to think of something. You were so desperate, you'd probably agree to anything at this point.

"What do you want...?"

"You have to pay for me at the hangout 🫡”

Ok, that wasn't bad. You could manage that.

"Deal." You replied.

"And you have to write my essay. I remember you're good at stuff like this."

You groaned. Yes you were good, but you hated doing it.

"🥲... Fine." You wrote back.

Before you could relax, another message came through.

"Wait, before I agree, can we at least meet in person first? Just to talk a little and figure things out."

He had a point. You couldn't exactly walk into this without a plan.

"Yes, of course." You responded quickly. 

"Are you free tomorrow... and do I have to pay for you then too?"

"I'm free tomorrow, and no, you don't have to pay for me tomorrow 😂." He replied.

You felt a small wave of relief.

"Ok, let's grab a coffee tomorrow at noon." You typed.

"Sounds good. I'll see you then."

You exhaled, setting your phone down. It wasn't a guarantee, but at least there was a chance this might work. Now, all you had to do was convince your friends.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The next day, you strolled into the café, your bag slung over one shoulder as you rushed inside. You spotted Mark sitting at a small table by the window, his beanie low over his head as he sipped from a coffee cup. He glanced up and smiled when he saw you, raising a hand in a wave.

"Sorry I'm late!" You said as you dropped into the chair across from him, setting your bag down with a thud. "Traffic."

"No problem, I just got here anyway." He said, giving you a lighthearted grin.

"Thanks for meeting me. I swear this isn't as crazy as it probably sounded over text."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "You told me you accidentally named me as your boyfriend to your entire friend group. That's... kind of crazy."

"Ok fine, maybe it's a little crazy." You admitted, leaning back in your chair. "They've been driving me nuts Mark. Every time we hang out it's like, 'Oh Y/n's still single? Maybe one day you'll find someone.' Ugh, I couldn't take it anymore."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "So your solution was to drag me into this?"

"Look, I panicked. Your Instagram post popped up on my feed, and I just blurted out your name, but now they want to meet you, and if I back out, they'll never let me live it down." You said, throwing up your hands.

Mark stared at you for a moment, but then he sighed, setting his coffee cup down. "You really hate losing, huh?"

"More than anything." You said, leaning forward.

He laughed, the sound genuine. "Alright, I get it. So what's the plan? Are we rehearsing some elaborate backstory or something?"

You waved him off. "Nah, that's too much work. We'll just wing it. They don't need the whole story of how we 'fell in love.' You're Mark, my boyfriend. We met in English, we reconnected, end of story."

"Wing it?" He repeated, his brows lifting in slight disbelief.

"Yep." You said confidently, sipping the coffee you ordered on your way in. "Is that okay with you?" 

Mark studied you for a moment, his gaze steady. "You're really something Y/n."

"What!?" You asked, shrugging with a grin on your face.

He shook his head, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. "You realize this could backfire, right? If they catch on..."

"Yeah, wait. You're right. We may have to come up with a plan." You interrupted, tapping your fingers on the side of your cup.

"Tell me about this group of yours." Mark said, leaning forward with interest.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking of how best to describe them. "Well, there's Jaemin one of my closest friends...he's the one who's been grilling me the most. He's super observant, so we really need to be convincing around him. Then there's Chenle. He's a little less... eccentric than Jaemin, but he's the one who made a comment, so... yeah, he's a problem too."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a fun crowd."

"They're not that bad." You said quickly, though you weren't sure if you believed it yourself. "The rest of them are less skeptical, but they'll still ask a million questions."

Mark nodded. "Okay. How long have we been 'dating' ?"

You paused. "Uh... let's say a month? Long enough to make it seem legit, but not so long that it's weird you're just meeting them now."

"Smart." He said. "And how did we meet?"

"Freshman English obviously." You said.

"Oh...right. What do I do for fun? If they ask, I don't want to say something totally weird."

You thought for a moment. "Well, what do you do for fun?"

Mark laughed. "Play guitar, hang out with friends, binge watch random shows. Pretty standard stuff."

"Ok, stick with that." You said, jotting it down in your phone's notes. "What about me? Do you remember anything about me?"

Mark tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "You were pretty quiet, right? I remember you always had your notes super organized though and had little drawings. You're good at writing and photography too."

"Wow, thrilling personality." You said dryly, but you couldn't help smiling.

"Hey, I like organized people." Mark said, flashing a grin.

You both laughed, for the first time since this whole mess started, you felt like maybe, just maybe, this could actually work.

Mark leaned back in his chair, his eyes playful. "So, when's the big hangout?"

"Next Saturday." You said. 

Mark paused for a second, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. "You're sure this is what you want to do?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I just need them off my back for one day. Then I'll tell them we broke up or something, and it'll all blow over."

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair beneath the beanie. 

"Alright...I'm in."

"You are?"

"I mean, how many people get to say they were someone's fake boyfriend? It's a good story, but— you're paying, and doing my essay." He spoke, raising his eyebrow. 

"Yeah— yes of course." 

"Then deal." He smiled, reaching his hand across the table. 

A bright smile painted your face as you reached across the table to shake his hand. "Thank you. You're officially the best."

"Don't thank me yet." He said with a laugh. "This could still go horribly wrong."

"Shh, shh." You said, waving him off. "Now, are you ready to charm the pants off my friends next Saturday?"

His eyes went wide as a nervous smile crept on his face. "I don't think that's part of the deal..." He joked.

"Mark." You laughed, grabbing your bag as you stood up. "We'll convince them." 

Mark shook his head, but the smile on his face lingered as he stood up as well. "Let's hope you're right."

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The cafe where your friends had decided to meet was full of chatter. You walked in with Mark by your side, your heart racing, though you'd never admit it. He looked surprisingly calm hands stuffed into his pockets as your arm was linked around his, beanie pulled low over his hair, a casual smile on his face.

"There they are." You muttered under your breath as you spotted your friends gathered at a large table near the back.

Mark glanced at you, his tone teasing. "You ready... babe girl?"

You stopped dead in your tracks, turning to glare at him. "Babe girl? Really?"

He smirked. "What? I thought it sounded cute."

"It sounds ridiculous." You said, but you couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. "Corny and ridiculous."

"Guess it's our thing now." He said, a quirky smile on his face.

"Absolutely not." 

As you approached the table, the chatter stopped, and all eyes turned to you. Jaemin leaned back in his chair with a smug grin. "Look who finally decided to show up, and with a plus one!"

"Hi." Mark said with an easy smile, lifting a hand in a small wave. "Nice to meet you all."

"Mark huh?" Chenle said, giving him a suspicious look from head to toe "So you're real."

"Very real." Mark said, his grin never falling.

"Well, don't just stand there. Sit down, we've got questions." Jaemin said, motioning you both to the empty chairs.

Mark glanced at you, eyebrows raised. "Interrogation already?"

"Oh, absolutely." You said, plopping into a seat. "Good luck."

He laughed and took the chair beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table.

"So..." Jaemin began, leaning forward. "How'd you two meet again?"

"English class." You answered quickly.

Mark nodded, picking up without missing a beat. "Yeah, freshman year. She was the only person in the class who didn't make me feel like an idiot during group projects."

You shot him a look, trying not to break character. "That's because you weren't an idiot."

Jaemin squinted, clearly searching for holes in the story. "How long have you been... together?"

"A month." Mark said smoothly.

"Uh huh..." Jaemin said, dragging out the syllables. "So that means you're okay with coming to the couples Valentine's party next month, right?"

Mark blinked, glancing at you. "The what now?"

Jaemin's grin widened, sensing an opportunity. "The party, didn't Y/n tell you? It's just for couples in the group, which is all of us, right? It'll be fun— cookie decorating, gift exchanges, all that good stuff."

You felt your stomach drop. Of course he'd pull something like this.

"Who even wants to spend Valentine's Day with a group of people when you're dating someone? That doesn't even make sense." You turned to Mark, hoping he'd follow your lead. "Right Mark? Wouldn't you only want to spend time with just me on... that... Valentine's Day?"

Mark hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah, right. I would want to spend it alone with my girlfriend, not in a group you know? Really though, I appreciate the invitation." He shot you a glance before looking back at Jaemin.

Jaemin, still grinning leaned in. "I mean, the party isn't all day, only a few hours at night. You two can spend it together alone pretty much."

"I mean... well. That's really when I want to be alone with her... at night." Mark said, his ears turning red as the group collectively reacted. Jaemin's eyebrows shot up, his smirk widening and Chenle let out a low whistle.

"We can move the party earlier since you two lovebirds want the night alone." Jaemin teased. "We really want you guys there."

"Jaemin, just drop it." You said, rolling your eyes.

"I was talking to Mark, Y/n." He replied, dismissing you.

Mark's easygoing demeanor stiffened slightly as he shot Jaemin a look. "Don't talk to her like that dude." Then after a quick glance at you he continued. "Look man, I really appreciate it and everything, but she wants to spend Valentine's alone, so we're gonna do that... all day." His said, his voice softening.

"Well damn," Chenle muttered into the awkward silence. "and we thought Y/n accepted the invitation."

Your patience finally snapped. "Okay! We'll go, goodness me." You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.

"We will?" Mark asked, blinking at you and scratching the back of his head.

"Yes, we will." You answered quickly, shooting a glare at Jaemin, who looked far too pleased with himself.

"That's great." Jaemin said, his smugness radiating off him.

You exhaled sharply before turning to Mark. "Now babe... Mark, can we please leave?" Your voice dripped with frustration.

Mark bit back a laugh. "Sure thing... babe girl." He sucked in his breath slightly, bracing for your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes, but couldn't stop the small giggle that slipped out. "Ridiculous." You said, shaking your head. 

Mark stood, offering the group a small wave. "It was nice meeting you guys."

"Nice meeting you too Mark." Jaemin said, clearly entertained. "Hope we can all get together before the Valentine's party."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"Bye guys." You added, throwing one last glance at Jaemin before turning and walking out, Mark right beside you.

As soon as you stepped outside you let out a deep sigh. "Mark, I'm seriously so sorry. They're typically not like this."

He laughed, hands in his pockets. "Nah it's okay, I swear. I'm just more worried about how we're gonna show up to this Valentine's party."

Your stomach dropped. "Oh fuck Mark. I panicked—I didn't even realize."

He smirked. "Yeah, I noticed."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "It's fine, I'll just tell them we broke up or something."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good to me."

A brief silence passed before he glanced at you. "Now, if you don't mind or anything... do you wanna grab a real lunch?"

You blinked at him before breaking into a smile. "Yeah that sounds good... like our break up hangout." You giggled.

He chuckled. "Yeah, something like that."

You paused. "I'm not paying for you." You looked at him with squinted eyes. 

Mark scoffed. "I guess not." 

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The two of you sat at the table, the world outside fading as you talked and ate, lost in conversation. There was something surprisingly natural about it—like you'd been friends forever.

You swirled your drink absentmindedly before slipping in a question. "So, like... what do you do?"

Mark blinked, then grinned. "Oh... I'm a music major. So... make music, I guess?"

"Oh that's sick. So you just write music for class? That sounds fun... and easy." You teased, raising an eyebrow.

Mark scoffed, shaking his head. "It's not actually. Right now, we're starting a project where we have to tie music and cinematography together. It's due in like a month.

You tilted your head, thinking. "So, February 7th? That's such a long time."

"Mhm, that's not even enough time." He said, nodding seriously.

"You'll be fine, it's easy." You waved him off.

"And it's summer." He shot back.

"What?" You asked, furrowing your brows.

"Oh, I thought we were lying about things." He said with a cheeky smile.

"Mark, please." You giggled, shooting him a playful glare.

Still smirking, he leaned back. "Alright, since my major is so 'easy', what's yours?"

"Digital Art and Media." You replied.

Mark's eyebrows lifted. "That's why it's easy for you, you do photography and digital art."

"I only took one photography class, relax bud. I'm not an expert." You said, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Yeah, whatever. More experience than me." He said, playfully rolling his eyes right back.

"Yeah, yeah."

Time slipped away unnoticed. What was meant to be a quick lunch turned into two hours of laughter, and playful conversation. You hadn't even realized how long you'd been sitting there until you glanced at the time and your stomach sank.

"I'm so sorry Mark, but I have an assignment due that I have to do." You said, frowning.

He gasped dramatically. "Wow, you need better time management."

You scoffed. "Yeah? Well, I guess time passes when you're having fun with someone."

The words left your lips before you could process them. The moment hung between you for a split second too long before Mark's grin widened, his cheeks rounding.

"Yeah... that's true."

You cleared your throat, shaking the moment off. "We should definitely do this again... but, you know, as regular friends." You shot him a bright grin as you stood up.

Mark nodded quickly, standing up beside you. "Yeah, no, yeah... totally." He smiled, but there was something in his expression.

"Well, I had fun. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, see you later." His gaze lingered as you waved and walked away, feeling lighter than before.

Hours later, you were deep in your assignment, tackling it with as much focus as you could. The only problem? You'd made the grave mistake of leaving your phone off Do Not Disturb.

It buzzed. Once... twice, a few unimportant messages. Then, one caught your eye, a familiar username.

@onyourm__ark

Your fingers hovered over your phone. You needed no distractions, but the message was simple.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Curiosity won.

"Yeah, what's up?" You typed back.

His response came almost immediately.

"Do you like... actually need me to go to this Valentine's party thing?"

You bit your lip, considering. "Would you? What would you want in return?"

The three little dots popped up. Then:

"Well... your major is like really really cool... and exactly what I need for my project. So, could you help me with the project over the month? If I get an A, then I'll go with you."

You tapped your fingers against your desk, thinking. 

"Hmmm... that's a good deal actually."

Before Mark could even finish typing a response, you sent another.

"Eh, that's too much work though. Look, I'm currently working on something right now... my classes are hard this semester."

His reply was immediate.

"Oh... I thought it was so 'easy.' 😂"

You groaned, shaking your head. 

"Yeah, when that's your only class. I appreciate the offer, but I can't. I'll just tell them we broke up lol."

"Ok ok... good luck with them."

"I'll manage.🫡"

You put your phone down, determined to get back to work, but your mind kept drifting. You didn't even know what the project fully was, you could at least hear him out... right?

With a sigh, you hesitated before unlocking your phone again, opening your messages with Mark.

"So like... what's the project? What do you have to do?"

This time, the response came instantly. Almost like he had been waiting for you to ask.

"I have to make a song and record a music video for it."

Your eyes flicked over the message. 

"So just videography, and text work?"

"Not even... the song doesn't have any lyrics, so just videography."

You chewed your lip.

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"It sounds like someone's changing their mind👀... I hope."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. 

"Perchance."

"Say yes, say yes, say yes."

You sat there, staring at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You weren't actually considering this, were you?

...Maybe you were.

"Ok, fine."

His response was immediate.

"YESSIR!"

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"Let's meet up sometime next week and get started, if that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, that's perfect."

You locked your phone and leaned back in your chair, exhaling.

This was going to be... interesting.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

It was the next week, and you two finally met up at the park.

"Y/n!" Mark called out, waving you over with a bright grin.

"Mark!" You waved back, jogging slightly to meet him.

The two of you sat on a wooden bench, its surface worn smooth from the weather. The cold seeped through your clothes, but the excitement of finally starting the project kept you warm.

"So, what's the plan for this music video?" You asked, tucking your hands into your pockets.

Mark exhaled, his breath visible in the cool air. "Well, I want it to be naturally focused—kind of like me being out and about. Then I also want to show my process—like me writing and recording the music, you know?" His gaze flickered to you, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold.

You nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, that sounds sweet. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yep! I even brought the camera with me." He reached into his bag and pulled out a silver camcorder, a Spider-Man keychain dangling from the side.

You couldn't help but smile. "Oh, that's cute."

Mark chuckled, spinning the keychain between his fingers. "I haven't used this thing in ages though... let me make sure it's working." He flicked it on, the lens whirring softly as it adjusted. Without warning, he turned it toward you.

"Say hi Y/n." He prompted.

You straightened up, flashing a peace sign at the camera. "Hi hi, hello!"

Mark grinned behind the camera. "We're here with the super duper awesome Y/n."

"In the flesh." You responded, throwing up two rock hand signs.

Mark laughed. "In the flesh?" He turned the camera toward himself, raising an eyebrow.

You smirked. "We have a hater here guys." You motioned for him to hand over the camera, and he did so with an amused expression.

You turned the camera around, focusing on him. "Look at this hater. Super duper hater Mark."

"In the flesh." He said expressionless, before glancing at you to catch your reaction.

You scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes as you turned the camera to frame both of you in the shot. "Alright, and with that... this test video is over." You smiled, locking eyes with Mark for a beat before looking back at the lens.

After stopping the recording, you both huddled together to watch the clip, laughing.

"Is this the type of video you're looking for?" You asked, glancing at him.

"Yeah, basically. This is awesome." His smile was wide and genuine.

"Great." You mirrored his smile, the warmth between you two making the cold a little more bearable.

A gust of wind rustled through the trees, and Mark tucked his hands into his sleeves before glancing at you. "Do you want to grab some lunch or something? It's on me."

You raised an eyebrow. "Free lunch? Why would I pass on that?"

Mark laughed, standing up and stretching before leading the way. The two of you walked to the familiar cafe where you always met, slipping into your usual routine without much thought. After ordering you found yourselves at your regular table, the conversation flowing as effortlessly as ever.

You set your cup down and leaned forward. "Wait, this would be a great shot." You reached for the camera, and Mark passed it to you without hesitation.

You turned it on, panning it toward him as he casually picked up his cup, taking a slow sip.

A giggle escaped you from behind the camera, and Mark's gaze flickered up. He smirked, trying, and failing, not to laugh.

"Wait, wait." He said, holding out his hand. "Let me capture my POV."

You handed the camera back, and he immediately started recording. First, he zoomed in on his cup, then moved to some of the food on the table, narrating dramatically.

"Here we have... a masterpiece." He slowly panned upward, the lens landing on you.

A small smile played on his lips as he held the camera steady. "Working on the project. This is the same day as the test recording, but who cares?"

You made an awkward face at the camera before sticking your tongue out playfully. "Documenting history." You teased.

Mark chuckled, lowering the camera slightly. "I think this might actually turn out great." He admitted, glancing at you.

You met his gaze, something lingering between the two of you.

You agreed softly. "Yeah, I think so too."

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

You had been recording with Mark for about two weeks now, always keeping the shoots outdoors, but today was different. Mark said it was time to capture one of the final stages—him recording it. For that, he invited you over to his apartment.

You of course agreed. It was part of the project anyway, but what surprised you was realizing that his apartment was only about a ten minute walk from yours.

Taking advantage of the convenience, you decided to walk there, stopping by a store on the way to grab some supplies for a separate project you needed to work on while Mark was busy. As you waited at the checkout, a small Spider-Man figurine caught your eye. Something about it reminded you of Mark—probably that old keychain hanging from his camera. With a small smile, you grabbed it and added it to your purchase.

Soon, you were standing outside his door, a small brown paper bag in hand. You knocked, shifting on your feet as you waited.

The door swung open, and Mark greeted you with a bright smile. "Hey Y/n!"

"Hey Mark." You smiled back, stepping inside and slipping off your coat and shoes.

His apartment was cozy, a subtle scent of coffee and something faintly citrusy in the air.

"This place is nice." You commented as he led you toward his studio room.

"Aw, it's nothing." He said calmly, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

You stepped into the music room, immediately noticing how it felt both chaotic and comforting. Wires across the floor, tangled yet somehow purposeful. Instruments leaned against the walls, and scattered notebooks were filled with what you assumed were unfinished lyrics. It wasn't pristine, but it felt real—lived in.

"Sorry for the mess." He said sheepishly, tidying up a few papers.

"No, it's cute. I like it."

He paused at that, looking at you for a moment longer than necessary, a small genuine smile tugged at his lips as he let out a soft giggle. "Thanks..."

You cleared your throat, settling in. "So, you have some finishing touches to do?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I just need to tweak a few things, then record. You can work on your project while I do that—I'll just set up the camera to capture everything, if that's cool?"

"Of course, do your thing." You assured him.

Mark adjusted the camera on its stand, making sure it had a good angle before grabbing his guitar and plopping down on the couch.

"I hope the noise isn't too distracting." He said, glancing at you.

"No, you're good." You gave him a reassuring smile before pulling out your supplies.

As you sorted through the contents of the bag, you came across the Spider-Man figurine. You hesitated for a second before looking up.

"Oh uh, Mark?"

He immediately looked over, giving you his full attention.

"I got you a little something. I saw it at the store and thought of you." You pulled out the figurine and held it up, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes widened slightly before a grin broke across his face. "Oh my god!" He took it from your hands, examining it like it was the coolest thing in the world. "This is literally my favorite... thank you so much."

You laughed at his enthusiasm. "Yeah, yeah, you're welcome."

Mark immediately ran over to the camera, crouching in front of it with the figurine. "Look at this super cool gift Y/n gave me. Isn't it epic?" He held it up proudly, his smile contagious.

You shook your head, watching him with amusement.

"Everyone say 'Thank you Y/n.'" He continued, turning the camera toward you.

"Thank you Y/n." He said in a lighter voice. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but smiled. "You're welcome guys."

Mark turned the camera back to himself. "But wait, what is Y/n working on? We've been stuck on me when we have a hardworking creative genius over here."

You lifted the almost finished postcard you had been making. "Well guys, I just have to make some postcards."

"Ooo, pretty." He said in his high pitched voice again.

You smirked. "Wait—me or the postcard?" It was meant to be a lighthearted joke, but Mark answered instantly.

"Both."

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off, but he just grinned at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Clearing your throat, you turned the postcard over in your hands. "You know, why am I even making this? My major is digital design."

"Crazy wonders of the world." Mark said, raising an eyebrow dramatically.

"I know right?" You giggled.

"Wait, hold up the postcard." He said suddenly.

You obliged, holding up the small card that was a sunset over the city skyline.

Mark placed the Spider-Man figurine in front of it, adjusting the camera's angle. "Spider-Man Mark in Y/n's pretty city." He moved the figure as if it were walking.

"Pretty Spider-Man Mark in Y/n's regular city." You corrected teasingly.

"Ah, that's not true. It's not regular, nothing you do is regular."

You turned to him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Mark immediately panned the camera toward you, catching your reaction.

"Guys, did you hear that?" You asked, smiling.

"I think they did... uh oh. I've been caught." He said dramatically.

Laughing, you shook your head. "Alright, alright, let's get back to filming."

Mark sighed, setting the figurine aside. "Okay, I'll finish recording my song. Back to boring me."

"No, I should be recording this part." You insisted, spinning around in his desk chair. "That's literally the point of the project."

"It's fine—"

"Nope." You stood up, grabbing the camera and plopping onto the bean bag in front of him. "Alright, let's hear it."

Mark adjusted himself on the couch, strumming a few simple notes at first as you zoomed in slightly.

"We want to hear the song!" You said in a high pitched voice behind the camera.

Mark looked up, straight into the lens. "Guys, you have no say in this."

"Hey! Don't talk to them like that. We all want to hear the song... you must oblige."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, all of you?"

"Yes." You nodded, keeping the camera steady.

"Well... I guess that means I have no choice." He sighed, dramatically adjusting his posture. Then his expression softened. "Alright. Here goes."

As he began playing his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the melody. The notes filled the room, smooth and rhythmic, but when he opened his eyes again, they didn't go to the camera— they went straight to you. Suddenly, he stumbled. "Wait—I'm nervous when you're looking at me play... turn the other way."

"What? How am I supposed to turn away? I'm literally filming. If you suck, just say that." You teased.

Mark groaned. "That's not fair."

"Fine, fine, I'll close my eyes." You smirked. "You're lucky I'm talented and can record with my eyes closed."

You heard him chuckle before he started playing again and this time, he didn't stop. The music wrapped around you, soothing you into a quiet rhythm as you swayed slightly.

When you finally opened your eyes you smiled. "Wow... you're good."

He set the guitar down. "Me? Nah."

"You're definitely better than me." You admitted.

"Wait—you play?"

"Barely."

"Give it a try."

"Oh no, no, no—"

"Oh yes, yes, yes."

And before you could argue, he was handing you the guitar and taking the guitar from you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You hesitated, staring at the guitar now resting in your lap as you glanced up at Mark, who was grinning.

"Mark, no. I can't." You said, shaking your head.

"Yes, you can." He countered, adjusting the camera to make sure it was still recording. "If you guys want Y/n to play say, 'Play Y/n.'" He turned back to you with a teasing smile.

"Play Y/n." He said in that high pitched voice again.

You groaned, pointing at the camera. "You guys are traitors."

Mark beamed. "You must listen. You must oblige, right?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight your own smile. "Fine, but I'm telling you I suck."

"It's okay, take your time." He reassured, watching you expectantly.

Taking a deep breath, you positioned your fingers awkwardly on the strings, recalling the few chords you knew. You strummed slowly, hesitant. The sound wasn't smooth—it was a little choppy, a little messy, but you pushed through, playing a simple tune you vaguely remembered.

As you focused on the guitar, you felt Mark's gaze lingering. When you glanced up, he was watching you with a small smile.

"Okay, I'm done." You announced quickly, placing the guitar back on your lap like it was some kind of dangerous weapon.

Mark clapped dramatically. "That was good!"

"Mark, do not lie to my face right now."

"I'm serious!" He leaned forward. "Better than some people in my classes, I swear."

"Right..." You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes.

"I'm not lying! It takes practice." He insisted. "You're the best in my eyes, okay?"

Before you could process his words, he gently took the guitar back from you and placed it across his lap.

"You'll get better, it's all about growth." He continued, casually strumming a few quick chords.

"Oh, now you're just showing off."

He grinned. "No I'm not, stop."

You shook your head, still smiling, before glancing at the clock. It was getting late.

Mark must've noticed too because his fingers slowed on the guitar. "You should probably head home soon, huh?"

You sighed. "Yeah... probably."

A beat of silence passed between you, filled only by the faint buzz of the camera still recording. Neither of you moved right away.

Then Mark stood up abruptly. "Wait, let me walk you home."

You blinked. "Mark, it's literally a ten minute walk."

"So?" He shrugged, grabbing his hoodie off the back of the chair. "It's dark out."

"I'll be fine." You reassured him, standing up and stretching.

"Still, I wanna make sure." He smiled at you.

You held his gaze for a moment before exhaling in defeat. "Fine, but if we get jumped you better be ready to fight for your life."

Mark laughed as he grabbed his keys. "Don't worry, Spider-Man got you."

As you both stepped outside into the cool night air, walking side by side under the streetlights, you found yourself stealing small glances at him.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The familiar ding of Mark's apartment buzzer echoed as you rocked back and forth on your heels, hands stuffed into the pockets of your hoodie. Moments later, the door swung open revealing Mark in a black hoodie and sweatpants, hair slightly tousled like he'd been running his hands through it.

"Y/n! My favorite editor has arrived." He said with a teasing smirk, stepping aside to let you in.

You rolled your eyes, stepping inside and kicking off your shoes. "Flattery will not make me do extra work Mark."

"Damn...worth a shot."

He led you into his workspace, where his laptop was already open, the editing software pulled up on the screen. A few loose papers and a notebook was scattered across the desk. You settled into the chair, rolling up your sleeves, ready to finish what had been weeks of filming and late night texts about clips and transitions.

As Mark settled onto the couch behind you, tuning his guitar absentmindedly, your eyes drifted to the notebook lying open beside the keyboard. The title at the top caught your attention.

200

Your brow furrowed as you skimmed the first few lines.

"Hey, what's this?" You asked, fingers brushing the edge of the page.

Before you could read any further Mark was suddenly there, reaching over your shoulder and snapping the notebook shut in one motion.

"Nothing—just a project for another class." He said quickly, his voice a little too casual.

You arched a brow, turning in your chair to look at him. "Oh yeah? What class?"

He blinked. "Uh—songwriting."

You smirked. "You're a bad liar."

"I am not lying." He countered, crossing his arms, but the way he avoided your gaze told you otherwise.

You let it slide—for now. "Fine Mr. Songwriter. Let's get back to the actual project before we run out of time."

He exhaled in relief, moving back to his spot on the couch as you clicked through the footage. The two of you worked, laughing over bloopers and trimming clips.

After a while, Mark leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of the chair. "Hey, so... I wanna learn how to add text to videos."

You glanced at him. "Oh?"

"Yeah, like... just in case I ever need to make a music video by myself." He explained, his voice dipping slightly.

You smirked, already sensing where this was going. "You mean in case I'm not around to do it for you?"

He grinned, not even denying it. "Exactly."

You hummed, clicking through the editing software. "Alright, pay attention."

Mark pulled his chair up beside you, leaning in way too close as you navigated the program. You felt the heat of his gaze more than once, but you pretended not to notice—until you did.

"You're not even looking at the screen." You said, turning toward him.

"I am." He defended, but his smirk gave him away.

You huffed, placing your hand on the mouse. "Watch closely."

You leaned in to type and in the process, your knee brushed against his. Instead of moving away, Mark just smirked slightly, shifting even closer.

"So, you click here to add a text layer." You explained, voice steady despite the way your skin tingled. "Then you can choose the font, size, and animation style."

"Mmm, what if I want it to fade in all smooth and cool?"

"Then you'd go to transitions and—"

You clicked the wrong thing.

A bright pink, curly font popped up on the screen, reading: SUPER AWESOME Y/N IS THE BEST.

Mark burst into laughter. "Ohhh, I love that...perfect title."

You groaned trying to fix it, but he grabbed your wrist gently. "Wait, wait. Keep it."

"Mark, no."

"Mark, yes." He teased, his fingers still lingering on your wrist. "It's only fair, you are super awesome."

You shook your head, deleting the text despite his protests.

You both finished the editing, but before you could say you were done for the night, Mark stretched with an exaggerated groan.

"You know what? You should stay for dinner." He said casually.

You blinked. "What?"

"Stay for dinner." He repeated, standing up. "I'll cook."

You raised a suspicious brow. "You cook?"

He scoffed. "First of all, rude. Second, yes."

You crossed your arms, pretending to consider. "Mmm, free food... and potential food poisoning?"

Mark clutched his chest dramatically. "Wow, you wound me."

You laughed, standing up. "Fine, fine. I'll stay, but if I die I'm haunting you."

"Deal." He said, heading to the kitchen. "Now sit back, relax, and prepare to be amazed."

You settled onto a stool by the counter, watching as he pulled out ingredients. To your surprise, he actually seemed to know what he was doing, chopping vegetables with ease, humming under his breath as he worked.

"So, what is your specialty Chef Mark?" You teased, resting your chin in your palm.

He grinned. "Tonight? Stir-fry."

As he cooked, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about music, future plans, dumb childhood stories. At one point, Mark wiped his hands on a towel and reached over to poke your cheek.

"You always do that when you're focused." He pointed out.

"Do what?"

"That little frown." He mimicked, scrunching his brows.

You rolled your eyes, swatting his hand away. "I do not—"

"You do." He countered, turning back to the stove with a smug smile.

Dinner was surprisingly delicious. As you ate, the conversation slowed, settling into something quieter.

"You know." Mark started, twirling his fork. "I'm kinda sad this project's ending."

You glanced up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He met your eyes. "It was fun having you around. Working on something together."

You felt warmth spread through your chest. "Yeah... it was."

Mark hesitated before adding, "We should do it again sometime."

You smiled. "We should."

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You and Mark had finally decided to take a break from all the work, choosing a laid back hangout where you didn't have to worry about editing, filming, or anything productive. Not that it ever felt like work, anyway—not with him.

The two of you strolled down the sidewalk, warm coffees in hand. Laughter spilled from your lips as Mark animatedly told you some story, his voice light and his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold.

"Wait, wait... so you're telling me he actually tried to—"

"Y/n?" A familiar voice cut through your laughter, making you pause mid step.

You turned toward the sound and immediately spotted Jaemin approaching, his usual smug grin plastered across his face. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his coat, but his sharp eyes flickered between you and Mark, already scanning for... something.

"Jaemin... Hi!" You greeted, putting on your best casual smile.

Mark lifted his hand in a small wave. "Hey man."

Jaemin's smirk deepened as he reached you both, tilting his head slightly. "Feels like I haven't seen you in forever." He said, his gaze still shifting between you and Mark, clearly analyzing.

"I know right?" You chuckled, shifting on your feet. "I've just been, you know... busy with my boyfriend." You emphasized the word, nudging Mark slightly with your elbow. He played along instantly, nodding in agreement with a small smile.

"Ahh, right." Jaemin said, dragging the words out as if he were testing how it felt on his tongue. His expression remained unreadable, but the skepticism in his eyes was unmistakable. "You guys look... closer than ever."

"Well, yeah." You replied, flashing a polite smile. "That's sorta what happens when you date someone."

Mark let out a quiet chuckle beside you, sipping his coffee.

Jaemin squinted at the two of you, lips pressing together like he was trying to piece something together. The silence stretched just a little too long before he finally let out a small hum.

"Hmm. Yeah, you're right."

"Well." You started, eager to end the interaction before Jaemin could get any ideas. "We're gonna get going—"

"Wait."

Your heart sank just a little.

Jaemin grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "We miss you." He said, looking directly at you. "Why don't you and Mark stop by this Saturday? Hang out with everyone... you know, like the old times."

That smug expression on his face told you that declining wasn't going to be easy. You opened your mouth to politely decline, but before you could get a word out Mark beat you to it.

"That sounds fun, right babe?" He said smoothly, turning to you with a warm smile that almost looked genuine.

You blinked at him.

"Yeah, totally." You managed, forcing a smile back as you turned to Jaemin. "We'll be there."

Jaemin took a step back, satisfied. "Great! Just don't break up before then or anything."

Mark let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, we're good man."

Jaemin hummed again, still looking just a little too suspicious for your liking. "Kay... see you then."

With that, he finally walked away leaving you and Mark standing there in unison. You both let out a synchronized sigh.

"That was..." You trailed off.

Mark shook his head, smiling slightly. "I can see why you'd be scared to date someone...he's scary."

You laughed. "I'm not scared of him."

Mark raised a playful brow. "You sure? He had you real close to sweating back there."

You rolled your eyes. "I just think it's annoying."

Mark smiled, but then as if something weighed on him, his expression stiffened just a little. He glanced down at his coffee, rolling the cup slightly between his hands. "Seriously though... why don't you date anyone?"

You hesitated for a moment before exhaling through your nose. "I just don't want to." You shrugged. "I feel like relationships don't last. They start great, then fall apart."

Mark's gaze softened. "What makes you feel that way?"

You pressed your lips together for a moment before answering. "Just... a past relationship. It didn't work out, and honestly I don't think it's worth trying again. I'd rather just be by myself."

Mark didn't say anything right away, but you could tell something shifted in his demeanor. His usual playfulness dimmed just a little, like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he should.

Finally, he offered a small smile. "Well... I get it I guess. If you don't try again, you won't ever know though."

"Then I guess I'll never know." You replied simply.

Silence settled between you, not awkward, but thick.

Mark looked down at his phone, biting his lip. "I should probably head out."

"Oh, okay." You said, nodding as you adjusted your coat.

He hesitated for a second before flashing his usual easygoing smile. "I'll see you this weekend, yeah?"

"Yeah... see you then." You said, forcing a small smile back.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

When you arrived at the hangout together, arms casually brushing, laughter slipping easily between you, no one batted an eye. You were affectionate without forcing it, leaning into each other, whispering small things that made no sense to anyone else, it felt effortless.

As the night wore on someone suggested a drinking game—Truth or Dare, with shots.

The group quickly agreed, the buzz of alcohol already making everyone a little looser, a little bolder.

"Drinking Truth or Dare?" Mark asked, raising a curious brow as he turned to you.

"Yeah, we do it all the time." You replied, already a bit tipsy, your tongue a little looser than it should be. "You don't have to if you don't want."

Mark smirked. "No, I want to."

And with that, the game began.

The first round started with a collective shot to get things going. The group quickly fell into a rhythm—questions growing more personal, dares becoming more ridiculous.

Then it was your turn, and your gaze flickered over to Jaemin.

"Jaemin." You said, a slow smirk creeping onto your lips. "Truth or dare?"

He leaned back casually, but cocky. "Truth."

You twirled your shot glass between your fingers as a sinister thought grazed your mind. "Is it true you've been thinking about breaking up with your girlfriend?"

The air tensed. Jaemin's easygoing expression fell for just a second, his jaw clenched.

"Y/n, what the fuck? No." His voice was sharp as he reached for another shot and downed it in one go.

You shrugged, unfazed. "I was just curious. You always made fun of me for being single so... this is ironic, isn't it?"

Jaemin exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Okay, I've got a truth for you then Y/n."

You raised a brow, taking a slow sip of your drink. "Fine, hit me."

His eyes darkened just a little, his smirk twisting into something sharper. "Is it true that the reason you took this long to get into a relationship is because of how shitty your ex treated you—that you tolerated for months?"

The table went quiet.

You felt your stomach twist, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, refusing to let the weight of his words show on your face. "Jaemin, please."

Jaemin shrugged like it was nothing, but the tension between you two was thick. This happened often, your tipsy back and forths, but tonight it was different.

"Okay Y/n. Truth or dare?" Chenle's voice cut through, attempting to redirect the conversation.

"What? I just went." You said, shooting him a look.

"Go again." Chenle pressed, his gaze locked on you.

You sighed, deciding it was better than letting Jaemin's words linger. "Fine, dare."

A slow grin spread across Chenle's face. "Alright, I dare you and Mark to do seven minutes in heaven."

You blinked. "What, are we teenagers? Seven minutes in heaven?"

Mark turned to you, his expression unreadable, but amused.

"You picked dare." Jaemin's voice cut in. "You have to do it."

"Jaemin, hush." Chenle muttered, shooting him a look.

You sighed dramatically before standing. "Fine, whatever. C'mon Mark."

Chenle led you to a small, dimly lit closet, shoving you both inside before closing the door behind you.

The space was tight—so tight that your knees brushed his, your shoulder pressed into his chest. A dim, flickering light illuminated the space, casting soft shadows on Mark's face.

"Wow, this is kinda snug." You murmured, shifting slightly.

Mark let out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah... sorry, my hand kinda hurts. Do you mind if I...?" He gestured vaguely, and you understood immediately.

"Go ahead." You said, letting him wrap his arm around you to ease the angle.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the sound of muffled voices outside the only thing filling the space, then Mark spoke.

"You know..." His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. "You're more than what you've had in the past... no matter what Jaemin says."

You stilled, no one had ever said that to you before. You turned to him, meeting his gaze in the dim light. His expression was softer than usual. Without thinking, you reached forward and pulled him into a hug.

"I appreciate you so much Mark." You whispered, your arms tightening around him.

His breath hitched slightly before he returned the embrace. "I appreciate you too."

When you pulled back, you were still close—so close that your breaths mixed, your faces mere inches apart. Mark looked at you, his gaze flickering down to your lips. Before you could process it, he leaned in.

And you let him.

The kiss started slow, tentative, unsure—before something in both of you snapped. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him. The kiss deepened, your fingers tangling in his hair, his grip tightening just slightly as if afraid you'd pull away.

You made a soft noise against his lips, and it was all he needed to kiss you harder, more desperately.

He broke the kiss for a second, looking at you with glossy eyes as you both caught your breaths. Before you could lean in, there was a knock on the door.

You both froze, your lips slightly parted, your breaths uneven.

Chenle's voice came through. "Alright, time's up."

You swallowed, pulling away fully. Mark's ears were flushed pink, his chest rising and falling just as fast as yours. Without a word, you reached for the doorknob and stepped out.

As you both took your seats, the air between you had definitely shifted. You avoided looking at Mark, but every time your eyes accidentally met, you couldn't help but smile. It was stupid, but something about it made your whole body feel light. Jaemin, of course was the first to notice.

"What, did you guys fuck or something?" He asked, staring at the two of you.

"Cut it out." Chenle interjected. "If she's calm now, then you need to be— or do we need to send you to the closet?"

You let out a small giggle at that, shaking your head.

Jaemin scoffed but let it go, leaning back in his seat. "Whatever." He said "She knows I love her." He said, quietly.

Something in his tone made you pause for just a second, but before you could even unpack that your eyes flickered back to Mark, and just like that, the rest of the room faded.

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February 7th – The Day the Project Was Due

The moment you woke up, you grabbed your phone and texted Mark.

"It's the day!"

It didn't take long for him to reply.

"Yep."

You smiled, quickly typing out another message.

"Have you turned it in already?"

"Yep."

You paused for a moment, his short responses making your fingers hover over the keyboard. Maybe he was just busy... maybe you were reading too much into it.

"And you told me that everything should be graded by the 12th?"

"Mhm."

Your stomach twisted slightly, this wasn't like him. Usually Mark was more responsive, more animated. Right now, his texts felt distant, dry. You tried to shake the feeling.

"Well... good luck. I'm scared for you 😭."

"Thxs."

That was it... just thxs?

Something felt off, you couldn't quite put your finger on it—maybe it was the lack of emojis, or the way you were imagining his voice flat and indifferent.

You hesitated before typing:

"... Are you okay?"

"Yep, I'm cool."

You frowned.

"You sure?"

"Yep."

There it was again. The same short response.

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, but you decided not to push. If something was wrong, he'd tell you.

"Um... okay. Anyways, do you want to meet up for lunch today? I'm reallyyyy craving a sandwich right now."

A moment passed before his reply came in.

"I can't today... sorry."

Your stomach twisted again, but you forced yourself to brush it off.

"Oh... that's fine. I'll talk to you later."

You sat with your phone in your lap, waiting—hoping he'd text first like he usually did, but the hours passed, and there was nothing. No check-ins, no requests to hang out. Something didn't feel right. Just radio silence.

You sent a few more texts over the next few days, but his responses were slow and repetitive.

"Not today, sorry."

"I'm busy, maybe later."

"Sorry, can't."

Days blurred together, and before you knew it, it was February 12th. You grabbed your phone, barely able to contain your anticipation.

"Today's the day... I'm nervous... excited."

Mark's reply came a few minutes later.

"Lol yeah."

You hesitated. His texts still felt off, but you pushed the thought aside.

"Make sure to update me!"

This time he didn't even respond with words. He just liked the message. Your stomach sank slightly, but you told yourself it was fine... maybe he was just stressed.

You waited all day, checking your phone every few minutes, but the message didn't come until late—almost 11 p.m.

"So... I got a B."

You blinked at your screen, rereading the message. A B? After all the work you both put in?

"WHAT?" You typed back, your frustration evident.

"Yep."

You knew he had wanted an A. That was the whole deal, if he got an A, he'd go to the Valentine's Day party with you.

A small pang of disappointment settled in your chest as you hesitantly typed:

"Aw man, does that mean you won't go to the Valentine's party with me?"

A pause.

"Well... A deal's a deal. So no."

You frowned, staring at the screen. You knew it was silly to be upset—after all, this was fake and yet... it still kind of stung.

"Aw :("

"Sorry man."

You sighed.

"Nothing for you to be sorry about. We worked super hard... your professor will get knocked off their feet next time... swear."

"Yeah haha."

The conversation felt like it was ending, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"I hope you're okay?"

A moment passed before he replied.

"I'm fine."

You stared at his response for a moment before liking the message. That was that, The deal was off... no party, no fake date. Just like that, your arrangement was over. And maybe... maybe it was for the best.

Right?

You were half asleep when your phone buzzed again. Groggily, you reached for it, expecting it to be some random notification, but it wasn't.

It was Mark.

"I mean... are you still going to the party?"

Your eyes widened slightly. You sat up, rereading his message just to make sure you weren't dreaming.

Your fingers moved quickly.

"Probably, so I at least won't be alone on Valentine's Day 😂."

A few moments passed before he replied.

"You don't have to tell them we broke up and all that... maybe just say I'm sick or something."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Then they're gonna be expecting you to go to future couple things. Might as well tell them we broke it off now."

A pause.

"Ah... yeah, right. Sorry."

You sighed.

"No need to be. This was bound to happen anyways. We can't fake it all our life."

The words felt wrong as you typed them.

"Yeah."

And that was that. The end of the story, at least... that's what you thought. Until the day of Valentine's Day, when your phone buzzed again.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

You stared at the name on your screen. Mark.

A part of you had expected the conversation to end earlier, but here he was, still texting about it.

"Did you already tell your friends we broke up?" He asked.

"Well... yeah." You replied, faster than you intended.

There was a long pause. The three little dots popped up for a second, then disappeared. You swallowed, waiting for his next message.

"Damn it. My teacher just randomly curved my grade. So I'm at an A now."

The abrupt change of topic made you blink, but your fingers moved quickly across the screen.

"Omg, that's amazing. I'm proud of you. I know you wanted an A."

"Thank you, thank you—but what about you?"

"What about me?"

"I have to hold up my end of the bargain."

Before you could ask what he meant, another text came through.

"Is it too late to come to the party with you?"

You froze, rereading the words. Deep down, you were excited—excited to spend another moment with Mark, when lately the people around you felt a little unbearable. You knew you shouldn't be so eager, but still...

"I mean... I guess not. I do want to see the look on Jaemin's face when you walk in anyways. He's been taunting me and I haven't even seen him in person yet. You don't have to come though, I promise."

"A deal's a deal."

A small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips.

"Sounds great."

"Is there a dress code? Do you want to match or something?"

"I mean, that's up to you."

"I told you I was gonna be the best boyfriend they've ever seen... for that, you have to tell me how the best boyfriend is supposed to be."

"Just be you."

He saw it instantly. The typing bubbles appeared, then disappeared. You wondered what he was about to say but changed your mind on. Before he could reply, you sent another message.

"We have to meet up early so we can get each other gifts. "

"Yeah, for sure. I can come pick you up in about three hours, okay?"

"Sounds good to me."

You set your phone down, exhaling. Three hours.

Time slipped by faster than you expected, and before you knew it, there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, Mark stood there with his usual bright grin.

"Long time no see." You greeted, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

"Long time no see." HE echoed, his eyes flickering over you before landing on your sweater.

You followed his gaze, then looked at him.

"Oh, we're matching?" You asked, noticing the way his red sweater mirrored yours.

Mark chuckled. "Yeah. Great minds think alike, I guess."

"So, are you ready to go?" You asked, slipping on your shoes and shutting the door behind you.

"Yep." He said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

The drive to the store was filled with the usual back and forth, music playing softly in the background as Mark tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. Every now and then, you caught him sneaking a glance at you, but he never said anything about it so you didn't either.

"Okay." You said as you walked inside the store together. "We pick out a gift in five minutes, and no peeking at each other's choice until the party."

Mark let out a small laugh. "You think you can find me something good in five minutes?"

"Obviously." You smirked. "But you? I don't know Mark. I feel like you'll panic buy the first thing you see."

"Wow." He placed a hand over his heart. "That's the faith you have in me?"

"Prove me wrong then."

His eyes held yours for a moment, something unreadable flickering in them before he exhaled and nodded. "Alright, five minutes. See you at the door."

You grinned before spinning on your heel, heading straight into the aisles.

Mark found himself standing in front of a shelf filled with different gift options—some fun, some practical, some completely ridiculous. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing over at where you were browsing on the other side of the store. You looked so at ease, so sure of yourself. Mark? Not so much.

It wasn't that he didn't want to get you something—he did. Maybe a little too much. That was the problem. How was he supposed to pick something casual when everything in him wanted to get you something that meant more?

Sighing, he grabbed some crochet flowers off the shelf, inspecting it. It had to be just enough. Not too much, not too little. Just enough, plus, he remembered you saying something about roses in the past.

At exactly five minutes, you both arrived at the door, each holding a gift bag.

"Done?" You asked, tilting your head.

"Done."

You squinted at his choice. "Did you panic buy?"

He scoffed. "No faith. Absolutely no faith in me."

As you both headed back to the car, the air between you felt lighter. The slight hesitation in Mark's eyes was still there, but he was smiling—really smiling—and it made something in your chest warm.

By the time you arrived at the party, the house was already buzzing with music and laughter. Groups of people were gathered in the living room, some sprawled across the couches, others standing with drinks in their hands.

All eyes turned when you and Mark walked in together.

You felt it instantly—the shift in the room, the way conversations paused, the way Jaemin's smirk deepened as he leaned back against the counter.

"Well, well." Jaemin drawled, crossing his arms. "Look who decided to show up together."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't start."

Mark, to your surprise, just smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder with ease. "What? We always keep people guessing, right?"

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but said nothing.

You turned your head slightly, looking at Mark. His hold on you was relaxed, casual—like it was nothing at all. His fingers lightly pressed against your shoulder, and when you glanced up at him, there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. Maybe tonight was going to be more interesting than you expected.

The night unfolded in a blur of laughter and chatter, the energy in the room buzzing as the party carried on. At first, it was subtle—the way you and Mark naturally gravitated toward each other, always within arm's reach, but then came the couple's games.

Someone had pulled out a deck of "Couple's Challenge" cards, a ridiculous party game daring pairs to complete tasks together.

"You two are playing." One of your friends declared, shoving the deck into your hands.

You barely had time to protest before Mark shrugged. "Might as well." He said, flashing you a playful grin.

Your heart stuttered for a second, but you rolled your eyes. "Fine, ut if we lose I'm blaming you."

The first challenge was simple—"Hand holding for the next three rounds." Mark didn't hesitate. His fingers slid between yours, warm and steady.

"Easy." He murmured, giving your hand the smallest squeeze. You told yourself it was just part of the game, but the way your pulse quickened said otherwise.

The next challenge was worse.

"Whisper something sweet in your partner's ear."

You barely had time to react before Mark leaned in, his breath warm against your skin.

"You look really pretty tonight." He whispered, low enough for only you to hear.

You froze, heat rising to your cheeks as your grip on his hand tightened.

"That's cheating." You muttered.

He only smirked. "You gonna call a ref?"

Before the next round could start, someone announced: "Cookie decorating time!" and everyone quickly moved toward the kitchen, where trays of plain sugar cookies and bowls of colorful icing were laid out.

You and Mark grabbed a spot at the counter, picking up two cookies.

"What's the plan?" You asked, squeezing a tube of red icing.

Mark tapped his chin, thinking. "I'll make yours, and you make mine."

You raised a brow. "So we're setting each other up for failure?"

"That's the spirit." He teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him before getting to work. Five minutes later, Mark burst out laughing. "What is this?" He asked, holding up his cookie—a lopsided mess of icing with a poorly drawn smiley face.

"It's you." You said proudly.

"This looks like a crime scene."

"You're ungrateful."

"Let's see yours then." He slid his cookie toward you, and to your surprise, it was... actually kind of cute. A small heart drawn in icing, a little crooked but undeniably sweet. You blinked at it, warmth creeping up your neck.

"Not bad." You admitted, trying to sound unaffected.

Jaemin, still lounging across the room, clapped his hands together. "Alright." He said, his smirk widening. "Since we're all feeling festive—why don't we open gifts?"

The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but your heart skipped. You turned your head slightly, meeting Mark's gaze. His hesitation was brief, just a flicker, before he nodded.

"Guess it's time." He murmured.

The room was filled with scattered wrapping paper and laughter as gifts were exchanged, the warm glow of the fairy lights adding to the cozy atmosphere. One by one, people unwrapped their presents, each reaction bringing a new wave of excitement.

Finally, Jaemin leaned forward, smirking. "Alright lovebirds, your turn."

"Alright, alright." You said, reaching for the small bag you had picked out earlier. You handed it to him with a teasing smile. "Here you go. Try not to cry."

Mark took the bag, holding it up dramatically. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness what is about to be the greatest gift ever given."

Laughter erupted around the room, but you just rolled your eyes. "Oh my God, just open it."

Mark finally stuck his hand in the bag, pulling out a sleek, keychain shaped like his favorite guitar.

His eyes widened slightly before he let out an impressed whistle. "No way." He said, running his fingers over it. "How did you even find this?"

You shrugged, grinning. "I have my ways."

He twirled the keychain between his fingers before nodding in approval. "Alright, I'll admit it—this is actually sick." He turned to the group. "Thanks, really." He murmured, and for a second, his voice was softer, more genuine.

You felt your heartbeat stutter.

"Okay, okay." Jaemin interrupted, smirking. "Now, what did you get for her Mark? Better be good."

Mark grinned, reaching behind him and pulling out a simple brown paper bag. "Alright, I went with something classic."

You took the bag from him, curiosity bubbling in your chest. As you opened it, your breath hitched.

Inside was the bouquet of crochet roses, your favorite flower.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. "Oh my God... you remembered?"

Mark's smile softened. "Of course I did."

A collective "Aww" echoed through the room as you stared down at the roses, warmth spreading through your chest. It was such a simple gift, but it meant more than words could express. Before you could say anything else, Mark clapped his hands together.

"Alright, I actually have one more surprise."

Your brows furrowed. "Wait—what?"

He stood up, brushing his hands off. "I'll be right back."

The group looked around with curiosity as Mark disappeared down the hallway. Moments later he returned, carrying his laptop.

"Uh... can I hook this up to the TV?" He asked, looking toward Jaemin.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Yeah, go ahead man."

Mark quickly connected the laptop, and after a few seconds, the screen flickered to life. Your stomach flipped when bold white letters appeared on the dark background.

"200, by Mark... for Y/N."

Your breath caught in your throat and then, music started playing.

“First, you crashed into my life and you just broke, my roof and my window, girl, you had me shook—”

Your eyes widened in shock. It was the song you had found in his notebook. The one he had been working on, the one he had never let you hear.

Your heart pounded as the video started and suddenly, you were on screen.

The footage was a collection of moments—the two of you laughing during late night study sessions, joking around between takes for the project, him catching you off guard with his camera and you playfully shoving him away. The edits were smooth, timed perfectly to the beat of the song. You felt mesmerized as you listened to the lyrics.

They were about you.

Every verse, every carefully chosen word—it was all about the moments you had shared, about the way you made him feel, about the way he saw you when you weren't looking.

You barely noticed the people around you reacting. You were completely lost in the song, in the video. When a clip of you making a ridiculous face appeared you let out a soft laugh, covering your mouth. When the video cut to Mark recording you while you weren't looking, glancing at you, your heart clenched.

And then all too soon, the song ended.

The screen faded to black, and for a moment silence filled the room.

Jaemin just shook his head, muttering, "Wow." as everyone broke into collective "Aw's"

You turned to Mark slowly, your eyes shining. "You really did this... for me?"

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little sheepish. "Yeah. I mean... yeah."

You could only look at Mark.

And he could only look at you.

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When you arrived at Mark's apartment after the party, it was quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the heater as you stepped inside.

"You really learned how to edit lyrics for this?" You asked, shaking your head slightly as you set the bouquet down on the counter. "Mark, that was so thoughtful... really."

He glanced at you with a small smile, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Learned from the best... for the best."

His words made your stomach flip, but you ignored the feeling and nudged his shoulder playfully. "You didn't have to do all that for me."

Mark raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. "I told you I was gonna be the best boyfriend."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Well, you got a B, so you really went far and beyond."

For a split second, something flickered across his face—hesitation. His body stiffened slightly, and he averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well..." He trailed off, voice quieter. "She curved it... so I technically got an A."

You slowed your steps as you both entered his studio, brows furrowing. "Does your teacher provide feedback?" You asked, curiosity creeping in.

Without thinking he replied, "Yeah, of course."

Something about his tone made you pause. "What feedback did you get? I'm just wondering why you got a B in the first place. Not trying to toot my own horn, but the video was pretty nice... and the song—don't get me started, it was beautiful."

Mark let out a nervous chuckle. "Uh, yeah... haha. Sucks."

You narrowed your eyes. "Let me see it. I wanna read it."

Suddenly, he looked really nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Oh, uh—you wanna see it right now? My phone is dead, so we can't."

You turned your head toward the couch, where his phone was lying face up. Right on cue, the screen lit up with a notification.

Mark froze.

"You just got a notification." You pointed out, looking at him suspiciously.

His laugh was forced. "Oh, that's funny. Haha. Well, it's about to die..."

"Ah okay... but your computer's right there." You said, nodding towards his desk.

He followed your gaze, swallowing hard. His entire body tensed, and you could practically see the internal panic. Before he could come up with another excuse, you sat down in his desk chair and gestured at the laptop. "Just open it."

Mark hesitated. "Oh, I forgot my password."

You slowly turned back to him, deadpan. "Mark... What's wrong with you?"

He didn't respond.

"You're acting really weird, just open the computer."

His hands twitched at his sides before he finally moved forward, his fingers slightly shaky as he clicked onto the website to check grades.

"Log in." You said, watching him carefully.

Mark exhaled slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Are you sure you wanna see it?" He glanced at you briefly. "I just don't want your feelings to get hurt or anything."

"They're not." You said, glancing up at him.

He let out a dry laugh. "No, but they are."

You stared at him, your confusion growing. "Mark... just open it. I didn't sit here working on this project to not see what went wrong."

He nodded, pressing his lips together before finally typing in his username and password.

Incorrect password.

"Oops." He muttered.

You tilted your head. "Take your time."

He tried again. Incorrect.

And again. Incorrect.

"Mark." You said, your voice firmer now. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but then he suddenly stepped back, raking his hands through his hair in frustration.

You stared at him, concern creeping in. "Mark, what's wrong—"

"I lied." He blurted out.

"What?"

His jaw clenched. "I lied."

A heavy silence settled between you. You shook your head slightly, still trying to piece together what he was saying. "About what?"

He exhaled sharply, his hands still gripping his hair. "I lied about the feedback. I lied about the grade. I've lied about everything."

You felt your heart drop. "What are you talking about?"

His gaze finally met yours hesitantly. "I got a perfect score, okay?"

"Wait... why did you lie to me?" You asked, your voice was quieter now. "Did you not want to go with me or something? You know you could've just said that."

A flicker of panic crossed his face. "No, no—it's not that."

"Then why?" You pressed, your emotions starting to surface.

Mark swallowed hard, his usual easy confidence completely gone. He looked at you, his expression torn, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"Y/n, I can't."

Your chest tightened. "No, you can. You literally can. Are you playing with me right now?"

He quickly shook his head. "No, no—I swear I'm not. Please Y/n... I don't want to ruin anything."

Your lips parted slightly, hurt creeping into your voice. "You kinda already did." You turned to leave, your heart pounding, but before you could step out of the room—

"I like you."

You froze, your fingers curling slightly at your sides, your back still turned to him.

Mark swallowed hard before continuing, his voice softer now. "I've liked you this whole time... but this was all fake. And then you told me you didn't want a relationship, and I just—I didn't want to ruin anything."

Slowly, you turned to face him.

He looked wrecked.

"And then the kiss and everything was so... complicated." He went on, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know what to do, I was scared."

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

You exhaled shakily. "Do you know how unfair that is?"

Mark's brows furrowed. "What?"

You swallowed hard, your emotions rising to the surface. "I tried so hard to keep my feelings in check, to remind myself that this wasn't real. I told myself over and over again that I couldn't like you, but you... you were just lying to me the whole time?"

"Y/N—"

"What?" You said, a broken chuckle escaping your lips.

His gaze searched yours, uncertainty flickering across his face. "I—I didn't know you felt that way. You told me..." He trailed off, voice hesitant.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "I know what I told you, and I was so stupid for saying it."

Mark's eyes softened, studying you carefully, taking a step closer

"So... you do want a relationship?" He asked, his voice uncertain.

You hesitated, lips parting slightly. "I don't know." You admitted.

His face dropped slightly, just for a second—but before he could say anything you spoke again.

"Try asking."

Mark blinked, his frown fading as realization washed over him. Slowly, a smile tugged at his lips, cautious at first—then warm. He took another step forward, reaching for your hands, his fingers curling gently around yours. His touch was warm.

"Y/n." He murmured, voice softer now.

"Will you be my girlfriend? For real this time?"

Your heart swelled at the way he said it—so sincere, so hopeful. A slow smile spread across your face as you nodded.

"Yes. I will."

Before you could say anything else, Mark let out a breath of relief, grinning as he pulled you in—his hands slipping around your waist, yours resting on his shoulders, and then he kissed you.

It wasn't rushed or hesitant like before. His lips moved against yours with a mix of relief, excitement, and something deeper. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid to let go now that he finally had you.

You melted into him, fingers threading through his hair, smiling against his lips. When you finally pulled away, Mark rested his forehead against yours, breathless and grinning like an idiot.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, like, for real." He admitted.

"Well, now you can do it whenever you want."

His eyes gleamed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Mark hummed, brushing his nose against yours before pressing another soft kiss to your lips.

"Best. Valentines. Ever." He murmured against your mouth.

You laughed, pulling him closer. "Yeah. It really is.

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The group hangout was going great—laughter, drinks, and playful chatter filling the air as everyone lounged around in Jaemin's living room. You were curled up next to Mark on the couch, his arm draped casually over the backrest behind you.

Jaemin squinted at the two of you, tilting his head. "Something feels... different between you two."

You glanced at Mark before turning back to Jaemin with a playful smile. "Well, we just hit our one month anniversary."

Mark's gaze flickered to yours, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He smiled softly, playing along.

Jaemin blinked. "Wait, what?" He leaned forward, looking genuinely confused. "Hasn't it been like... three months since you told me y'all got together?"

You and Mark just stared at each other, expressions blank as the realization sank in. Mark was the first to recover, turning back to Jaemin with the straightest face and shrugged.

"Yeah, whatever." He said smoothly. "Time is an illusion."

Jaemin shook his head, chuckling. "Y'all are so weird. I don't get paid enough to deal with you two."

"You don't get paid at all." Someone added from the other side of the room.

"Exactly."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you turned to Mark. He was already looking at you, his eyes warm.

"Time is an illusion?" You teased quietly.

Mark tilted his head, grinning. "Hey, it got us out of that conversation didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. "You're ridiculous."

"You like it." He shot back, bumping his knee against yours.

And yeah—you did.

Jaemin's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "I still think something's weird about you two."

"Maybe you're the weird one." Mark countered smoothly.

Laughter rippled through the group again, the conversation shifting to something else. But you and Mark? You stayed in your little bubble.

Maybe time was an illusion, or maybe for the first time, it was finally moving exactly the way it was supposed to.

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