saythenametotheworld

[saythenametotheworld]

I just saw someone on tiktok say writing fanfiction is basically just playing with dolls….i can’t get that out of my head. We’re literally just playing with dolls in our heads and putting it on paper 😭😭😭

[saythenametotheworld]

You’re Not Sorry | l.jn (18+)

Being with Jeno was a whirlwind of dizzying highs and crushing lows, each moment burning brighter—and darker—than the last. Even with someone new, someone infinitely better, why does it always feel like every road leads back to him?

one | two | THREE | four | five

Genre: fwb to lovers, college au, smut Pairing: Lee Jeno x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), frustrating (lol sorry) Notes: 24k words. Part 2 of the Campus Confessions series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. This took too long. Sorry. Changed the premise halfway because that's just how it is, things change and it's okay. lmao. Song prompt was You're Not Sorry by Taylor Swift. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist:  You're Not Sorry by Taylor Swift, The Way I Loved You by Taylor Swift, toxic till the end by ROSÉ 

“You used to shine so bright, but I watched all of it fade.”

It was a beautiful sunny day when you first saw Lee Jeno. First day of uni, there were two queues in front of the freshmen registration booth, and he was standing in line opposite you. It was the sound of laughter from his loud group of friends that made people glance over instinctively, and you were no exception. You found yourself staring at him in particular—captivated by the way his crinkled eyes lit up his face, his cheeks lifting as he laughed. The weather made everything bright, but his smile somehow made the day feel more radiant. Warmth spread through you, a little thrill that felt almost embarrassing. 

When he caught you looking, your breath hitched. Instead of looking away like a normal person might, you stared right at him with widened eyes. You thought he’d find you weird for staring, but he just grinned wider—as if he’d just caught a fish on a line. Then he winked.

Your face heated instantly, and you turned away, suddenly finding your registration form interesting. But it was too late. The image of his smile, playful and radiant, burned itself into your memory.

You didn’t know him—hadn’t even heard his voice yet over the chatter of the crowd—but at that moment, you knew you liked him already.

You ran into him again at your first college party. The room was packed, music pulsing loud enough to make your chest vibrate, and bodies pressed together in a blur of laughter, sweat, and alcohol. You were just getting comfortable, a drink in your hand and your new friends—and housemates—Karina and Giselle by your side, when you spotted him across the room.

“His name is Jeno!” Karina told you when you asked if they knew him. “We went to high school together.”

“Lucky you,” you muttered absentmindedly, their words fading out with the rest of the world as your eyes focused solely on Jeno. 

He looked even better under the dim, colorful lights. His hair was perfectly tousled, his smile radiant and handsome as he laughed at something his friend said. The way his arms crossed over his chest made you stare at his muscles, wondering if they were as strong as they looked.

“Girl,” Giselle prompted, pulling you out of your musings.

“Yeah?” you asked, momentarily caught off-guard and embarrassed about being caught staring at Jeno.

Giselle narrowed her eyes playfully at you. “Do you like that guy?”

“Was I obvious?” you quipped, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Glaringly obvious,” Giselle replied, rolling her eyes and chuckling. “I’m gonna go this way. Will you be fine on your own?”

“Yeah. Where did Karina go?” you asked, realizing Karina was missing from your circle.

“Someone called her over. Probably her friends.” She tapped her red cup against yours. “See you later?”

“Later,” you replied.

You watched Giselle walk away and disappear into the crowd. And when you glanced back to where Jeno was, you were surprised to see him staring at you. In the few minutes that you took your eyes off him, his friends had disappeared. He was still leaning against the wall, nursing a drink with his gaze fixed on you.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, but you masked it with a slight tilt of your head and a sweet smile. You raised your cup in the air as a greeting. Jeno smiled back, pushing himself off the wall and making his way over—all confident and charming.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in just close enough to be heard over the music. His voice was warm and casual, and you were already hooked.

“Hi,” you replied, smiling back.

“Is it okay if I start by asking ‘what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a crazy party like this?’” he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

You chuckled lightly, genuinely amused. “Yeah, well, can I say ‘I’m just here for the drinks?’”

“Good answer,” he said, shrugging. You both laughed for a bit, before he asked again. “But seriously. I’d love to know what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a party like this?”

You shifted a little closer, enjoying the warmth of his words. “Maybe I’m here to see if I can find someone interesting to talk to,” you replied, your voice soft, playful.

His gaze flicked to your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again, a teasing glint in them. “Well, you’re in luck,” he said, voice lowering slightly, “because I’m the most interesting guy in this room.”

You hummed approvingly, smiling. “Confidence is a good look on you,” you teased, though the compliment felt oddly sincere as you met his gaze.

He was flirty from the start, throwing compliments and sly jokes that made you giggle. He leaned in closer as the night went on, his hand occasionally brushing your arm or resting lightly on your back. Normally, you might have found this too forward, but it was Jeno. He was hot, and you were tipsy enough to let it slide.

You didn’t even realize how quickly time passed until you found yourselves upstairs, away from the crowd, in a quiet corridor. His lips were on yours, hot and urgent, and your heart raced in your chest. Kissing Jeno was everything you imagined it would be, and more. It was surreal, and you couldn’t tell if you were heady because of all the booze you’d drank all night or because of the sensation of his lips against yours.

The door behind you slammed open, the sound like a gunshot that made you flinch. You turned just in time to see a girl storming toward you, her eyes blazing with fury. She grabbed your arm—not harshly, but firmly enough to pull you aside—and then, without hesitation, her hand landed on Jeno’s cheek.

The slap landed with a crack that echoed in the quiet hallway. Jeno’s head snapped to the side, but he didn’t move at all—smirking like he’d been expecting it.

“Asshole,” she spat, her voice shaking with rage. Then she turned to you, her expression softening for a brief moment. “Piece of advice? Don’t get played like I did. Stay away from this jerk.”

You barely managed a nod before she walked off, her heels clicking against the tile. Your heart pounded in your chest, loud and erratic, and you were acutely aware of Jeno beside you.

He didn’t seem fazed at all. Slowly, he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, his grin stretching lazily across his face. “Well,” he drawled, as if nothing had happened. “Should we pick up where we left off?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. Before you could respond—or even decide if you wanted to—Karina appeared at the end of the hall. Her sharp eyes darted between you and Jeno, her lips pressing into a thin line as she called your name.

“Jaemin’s looking for you,” she said, concern evident in her voice. “Let’s go.”

You didn’t argue. You let her grab your arm and steer you back downstairs, but your mind was spinning in a thousand different directions.

That night should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve taken the girl’s warning seriously. You should’ve let the slap—and Jeno’s shameless reaction—be the sign you needed to stay far away. But you didn’t. Instead, that moment cemented him in your head. His cocky grin, his calm defiance—it stuck, and you couldn’t shake it. 

From then on, you admired him from afar. The casual nods in the hallway, the fleeting smiles at parties, the way his laughter echoed like a siren call—they all fed your growing infatuation. Jeno didn’t make any effort to talk to you again after that night, like the whole thing had been nothing but a passing blip in his evening. Over time, through mutual friends, you learned more about him, and the picture of the nice, charming guy you’d imagined turned out to be false. Jeno was the apathetic type, and he was unapologetically a fuck boy.

But somehow, that didn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat every time his eyes met yours.

Sophomore Year, 20XX

When you returned from Spring Break in Aruba, you were forced to leave the cozy apartment you shared with Giselle and Karina. The building has been sold and will soon be transformed into a shiny new commercial office space. It was bittersweet packing up the memories, but you didn’t have time to dwell. The hunt for a new place led you to a small flat in a student-friendly area—convenient, affordable, and as you’d later learn, situated right next door to Donghyuck and Mark.

At first, living next to them seemed harmless. Mark was polite and friendly, always flashing you a bright smile when you passed each other in the hallway. Donghyuck, on the other hand, was a different story. Loud, shameless, and constantly trying to flirt with you. It didn’t take long for you to discover his habit of bringing random girls into their unit and you also discovered how thin the walls between units were.

The first night you heard it, you thought it was your imagination. You buried your head under your pillow, praying it would stop. You endured the next few times, but by the fourth time, you marched to their door, fuming. Donghyuck answered with a smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe like he’d been expecting you.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he greeted, dragging out the words while his eyes shamelessly roved you from head to toe—stopping at your breast.

You tugged your cardigan over your chest. “Can you please keep it down?”

He tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Keep what down?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you snapped, your cheeks heating despite yourself.

His grin widened. “Oh, that. Sorry about that, princess. I didn’t realize you could hear everything.” His tone was all mock innocence, and you could feel the heat rising in your face.

“Oh, shut up, Lee Donghyuck. For all I know, you’re doing it on purpose to annoy me,” you huffed, rolling your eyes and looking away.

Donghyuck leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Are you upset because you wish it was you in here with me?”

You blinked at him, stunned for a second before the irritation surged back. “Unbelievable.” You turned on your heel and marched back to your flat, his laughter echoing in the hallway behind you.

After that, you quickly learned that confronting Donghyuck was a waste of time. He seemed to take pleasure in riling you up, always twisting your words or throwing out some teasing remark that left you flustered and annoyed.

Eventually, you figured out his pattern—Donghyuck’s escapades only happened when Mark was out. You memorized the days Mark would go out to his part-time job, and those were the nights you made yourself scarce. Giselle’s place became your refuge. She didn’t ask too many questions, just handed you a pillow and let you crash on her couch.

“Why don’t you just report him to the landlord?” Giselle asked one time.

“I tried, but no other tenant complained about it so he said he couldn’t do anything,” you sighed, grimacing in annoyance. “I should probably just pray that Donghyuck would find a quieter hobby.”

So you became a regular guest at Giselle’s apartment. On one particularly rainy day, while in the elevator on your way to Giselle’s, you ran into Jeno. He had a cut above his eyebrows, his lip was split and there was dried blood at the corner of his mouth. His clothes were rumpled and he was looking worse for wear.

“Jeno?” you blurted out, your voice laced with concern.

He looked up at you and grinned, the same lazy, confident grin you’d seen so many times before, only now it was tinged with exhaustion. “Hey,” he said, his voice slightly slurred.

“Are you okay? What happened to you?” you asked, stepping aside as he boarded the elevator.

He shrugged, brushing off your concern. “I’m fine. Just—” Before he could finish, his knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground.

Panic surged through you. You crouched down, shaking his shoulder. “Jeno! Jeno! Hey, open your eyes! Stay with me!”

When he didn’t respond right away, you grabbed your phone, your fingers trembling as you began dialing for help. But before you could hit the call button, his hand shot up to stop you. He grabbed your phone and put it away.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “Just need... sleep.”

You leaned in closer, and that’s when you caught the unmistakable smell of alcohol on his breath. “Are you drunk?”

He groaned softly, then suddenly pulled you closer, his arm draping over your shoulders. “Here. Smell for yourself.”

You wrinkled your nose as you steadied him, confirming your suspicion. “Eugh,” you muttered.

Jeno chuckled, the sound low and raspy. “Seventh floor, unit 702.”

“What?”

“My passcode is 0-4-2-3,” he added, slurring slightly as he fought the urge to sleep. “Please get me inside.”

You reached his floor and unit, your steps hesitant but determined. You could’ve left him there, sprawled on his couch, but the sight of his bruises nagged at you. It felt wrong to walk away, especially when you knew you could help.

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” you asked, already scanning the room for it.

He gestured vaguely toward the bathroom. You went in, rummaging through drawers until you found it tucked under the sink. When you returned, you sat beside him, your hands steady but your chest tight.

“Sit up,” you said gently, patting his shoulder to guide him. He did, though the effort was slow. “This is going to sting,” you warned, your voice softer than you intended.

“Be gentle with me,” he teased with eyes half-lidded but still playful.

You smirked but didn’t respond, focusing on cleaning the dried blood from his lip, then carefully dabbing at the cut above his eyebrow. You winced when he winced, and you shushed him gently when he made any complaints. When you were done, you offered him a bottle of water you grabbed from his fridge.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking the water you handed while shrugging off his flannel jacket.

“Where do you keep your shirts?” you asked, noticing that his t-shirt was damp with sweat.

Before you knew it, you were rummaging through his drawers for something clean. When you pulled off his shirt, you met his gaze only to find him watching you with that lazy, crooked smile. “Are you taking advantage of a drunk and helpless guy?”

“In your dreams,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone light despite the heat rushing to your face.

“My dreams?” he repeated, his voice softening. His head tilted back against the couch, his eyes fluttering close. “Yeah, well... you do visit my dreams sometimes.”

You froze for just a second, unsure if he was serious or if the alcohol was talking, but before you could figure it out, his eyes were closed and his breathing evened out. He was asleep.

You stood to leave, but as you looked down at him, curled up on the couch, you found yourself lingering. He looked pitiful and somewhat cute curling up to fit on the couch. You could already imagine the body aches it would give him in the morning. Sighing, you gently tapped his shoulder. “You should move to your bed.”

Jeno groaned, half-opening his eyes. “Fine, doc,” he sighed, slowly sitting up and rubbing his face. He staggered to his feet and you followed, resisting the urge to offer support as he wobbled slightly while making his way to his bedroom.

You waited as he settled in, his expression softening when he finally relaxed. But as you turned to leave, you heard his voice calling your name.

“You’re leaving already?”

You stopped, glancing back. “Jeno—”

“Stay,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “Stay for a bit.”

You hesitated. “My friend is expecting me.”

“Is it urgent?”

“Not really,” you admitted, a little sheepish. “I’m just sleeping over like usual.”

“If it isn’t urgent, can’t you just stay? I’m a patient, you know.” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. “Don’t you need to make sure I’ll be fine?”

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, “If you’re gonna manipulate me, at least try harder.”

Jeno smirked lazily, his eyelids heavy. “I’ll practice next time. For now, just stay… please.”

You couldn’t resist. You sat down on the edge of the bed, but Jeno motioned for you to lie down beside him and you did. The bed dipped slightly as you settled in, the proximity making your pulse quicken.

For a few moments, neither of you moved. You stared at the ceiling, the quiet filling the space between you. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, wondering if he was really asleep. 

“Jeno?” you whispered, but he didn’t respond. Thinking you’d spoken too softly, you tried a little louder. “Jeno?”

His eyes fluttered open, and he smirked faintly. “I won’t be able to sleep if you keep calling me like that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why are you still awake?”

“Because it’s you,” he said, the teasing tone still there but softer. “I’m waiting for you to stop talking.”

“I was quiet the whole time, what are you talking about?” you defended, smirking. 

He didn’t say anything, and then silence stretched between you both, the kind that’s neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. You were feeling a little self-conscious, most probably because of the fact that you hadn’t seen each other for a while, let alone interacted closely since freshman year. Save for the occasional nods and half-smiles you’d thrown at each other every now and then, you never had an actual conversation with him since that party.

“What happened to you?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

He sighed, turning toward you. “Just a scuffle with some guys at the party. Nothing serious.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t cuckold some guy and get caught, right?”

His lips twitched in amusement. “Is that what you think of me?”

You shrugged. “I was just joking. Why? Do you care what I think of you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he rolled closer to you, locking his gaze with yours. Then, without warning, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“Jeno,” you muttered, but you didn’t pull away. “I’m going to report you for sexual harassment.”

He smiled lazily. “If you hate it that much, you’re free to go.”

But you didn’t move. There was something comforting about the calmness of the way he held you. For once, you didn’t want to overthink it. So, you stayed, letting the warmth seep into you, feeling the peace you didn’t know you needed.

The next thing you knew was waking up alone in bed. On the nightstand, the digital clock displayed time in bright red numbers: 09:10 pm. You slowly pushed yourself up, looking around the dimly lit room until your eyes landed on the slightly ajar door. You could hear the faint sound of what you assumed was video games from the TV. Jeno must be playing a game outside.

You felt your cheeks heat up, remembering how you fell asleep in his arms and lost track of time. Squeezing your cheeks together to clear your mind, rose to your feet and padded across the room. Then slowly, you opened the bedroom door wider, peeking at the gap to see what Jeno was doing.

He looked much better than he did earlier and his damp hair told you he had just taken a shower.

“You’re up,” he said, not taking his eyes away from the screen but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“And so are you,” you replied, clearing your throat as you stepped out. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Only now did you get a proper look of his apartment. It was bigger than your studio unit—a one bedroom apartment with a living room and a proper kitchen. The lack of decorations spoke volumes about Jeno’s personality. He had only a few necessary furniture and a TV. The cream-colored walls gave it a bright ambience though.

“I’d feel bad if I did,” said Jeno, his forehead creasing ever so slightly as he focused on his game.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” he chimed, finally sparing you a quick glance before his attention returned to the screen. “Thanks to you.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on the TV. The game was unfamiliar, full of explosions and rapid movements, but Jeno looked completely at ease as he played. “Well, then, I should go,” you said, reaching for your bag on the couch.

“Already?” He glanced at you longer this time, his brow lifting. “I ordered food for two because you probably haven’t had dinner yet. Don’t you wanna stay for that?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Giselle was probably expecting you, even if you hadn’t explicitly said you were coming. Wednesdays and Fridays were your usual nights there.

“It’s Chinese,” Jeno added, his tone light but persuasive. “I can’t finish it by myself.”

You shrugged. “Alright, then,” you said, dropping your bag back onto the couch.

Jeno’s grin was boyish, turning his attention back on the TV. You settled onto the couch beside him, pulling out your phone to send a quick text to Giselle. You told her you’d be late and to have dinner without you. Her reply came almost immediately.

My Gigi: good bcs i already ate lol

You watched Jeno’s thumbs skillfully navigate his controller, the vivid graphics on the screen doing little to distract you from the silence hanging between you. After a while, you decided to make conversation. “So, uh... what game is this?” you asked.

Jeno glanced at you briefly, then back at the TV. “It’s a shooter game. You pick a team, complete missions, and shoot the opponents from the other team. First team to find the treasure wins the game.”

“Oh,” you said, leaning back a little. “Sounds… fun.”

“Not into games?” he asked, his lips quirking into a faint smile.

“Not these kinds,” you admitted, watching the screen flash with explosions and fast-paced action.

He explained a few mechanics, but it flew over your head. You nodded occasionally, throwing in a hum or two for good measure. Still, your lack of interest must have been obvious because Jeno eventually chuckled and said, “Want me to turn it off? We can watch Netflix or something.”

You shook your head quickly. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Quietly, you sat there for a few more minutes, scrolling absently through your phone as he focused on the game. An explosion flashed on the screen, followed by a groan from Jeno when the words Game Over appeared. He set the controller down with a sigh, leaning back on the couch.

“You know,” you said, clearing your throat, “this feels… awkward. Was it always this awkward between us?”

Jeno chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t know. You and I never really got the chance to properly get to know each other.”

You forced a smile, though the memory of your first meeting burned vividly in your mind. “You’re right.”

His lips quirked into a teasing smile. “Probably because you were so quick to escape last time.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending not to follow. “Escape?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone light, but his gaze sharp. “Scared I’d play with your feelings like that girl at the party said I would?”

Your chest tightened at the mention of the party, but you quickly feigned confusion. “You still remember that?”

“You don’t?” he countered, his grin widening. “You really are something else. Broke a guy’s heart and forgot all about it. You’re hurting my feelings.”

You rolled your eyes, playing along. “Oh, please. Like someone like you could ever get their heart broken.”

“Hey, I’m being serious,” Jeno said in mock offense. “One moment, we’re vibing, and the next, you run away like I had the plague or something. If that doesn’t bruise a guy’s ego, I don’t know what does.”

“Poor baby,” you teased, smirking. “Did it hurt your pride?”

“Obviously,” he shot back, grinning. “My confidence hasn’t recovered since.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, recalling all the times you’d seen him get chummy with random girls since that party. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of girls inflate your ego since then.”

Jeno shrugged. “Doesn’t erase the fact that you broke my heart.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “It was your heart or mine, Jeno. I wasn’t gonna risk mine.”

“Right, but did you really have to run away like that? You didn’t even say goodbye,” he replied pouting.

“You’re distorting the truth. I didn’t run, my friend was looking for me.”

“Excuses,” he huffed, smirking. “Just say you stopped liking me. I understand. Some people are fickle and that’s totally fine.”

His words struck a nerve, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted, “I didn’t stop liking you, okay? Even after what she told me. But you didn’t come looking for me, so what was I supposed to do?”

You were quiet for a while, shocked at your own admission. Jeno’s gaze didn’t change—no surprise, no annoyance, no anything. He just sat there, staring at you with an unreadable glint in his eyes. As the air grew thick, your heart gradually quickened, spreading a familiar nervousness throughout your body—the kind that told you something was gonna happen.

Before you could even process the rush of emotions, Jeno closed the distance between you, pulling you into his arms. His lips found yours, and the kiss was intense—deep, urgent—the kind that left you lightheaded and excited. His body pressed against yours, and you could feel the growing tension, the undeniable need for more.

Your heart raced as his hands roamed to your hips, tugging with purpose, inviting you to move. With one swift motion, you straddled his hips, holding his face so you could kiss him properly. But it turned out that Jeno wasn’t one to yield control. He grabbed the back of your head, tilting it at an angle that allowed him to easily trail his kisses down to your jaw and neck.

You let him ravage your skin, loving the sensations his lips were sending through your body while grinding against his hard-on to give him something in return. You were ready for whatever came next. Everything about this felt like the moment you’d been waiting for.

But just as you thought you’d both lost yourself completely in the kiss, the doorbell rang.

The sound cut through the heated atmosphere, and you froze for a second, eyes wide with frustration. Jeno pulled back just enough to glance toward the door, not even masking the annoyance in his expression.

“Who’s that?” you asked, your voice low. Jeno turned to you, smirking as he pushed your hair behind your shoulder. He kissed you again, slowly and deliciously.

“Ignore it,” he murmured against your lips, his hands never leaving your body as he guided your hips against his crotch, seeking more friction. The kiss deepened again, and for a moment, you thought you might be able to forget the world outside that door.

But the bell rang again, persistent, annoying. Neither of you moved to answer, yet the sound continued, filling the silence between heated breaths. Finally, Jeno groaned in frustration, pulling away reluctantly.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, standing up from the couch and raking a hand through his messy hair.

You sighed, frustrated, leaning back on the couch and trying to control the rising heat in your body. He disappeared out the door, and you stared at the empty space, trying to calm your breath, frustrated but also amused by the timing. Of course, it would be now that someone would show up.

You didn’t think anything like this would happen, to be honest. But in retrospect, you should have known it was possible the moment you stepped into the apartment of a notorious playboy like Lee Jeno. You don’t hate it—no. You were just surprised at the turn of events.

The door opened again, and Jeno returned with a bag of takeout and a sheepish grin. He set it down the coffee table, gawking at you for a second before motioning to it. 

“Is now a perfect time for dinner?” he quipped, his tone light despite the heat still lingering between you.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between the food and him. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” you asked, your voice low, teasing.

Jeno smirked, stepping toward you with a confident grin. “You’re right, it’s a stupid question,” he said. Without another word, he scooped you up in his arms, effortlessly lifting you as though you weighed nothing. “I have my meal right here,” he added, his lips finding your neck as he carried you toward his bedroom.

The door to his room clicked shut behind you, and in that moment, nothing else in the world existed but the two of you.

“Hi,” Giselle greeted as soon as she opened the door, her gaze sweeping over you. “You did say you’d be late, but I didn’t know you meant super late.”

You took a deep breath, hesitating before stepping inside. Giselle tilted her head, her curiosity intensifying. “What happened? Donghyuck forgot to bone last night and gave you a peaceful Wednesday for once?”

“No,” you replied with a small laugh, brushing past her into the cozy apartment.

Giselle followed closely, refusing to drop the subject. “Then where were you? And what’s got you so flustered?”

You sank onto her velvet sofa, pressing your palms against your flushed cheeks. “If I tell you, are you gonna judge me?”

“Never,” she said, grinning mischievously.

Right, Giselle was never judgmental toward you. You raised an eyebrow. “I figured you wouldn’t. Karina probably would though.”

Giselle rolled her eyes, plopping down next to you. “Karina judges everything and everyone. Come on, spill.”

You groaned, covering your face again, the memory of last night flashing vividly in your mind. “I hooked up with Lee Jeno,” you said in one breath,

Giselle gasped dramatically. “No way!” she squealed, smacking your arm. “Are you serious?”

Before you could respond, a voice cut through the excitement, cold and sharp. “No fucking way.”

Your head whipped around to see Karina standing in the doorway, arms crossed with an expression of disbelief and disapproval. You chuckled nervously. “Kat. I didn’t know you were here too!”

“Tell me you’re joking,” Karina demanded, walking toward the sofa. She stood in front of you with her hands on her hips. “I knew you had a crush on him, but I didn’t think you’d actually pursue it.”

You exhaled, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your chest. “It just… happened. It wasn’t something I planned.”

Karina sat down across from you, her expression hardening. “Do you even know what you’re doing? Jeno’s bad news. He’s got a reputation, you know that, right?”

Giselle chimed in, leaning back with an easy shrug. “Oh, come on, Kat. They hooked up once.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, her voice skeptical. “Yeah, and you think she’s not gonna go gaga over him in the next few days? She’s like the biggest loser for Lee Jeno. We all know that.”

“Wow. I’m literally sitting right here,” you mumbled, sheepish. “And I’m not the biggest loser for him. I like him, that’s it. I didn’t chase after him or begged him to notice me. That’s what losers do.”

“Not the point,” Karina chided. “Jeno can’t stick to one girl for more than a week. You’ve seen it too.”

You frowned, gripping a cushion. “I know. I know. But like…” You shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt to… you know, see where this goes, right?” You glanced at Giselle, seeking affirmation.

“You’re absolutely right,” said Giselle.

Karina sighed, her expression softening just slightly. “Look, I get it. He’s hot, he’s charming, and he’s probably really fun to be around. And since you’re already in this situation, just don’t get too attached to him, okay?”

“She’s not wrong,” Giselle said to you, her tone gentler. “Jeno’s got his charms, but just keep your guard up, alright?”

You nodded slowly, taking in their words. “I hear you. I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” Karina said, standing up. “Because I really don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ later.”

Giselle nudged her, grinning playfully. “You would love to though, wouldn’t you?”

You giggled at Karina, who just rolled her eyes.

To say you started dating Jeno then would be a stretch. You weren’t dating, just hooking up. After the first time, Jeno asked for your number, adding in a request that you don’t ignore his messages. As if you would ever do that.

You didn’t text each other much, except at night, and it made sense given the nature of your relationship. Late-night texts turned into spontaneous meetups, the kind where you’d walk around the block and he’d invite you to his apartment with a lame excuse like, “Just wanted to hang out with you.” 

You’d barely make it past the doorway before his lips found yours, hands guiding you backward until the door slammed shut. Those moments were a blur of heat and urgency, your laughter muffled between kisses as he lifted you onto the counter or pressed you against the wall.

Mornings at his place became your new favorite thing. You’d wake up wrapped in his arms, his messy hair brushing your cheek as he mumbled something incoherent about breakfast. Sometimes you’d actually get up and cook together—well, more like you cooked while he stood behind you with his arms around your waist, insisting it was a ‘team effort’.

You didn’t go on dates—not that you were expecting to, but you did movie nights on his couch, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders as you both bickered over what to watch. Only for the movie to become a mere background noise to your vigorous activities.

A handful of times, you’d gone on random drives to nowhere, the city lights flashing by while he reached over to rest a hand on your thigh. And of course, the nights often ended with him pulling you close and whispering, “Stay over.”

Sometimes, you’d talk about parties and agree to meet each other at the venue. But you never went together, and it was alright with you. You were content with seeing him there, exchanging glances and cues, having small talk, and eventually ditching the party altogether to go back to his apartment.

“You sure you can wait till we get back to my apartment?” he asked as you were both heading out of a particularly rowdy party.

“Yeah.”

“We could just go upstairs. I’m sure there’s a vacant room somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes. “And fight with other couples over a room? No thanks. Besides,” you paused, just as you reached his car. You leaned on the car door, placed a hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek. “I think I developed a little phobia of making out with you at parties. Who knows which one of your girls would pop out of nowhere and land a sharp blow on your pretty face?”

Jeno chuckled slowly, leaning closer to plant a quick peck on your lips. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

You shook your head, smiling sweetly. “Never,” you said, pulling him into another kiss. Before it could deepen, you pushed him back. “Let’s go.”

He wasn’t just physical, though. He’d surprise you with snacks when you said you were too tired to cook or stay up with you during late-night study sessions, teasing you for your elaborate and colorful notes, saying you spent more time on them than actually studying. One time he insisted on cooking ramen for you at 2 a.m., standing shirtless in his tiny kitchen with bedhead and sleepy eyes, stirring the pot with one hand while holding you against the counter with the other. 

“Are you a pervert? Stop staring,” he teased when he caught you looking.

“I’m not staring,” you said, your eyes sweeping over his toned abdomen and arms. “I’m admiring.”

“Haven’t you had enough of it?” he asked and you replied with a shake of your head and a grin.

He just scoffed, albeit proudly. He then served the noodles and offered you the first bite after blowing on it. “Taste it first,” he said, as though he’d spent hours preparing it instead of ripping open a packet five minutes ago.

“Girl, is he like…” Giselle began, hesitating. Her brows knit together in mild concern. “...in love with you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “No. I don’t think so,” you replied quickly, the idea too far-fetched to entertain. “What made you say that?”

Giselle shrugged, tilting her head. “Honestly, I thought you guys were just hooking up. But you go on drives, cook together, take care of each other, all that stuff. It’s a bit too domestic and sweet.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked, your tone defensive without meaning to be.

“No, but fuck buddies don’t do that,” Karina cut in. She leaned back on her hands, smirking.

Giselle nodded, adding, “Yeah. Usually they just meet, hook up, and then go their separate ways.”

You scowled. “Really?”

“How do you not know that?” Giselle asked, bewildered, her eyes wide with genuine confusion.

You shrugged, crossing your arms. “How was I supposed to know that? It’s not like I was given some kind of fuck buddy manual.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Giselle laughed, shaking her head. “How long has this been going on already? I just know you broke his One Week Fling record.”

You grinned sheepishly, feeling both pride and coyness. “It’s been two months now.”

“Oh my god!” Giselle squealed, hitting your arm. “You go girl! Reform that man!”

You chuckled. “I don’t think I’m capable of doing that.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Karina said, nodding toward the distance. You followed her gaze and spotted Jeno heading your way, a takeout cup holder in hand. He greeted you with a quick peck on the cheek before offering a polite smile to your friends.

“Here,” he said, handing the drinks to you. You immediately recognized the logo of the coffee shop he’d taken you to once, where you’d spent an afternoon sharing stories over caramel lattes.

“Oh my god! Thank you!” you exclaimed, genuinely touched. “Please tell me you didn’t drive all the way there just to get these.”

Jeno shrugged, playing it off casually. “I was passing by this morning, so I figured I’d grab some since we haven’t been there in a while.”

“But it’s far… aw,” you said, your voice softening as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Share it with your friends,” he said, giving you a small grin as he straightened up. “Gotta go.”

You waved him off, watching as he jogged toward the main building. The warmth in your chest lingered until you turned back and found Giselle and Karina staring at you—Giselle with an amused smirk, Karina with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. He’s definitely in love with you,” Giselle said, breaking the silence.

Karina groaned, crossing her arms. “Don’t start, Gigi. You’re going to give her false hopes.”

“What? You saw it too!” Giselle countered, motioning toward where Jeno had just been. “That’s boyfriend energy. I don’t make the rules.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating. “He was just being nice. It’s not that deep.”

Giselle tilted her head. “Driving halfway across the city for coffee isn’t just ‘nice.’ That’s ‘I-like-you-a-lot’ behavior.”

You squealed, covering your flushed face with your hands. “Oh my god, stop!”

Your relationship with Jeno could be described as quiet affection. He wasn’t big on words, but his actions were loud enough—bringing you coffee when you had an early lecture, texting you random pictures that reminded him of you, and holding you close each chance he got. Still, there were no labels, no discussions about what you were. He’d never call you his girlfriend, but he’d kiss you like you were the only one who mattered, and hold your hand like it was second nature. It was confusing, but you told yourself it was enough.

Then there was Jeno’s jealousy. You never talked about it, and he never admitted it, but you didn’t need him to; the signs were obvious to you. When a guy from your literature class offered to walk you to the library, Jeno appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliding an arm around your shoulders and smoothly steering the conversation away. At parties, he often left you to have fun with your friends, only to whisk you away the moment some guy approached you to try flirting with you. Even Jaemin, your close friend of almost ten years, didn’t escape Jeno’s radar. He once stopped by your apartment while you were with Jeno. Though Jaemin was his usual friendly self, Jeno stayed uncharacteristically quiet until Jaemin left. 

Later, you reassured him with a laugh, “Jaemin and I have been friends since we were kids. He doesn’t see me that way, trust me.”

“Hmm? It’s fine. You don’t have to explain yourself. I don’t think that,” he had replied, but the way he refused to look you in the eyes while he said that was evidence enough of his lie. After that, Jeno seemed to be more at ease with Jaemin. He was surprisingly chill around him, even cracking jokes with him on the super rare occasions when you’d see them together.

But the one person Jeno couldn’t tolerate was Donghyuck.

Donghyuck was in several of your classes, and he had always—without fail—tried to sweep you off of your feet. From the moment you met him freshman year, he had been relentlessly hitting on you, though you always brushed him off. You knew he wasn’t serious; it was just his way of getting under your skin. Jeno, however, didn’t see it that way.

The first time was subtle—his jaw tightening as he watched Donghyuck lean in during a group conversation at a party. The second time, it was harder to ignore—the way Jeno placed his hand on your lower back possessively, his thumb grazing your skin as if to remind you who you came with.

It wasn’t just one incident with Donghyuck; it was a series of moments that began to grate on Jeno. At a party, Donghyuck had leaned against the wall beside you, his tone dripping with playful confidence as he asked, “Why do you keep running away from me? I’m starting to take it personally.”

You had laughed it off, casually pushing him away with a grin. “Because you’re the worst.”

Another time, in the cafeteria, Jeno had walked in to find Donghyuck sitting far too close, gesturing animatedly as he talked about some inside joke. You had rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed, but the sight still made Jeno’s stomach tighten.

Outside your apartment one evening, Donghyuck’s voice carried up from the sidewalk. “You know, if you ever get tired of the broody one—”

“Not gonna happen,” you cut him off with a glare, making it clear you weren’t amused.

Jeno had seen it all, these little moments that didn’t mean much to you but added up for him. He knew you weren’t encouraging Donghyuck, but it didn’t make it any easier to ignore.

Then, there were the smaller instances—the way Donghyuck lingered at your table in the cafeteria, cracking jokes that made everyone else laugh except you. Or how he seemed to magically appear whenever you walked out of class, always quick with a flirtatious comment.

The tipping point came one afternoon after class. You had just stepped out of the lecture hall when Donghyuck slung an arm around your shoulders, his usual grin plastered across his face. “You know,” he began, his tone dripping with mockery, “you should really stop playing hard to get. It’s getting embarrassing.”

“Get off me,” you retorted, rolling your eyes as you shrugged off his arm. “When are you gonna give this up?”

“Never,” Donghyuck shot back, leaning closer, his grin widening. “You secretly love the attention, don’t you?”

Before you could respond, a familiar hand reached out, pulling you gently but decisively away from Donghyuck. Jeno stepped in, his calm yet firm demeanor instantly changing the air. “Can’t take a hint, can you?” he asked calmly, but the sharpness of his gaze pierced Donghyuck.

Donghyuck raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin unwavering. “Relax, lover boy. It’s all in good fun. No need to get so worked up,” he chuckled and then stuck his tongue in his cheek.

But Jeno wasn’t amused. His only response was to place a steady hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the parking lot without another word. You glanced up at him as you walked, his jaw clenched and his gaze fixed ahead.

The car ride back to his place was tense, the silence stretching out uncomfortably. When you arrived, you expected him to drop it, to shrug it off like he always did. As soon as the door closed, and you’d seated yourself on his couch, Jeno turned to face you. “Why don’t you just tell him you’re not interested?” he asked, his frustration barely contained.

You blinked at him, surprised by his directness. “I do. Every single time.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Jeno said, stepping closer. “Why don’t you tell him—and every other guy—that you’re not available?”

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “Because I can’t,” you said softly.

“Why not?”

Your gaze dropped to the floor. “Because I can’t say I’m taken when I’m not. I can’t claim you like that because I don’t know if you want to be claimed.”

Jeno’s expression softened, but his voice was still firm when he asked, “You think I’d want to see other girls?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted quickly, finally looking up at him. “We’ve never talked about it, and I didn’t want to assume.”

Jeno exhaled, his frustration melting into something gentler. He sat on the couch next to you. “I haven’t been seeing anyone else. Not since… this.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you saw the same flicker of realization cross his face.

“Have you?” he asked, his voice quiet now.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I haven’t even thought about it.”

Jeno smiled as he pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you with a satisfied hum. He cupped your cheek and pulled you into a kiss. It was soft at first, but as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened. It grew more urgent, more intense, as if something inside both of you had finally snapped into place. The heat between you intensified, and every soft touch seemed to ignite something inside you.

He pulled away, just enough to breathe, the tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear.  “You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I was starting to think I’d have to fight Donghyuck for you.”

You let out a laugh, heart still beating wildly from the kiss. “Who do you think would win?”

“Me,” he replied without hesitation, his grin returning. “Easily.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, your heart fluttering at how easily he could lighten the moment. Jeno’s expression softened as he looked into your eyes, his smile fading into something more earnest. 

His next words were quiet, sincere. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You paused, your heart racing again as you processed everything—the kiss, the shift between you two, this question. He was asking in a way that felt as if he wasn’t sure if you’d say yes. Shouldn’t he know by now that you had been his ever since the first time he brought you into his apartment?

Still, you were glad that he asked. You nodded, a smile pulling at your lips. “Yes.”

Jeno let out a relieved breath, the tension leaving his body. He kissed you again, but this time it was slow, and sure. Jeno’s hands were gentle, almost reverent as he cupped your face. His breath was warm against your skin, and for a moment, everything else disappeared—no Donghyuck, no uncertainty, no nothing, just the quiet rush of the feeling building between you two.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you gasping for air, the world still spinning around the edges of the bubble you had created.

“I want you,” Jeno murmured, his voice rough but steady.

He’d never said it like that before. You met his gaze, searching his eyes for any trace of doubt. Instead, you saw something raw, something real—desire, affection, and certainty.

You cupped his cheek in return, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “For fuck’s sake, Lee Jeno. I’m already yours.”

Jeno shifted, his hands finding the hem of your shirt and carefully tugging it over your head. There was no rush, no urgency. This wasn’t a hasty decision—it was a choice, something deeper than just physical desire. As he undressed you slowly, each piece of clothing falling away, so did the walls between you, and you felt more exposed than ever.

When he gently laid you back on the couch, his lips trailing down your neck, a soft shiver ran through you, making your heart flutter in anticipation. Every touch, every kiss, felt like a quiet devotion, and you couldn’t help but give in completely.

The late afternoon light poured softly through the window of Jeno’s bedroom. You were lying on the bed beside him, watching as his eyes remained glued to his phone. His expression was one of intense concentration—the furrow of his brows, his lips slightly pursed as he stared at whatever was on the screen.

You tilted your head, studying his face as if you hadn’t already memorized it by heart. He looked so handsome when he was focused, so effortlessly captivating. It made your heart skip a beat. But still, what’s so interesting about that video?

You peered at his screen and found that he was watching a replay of some football game. You let out a dramatic groan and fell back onto the bed, feeling frustrated. Jeno glanced sideways at you, but only briefly.

You then squeezed yourself in his arms, resting your chin on his abdomen and drumming your fingers on his chest to get his attention. Jeno shifted to accommodate you, but his eyes never left the screen. With a sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the tiny mole under his eye. When he didn’t react, you kissed it again—this time with a little more insistence. And again. And again, until you heard him exhale, finally peeling his eyes away from his screen.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice low and amused as he set his phone aside and pulled you closer.

You grinned, poking the beauty mark with your index finger. “I heard about a legend that says your mole is the spot where your soulmate liked kissing you in your past life.”

Jeno’s lips twitched upward as he hummed in response. “Was it you? The soulmate who kept kissing me there and gave me this mole,” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Was it you?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes as you moved to sit up. “Probably not. But do you believe it?”

Jeno shrugged casually, shifting onto his side so he was face-to-face with you. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you back toward him. “Not really. I was raised Catholic.”

“Ah, so no past lives?” you asked, laying back on the bed.

He nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I’m religious or anything.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “If someone like you is religious, then I must be a saint.”

Without missing a beat, Jeno squeezed your butt cheek, making you yelp in surprise. “You think I’m promiscuous?”

“Aren’t you?” you shot back, laughing as you tried to squirm away, but he gave your ass another playful slap. “Stop that!” you laughed, swatting his hand away.

Jeno’s grin only widened as he leaned in, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He caressed your jaw, and then tilted your chin so he could kiss you. “I’m feeling promiscuous right now.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes again. “And I’m feeling sleepy. Go back to watching your football game or something,” you replied, turning on your other side.

Jeno tugged you back in his arms, finding the spot on your waist where you were the most ticklish. The sound of your giggles and laughter echoed through the entire apartment as the sun continued its descent and its light filtered through the curtains to paint the room in beautiful hues of yellow and gold.

Your days with Jeno began to blur into a routine, one you fell into so easily it felt as though you’d been together for years instead of weeks. Every morning, he’d pull into your driveway, flashing that lazy, boyish smile as you hopped into his car. The drive to campus was often filled with shared playlists and laughter, your fingers intertwined with his on the gearshift.

Lunches weren’t planned but always felt inevitable. You’d wait for each other outside lecture halls, silently deciding that you’d eat together. Some days, it was quick meals at the campus cafeteria, sharing fries and teasing each other over bad food choices. Other days, you’d escape to the backseat of his car, balancing takeout boxes while rain tapped lightly on the windows. 

Then there were the drives. With no destination in mind, he’d take the wheel, and you’d go wherever the roads stretched out before you. Sometimes, you’d stumble upon a charming little café with mismatched furniture and the aroma of freshly baked pastries. Other times, you’d park by the lake, sharing stories, making out in the backseat, and just letting the hours pass in each other’s company. Those unplanned moments became your dates, spontaneous and perfect in their own imperfect ways.

It was in the little things, too, the intimacy shared in moments outside the bedroom. The way his hand always found the small of your back when you walked into a room. How he’d absently twirl a strand of your hair while you talked. The way he’d kiss your forehead before he left, even if you were half-asleep and wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

But Jeno wasn’t perfect, and neither was the relationship. He had no idea how to be a boyfriend, and it showed in ways that left you reeling in frustration and anger.

“Why didn’t you text me back?” you’d demand, voice trembling with frustration after waiting hours for a reply.

“Relax. I was busy,” he’d say casually, as if that excused everything. “It’s not like I’m glued to my phone all day.”

And every time he was late—ten, fifteen minutes, sometimes an hour—you’d bite back your irritation until it boiled over.

“Do you even care?” you’d shout during one argument, the sound of your voice echoing in his car. “If you cared, you’d be on time!”

“At least I showed up, didn’t I?” he’d counter, his jaw tight with defensiveness. “And the event hadn’t even started when I arrived.”

“It’s not just today, Jeno. This happens all the time!” you’d insist, your palm flying to your forehead at how frustrating it was to argue with him.

The fights were loud, dramatic, and exhausting. The worst ones were after university events or  parties when you were ready to leave, but he wasn’t.

“You could’ve driven me home,” you snapped one night, pacing in his room while he sat on the edge of his bed. “Is that really too much to ask?”

“You were safe, weren’t you?” he argued, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “What’s the big deal?” He didn’t understand. He never did.

And yet, every fight seemed to pull you closer rather than push you apart. When the anger subsided, his apologies came in whispers and kisses that left you breathless. You’d find yourselves tangled in each other’s arms. It was always the same. His hands would find yours, his lips pressing apologies into your skin until the frustration melted away, replaced by a fire you couldn’t resist—a pull so magnetic that all protests seemed to fail. Maybe the way he liked you—imperfect, messy, but consuming—was the only way he knew how. And there was an odd beauty to it, something that kept you drawn to him. Love, probably. A love so consuming it left no room for doubt—only the certainty that, for better or worse, you were his, and he was yours.

Things didn’t get better. The passionate moments still came, leaving you breathless and feeling adored. Jeno still kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered, whispering sweet nothings in the soft light of his bedroom, or laughing with you as you raced each other up the stairs. The spontaneous road trip dates still happened. Those moments made you believe that all the fighting and misunderstandings were just temporary. That it was necessary for the two of you to eventually navigate each other’s flaws, become better people, and finally find harmony.

But it didn’t happen.

You tried to be more understanding, biting back your irritation when he forgot to text you goodnight or when he turned up late without so much as an excuse. You tried to take a step back, to not overanalyze every little thing he did or didn’t do. But no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t seem to find the right wavelength to match his.

It was like you were speaking two different languages, your love trapped in a tug-of-war between passion and frustration.

“I don’t get it,” you confessed to your friends one day, staring into your latte. “I’ve tried talking to him about it. I’ve tried being more understanding. But it’s like we’re stuck on repeat. I can’t figure out why we can’t just… fix this.”

Giselle offered a sympathetic smile, always the lenient one. “Relationships take time. He’s not going to change overnight. If you really like him, you have to be patient.”

Karina wasn’t as forgiving. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, her expression firm. “Patience is one thing, but you can’t let him keep walking all over you. If he really cared, he’d be putting in the effort to meet you halfway.”

Jaemin, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up and tilted his head thoughtfully. “You two should probably sit down and talk properly,” he said simply. “You said so yourself, you only talked about all these issues when you’re fighting.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Giselle exclaimed, as if she just had a light bulb moment. “You need to talk about this calmly, not when you’re both emotional and angry.”

You sighed, massaging your temple because just the thought of bringing it up was already enough to anger you. Jaemin patted your back.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” he said with a teasing tone, though you could tell he was worried. “Men are much simpler than you think. Just tell him what you want.”

That night, after hours of rehearsing the conversation in your head, you finally worked up the courage to call Jeno over. He arrived in his usual casual way, hoodie slung over his head and that boyish, simply disarming smile that always made your stomach flutter.

“Hi,” he greeted, pulling you by the waist and kissing your lips. You kissed him back, your hands wrapping around his neck out of habit.

“Dinner?” you asked when you pulled away, foreheads pressed together.

“Done. How about you?”

Your heart sank. You were sure you told him you wanted to eat dinner together when you asked him to come over. Still, you hid your disappointment behind a smile and a lie. “I had dinner with the girls earlier.”

“Good. We can go straight to business,” he quipped, cupping your face and kissing you again.

It didn’t take long for him to deepen the kiss, shoving his tongue expertly in your mouth as his hand slipped under your shirt. Warmth spread through you but you pushed him away before it could fully consume you.

“I actually want to talk to you about something first,” you said briskly, biting your lip as you studied his surprised expression.

Then he shrugged, nonchalant as ever. “Alright then,” he chimed, hugging you from behind as you led him to your bed.

He sat on the bed, resting his back on the headboard as he cradled you in his arms. You curled up on his lap, playing with his fingers as you wondered how to bring it up. The practice was totally useless since you couldn’t even open your mouth at all.

After a few minutes of silence, Jeno tightened his embrace and nuzzled his nose against the side of your head, kissing your ear. “Is this about yesterday?”

Yesterday, when you tried to confront him but couldn’t even get a word in because he put on his headphones before you could open your mouth—as if he hadn’t just kept you waiting for forty minutes outside your favorite café.

“No,” you replied, clasping his hands tightly to keep yours from shaking. “It’s about a lot of things, Jeno. Including yesterday.”

He said nothing, and you couldn’t even see his expression because he was behind you. You took a deep breath. “I just want us to talk about our issues properly and fix them,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute.

“We do talk about it.”

“No, we don’t. We fight about it. That’s different,” you sighed, leaning back against him and reaching for his face. “I thought we’d get better over time, but nothing has changed. We still fight about the same things. We can’t keep doing that.”

Jeno chuckled behind you, as if he was amused. “Well, maybe you should stop making a big deal out of everything.”

That made something snap inside of you. Luckily, you caught yourself before you could lash out. You blinked rapidly, steadying your raging heartbeat and calming the anger that had suddenly engulfed you.

“Jeno do you—” you stopped, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. You turned to face him, gouging the meaning of his words by studying his expression. “Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

“I do understand,” he replied, his tone defensive. “We can talk without fighting, you know? We fight over everything, even the little things. You always blow things out of proportion.”

“I blow things out of proportion?” you echoed, feeling the anger rise higher up your chest. As calmly as you could, you said, ��Every time I try to tell you how I feel, it turns into a fight because you act like it’s nothing. And you’d say you’re tired of fighting but you don’t do anything to fix things. You’re still late, you still don’t text back, and you don’t even try to understand why these things matter.”

“Baby—”

You cut him off, still keeping your anger at bay. “You call it little things but these are big things to me, Jeno. And it adds up until there’s a whole mountain of these big things and I’m too small to keep it inside. Do you think I’m arguing with you just because I like picking a fight? No. I’m telling you what I need from you, and you’re brushing it off like it’s nothing.”

Jeno sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to brush you off. I just… I don’t know, I didn’t think relationships were too much… work…” His voice faltered, as though he regretted saying it.

But he already said it, and the damage has been done. “Too much work?” you repeated, your voice quieter now. “You think I’m too much work?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, panic evident in his eyes.

You stood up, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is too much work. But isn’t that how relationships should be? Isn’t it natural for two people in love to have expectations of each other?”

Jeno stood too, reaching for your hand but you stepped back. He sighed out your name, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I think you should go,” you told him, looking away. “We need a break, Jeno,” you added, your voice cracking but resolute.

“A break? Seriously?” His expression shifted into disbelief and frustration.

“Yes, Jeno, seriously!” you belted, unable to hold it in anymore. Your eyes began to sting, tears threatening to fall as emotions overwhelmed you. “I can’t keep feeling like I’m asking for too much just because I want you to care as much as I do.”

He exhaled sharply, placing his hands on his waist as he stared at you with a rigid, unreadable expression. “You think breaking up is gonna magically solve this?”

“No,” you said through gritted teeth. This was not how you imagined this conversation would go, but now that it was happening, you couldn’t take it back. Not that you want to. “But it’s gonna rid me of you, at least. I need to figure out if this is even worth it anymore. And maybe you should, too.”

He stood there, looking like he wanted to argue, but no words came. After a moment, he nodded stiffly. “Fine.”

And just like that, he walked out the door.

The first three days of your breakup was the worst. You never left your apartment, you didn’t move an inch in bed, you stared at your phone all day, waiting for him to call but ignoring the messages from your friends. As long as you could endure it, you didn’t touch any food, too lazy to move and too heartbroken to think of anything or anyone.

It wasn’t until Jaemin came banging on your door that you finally inhaled air from outside your apartment.

“Eugh,” Jaemin grimaced as soon as he saw you, covering his nose. “You stink.”

You scowled, offended, but you lifted the collar of your shirt and brought it to your nose. You did stink. You asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Karina said they couldn’t reach you,” he replied, handing you a bag of takeout from your favorite fastfood chain. “They asked me to check in on you and see if you’re still alive.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, taking the bag and rummaging through it. You grabbed the burger inside and unwrapped it hastily.

Jaemin sighed, shaking his head as he leaned against the doorframe. “Just look at yourself. Did you like him that much? Did he say he’d take you back if you starve yourself like that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” you scoffed, walking back inside your apartment. Jaemin followed, closing the door behind him. “I dumped him. I should be the one taking him back, not the other way around.”

“Really now?” he sniggered, picking up a few pieces of clutter on the floor. “It looks to me like you’re the one waiting for him to reach out.”

That hurt your pride a little, but you were too tired to even argue. You sat on your couch, placing the takeout bag on the coffee table as you glared at your friend. “Just tell me what you want from me and then leave.”

Jaemin placed your cluttered items back to their original places before turning to you. “Go take a bath. It’s Monday. You have classes.”

You frowned, but didn’t say anything, you just bit onto your burger and looked away. 

“And it’s Karina’s birthday. Did you forget?”

You froze mid-bite, the burger hanging limply in your hand as guilt twisted in your stomach. Karina’s birthday. You hadn’t forgotten entirely—it had nagged at the back of your mind—but in the haze of your heartbreak, you hadn’t done anything about it.

You set the burger down and mumbled, “I didn’t forget.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Oh, really? So you’ve got her gift ready, then?”

Your silence said it all. Jaemin groaned and threw his hands up dramatically. “Unbelievable. She’s gonna kill you if you show up empty-handed, you know that, right?”

“I wasn’t planning to go,” you said quietly, sinking further into the couch. The thought of dressing up, putting on a smile, and pretending everything was fine felt impossible. Plus the guilt of forgetting something so important was beginning to gnaw at you.

Jaemin stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope. You’re coming. You’re not ditching her because of some guy. Stand up.”

“I can’t,” you protested weakly.

“Yes, you can,” he retorted, grabbing the burger from your hand and tossing it back into the bag. He pulled you up and guided you toward the bathroom door. “You’re going to take a shower, put on something decent, and we’re going. I’ll drive you to the mall to get her a gift.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Jaemin—”

“No excuses, love,” he interrupted, opening the bathroom door and pushing you inside. “You’re not gonna let your friend down just because your love life sucks right now.”

You wanted to argue, but he was right. Karina had always been the one person who never let you down. You owed her this, at the very least.

“Fine,” you muttered, dragging your feet further into the bathroom. As you shut the bathroom door behind you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe stepping outside your bubble of misery, even just for one night, was exactly what you needed.

Karina’s birthday dinner was simple and warm. The pasta restaurant was your go-to place for special occasions, the kind of place where the ambiance felt like home, and the food was always reliable. Karina, seated at the head of the table, looked radiant, her cheeks flushed with happiness as she opened her first gift—a sleek fountain pen from Jaemin.

“I figured you’d need it for all your artsy journaling,” he quipped, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.

Karina laughed, twirling the pen in her fingers. “It’s perfect. Now I can write about how annoying you are in style.”

Giselle leaned forward, her chin propped on her hand. “Or you can write about how I’m clearly the best friend you’d ever had.” She passed over a small wrapped box. “It’s from me. Open it.”

Karina obliged, peeling away the paper to reveal a dainty silver wristwatch from a designer brand. “Oh my god! I love it,” Karina said, her voice soft, as she turned the wristwatch over in her hands.

Ningning chimed in next, presenting her gift dramatically. “Mine’s practical but fabulous.” She handed over a beautifully wrapped package that turned out to be a designer planner. “For your future plans and daily journaling.”

Karina was swooning and before she could say anything, Jaemin cut in. “You’re into planners now too?”

“What do you mean? I have always used planners,” Karina replied, scoffing.

Jaemin nodded, glancing at Giselle. “I see you contracted Giselle’s weird addiction with planners and schedules.”

Giselle hit Jaemin with the back of her hand. “It’s called being organized. Try it and maybe your life would be less messy.”

When it was your turn to give Karina her gift, you pulled out a framed print of a watercolor painting you’d found at the mall earlier. It was of a serene sunset over water—Karina’s favorite motif.

“For your room,” you said as you handed it to her. “It’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

Karina’s smile grew wide as she unwrapped it. “This is gorgeous.” She reached over to squeeze your hand. “Thank you. I’m so glad you came.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. Over plates of creamy carbonara, pesto linguine, and margherita pizza. You didn’t expect to feel this good, this normal, but here you were, laughing along with Giselle’s witty banter and Ningning’s sarcastic comments. Jeno’s name didn’t come up once—not in passing conversation, not in anyone’s concerned glances. It was as though your heartbreak had been tucked away in a box for the evening, and the world had returned to how it used to be. You let yourself enjoy it, basking in the warmth of your friends and the comfort of being with people who knew you inside and out.

“This carbonara is amazing,” Ningning said, her eyes wide as she twirled her fork. “Worth the trip, honestly. I’d come back just for this.”

“You came back for me,” Karina teased, raising her wine glass with a smirk. “Admit it.”

“Fine,” Ningning laughed, clinking her glass against Karina’s. “Happy birthday, babe. Another year hotter, just not hotter than me.”

As the evening wound down, the server brought out a small birthday cake topped with a small candle. Karina made a wish, blowing out the flame as everyone clapped. You caught yourself wishing, too—not for anything extravagant, just for this sense of normalcy to last a little longer.

After a few rounds of toasts, the group paid the bill and wandered out into the cool night air. Jaemin ushered everyone into his car for the ride home. The drive was loud and chaotic, filled with over the top renditions of pop songs blasting from the radio. Giselle insisted on sitting in the middle of the back seat, demanding that everyone join her in singing, while Ningning occasionally threw out sarcastic remarks about your lack of rhythm.

When Jaemin finally pulled up to your apartment complex, Giselle leaned out the window, waving her hand at you. “Class tomorrow, okay? Don’t skip.”

“Yes, ma’am!” You waved back. “I’ll be there!”

The goodbyes were loud and warm, your friends’ laughter ringing out as Jaemin’s car disappeared down the street. The quiet that followed was jarring. Sighing, you climbed the stairs to your floor, the warmth of the evening still clinging to you like a comforting jacket. But as you turned the corner, the sight at your door stopped you in your tracks.

There was a man slumped against your doorframe, his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms tucked inside the pocket of his hoodie. His head was tipped back against the wooden door, with his hoodie covering half his face.

“Jeno?” you called out hesitantly, your voice breaking the silence.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, but then they locked onto yours. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. He looked tired, disheveled, possibly tipsy. You wondered if it was because he was drunk that he’d fallen asleep at your door, or was it because he was waiting too long. What if it was both?

Your chest tightened with frustration and longing. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the door for support. He took a step toward you and rested his head on your shoulder, staying there for a moment, sighing as if relieved just to be near you.

“I needed to see you,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a second, you didn’t know what to say. Everything in you wanted to ask him why, but the words wouldn’t come. And at that moment, it felt like nothing was really over—not yet at least.

It had been only three days since the last time Jeno was at your flat, but you hadn’t realized how empty those three days were until now.

You lay on your side, facing each other. The space between you was small but it felt like a mile. Jeno’s eyes were steady, almost searching, as though he was trying to gauge the thoughts swimming in your head. His fingers idly twirled the ends of your hair, a familiar gesture that once made you feel at home but now left you teetering on the edge of something fragile and painful.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.

Your chest tightened. “You’re drunk,” you said, forcing your words to come out steady.

He gave you a faint, tired smile. “A little,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I missed you more when I was sober.”

The tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill, your throat tightening as you swallowed them down. “Why are you here, Jeno?”

“To see you.” He hesitated, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered, soft and tentative. “And to apologize.”

“For what?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper.

“For being a bad boyfriend,” he said, his words quiet but heavy, as though they carried the weight of something he couldn’t yet say out loud.

“Go to sleep, Jeno,” you murmured, your voice quieter now, laced with exhaustion more than anger. Without waiting for a response, you turned your back to him, facing the opposite side of the bed.

You felt the mattress shift behind you. His arm slid under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you into him until your back was flush against his chest. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. The way he held you, firm but gentle, told you everything he couldn’t.

Then again, maybe it was just your wishful thinking deluding you into believing that there was something there when really, there wasn’t.

Your body stiffened for a moment, your mind caught in a whirlwind of push and pull—of reasons to let go and reasons to stay. But eventually, you exhaled, sinking into the familiarity of him. It was easier than fighting the storm in your head. For now, you’d just ignore it.

His breath was soft and steady against the back of your neck, and soon enough, the rhythm lulled you to sleep. When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the sunlight spilling through the curtains. The second thing was the steady rise and fall of Jeno’s chest against your back, his arms still wrapped securely around you.

You stayed like that for a while, and neither of you was in any hurry to move. It felt normal like any other lazy morning you’d spent together. Eventually, Jeno stirred, his voice still husky with sleep as he asked, “Are you awake?” 

“Yeah,” you mumbled, your throat dry. You didn’t turn to face him. “Why are you still here?”

“Did I overstay my welcome already?” he quipped, his tone light, though his arms tightened ever so slightly around you.

You didn’t answer. The words felt too complicated to untangle so early in the morning. Instead, you reached for your phone on the bedside table, scrolling aimlessly through nothing. Jeno’s chin came to rest on your shoulder, his hair tickling your cheek.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said flatly, locking your phone again.

He hummed. “Look at me then.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He huffed, tightening his arms around your waist. “What’s wrong? Woke up on the wrong side of bed?”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “More like woke up with the wrong guy in bed.”

“Oh?” he asked, amused. “Who were you hoping to wake up with this morning?”

“Not you, obviously.”

“Alright, fine. I’m leaving,” he said, sighing. But he didn’t leave, instead, he grabbed your phone, tossed it aside and pulled you back on the bed with him.

For a moment, it was quiet again, but not uncomfortable. He kissed your forehead. “So… did you have fun at Karina’s thing?”

“It was fine,” you said, staring at the ceiling. “Everyone was there. Jaemin was annoying, Giselle was—well, Giselle. Ningning came too.”

“Must have been fun,” he scoffed. “They still hate me?”

“They never hated you, Jeno. They simply didn’t like you.”

“Comforting,” he said dryly.

“Well, you don’t exactly make an effort to try to be friendly with them.” Not to mention, your friends disliked how Jeno often stressed you out with how terrible he was at being a proper boyfriend, but you didn’t want to tell him that.

“I’m friends with Jaemin,” he countered, the teasing lilt in his voice impossible to ignore.

“You’re friends in-game. That doesn’t count,” you huffed, sitting up. “If you wanna be liked by them—no. Actually, if you wanna be a proper part of my life, you should at least try to get along with my friends.”

Jeno propped himself up on his elbow, flashing a mischievous grin at you. “Are you saying you want to try again with me?”

There are about a dozen—no, a hundred—ways he could try to win you back. This wasn’t one of them. If only he’d try to talk about this like an adult, like he was serious about this, but this is Jeno. What were you even expecting from someone like him?

“Go home, Jeno,” you huffed, stepping down from the bed.

Jeno followed after you, trapping you in his embrace once more. You squirmed against his hold, trying to shake him off, but he only pulled you closer, burying his face on the crook of your neck. Then he let out a sigh and the playfulness that laced his tone just now seemed to dissipate in the air. It was as if everything—the break, the distance, the issues you never talked about—had finally caught up to him and was weighing him down just as much as it did you. You wanted to believe that was true.

“Please,” he whispered, so softly it was almost swallowed by the silence. His voice cracked slightly, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry. Just… please. Don’t make me leave. I want to stay here… with you.”

Your heart twisted, caught between the instinct to push him away and the aching pull of his sincerity. But you didn’t move. Instead, you exhaled shakily, your voice barely audible. “Jeno…”

But before you could finish, he added, “I love you.”

“What?” Your voice cracked, the disbelief hitting you harder than you expected. You stepped back sharply, pressing your palms against his chest to create space. “How can you say that?”

Jeno met your gaze and there was no mistaking the anguish on his face. “It’s true.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “What do you mean it’s true?” you asked, your voice sharp. “You don’t just get to say that, Jeno. You don’t get to show up here, after everything, and tell me you love me like it’ll fix things.”

He flinched at the edge in your tone, but he didn’t back down. “But I do,” he said quietly, almost desperately. “I love you.”

You shook your head, the heat rising in your chest. “Do you even know what that means? Or is this just another one of your ways to make me take you back? Say it and I’ll forgive you, is that it?”

“No!” Jeno’s voice rose, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t even know how to defend himself. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You can start by explaining,” you shot back, your voice trembling. “Why now? Why couldn’t you say it before? Why wait until we’re—”

“I don’t know! Damn it!” Jeno cut you off, his voice breaking. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the emotion in his words spilling out in raw, uneven waves. “I just know I missed you so much that I didn’t know what to do with myself. Every second, every stupid little thing reminded me of you, and I didn’t know what to do. I just know I missed you. So fucking much I was losing my mind.”

His confession hit you like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from your lungs. You felt like you were drowning, your own anger and hurt mingling with the unmistakable ache of wanting him too.

“Jeno…” you started, but the words died in your throat as he stepped closer. His eyes burned with frustration and longing, and before you could say anything else, his hands cupped your face.

“I know I messed up,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I know I don’t deserve this, but I—”

And then he kissed you. It wasn’t soft or tentative. It was fiery and unrestrained, driven by everything he couldn’t say and everything you couldn’t bring yourself to admit. His lips pressed against yours with a desperation that stole the air from your lungs. His hands even trembled slightly as they tangled in your hair.

For a moment, you froze, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. But then your restraints failed you. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as though that could make sense of the chaos swirling between you.

The kiss deepened, and suddenly nothing else mattered—no words, no explanations. Just the heat of his mouth on yours, the way his hands traced over your skin as if trying to memorize you all over again. 

Jeno backed you against the edge of the bed, his lips never leaving yours as his hands slid down to your waist. The emotions—anger, longing, love—pushed you both past the point of no return. When your back hit the mattress, he hovered over you, his forehead pressed against yours as you both caught your breath.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice strained but gentle. “If you don’t want this, just say the word.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pulled him down into another kiss, letting the storm of emotions take over. Words would only complicate things. For now, you needed this—you needed him.

“I love you,” he rasped in your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. His fingers fiddled with the hem of your dress, tugging it over your head in one motion.

He tossed your dress aside, and it landed somewhere across the room. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, and intense, taking you in as if committing every detail to memory. As if he needed to—you were sure he’d memorized every part of you by now.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you met his gaze boldly, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest, lingering over the firm muscles and supple skin. You kissed his shoulder and collarbone, savoring how he tensed under your touch.

Jeno leaned to meet your lips, his weight pressing against you deliciously, and you arched into him, gasping as his lips found the hollow of your throat. His hands roamed your body, exploring the length of your skin until he reached your core. He knew exactly what to do—knew exactly how you liked being touched down there. And the expert motions of his fingers made you delirious with desire, your nails dragging across his back and leaving faint red trails.

“Jeno…” you moaned into his ear, holding on to him for dear life as you bucked your hips forward to meet the movements of his fingers.

You missed his touch—every caress seemed to awaken a bolder side of you, more feral, and more desperate. When his lips found yours again, you tugged him forward, moulding your lips together in a fervent kiss. 

“I’ve missed you, babe,” he breathed, caressing your cheek. “I was so lost without you.”

He planted a quick kiss on your lips before sitting up to discard his shirt and unbuckled his jeans. He then hovered over you, gaze so enrapturing, you genuinely thought you’d spiral into a climax if he kept at it.

I should stop this, you thought to yourself. Before it consumes me entirely.

But it was genuinely so hard to make rational decisions when his hand was on your bosom, squeezing with just the perfect amount of force while his teeth grazed your other nipple delightfully. And as he tugged his jeans off his waist and his manhood sprang free from the confines of his underwear, your rationality fell apart. It shouldn’t be a surprise. You had never been good at listening to reason in the first place.

Soon, the room was filled with the lewd sound of your moans and skin slamming against skin. You clung onto him, rocking to meet his hips. He was thrusting and kissing you at the same time, trailing kisses on your jaw, your neck, your collarbone and your breasts. And when a particularly hard push made you whimper in both pain and pleasure, Jeno shushed you gently, reminding you that the walls were thinner in this apartment complex.

“Is it good, baby?” he asked, licking your earlobe after.

You shivered delightfully. “More. More, Jeno. Please.”

He let out a feral grunt. “Fuuuck.”

He pulled back, tugged you by the waist, and hoisted you up so you were on all fours—all in a matter of seconds. Then without warning, he shoved himself back inside you, making you let out a sweet little cry. He then rammed into you, relentlessly, fingers wrapped around the back of your neck as he pressed your cheek on the mattress. You muffled your own moans by burying your face on the sheets, your head spiraling with intense pleasure.

Soon, you felt your body twitching with the tease of release, eyes blurring with tears caused by overstimulation. Then in no time, waves of euphoria tore through you, stealing all the strength from your limbs. Jeno didn’t stop, chasing his own high until you heard that familiar grunt, the sudden emptiness when he pulled out, followed by hot stuff spurting on the skin of your back.

You both collapsed on the bed, out of breath, mildly weakened, but both basking on a delightful high. Jeno rolled over on his side, smiling when he met your gaze.

“Did you like that?” he asked, his smile turning smug.

You scoffed, refusing to admit it. “Meh. It was okay,” you said flatly, making him laugh.

His laugh was soft, the kind that vibrated through you, and when he kissed the side of your head, it was sweet. Sweet enough to distract you from realizing that you had just walked into a new phase in your relationship with Jeno. You didn’t know at the time, but it was a phase that would leave you reeling in both bliss and misery.

The first few days with Jeno back in your life felt like a dream. He texted back almost immediately, sometimes with silly jokes or memes or selfies he took of himself. For once, he made plans himself instead of leaving it to you. He still wasn’t the most punctual, but you noticed the effort, and it was enough.

More than that, it was the little things—the thoughtful way he’d text ‘I love you’ unprompted, or the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought you weren’t looking. It felt like he was finally trying, and for a while, you allowed yourself to hope. But then, the cracks never failed to show themselves.

At first, it was small things. A delayed reply here, a forgotten promise there. You told yourself it was nothing, that he was busy. He had mentioned working on a big school project, and you didn’t want to seem clingy.

But the doubts crept in. One night, as you sat beside him, his phone buzzed incessantly. He sighed and picked it up, muttering something about it being distracting. Over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the screen—messages, mostly from girls.

You tried to play it cool, but the knot in your stomach tightened as you noticed just how many there were. Though he never replied, the sight of all those names made your chest ache.

“Why are they even messaging you?” you asked, struggling to keep your voice steady.

“I don’t know. Probably because I’m not at the party,” Jeno replied as he glanced at you09, his expression softening as he set his phone down. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t even know half of these people. You’re the only one I need,” he chimed, snuggling closer against you as the movie played on.

The next day, his social media accounts went private. He mentioned it casually, saying he didn’t want random people messaging him anymore. It was a small gesture, but it made you feel better.

For a little while, things were good again. Then, you heard about the girl from his class. She’d been hitting on him, according to one of your friends. When you brought it up, Jeno waved it off like it was nothing.

“Don’t worry about her,” he had said, brushing his hand over yours. “She knows I’m with you.”

But the doubts didn’t go away. Especially not when he started responding to your texts less frequently. You told yourself he was just busy, but your heart whispered otherwise. One afternoon, frustrated and restless, you found yourself walking past his building. You weren’t even sure why you were there, but as you glanced toward an empty classroom, you saw Jeno.

He was sitting at a table with a few other people, his head bent over some notes. Beside him was the girl your friend had mentioned, leaning in a little too close, her laughter ringing out loud enough for you to hear even from where you stood.

The sight stopped you in your tracks for a whole minute. You took out your phone and snapped a photo before walking away, hoping no one noticed you. By the time he met you that evening, your thoughts were a storm you couldn’t contain.

“So, you’re working on your project?” you started, your tone sharper than you intended.

Jeno blinked, taken aback. “Yeah, why?”

“With her?” you asked, showing the photo you took of them.

He froze for a moment, then sighed. “It’s a group project. I can’t control who’s in the group or where they sit.”

“Right,” you said, crossing your arms. “And you couldn’t text me back because you were too busy sitting next to her?”

“Come on, babe, it’s not like that,” he said, his voice rising slightly in frustration. “Let’s not fight about this.”

“It’s just exhausting. It feels like I’m always the one waiting, Jeno! Waiting for you to text back, waiting for you to choose me over—whatever this is.”

“Choose you?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “I’m here, aren’t I? I barely even talk to any other girl who isn’t you. What more do you want from me?”

“I want to stop feeling like this!” you burst out, your voice trembling. “Like I’m always second-guessing where I stand with you.”

“You’re not second-guessing me. You’re doubting me because you can’t seem to stop looking for reasons to.”

“That’s not what this is, Jeno,” you said, but your voice wavered.

“It is,” he said firmly, his eyes hardening. “You don’t trust me, and that’s not my problem.”

His words cut deeper than you’d expected. For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure if you were hurt or furious—or both. “Fine,” you said finally, your voice cold. “Since this is a ‘me’ problem, maybe we should stop this. Maybe you’re right—I’m the problem, and this isn’t going to work.”

His eyes widened, his expression faltering. For a moment, you thought he might reach out or say something to stop you. But he didn’t.

“I don’t wanna see you again, Jeno.”

You turned and walked away, your steps quick and determined, your heart breaking a little more with each one. Behind you, Jeno stayed rooted to the spot, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his gaze fixed on the ground.

You didn’t look back.

A few days later, you found yourself back on campus, trying not to think about Jeno. It wasn’t easy. Everywhere you went, it felt like something reminded you of him—the bench where you’d shared lunch, the library corner where he once dozed off while you studied, even the vending machine he’d kicked to get you a stuck drink.

You were heading to class when a snippet of conversation stopped you in your tracks.

“Jeno? Oh god, don’t even get me started with that guy,” a girl said, her voice carrying in the quiet hallway.

Curiosity piqued, you slowed your steps, pretending to check your phone as you listened. You recognized Belle, the subject of your last argument with Jeno which eventually led to the break up—though you had to admit she wasn’t the main reason for it, just a catalyst.

“I took that class just so I could try getting close with him. I don’t know if he’s tactless or just truly indifferent, but I’m sick of it,” she continued.

“Are you serious?” her friend asked, incredulous. “Girl, that’s insane. I didn’t think you’d go that far for a guy. And he had a girlfriend too.”

“I knew that. I didn’t think they were serious. He’s never been tied down by a relationship before, you know?” Belle sighed, pouting. “And then I heard they broke up. I thought maybe I’d have a chance, but... he kind of shot me down. Said he wasn’t interested and that I should find someone else to bother. He was kinda rude about it too.”

Her friend chimed in, “That’s rough. What if they were serious and he’s just not over her yet?”

Belle shrugged. “Who cares? I’m over that guy. Although I did notice he seemed a bit down these days. If that’s true, then she’s one lucky girl. Making a loyal boyfriend out of Jeno and all that.”

The ache in your chest tightened. You already knew deep inside you that Jeno didn’t deserve the blame. And hearing this now just confirmed that the pieces didn’t fit the narrative you’d convinced yourself of. You turned and walked away before you could hear any more.

In his own way, the only way he knew how, Jeno was trying to make things work with you. Looking back now, you might have overreacted, though you still tried to justify it to yourself—to tell yourself that your feelings were valid and he should have done a better job of reassuring you.

Still, the doubt gnawed at you until later that evening when you found yourself in Giselle’s apartment. She had a way of prying things out of you, and it didn’t take long before you were spilling the whole story.

“So, you broke up with him because he wasn’t responding to your texts and because of that girl?” Giselle asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitated, feeling a bit ridiculous now that you said it out loud. “It wasn’t just that. It’s… everything. I keep feeling like I’m not enough for him, like he’s always got one foot out the door.”

Giselle frowned, setting down her mug. “Look, your feelings are valid. You deserve to feel secure in a relationship. But… don’t you think you might’ve been a little impulsive this time?”

“Impulsive?” you echoed, defensive.

“I’m just saying, did Jeno actually do anything to deserve your suspicion?” she asked gently. “From what you told me, Jeno didn’t do anything wrong. He can’t help it if girls still try to hit on him, and it sounds like he’s been making an effort to shut them down. Setting his socials to private? That’s huge for someone like him.”

You stayed silent, biting your lip.

“And from what I’ve seen, he’s head over heels for you. Maybe it’s time to give him the benefit of the doubt,” she added. “Look, you already know Jeno’s always had a reputation, even before you two started dating. He’s that guy—aloof but fun, hot and charismatic, all the girls want him. But now that he’s with you, it’s like no one else got the memo. That’s not his fault, though. And honestly, I think he’s trying. Maybe you should talk to him instead of assuming the worst.”

Her words lingered with you long after you left her apartment. Swallowing your pride, you found yourself standing outside Jeno’s unit. Your heart raced as you texted him, your fingers hesitating over the keyboard before finally pressing send.

You: Can we talk?

His reply came quicker than you expected.

Jeno: Are you outside? You: How did you know? Jeno: I was hoping you were. Jeno: Wait, you are?

The door in front of you swung open, revealing a wide-eyed, slightly disheveled Jeno. His eyes lit up briefly, the corner of his lips twitching with a faint smile before he masked it with a casual shrug. You waved awkwardly, your embarrassment battling the small rush of relief at seeing him after several days apart.

Jeno cleared his throat, straightened up, and crossed his arms as he leaned lazily against the doorframe. You couldn’t help smirking at his obvious attempt to appear unbothered.

That made him raise an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“Oh,” you fumbled, swallowing hard. “I, um… Can I come in?”

“No.”

“What?” You blinked, genuinely caught off guard.

“No, you can’t.”

“Yeah, I heard you,” you shot back, trying to steady your voice despite the growing irritation. You stood there for a second, looking down at your shoes. You didn’t wanna waste any time, but the words wouldn’t come out of your lips.

“If there’s nothing else, then—” Jeno began, moving to close the door, but you darted forward, grabbing the doorknob to stop him.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, the words tumbling out faster than you’d intended. You looked up at him, your heart pounding. “I think I might’ve overreacted. About… everything.”

Jeno’s expression didn’t soften immediately. His brows were slightly furrowed, his hand still on the door. “Oh, you think?” he said, his tone neutral.

“No, I mean, I know I did. I just… I get in my own head sometimes,” you admitted, stepping back. “I start overthinking things, and I end up pushing you away when what I really want is to pull you closer.”

He let out a soft sigh, stepping closer. “You think I don’t overthink too? I feel like I’m screwing up every time I see the disappointment in your face. Even if you tried to hide it.”

You looked at him, surprised.

“I know I’m not the best at this—at us,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t know what to tell you, except that I want you and I love you. And everyone else are just… potatoes.”

You chuckled before you could even stop yourself. Jeno simply gawked at you, as if he had no idea what was so funny. For a while, neither of you said anything, just standing there face to face—you with a smile on your face and him with a pout. Then, finally, you spoke. “I’m sorry. About everything.”

Jeno didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, as though afraid you’d slip away again. “I’m sorry too. I should do better.”

“Yeah, you should,” you quipped, wrapping your arms around him and closing your eyes to bask in the warmth you’d grown so fond of.

“I missed you,” he murmured into your hair. “So damn much.”

You hummed, eyes fluttering open. “Can I come in now?” you quipped, making Jeno pull away with a grin. Without a word, he pulled you inside, finding your lips in the dimly lit apartment and kicking the door behind him.

And just like that, the cycle repeated.

You got back together. For a while, things were good. Sweet texts, stolen kisses, quiet nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms. But eventually, something would come up—another fight, another misunderstanding—and you’d break up again. Then you’d find yourselves back here, trying to piece things together, neither of you quite willing to let go.

“It’s bad. You were never the patient type, but with him? You’ve got the patience of a saint,” Karina remarked, shaking her head after yet another breakup. “I don’t even know if I should be proud of you or worried.”

“How many times has it been this month?” Jaemin asked, his eyes fixed on his phone, fingers flying across the screen.

Karina shot him a look. “Excuse me, Jaemin. In case you didn’t notice, you’re not part of this conversation. We know for a fact that you’re playing a game with Jeno right now, Traitor.”

Jaemin smirked, barely glancing up. “We’re only buddies in-game. I know where my loyalties lie.”

You rolled your eyes at their banter, though you could feel the weight of Karina’s words sinking in. They weren’t wrong. It was bad.

Still, you and Jeno persisted. Despite everything, there were moments when you felt like the luckiest person alive. The way he’d send you voice messages of a song stuck in his head just because it reminded him of you, or how he’d show up with your favorite snacks after a long day, made your heart flutter. Those little things kept you going.

But then there were the other moments. The times when he’d brush off something that mattered to you, his inconsistency leaving you feeling unsteady. He drove you crazy in all the ways someone could—sometimes in the best way, but often in the worst.

The breaking point came when you almost failed a class. You’d spent the entire week crying over yet another breakup with Jeno, replaying every fight, every unresolved argument, until the deadline for your paper had come and gone. When you logged into the portal and saw the glaring red INCOMPLETE notification, it felt like the universe was screaming at you to wake up.

Karina wasn’t subtle when she confronted you about it. “You’re throwing your future away over a guy,” she said, her voice sharp, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “A guy who clearly doesn’t have his shit together either.”

Giselle chimed in, softer but no less firm. “We get it. You love him, and he loves you, but this? This has to stop, hon. He’s obviously bad for you.”

You wanted to argue, to defend Jeno, but the truth was staring back at you. You couldn’t deny it anymore: you’d been neglecting yourself, stretching yourself thin, just to hold onto something that was already slipping through your fingers.

Luckily, you were given a makeup project to salvage your grade. You spent hours on it, giving it your best, reminding yourself that you may have done averagely ever since you started college, but you’d never had a failed grade before. The paper was submitted, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a small flicker of pride. But you knew that wasn’t enough. This wasn’t just about school anymore. It was about you.

And so, you made the decision to let Jeno go. It wasn’t easy—it never was—but it was necessary. It was what you needed. For the first time in months, you chose yourself. The day you broke up with him was quieter than you expected. No shouting, no grand gestures, just two people staring at each other, knowing it was over.

“I wish it could’ve worked,” Jeno said, his voice low.

“Me too,” you replied, your heart aching as you turned away.

He didn’t chase after you—not that he ever did each time you broke up. That was disappointing, but also clarifying. If he wasn’t willing to fight for this, then why were you fighting so hard?

When you told your friends, Giselle nearly cried, while Karina popped open a bottle of champagne as if you’d just announced your graduation.

“Nine months!” Karina exclaimed, her eyes wide with mock disbelief. “Nine whole months!”

Jaemin raised a finger, grinning mischievously. “Eleven if we count the hooking-up phase.”

“Wow, that’s almost a year,” Karina sneered, turning to you. “You really must have been insane.”

Giselle snorted, nudging Karina with her elbow. “Come on, she wasn't insane—just a little too crazy in love.”

“To a brighter future and fewer sleepless nights,” Jaemin declared, raising his glass dramatically before handing you one.

“Not just fewer,” Karina added, leaning closer with a grin. “None. You deserve to sleep like a queen, babe.”

Their laughter and cheers filled the room. You took a sip of the champagne, its fizz tickling your nose. For a moment, you let yourself bask in the comfort of their joy, the love they poured into lifting your spirits.

Jaemin raised his glass again with a smirk. “And for surviving our second year of college in one piece. Barely.”

You all laughed. “Hear! Hear!”

Even with the bubbly warmth of their company, the ache lingered quietly in your chest, a reminder of everything you’d let go. Letting go wasn’t the same as forgetting. It never was.

Still, as the cheap champagne bubbled on your tongue and your friends’ laughter rang in your ears, you felt something shift. It wasn’t healing, not yet, but it was a start. And that was enough for now.

When you walked down the halls of NCIT in the first semester of your third year, you were overcome with the oddest sense of unfamiliarity. The chatter and bustle were all the same, yet it felt distant, like watching an old memory play out from the sidelines. The walls, the quad, the staircases—everything looked the same from when you last saw them, but unfamiliar. It was like stepping back into a life you’d left behind a long time ago.

But then, as you turned a corner, the reason for this weird unease became clear. There he was—Lee Jeno, leaning against the staircase with his friends. He hadn’t changed at all. Then again, it had only been six weeks since you saw him last.

A voice from behind you cut through your thoughts. “Yo, Jeno!”

Jeno’s head turned at the call, and his eyes met yours. For a split second, neither of you moved. But just as quickly, you looked away and turned in the opposite direction. You didn’t wait to see if he reacted, your feet carrying you toward your classroom hastily.

Time is a strange thing. Sometimes it rushes past, stealing days and months before you even notice. Other times, it drags slowly, each minute stretching endlessly as if it wanted you to feel and experience every passing second. People say time moves faster when you’re happy, slower when you’re not. With Jeno, it felt like both.

You hadn’t realized how much time you’d spent with him until it was over. Eleven months. Almost a year. It felt like a lifetime and a moment all at once.

“Eleven months. I really was out of my mind,” you muttered to yourself as you sank into your seat. Shaking your head, you lightly smacked your own cheek, hoping to jolt yourself out of the spiral. As you did, you caught sight of the guy sitting next to you, watching your antics. You blinked, embarrassed but mostly surprised. “Renjun?”

“Hi,” he greeted, flashing a smile that you remembered all too well—sweet, beautiful, angelic. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you agreed, chuckling awkwardly. “How have you been?”

“Good,” he said, shrugging. “Same as always.”

You leaned closer, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Still out there unintentionally breaking hearts?”

Renjun’s laugh was awkward, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Uh, no. Not that I know of.”

“Oh, good. That’s great then,” you chuckled, turning your attention in front. There was a pause, one that was more awkward than expected. You turned back to him and said, “Not a good subject to bring up after not seeing each other for a long time, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” he replied, chuckling, this time genuinely. “It’s good to see you again, though.”

“I know. It’s good to see you too,” you echoed, smiling at him just as the professor walked into the hall. Your conversation ended, replaced by occasional glances and small smiles. After class, Renjun caught up with you outside, falling into step beside you.

“Where are you headed?” he asked casually.

“The cafeteria,” you replied. “Meeting my friends. You?”

“Same. I heard they’re serving pasta today,” he said, his voice light.

You didn’t say anything for a while and just wondered why you were having this conversation. But when Renjun kept walking with you without saying anything, it suddenly clicked. “Do you wanna… join us?” you asked.

His face lit up, the sheepish smile returning. “Are you sure? You’re with your friends…”

You waved your hand dismissively. “It’s alright. I’m sure they’d love to see you. It’s been a while for them, too.”

His smile grew. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

As expected, your friends were thrilled to see Renjun again. He was the center of attention the whole time during lunch, with them asking why they didn’t see him at all year. Giselle said they had a class together though, so it was just you and your other friends. And when that was over, you all went your own ways but Renjun didn’t forget to wish you a good day.

The next day, you ran into him again as you left your morning class. He was leaning against the wall near the door, scrolling through his phone, and looked up when he saw you. His familiar smile lit up his face. “Hi, where are you headed?”

“I’m going to the library,” you replied, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I need to do some reading for an assignment.”

Renjun seemed skeptical. “Willingly?”

“What does that mean?” you asked, chuckling.

“Nothing. Just…” He didn’t finish, just shrugged and grinned knowingly.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t waver. “Hey, I still go there sometimes. Just because I’m not glued to it like in freshman year doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to read.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, nodding toward the hallway. “Alright, let’s go, bookworm.”

The walk to the library felt oddly nostalgic, like slipping into an old routine. You had easy conversations, talking about your summer break, your professors, and everything in between. It wasn’t until you were both settled at a table in the far corner of the library that it hit you how much you’d missed this—just sitting and talking with Renjun.

“I forgot how nice and quiet this place is,” you said, looking around at the tall shelves and the quiet students scattered throughout the room.

“Did you seriously not come here at all last semester?” he teased, propping his chin on his hand.  “You practically lived here back then.”

“I might have. Maybe once, I’m not sure,” you murmured. “It shames me to say this now, but I only hung out here back then because of you. I was never a library person from the start.”

Renjun smiled. “I see. That’s a relief, then. I sometimes wonder if you stopped coming here because of what happened back then.”

You shook your head, grimacing sheepishly. The library had been your shared space, a sanctuary from the chaos of campus life. It was also where you’d spent countless hours pretending to study while sneaking glances at him, your freshman crush growing stronger with every thoughtful smile he sent your way. But that was a long time ago. So much had changed since then. 

Still, as the afternoon wore on, the ease between you remained. You left the library with a faint smile, thinking maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to drop by more often.

t started small: an invitation to grab lunch in the cafeteria after class. Then coffee at your favorite café the following week. And before you knew it, you were spending more time with Renjun.

One afternoon, as you walked across the quad with him and Giselle, Renjun gestured toward the fountain in the center. “Got time before your next class?” he asked casually. “We could sit for a bit.”

You nodded without hesitation this time. The sunlit quad, the quiet murmur of students passing by—it was your favorite time to hang around the quad. 

As you made your way to the fountain, Giselle discreetly nudged your elbow, turning your attention briefly to a group gathered under the shade of a tree by the library. Jeno was there with a few other students, talking and laughing together. He looked happy, normal. The sight lingered in your mind, but it didn’t stop your feet from moving forward.

Renjun glanced at you as you reached the fountain. “Here okay?” he asked, gesturing to a sunny spot on the stone ledge.

You smiled and sat down. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

He settled beside you, resting his elbows on his knees, and the conversation picked up where it had left off. Renjun had a way of drawing people in through conversations of substance—the kind that made you want to keep talking to him. He listened intently, not just waiting for his turn to speak but genuinely engaging, even when your opinions clashed. He laughed in all the right places, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and when you stumbled over your words, he didn’t interrupt—just waited, his expression patient and encouraging.

After that day, spending time with Renjun became part of your routine. Sometimes it was lunch in the cafeteria with Giselle and Jaemin, Renjun effortlessly fitting in with your friends as though he’d never left. Other times, it was just the two of you, wandering the library aisles or lingering in the campus café over iced lattes and pastries.

He had a knack for noticing the little things. Once, he brought you an extra pen during a study session because he remembered you’d mentioned running out of ink. Another time, when you’d complained about skipping lunch to meet a deadline, he’d shown up with a neatly packed sandwich and insisted you eat while he proofread your work.

Despite all this, you didn’t think much of it. Romance was the last thing on your mind—you were still quietly dealing with your own tangled feelings, and getting involved with someone new seemed far too complicated. That is until Renjun brought it up.

You were sitting under a tree near the quad, sipping iced coffees he’d insisted on treating you to.

“This is nice,” he said, leaning back against the trunk. “It’s like freshman year all over again.”

You chuckled in a self-deprecating way. “Yeah, except it’s less embarrassing and delusional.”

Renjun chuckled, shaking his head. “It wasn’t embarrassing back then.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at your own expense. “Forget it. We’re way past that now.”

“I missed hanging out with you, you know,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “You were my favorite study buddy.”

The words caught you off guard. You laughed, a little uncertain. “Wow, didn’t know you were this sentimental, Renjun.”

“I’m serious,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “I’ve missed having you around. And now that we’re spending time together again... I think I like you.”

You blinked, your smile faltering. “What?”

“I like you,” he repeated, his gaze steady. “Romantically, I mean.”

The memory of freshman year came rushing back—his soft rejection, your embarrassment, the way you’d quietly drifted apart afterward.

“I’m not saying I’m in love with you or anything—it’s too soon for that,” he added quickly. “But I know I like you. If that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll understand. Just tell me now, and we’ll stay how we are. No pressure.”

You hesitated, studying him. Renjun had always been kind, always thoughtful. You should’ve been wary, but something in his voice, in the way he looked at you, made you hesitate.

“I’m not sure,” you finally admitted. “If I like you that way.”

Renjun nodded, as if he’d expected that. “Can I try?” he asked. “To see if there’s something here?”

“I’m not really in the right headspace for something like this right now.”

He shrugged. “If it’s alright with you, I can wait. I wasn’t really thinking about rushing things. I just thought I should let you know.”

You stared at him, weighing the possibilities.  It was funny to think how over a year ago, you’d been in this exact position—but on the other side of the conversation. Back then, it had been you confessing your feelings, your heart on the line. Now, as you looked at Renjun, his soft eyes warm yet expectant, you realized this was how he looked at someone he liked. You didn’t know he could get any cuter than he already was.

It was strange how much had changed since then. But maybe that was the point—you weren’t the same person anymore, and neither was he.

“Alright,” you said, your lips curving into a tentative smile. “Let’s see where this goes.”

Renjun’s face lit up, his smile so genuine it made your heart ache a little. And just like that, the two of you began again—not as the people you were back then, but as the people you were now.

And just like that, things changed. Subtly at first—a shift so gradual you almost didn’t notice it. But Renjun’s efforts were unmistakable.

He didn’t just invite you to hang out anymore; he planned outings carefully. One weekend, he suggested a trip to the city’s botanical garden. It wasn’t flashy or extravagant, but the way he lit up as he explained how the seasonal blooms were at their peak made it hard to say no. Walking alongside him through the rows of beautiful flowers, you found yourself smiling more than you expected.

On a rare free weekend, he suggested visiting a nearby art café you hadn’t heard of. “They host live acoustic sets,” he explained as you settled into a cozy nook. The atmosphere was intimate, the music soothing, and Renjun seemed entirely at ease, sipping his coffee and asking your opinion on a mural hanging near the stage.

Sometimes the dates were simpler. A shared umbrella as the two of you made your way to a nearby ramen shop during a surprise downpour. A quiet evening in the music room, where he played the piano while you hummed along to a melody you vaguely recognized. And the night he showed up at your door with a small box of your favorite cake, claiming he was ‘just in the neighborhood.’

When you mentioned your stress over upcoming exams, he showed up with two steaming cups of tea and a promise to help quiz you. “Let’s keep it efficient,” he had said with a light but focused tone. He set up a study session so structured it felt more like a strategy meeting. You were whining half the time, but his calm encouragement made you feel strangely at ease.

Each moment with Renjun felt thoughtful, deliberate, as though he’d carefully considered how to make you feel seen and cared for. He had always been nice, always considerate. But now, there was an added purpose to it—an effort to win you over that didn’t go unnoticed.

And though romance wasn’t at the forefront of your mind, you couldn’t help but notice how much you enjoyed the moments he created. With him, there was no pressure, no expectations. It was easy to enjoy his company for what it was: a quiet comfort, a welcome distraction from everything else.

One day, while you were at the café with your friends, Renjun handed you a pair of tickets to the Fine Arts Department’s exhibit. “I thought it’d be nice to go together again this year,” he said, handing you the stub with a sheepish grin.

Jaemin, seated across from you, immediately perked up. “Oh-ho,” he drawled, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face as he leaned forward. “I see. Someone has taken my responsibility of providing tickets for her every year.”

“What?” Renjun blinked, looking genuinely puzzled. “You used to—?”

Jaemin interrupted with a quick pat on Renjun’s back, his grin widening. “You’re doing great. Keep at it.”

Giselle laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t mind him. He’s just stirring the pot, as usual.”

At the exhibit, the group stayed close as you explored the gallery, admiring the work on display. Renjun, however, never strayed far from your side. Your friends were there to support Jaemin, whose entries were finally being showcased, and he looked proud but uncharacteristically modest as you wandered from piece to piece.

The pieces were captivating, and you found yourself genuinely moved, especially upon seeing that Jaemin had a solo shot of you on display as one of his entries—a 16x20 photograph of yourself displayed on one of the walls. Taken at your favorite spot on the campus quadrangle, the image captured you sitting on the grass, your head tilted back toward the sunlight, eyes closed with a radiant, unguarded smile on your face.

You gasped quietly, covering your mouth. “Na Jaemin,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, “Is this why you asked me not to sue you for portrait rights last week?”

Jaemin’s grin spread slowly, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. He crossed his arms and tilted his head. “You already promised. No take backsies.”

“Yeah, well, I’m suing,” Giselle cut in as she and Karina squinted at the next photo. “There is no solo shot of me.”

“Right?” Karina chimed in, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “This is the one photo where we’re in the frame, but you can barely see us because the building takes up three-quarters of it.”

Jaemin threw up his hands dramatically. “I was going for an artistic composition!”

“Artistic?!” Giselle shot back, mock-offended. “So, what, the building is more photogenic than us?”

Karina nodded solemnly, tapping her chin. “I’m starting to think he’s a fake friend.”

Jaemin groaned, looking to you for backup, but you only laughed. Watching him try to explain himself while your girl friends continued their lighthearted attack was too entertaining to interrupt.

Eventually, you turned to Renjun, who had stepped back slightly from the group, quietly observing. He was staring at your photo, his expression unreadable at first, but as you stepped closer, you caught the small, soft smile tugging at his lips.

“He’s really good,” Renjun said finally, his voice quiet but sincere. “The composition, the light—it’s simple, but it feels… honest. I can see why he saw fit to include this.”

You smiled, glancing at the photo. “He’s had plenty of practice taking pictures of me. I used to give him hell if he captured me at a bad angle.”

Renjun chuckled warmly. “That sounds just like you.”

For a while, neither of you said anything. Renjun’s gaze lingered on the photograph, the golden flicker of the lights overhead casted a soft almost whimsical glow over his features. He looked surreally beautiful, like a painting come to life. For a brief moment, you wondered how things would have turned out if your timing with him had been different. Then, as quickly as the thought came, you brushed it aside and returned to the present. 

Renjun’s presence in your life now should be enough, you reminded yourself. He was thoughtful, steady, and sincere. Yet, no matter how much you tried to bury it, the shadow of your days with Jeno lingered in the back of your mind—a part of you that still missed the spontaneity and chaos Jeno had once brought into your life. You knew deep down that while your dates with Renjun were pleasant and lovely, you missed the spontaneous road trips you’d gone to with Jeno.

“We should move on,” you prompted, tugging his elbow. “I’m starting to think you’re a simp.”

He chuckled sheepishly. “A simp is too much.”

You continued wandering through the gallery, trading comments with Renjun and admiring the art. At some point, you’d lost track of your friends, but Renjun didn’t seem to mind. In fact, without the group’s chatter, he’d become more talkative and more forward.

And while he was occupied eyeing a particularly intriguing painting, you felt a strange pull to glance back toward the other side of the hall where your photo was hanging. Turning, your gaze landed on the figure standing in front of your photo. His stance was relaxed, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, head tilted slightly as though he were studying every detail of the image.

Jeno.

There was no mistaking it. You’d recognize that silhouette anywhere—the broad shoulders, the way his weight shifted casually from one foot to the other. Seeing him there, staring at your photograph for so long, stirred something in you—hurt, frustration, and longing. 

What was he doing? Why was he staring at your face so openly like that? And what did it mean?

Then, as if sensing your eyes on him, Jeno turned slowly, meeting your gaze from across the hall. Time seemed to pause. He didn’t look away, and neither did you. From this distance, you couldn’t decipher the emotions in his expression—was it longing? Anger? Regret? You told yourself it didn’t matter, but deep down, you hoped there was something in those eyes.

Before you could dwell on it though, Renjun called your name, making you glance over your shoulder. “Should we check out the sculptures next?” he asked, his tone light as he gestured toward another section of the gallery.

You tore your eyes away from Jeno and turned to Renjun. His gentle smile and the steady warmth in his gaze felt like a lifeline, pulling you back to solid ground. Forcing a smile of your own, you nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

And just like that, you left Jeno behind, walking forward beside someone who offered you peace, even as a storm still brewed somewhere deep inside your heart.

It was a lazy afternoon at Giselle’s apartment. The three of you were sprawled on her couch, a half-empty bowl of popcorn on the table as the latest episode of your favorite show played in the background. But as usual, the conversation veered off topic, and soon you were talking about Renjun.

“Renjun’s a total sweetheart,” Karina said, her voice laced with admiration. “I mean, the way he looks at you? You’d have to be blind not to notice.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

Giselle, lounging against the armrest, threw a popcorn kernel into her mouth. “He’s sweet, no doubt. But…” She hesitated, as if weighing her words. “Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“I’m not jumping into anything,” you replied, your tone firm but not defensive. “I know I’m not ready for a relationship. I just…” You trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’m enjoying spending time with him. That’s all.”

Karina exchanged a look with Giselle, but neither pressed further. “Just don’t let anyone rush you,” Giselle finally said, her voice softer now. “Not even yourself.”

You nodded, offering a small smile in thanks. “I won’t.”

When the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you glanced at the clock. It was getting late, and you had plans early the next morning. Rising from the couch, you grabbed your bag.

“I got to go,” you said, stretching. “My laundry needs ironing.”

“Or you could just run it in the dryer again and take it out as soon as it’s done,” Giselle suggested as you headed for the door. “No wrinkles, no need for ironing. It will save you some time.”

“You know what, I might do just that,” you beamed, giving them quick little hugs and pecks before leaving.

The ride down the elevator was uneventful at first. You leaned against the mirrored wall, scrolling through your phone, half-distracted by a string of unread notifications. Then, with a soft chime, the elevator stopped, and the doors slid open.

You froze as soon as you looked up.

Standing on the other side was Jeno. His hair was tousled, and he had the same familiar slouch you’d seen a hundred times before. For a moment, he seemed just as startled as you, his hand hovering over the elevator button like he hadn’t expected to see you either.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The door stayed open for what felt like an eternity, but it was only a few seconds before it began to close again. Still, neither of you made a move to stop it.

The moment broke as the elevator resumed its descent, and you let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your heart was pounding, the remnants of that brief, silent encounter lingering like static in the air.

When you stepped out of the building, the cool evening breeze hit your face, but it didn’t calm the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. You decided, then and there, that you wouldn’t visit Giselle’s apartment as often anymore. You weren’t ready to face Jeno—not like that, not when you couldn’t even trust yourself to stay unaffected by a mere elevator ride. For now, avoidance seemed like the safest option.

The next day, you met Renjun again for a study session. The library was unusually quiet, even for a weekday. Your usual spot by the large arched window felt more secluded than ever, sunlight spilling through the glass and illuminating the table where you and Renjun sat. He had just excused himself to browse the shelves for a book, leaving you to jot down notes in peaceful solitude.

Or so you thought.

“Boo.”

You nearly jumped out of your seat, twisting around to see Donghyuck grinning at you from the leather armchair behind your table. His hair was a mess, and he looked like he’d just woken up.

“Donghyuck?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed the disturbance. “What are you even doing here?”

He stretched lazily, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “Mark kicked me out.”

Your lips twitched into a smirk. “If that’s true, I’m baking him cookies to celebrate.”

“Ah, so brutal.” He slid into the seat across from you. “So, this is your life now? Hanging out with Nerdy McBlond every day?”

“Mind your own business,” you muttered, turning a page in your notebook.

But Donghyuck was nothing if not persistent. He leaned forward, lowering his voice deviously. “You know, I kinda miss the old you. The one who used to make out with Jeno in parking lots. Now that was entertainment.”

Your pen froze mid-sentence. Slowly, you looked up, grimacing in disbelief and annoyance. “Are you serious right now? You’re such a pervert.”

Donghyuck clutched his chest, feigning offence. “Excuse me? You’re the ones who did it in the open. Why should I be called a pervert for enjoying a free show?” He leaned back on the chair, smirking. “Too bad you didn’t do it in your apartment, though. I would have loved to hear how you’d sound like when you getting—”

You kicked his leg under the table before he could finish, making him groan in pain, the sound prompting the attention of other students in the quiet library. You gave them apologetic smiles before turning back to Donghyuck and glaring at him.

In a low but agitated voice, you said, “Go away.”

Donghyuck didn’t move, lounging comfortably in his seat as his gaze flicked to something—or someone—behind you. You turned to see Renjun approaching, a thick book tucked under his arm, his curious eyes shifting between you and Donghyuck.

“Who’s your friend?” Renjun asked as he sat.

“Oh, he’s not my—” you paused, catching yourself. You exhaled. “Donghyuck. He’s a neighbor, and a pain.”

“Ah,” Renjun said, his tone neutral but his expression unimpressed.

“Can you fight?” Donghyuck asked abruptly, his smirk returning.

Renjun blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Never mind,” Donghyuck said, standing up with exaggerated flair. “I’ll leave you two to your thrilling world of books and productivity. Try not to bore each other to death.”

“Finally,” you huffed, shaking your head.

Donghyuck paused beside you, leaning down to whisper, “I’ll bet the last 20 bucks in my pocket that he’s vanilla as hell.”

You felt your cheeks flare, and without thinking, you picked up a book from your desk and hit Donghyuck’s arm with it. He left laughing, much to the librarian’s annoyance. 

Renjun chuckled softly, shaking his head as he settled back into his seat. “Is he always like that?”

“Worse,” you muttered, trying to focus on your notes again.

But Donghyuck's words about Jeno stayed with you, uninvited and unwelcome, scratching at the back of your mind. No matter how much you tried to brush it off, the mention of Jeno left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You hesitated at the entrance to Giselle’s apartment building, staring up at the familiar structure. You’d promised to drop by and help her with a last-minute project, but being here filled you with dread. He was somewhere inside, just a few floors away. Jeno. You told yourself the odds of running into him were slim, but the memory of that elevator encounter still clung to you, sharp and intrusive.

Still, you had no choice. Taking a deep breath, you stepped through the doors.

The visit went smoothly. You kept yourself busy, helping Giselle as best as you can. Your worries were momentarily forgotten until it was time to leave. Fortunately, you didn’t run into him and left the building uneventfully. But as you walked down the street, heading home, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You glanced at the screen, frowning at the unknown number before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey, um… is this Jeno’s girlfriend?” a male voice asked hesitantly.

You stiffened, your grip tightening on the phone. “No. It’s not.” You swallowed hard. “We’re not together anymore.”

“Oh,” the guy said, clearly embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t know. It’s just… Jeno’s really sick, and we don’t know what to do. He keeps saying he’s fine, but he’s burning up. We thought maybe you could—”

“Call an ambulance,” you interrupted firmly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I mean, it doesn’t seem that serious,” he stammered. “But he’s—”

You hung up, cutting him off. Shoving your phone into your pocket, you walked faster, forcing yourself not to look back.

But the farther you got, the heavier the knot in your stomach grew. You shouldn’t care. It wasn’t your problem anymore. Still, your mind betrayed you, replaying the image of Jeno sick and alone. Before you realized it, your fingers were already flying across your screen, calling back the unknown number. The dial tone grated through your eyes, making you grow restless with every beat.

“Where are you?” you asked as soon as the guy picked up. He told you they had just pulled up to Jeno’s apartment and without hesitation, your feet quickly changed direction, carrying you to him.

The door to his apartment creaked open as you stepped inside, and the scent that welcomed you was painfully familiar—woodsy with a faint hint of his cologne. You saw him slumped on the couch, pale and sweating, his head resting against the armrest. The sight hit you like a punch to the gut.

“Jeno,” you called softly, crouching beside him. His eyes fluttered open, barely focusing on you.

“Baby…” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “Babe, is that you?”

“Don’t talk,” you murmured, your throat tight.

You spent the next hour taking care of him—dragging him into his bedroom, changing his sweat-soaked shirt, cooling his fever, coaxing him to drink water, and forcing him to rest. When he finally drifted off, you sank into the living room chair, staring at the familiar space. 

Everything looked exactly as it had the last time you were here. The blanket draped over the couch, the framed photo of you and him that you’d placed on the shelf—it all sent a bittersweet pang on your chest. You didn’t realize that in your time together, you’d made a cozy home of what used to be an empty and lifeless apartment.

The ache in your chest grew unbearable, so you decided to distract yourself. You thought about cooking something for him, but his fridge was nearly empty save for a few bottles of water, some beer cans, and what could possibly be a week-old pizza. So you stepped out to buy groceries, telling yourself it was just to make sure he had something to eat when he woke up.

By the time you returned, he was still sound asleep. You quietly worked in the small kitchen, making soup that filled the apartment with its comforting aroma. You were ladling it into a bowl when you felt a presence behind you.

Turning, you found Jeno leaning against the wall, watching you with a faint smile. His hair was disheveled, and he looked exhausted, but his eyes held that familiar warmth that made your knees weak.

“You’re awake,” you said sharply, masking the turmoil inside you. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he replied, his voice low.

You turned back to the stove, focusing on the task at hand. “I made soup and picked up some bread. Eat something,” you told him, keeping your tone neutral.

Before you could step away, you felt his arms wrap around you from behind. His head dropped onto your shoulder, his breath warm against the crook of your neck.

You sighed, exasperated. “Jeno, don’t do this.”

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, his words cutting through your defenses.

Your hands gripped the counter as tears pricked your eyes. A quiet sob escaped before you could stop it, and you hated yourself for it—for still feeling so much.

And due to some hideous twist of fate—or simply your penchant for making bad decisions, the wall you’d put up between the two of you collapsed. His touch was too familiar, and his presence was too intoxicating. One moment you were telling yourself to leave, and the next, you were tangled with him in his bed, lost in the remnants of what you once had, and drowning in a storm you should have stayed far away from.

You and Jeno got back together, but it wasn’t the storybook reunion you’d secretly hoped for. Instead, it came with guilt, secrecy, and a gnawing sense of uncertainty that refused to leave your mind. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell your friends—how could you, after all they’d seen you go through all this time? Giselle had warned you to take your time, and Karina had all but sworn off Jeno for you. Telling them would mean confessing that you’d ignored every lesson you’d learned.

When you told Renjun you couldn’t return his feelings, he accepted it with a grace that only deepened your guilt. His words were sincere—he wished you happiness and hoped you’d be treated the way you deserved. Obviously, he means well, but as the saying goes, “you deserve what you tolerate.” Renjun had no idea what you’d been tolerating all this time.

Now you were starting to think you deserved it—every careless word, every moment of neglect. You tolerated it, didn’t you? And in doing so, hadn’t you silently agreed to it all?

At first, you convinced yourself it was different this time. Jeno was softer, more attentive. He held you close as if he feared you’d slip away again. You allowed yourself to believe he’d changed, that maybe love really was enough to fix things. But cracks began to show again, the same cracks that broke you apart before.

He was still Jeno—charming, but inconsistent. Passionate, but detached. He’d say all the right things but leave promises half-kept. When you tried to address your doubts, he’d dismiss them, brushing you off with half-assed words of assurance, a grin, or a kiss.

“Why are we even doing this if you don’t care?” you’d asked one evening, your voice trembling with frustration.

“I do care,” he’d said, pulling you into his arms. “You just overthink things sometimes.”

And just like that, the fight was over before it began.

It became a pattern. Every time you gathered the courage to end it, Jeno found a way to pull you back in. He wouldn’t let you go, his touch silencing your protests, his whispered apologies dulling your resolve. It was intoxicating and suffocating all at once.

One night, after yet another argument swept under the rug, you lay awake beside him, staring at the ceiling. His arm draped lazily over your waist, and his soft breathing filled your ears. You realized then that nothing had changed. You were still walking on eggshells, still carrying the burden of a love that wasn’t enough.

The next morning, you woke up with a decision. It was time to confront your demons, time to let go for good. No more excuses. No more clinging to the remnants of a love that felt more like a habit than a home.

You walked into the conversation knowing it would hurt, but you also knew staying would hurt more.

“Let’s stop this. I’m done,” you told Jeno, your voice trembling but firm.

He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. It was so typically Jeno—calm, almost indifferent. You could almost see the thought bubble hovering above his head that reads: “Here we go again.”

“I’m serious, Jeno,” you said again, more forcefully this time. “I can’t do this anymore.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his lips curling into a half-smile that only fueled your frustration. “You’re always serious, but you never mean it,” he said, his tone infuriatingly casual.

Your stomach churned at his dismissal, but you held your ground. You had almost snapped, but you caught yourself and prevented what would have been a long and tiresome argument. “Well, I mean it this time,” you replied with a weary smile.

Jeno pushed off the counter, stepping closer to you. His eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, you saw the boy you’d fallen for, the boy who had once made you feel like you were the center of his world. He reached to cup your cheek, his gaze not leaving yours.

“I love you,” he said quietly,  as if the words alone could erase the pain, the fights, the endless cycle of promises and disappointments.

Your heart wavered at his admission, that same heart that had been broken and patched up too many times to count. It would have been so easy to fall for those words again, to let them soothe you like they always had. But this time, they weren’t enough. You stepped away from him.

“I thought you did too,” you replied bitterly.

Jeno reached for you, his hand hesitating in midair, but you took another step back before he could touch you. You thought you’d cry, that this would be an emotional conversation. But strangely enough, your eyes were dry despite the heaviness in your heart.

Jeno didn’t say anything, just stared at you as if he had no idea what was going on. You grabbed your bag on the couch and turned toward the door. With each step, your chest grew heavier, but you didn’t look back. Yes, you’d done this dozens of times before. Yes, you still went back in his arms each time. But you’d swore this would be the last time—that there will be no going back after this one.

By the time you reached Giselle’s apartment, you were barely composed, each breath making you more nauseous. You were on the verge of throwing up, as if it was the only way to release every sob you had swallowed. You raised a trembling hand and knocked on the door, the sound of your knuckles hitting wood echoed in the deserted hallway. A moment later, the door opened, and there stood Giselle, her expression shifting from surprise to concern in an instant.

“Hey, are you okay?” she began and the moment her worried eyes met yours, the fragile composure you were holding on to fell apart.

A sob escaped before you could stop it, and then another, until you were standing there, shaking and crying like the broken mess you were.

“Hey, hey,” Giselle said softly, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

You clung to her, tears soaking her shoulder as she gently guided you inside. The door clicked shut behind you, and the world outside faded away. For a long moment, you just let yourself cry, the heartbreak and exhaustion spilling out in uneven gasps.

Giselle didn’t ask questions or demand explanations. She simply held you tighter, and her presence was comforting enough. “It’s alright. I’m here.”

As your sobs subsided, you pulled back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. Giselle handed you a tissue, her gaze warm and understanding. Despite the ache still lodged in your chest, there was a small, fragile sense of relief.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t fighting to hold something together anymore. You weren’t clinging to the hope that things would change, or to the version of Jeno you’d loved so desperately. You did it. You had finally, truly this time, chosen yourself.

To: LJN You don’t have to call anymore. I won’t pick up the phone. -xx

[fin]

[saythenametotheworld]

is it new year's yet? | l.mk (18+)

Synopsis: Coming home for Christmas is your least favorite part of the year. But this time, you're up for a pleasant surprise when you get introduced to your cousin's friend from uni, Mark Lee. Genre: holiday fling, smut Pairing: Mark Lee x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit content (18+) Notes: 9.7k words. Listening to is it new year's yet by Sabrina Carpenter. A little late holiday treat for you all! I miss writing for Mark sm. I'm on vacation so I've been MIA and will be MIA for a few more days. ALSO if you see a different version of this fic on a different account for a different idol, it's me. I have decided to open a different blog for other groups. xoxo, cal.

ENJOY!

Holidays are for family reunions and coming home to bond with your loved ones. Bullshit. You’d rather be anywhere but here.

Here being your family home, bright and cheerful with Christmas decors and merry chatter from relatives and family friends. The sweet smell of cinnamon and gingerbread permeated the halls and the Christmas songs playing from the speakers your mother had strategically placed around the house were grating on your nerves, making you dizzier than the champagne you were drinking. 

You didn’t hate your family—far from it. You loved them with every fiber of your being. But that didn’t make the family tradition of hosting a horde of relatives and family friends for Christmas any less unbearable.

Home. Familiar, warm, and somehow... suffocating.

You should be used to it by now, considering how your mother had always made it her mission to be the ultimate hostess. What might have seemed magical when you were a kid now felt so unnecessary. As you grew older, it became harder to tolerate the endless stream of insufferable relatives and their even more insufferable commentary.

“Did you lose weight?” a distant aunt asked, her eyes raking over you like you were a mannequin in a store window. “You need to eat more. You’re so skinny.”

Just call me fat, why don’t you? you thought to yourself, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “I know. I did it on purpose,” you replied curtly before tossing back the last of your champagne. You didn’t wait for her reaction. You simply walked away, the bubbles fizzing in your throat as you searched for somewhere to hide.

You wove your way through the crowd, dodging overly familiar pats on the shoulder and sidelong glances that screamed When are you graduating? or Where’s your boyfriend?

The living room was packed with people swapping stories you’d heard a hundred times before. The scent of pine from the overdecorated tree blended with the warm spice of wine and sugary sweetness from the dessert table. The whole atmosphere was so perfect and festive that it made it a little hard to breathe. 

You needed air. Or another drink. Although, both are fine too.

In the kitchen, you poured yourself another glass of champagne and leaned against the counter, fishing out your phone to scroll mindlessly. A part of you considered texting Yeonjun—the guy you couldn’t stop thinking about. He was probably back in the city, having the time of his life at some glittering party—champagne in hand, gorgeous people all around, someone to kiss at midnight.

“Fuck this,” you muttered under your breath, stuffing your phone back in your pocket as you walked out of the kitchen.

Rounding the corner too fast, you slammed into someone—a steady grip caught your arm before the champagne could spill. 

“Easy there,” he said, his voice low and warm. You glanced up and found a stranger: jet-black hair with an undercut, sharp jawline, and an easy smile that contrasted with the chaos around you. He looked your age, maybe a bit older.

“Thanks,” you muttered, eyeing him curiously. You could not remember seeing him anywhere before, so naturally, your immediate assumption was that he was a guest’s plus one. He could be a cousin’s boyfriend or something and you were just about to ask him that when your cousin Hendery appeared beside him.

“Oooh, look who showed up!” Hendery said, tilting his head with that playful glint you always found irritating.

You rolled your eyes. “I always show up.”

“Of course you do.” Hendery leaned against the wall, arms crossed and grinning. “You hate it here, don’t you?”

You tilted your head at him, pretending to think. “What gave it away? My overflowing enthusiasm?”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Hendery teased. “A little family bonding with your favorite aunts would be nice. Aren’t you supposed to pack them a gift each?”

You drained the last of your champagne, letting the fizz linger as you looked at your cousin. “I’d rather die.”

Hendery laughed, nudging Mark with his elbow. “This is my cousin. She’s the resident Grinch. But don’t worry; she’s fun when she wants to be.”

“I can hear you,” you gloated.

“I know,” he said, his grin widening. “So? Are you going to spend the whole night sipping champagne like a miserable bore?”

You gave him a flat look. “Oh my god. You can read minds?” you deadpanned.

“Well, perfect! You’re already dressed for the occasion,” he quipped, gesturing vaguely at your casual attire. He laughed but stopped when you didn’t even crack a smile. “Tell you what, Mark and I are heading out. You’re welcome to join us if you want to.”

“No.”

“Come on. It’s gonna be fun.” Before you could refuse again, Hendery slung an arm around your shoulder and turned to Mark. “She’ll come. She just likes to play hard to get.”

“I really won’t,” you retorted, trying to shrug him off. “I don’t feel like tailing you two all night.”

“What else are you gonna do—sit in a corner and glare at people?”

You rolled your eyes, but the answer was obvious. Staying inside meant more questions, more relatives, more everything you were trying to avoid.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if you drag me into something ridiculous—”

“You’ll have fun. Promise,” Hendery interrupted and then turned to Mark. “She’s coming.”

Mark’s smile was easy, almost reassuring. “No pressure. It’ll be chill.”

You smirked. “You clearly don’t know Hendery.”

With that, Hendery led the way, practically bouncing out the door. You followed, stuffing your hands into your coat pockets as Mark fell into step beside you.

The winter air hit you like a slap, crisp and biting, slicing through the lingering scents of cinnamon and pine. It was a relief, though, clearing your head from the stifling warmth of the house. You walked down the quiet streets with Hendery, Mark, and a few friends you used to hang out with growing up. They led the way, cracking jokes and tossing playful banter back and forth, while you stuck closer to the back with Mark.

“I can’t believe they’re still dating,” you muttered, eyeing a pair in front of you.

“Who? Them?” Mark asked, making you glance briefly at them.

You nodded. “They started dating when we were sophomores in high school. And they’re still together.”

Mark hummed. “They must really like each other then.”

You grimaced, eyeing the lovey-dovey couple in front. “I don’t know. They used to break up and make up. It was exhausting. Everyone thought they’d break up for good after graduation. But, well… here we are.”

“Guess they like running in circles,” Mark said lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He glanced sideways at you. “What about you? Do you think people like that can actually work out?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if the question was casual or probing. “I think it depends on how much drama you can stomach. Personally, I’d rather avoid it altogether.”

Mark tilted his head thoughtfully. “No drama, huh? That’s a pretty high bar for relationships.”

You smirked, knowing how ironic it was for you to say this despite having a relationship drama. “Tell me about it,” you mumbled.

It was easy to figure out Mark’s intentions. The whole time, he didn’t try to hide it, nor did he try to send mixed signals. It was pretty clear with how close he was standing beside you, how his shoulder almost brushed yours. The way Mark’s eyes lingered on you when you spoke, the way he tilted his head when you laughed, like he was committing the sound to memory. How, even when you weren’t talking, he stayed within arm’s reach, his gaze flickering to you every now and then. How his focus remained on you.

And then there was the way he leaned in just slightly when he made a comment, his voice low, his words meant only for you.

He was attentive in a way that surprised you, even in the most casual moments. As you explained how you and your friends used to kill time in this sleepy town—late-night drives to the lookout point, sneaking snacks into the single-screen movie theater, racing bikes down the old dirt trail—Mark listened with genuine curiosity, his eyes lighting up with every story.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said when you were alone at the swings. You sat comfortably on the swing while he pushed you gently. “Not only did you race down a hill that sounds like a death trap, but you’re telling me you were the reigning champion?”

You tilted your head, feigning offense. “Why do you sound so skeptical?”

“Oh, I believe you,” he said, his smirk widening. “I’m just wondering how many people you bribed to throw the race.”

You gasped playfully. “Excuse me, I won fair and square.”

“Sure you did.” His laughter was low, warm, the kind that made you feel comfortable with him.

You smirked. “Why else would I bring it up? Go ask them.”

He chuckled, nodding his head. “You seem really confident… I believe you.”

You were quiet for a while, with only the creaking sound of swing filling the silence. The tip of your shoes dragged lightly with every swing, carving the damp ground underneath.

Mark asked after the silence stretched out. “So, is that all you did for fun around here?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug. “Lame, huh?”

“Not at all. It’s simple but it has its charm,” he said softly, pausing as he held the swing tight to stop it. “It says a lot about you though.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Are you calling me charming?”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice light but his gaze unwavering. “What would you do if I was?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Depends. Is this small-town charm talking, or do you actually mean it?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Well, aren’t you a smooth talker?” you teased, though your voice had softened, your usual sharpness dulled by the way Mark was looking at you.

He grinned, leaning just a little closer, his voice dropping lower. “Only with the right company.”

You held his gaze. “Right company, huh?” you murmured, your heart thudding as you tilted your head, meeting his eyes.

He smiled faintly, his voice dipping lower. “You know I mean it.”

His gaze lingered on you, his head tilting ever so slightly as he leaned closer. You barely noticed the chill in the air anymore, not when the space between you seemed to shrink. His hand brushed the chain of the swing, his fingers close enough to graze yours. His breath mixed with yours, the faint scent of his cologne and the crisp night air filling the gap. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he leaned in, his focus entirely on you.

Your fingers twitched on the swing’s chain, almost brushing his. His lips hovered near yours now, and for a moment, everything else faded away—

“Yo, there you are!” Hendery’s voice broke through the stillness, loud and completely unbothered.

You flinched, the spell breaking as you turned toward the sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel. Hendery and the others were strolling toward you, their laughter cutting through the quiet.

Mark straightened quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, that’s too bad,” he murmured, his voice low enough just for you. “I thought we’d finally lost them.”

A quiet laugh escaped you, even as warmth lingered on your cheeks. “I didn’t know we were doing that.”

He shrugged, a glint of mischief in his eyes, so you swatted his chest lightly, the playfulness easing the tension.

Hendery raised an eyebrow as he approached, his gaze flicking between you and Mark. “What, were you two having a moment or something?”

“Not even close,” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “What do you want?”

“Lori was asking if your mom baked a fruitcake this year,” he said, pointing toward your friend Lori.

You glanced at her, catching her expectant grin. “You know what,” you said, rising to your feet, “she did. You should grab some before it’s gone.”

Lori and the others cheered. Though your mom’s fruitcake wasn’t your favorite—too sweet for your taste—you still felt a swell of pride knowing it was the highlight of every Christmas. It was this pride that made you wanna bring them over, so with Hendery leading your group, you headed back to your house, noisy and in high spirits.

Like opposite sides of magnets, you and Mark found each other again and fell behind the rest of the group. He leaned into your ear as he asked, “Are we gonna pick up where we left off?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Depends on how charming you are for the rest of the night.”

He held your gaze, his smile softening. “Challenge accepted.”

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you let the confidence he’d drawn out of you take hold. “You’ve been following me all night. You like me, don’t you?”

Mark didn’t even bother denying it. His smile widened, his voice steady as he replied, “Can you blame me?”

You chuckled. “Don’t fall for me, though. I’d hate to break your heart once the holidays are over,” you told him, grinning playfully before walking faster to rejoin your friends.

Mark stayed back for a moment, watching you. Too late, he thought. You really should’ve warned him sooner.

“If this was a uni party, someone would’ve spiked the eggnog already,” you mumbled, your eyes scanning the room filled with family, friends, and all the usual holiday chaos.

Mark’s voice was low beside you, cutting through the noise. “Really?”

You nodded, not looking at him. “Oh yeah. If you want to survive the night here, you have to make your own fun.” You shot him a side glance, half-smiling. “Otherwise, it’s just... this.”

For a brief moment, Mark said nothing, but you could feel him shifting beside you. Then, in a voice laced with amusement and mischief, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Alarmed, you grabbed his arm and yanked him back before he could get too far. “No, Mark!”

He turned toward you, his grin dangerous. “What?”

“No, seriously,” you whispered urgently, trying to keep your voice down. You scanned the room quickly, then pointed across it with dramatic flair. “Old people.”

Mark’s brow furrowed, clearly confused, so you leaned in just a little closer. “That’s my great-uncle,” you said, nodding toward an elderly man in a faded cardigan who was snoozing away in the rocking chair. “He’s 84 and can’t have alcohol. But he’s obsessed with eggnog. Let’s not ruin this for him.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, fighting back a laugh. “That’s not so Grinch of you.”

“I make exceptions for people I like,” you said, your voice dropping to a playful whisper.

His smile deepened, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Is that so?” he asked, teasing but warm. “What exceptions have you made for me so far?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your smile from widening. “I’m not answering that.”

“So there is something, then?”  He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, as if the answer were hidden in your response.

“I’m not answering that either.” You chuckled, taking a step back with an exaggerated sigh. You started heading toward the patio, but Mark’s long strides quickly caught up, his footsteps just behind you.

The cold night air hit your skin as you stepped onto the patio, but the firepit’s warmth immediately enveloped you. Your friends and cousins gathered around, roasting marshmallows and swapping stories. You sat on the same bench as Mark, his presence adding warmth and comfort. You joined the conversations with the others, while occasionally having your own little talks with Mark.

The more you talked, the closer he leaned toward you, his eyes never quite leaving your face as if he were soaking in everything you said. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the heat of both the fire and his proximity. 

As the night wore on, the laughter around the firepit thinned out, your companions dispersing one by one to retire for the night. Soon, it was just you, Mark, and Hendery—both guys occupied with something on Hendery’s phone.Left to your own devices, you scrolled aimlessly through social media, eventually landing on a friend’s Instagram story.

Yeonjun appeared in the group photo, looking happy and festive at what seemed like a rowdy party. You checked your inbox, hoping for a message, but he hadn’t even read the last one you’d sent. A sigh slipped from your lips louder than you intended, and Mark glanced up at you.

“You okay?” he asked quietly as you quickly turned your screen off. His cheeks were flushed, likely from the cold and the alcohol, and his eyes looked a little sleepy from the late hour. The sight of him brought a comforting warmth to your chest.

“I’m fine,” you mouthed, holding his hand that rested on your arm.

Suddenly, Hendery shot up from his seat with a sharp exhale. “Let’s get out of here. I’m about to lose it with this Mariah Carey song they’ve got on repeat.”

“You go ahead. I’m gonna stick around for a bit,” Mark replied, squeezing your arm before rubbing his thumb against your jacket.

Hendery noticed your joined hands and narrowed his eyes at the two of you. “You guys are getting cozy.”

“Are we?” you teased, glancing at Mark and shrugging. You leaned against his chest playfully and added, “I hardly noticed.”

Mark played along, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. Hendery shook his head, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “If you’re gonna have sex, don’t do it in our room.”

The comment made you roll your eyes. “This is my house, Hendery. We can do it in my bedroom!”

Hendery didn’t respond, only raised a middle finger at you two before walking away. You laughed, watching him disappear into the house. But beside you, Mark had stopped grinning, his expression shifting to something more serious, his eyes wide with shock.

You raised an eyebrow. “What? I was just joking.”

Mark blinked a few times, looking away as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.” His voice was a little more strained, and you noticed a blush creeping up his neck.

You couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Did you think I was serious?” you asked, leaning in just a little closer.

Mark turned his head slightly, his eyes flickering toward you for a brief moment before he fixed his gaze on the fire. “Not at all,” he replied quickly.

“Oh? So you’re not interested?” you pressed, enjoying the sight of him flustered.

“I didn’t say that,” he responded too eagerly, too quickly.

The sudden shift in his tone caught you off guard. You hesitated for a moment, watching him carefully before you let out a soft laugh. “Okay,” you said, wanting to ease the tension. “I was just messing with you. Relax.”

Mark didn’t answer immediately, but you saw his posture stiffen, his hand slipping from your shoulder as he cleared his throat again. The air between you two felt thicker now, charged with something neither of you wanted to bring up.

You let the silence hang there for a few moments before turning to look at the house, your smile a little softer. “Anyway,” you muttered, standing up, “let’s get back inside.”

Mark didn’t say anything as he followed you, the air between you was thick with tension, but neither of you said much as you both walked toward the staircase leading up to the upper floors. It was past midnight. You had intended to hang out with him a bit more, but the night suddenly started to catch up with you after that awkward exchange with Mark.

It shouldn’t be a surprise. He clearly wanted you, at least based on how he’d been flirting with you all night and how you almost kissed at the playground earlier. And to be honest, you were entertaining the idea of a holiday fling with Mark. He was very attractive and he’d done nothing to raise any red flags so far. So why did the sudden sexual tension seem to make things awkward between you?

As you reached the hallway, you turned to him with a small smile. “Well, guess it’s time for me to call it a night,” you said, your voice a little quieter than usual.

Mark nodded, but there was something in his expression that suggested he wasn’t ready to say goodnight just yet. “Yeah… sure,” he replied, his eyes focused on you.

You both stopped in front of your door and there was a silence that stretched longer than either of you anticipated. When you reached for the doorknob, Mark didn’t say anything, though you could see the dejected look in his eyes that he failed to mask with the smile he was wearing.

“See you in the morning?” you suggested, offering him something to look forward to despite the seemingly disappointing end to the night. “That is, if you’re still here by then,” you added, a low key attempt at asking what his plans were for tomorrow.

Mark smiled warmly. “I might have volunteered to be tomorrow’s Santa Claus, so I think I’d still be here.”

You chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Are you serious?”

“No,” he chimed with a playful grin, reaching for your hand and brushing his fingers lightly across your skin.

The touch was so small, yet it felt electric. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. His eyes locked with yours, holding a silent intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You found yourself leaning in, just a little bit closer, your breath shallow.

“Mark, I—” you began, only to cut yourself off because you didn’t really know what you were gonna say. Or if you should even say anything at all.

But then you both understood without words. Your nerves seemed to settle, and without another sound, Mark leaned in, his lips pressing gently against yours.

It was soft, almost questioning at first, but the moment it happened, everything else seemed to fade into the background. The lingering discomfort from the teasing, the unsaid words—everything disappeared. For that one exhilarating moment, there was nothing but the warmth of him against you.

When the kiss broke, you both stood there, breathless, eyes wide. You let out a nervous laugh, still trying to gather your thoughts. “That didn’t just happen,” you chuckled.

Mark’s gaze softened, his lips curling up into a small, almost sheepish smile. “Was that too fast?” he questioned playfully.

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “Not really, but… let’s just pretend it didn’t happen,” you said, trying to play it cool, but your heart was still racing.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Good idea.”

You stood there for a whole minute, staring at each other in the quiet, with only the faint sound of Christmas carol from the living room filling the silence. “Good idea,” you echoed quietly, but your eyes were fixed on his lips, plump and inviting.

Before you knew it, you were kissing again, this time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, the kind that made your knees a little weak. His hands settled gently on your waist, making you hyper aware of the way your bodies are pressed against each other. For a moment, you let yourself forget about everything else—the holiday chaos, your family, Yeonjun.

When he pulled back slightly, his gaze was intense, searching yours. “You good?” he rasped, his breath warm against your face.

“Totally,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You kicked your bedroom door open, tugging him inside without breaking the kiss. In no time, you found your back pressed against the wall right by the door, Mark’s lips ravaging yours with a kiss that made you go feral.

When his hand slipped under your shirt, you held it tightly, debating whether to let him go there—caught between wanting to retreat and wanting to give in. As your hesitation stretched, Mark took it as his cue to pull away—not completely, just enough to press his forehead against yours and cup your cheeks

“Is that a ‘no’?” he whispered, his voice laced with playful warmth.

You chuckled, still a little drunk on his lips—on him. “Are you hurt?” you asked playfully, though your concern was sincere. “Your ego, I mean.”

“Hmm, not really,” he replied, shivering under your touch when your hand ran from his arm to his neck. “I’m more hurt somewhere else.”

That made you laugh and hit his chest playfully. Mark caught your hand, keeping it on his chest as he closed his eyes—forehead still pressed against, his breathing steady but deep, his lips lifted slightly in a faint smile.

You planted a soft kiss on his lips and took a small step back. “Aren’t you leaving?”

Mark clutched his chest, feigning a pained look. “Ouch. I’m getting kicked out too? This is torture.”

The sound of Christmas carols from the living room filtered through the door, a reminder of the world just outside, but neither of you seemed in a rush to leave. Mark looked around your dimly lit bedroom, studying the space as if familiarizing himself.

“I don’t want to push my luck,” he said, his voice low as he glanced back at you. “But this is much cozier than the guest room I’m sharing with Hendery.”

You smirked, catching the insinuation in his statement. “It’s a no, Mark.”

Mark winced visibly. “Is that final?” he asked, making you chuckle.

“We only just met.”

He shrugged, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s fair. It was worth a shot, though.”

You had to admit, you considered it. Just the idea of being in Mark’s arms stirred something inside you. A feeling that, if you were being honest, you weren’t expecting to feel at all when you boarded the train home for the holidays. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the loneliness of the night creeping in, but right now, you felt more alive than you had in weeks.

Mark tilted your chin, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips once more. “Good night?”

“Good night,” you chimed, holding his hand against your cheek.

But he made no move to leave, he just stood there, staring at you as if it would physically pain him to look away. Then he leaned in for another kiss, and you were more than happy to oblige.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he teased, forehead pressing against yours.

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted, rolling your eyes playfully, though your smile was soft, just a little more sincere now.

The next morning, breakfast unfolded in a much quieter manner than last night’s festivities with everyone still half-asleep and quietly eating. Across the table, Mark seemed perfectly at ease, though you couldn’t ignore the occasional glance he sent your way—or how your gaze sometimes lingered on him longer than it should.

Your mom’s attention was on him, which was understandable since he was the only new face around the dining table. Your mom said she didn’t get the chance to properly get to know him because yesterday was hectic. Mark didn’t seem to mind, he was polite and spoke with courteousness and a charming demeanor. 

You got to know a few things about him from their conversation. He’s a Music major at the same university as Hendery, he’s Korean but was raised in Canada. And he came with Hendery because he couldn’t fly back home for Christmas.

“So, Mark,” your mom began to add as she reached for another piece of toast, her tone light but curious. “How do you know Hendery?”

You smirked, glancing at your cousin. “Yeah. You seem too cool to be hanging out with this dork.”

Mark glanced at Hendery, who was already grinning as if he knew what story Mark was going to tell. “We met during our first year,” Mark said, chuckling. “I was waiting for a class to start, and out of nowhere, he sat down next to me and just… started talking.”

“Talking about what?” your mom asked.

Mark hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… pigeons.”

“Pigeons?”

“Yeah,” Mark replied, his laugh a little sheepish. “He was convinced that pigeons were government drones or something, and he just kept going on about it. For like, twenty minutes. I thought he was messing with me, but he was dead serious.”

Hendery piped up from further down the table. “They are drones, by the way.”

The table burst into laughter, while you shot Hendery an incredulous look. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

Hendery looked unbothered. “Oh, I do. As a matter of fact—”

“Nevermind,” you interrupted, cutting him off. “Forget I asked.”

Mark was grinning. “Honestly, I didn’t know what to think at first, but it was kind of refreshing. Everyone else was so uptight, and here’s this guy just dropping pigeon conspiracies out of nowhere.”

Your mom laughed again, shaking her head. “Well, that’s one way to make a friend.”

“And now you’re stuck with him,” you teased, looking at Mark.

“Pretty much,” Mark agreed, his gaze flicking to you with a warm smile. “But hey, life’s never boring with Hendery around.”

You smirked. “You’re too kind. Just say he’s an idiot. He doesn’t mind.”

Hendery waved his fork in the air, scoffing at you. “Joke’s on you. Mark would never say something so mean.”

Mark shrugged. “Well, he’s kind of… an idiot.”

Hendery gasped dramatically. “What have you done to my friend?” he accused dramatically.

The conversation soon shifted from playful banter to lighter topics as the meal wound down. You mostly stayed quiet, stealing occasional glances at Mark, who somehow managed to charm your family without even trying. When breakfast ended, your mom handed you a towel. “You’re on dish duty today,” she said with a kind smile.

Mark stood without hesitation. “I’ll help.”

“Very gallant of you,” your mom quipped, her tone amused as she watched you carry the dishes away.

When your family was out of earshot, Mark leaned in close, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Figured I’d earn some points.”

You chuckled, shaking your head but not protesting as he followed you into the kitchen. He rolled up his sleeves with ease, taking the stack of plates from your hands and grinning like this was second nature to him. The two of you fell into a quiet rhythm at the sink, you rinsing while he dried.

“So,” he began after a moment, breaking the silence with his usual casual tone. “Your mom’s cool. Super curious, though.”

You snorted. “That’s her way of being welcoming. Consider yourself officially part of the family.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Guess that means I have to stick around,” he added, bumping his elbow against your arm.

You rolled your eyes, recognizing the playful hint. “Only as Dery’s friend, though.”

“What do you know? She might upgrade me to Son-in-Law once she sees my dish-drying technique,” he quipped, his shoulder brushing yours as he reached for a dish and started wiping with exaggerated flourishes.

“Son-in-Law is a pretty big leap from Nephew’s College Friend.”

He grinned with mock confidence. “I’m Mark Lee. Anything’s possible.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Golden Boy.”

“You’ve got a pretty lively family,” Mark said after a pause, his tone softening. “They remind me of mine.”

“Oh, yeah?” You glanced at him, curious. “Big Christmas crowd?”

“Not as big as yours, but yeah. We do the whole chaos thing. My mom insists on playing charades after dinner, even though none of us can act to save our lives.”

You chuckled at the image, your hand brushing his as you passed him a plate. The touch lingered for half a second too long, enough to make your heart skip a beat. When you looked at him, Mark was already watching you, his voice dropping to something quieter as he leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“By the way, you look lovely this morning.”

The compliment hit harder than it should’ve, leaving you momentarily flustered. You managed to play it off with a teasing smile. “Trying to earn more points?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a grin, leaning just a fraction closer.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Just dry the dishes.”

His soft laughter warmed the kitchen, the hum of last night’s lingering tension sparking again between you. By the time you handed him the final dish, there were no more “accidental” brushes—Mark took your hand outright, pulling you gently forward to steal a quick, mischievous kiss.

You gasped, heat rushing to your face as you slapped his arm. “You sneaky little—”

Before you could finish, he leaned in again, catching you in another kiss, quick and light, as if testing the waters. Then he turned back to the towel like nothing had happened, leaving you standing there, your thoughts a flustered jumble.

Exhaling a mock exasperated sigh, you gave up on playing it cool. Closing the small gap between you, you slipped your arms around his waist, letting your cheek rest briefly against his shoulder as he put the last plate away.

“This is nice,” he murmured, discarding the towel and turning to face you. His arms wrapped around you naturally, pulling you close. “Makes us look like boyfriend and girlfriend, don't you think?”

You scoffed, stepping back slightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

But when you turned to leave, Mark caught your wrist, pulling you back into a tight embrace. “Where are you going? Stay.”

You hesitated for half a second, then melted into his hold, your hands settling lightly on his waist. “What are we even doing?” you asked, chuckling lowly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, resting his chin lightly against your hair. “But it’s nice.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It kinda is.”

The moment was broken by the faint sound of singing from the direction of the main door. Mark’s brows rose as he glanced toward the sound. “Carolers?”

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling away and jogging toward the door. Outside, a small group of children and teenagers stood assembled like a festive choir, their voices harmonizing in cheerful Christmas melodies. Your family was already out there, listening with smiles on their faces.

Hendery noticed you standing beside him and leaned in. “Tell me why I can’t punch the carolers.”

You snorted. “Because it’s not their fault you didn’t pass the auditions.”

“Right,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Dude, what? You auditioned for this?” Mark asked, his expression bewildered.

Hendery smirked, unbothered by the attention. “I’m a man of many talents, my friend. They fumbled real bad when they decided to reject me.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, exasperated. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love me for it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Christmas morning chaos, as always.

The rest of the day unfolded in a series of warm, chaotic moments. After the carolers left, your family gathered in the living room, eager to keep the festive spirit alive.

Someone—probably Hendery—suggested a game of charades. It started out as a reluctant group activity but quickly spiraled into uncontrollable laughter as your aunt wildly flailed her arms trying to mimic Jaws, and your dad confused everyone by acting out Titanic with interpretive dance.

Mark fit right in, his easy humor making him an absolute hit. He was surprisingly good at charades, though you suspected he was just adept at playing to the crowd. When it was your turn to act, he leaned over to Hendery and whispered something that had both of them laughing under their breath—probably a jab at your complete lack of acting skills. You shot them a mock glare, but it only made Mark grin wider.

When the game wound down, your mom announced it was time for gifts. You handed your parents the small, thoughtful presents you’d prepared—a new mug for your dad’s coffee addiction, and a designer brand scarf you’d picked up for your mom.

“You shouldn’t have,” your mom said with a soft smile, wrapping the scarf around her neck immediately.

Others exchanged gifts, too, and to your surprise, a few came your way: a box of chocolates from your aunt, fuzzy socks from Hendery, and a cute notebook from a younger cousin. You hadn’t expected anything from anyone other than your parents, so it warmed you more than you cared to admit.

Mark, meanwhile, didn’t seem fazed by the lack of a gift exchange between the two of you. Instead, as the wrapping paper chaos settled, he nudged your arm.

“Guess we forgot to plan this part, huh?” he said, his tone light but his eyes searching yours.

“Yeah, well,” you replied, shrugging, “we didn’t exactly have time for shopping.”

Mark leaned back against the couch, thoughtful. Then his face lit up with an idea. “How about we exchange something else?”

“Like what?” you asked, curious.

He reached for his phone, pulling up a playlist. “Music,” he said simply. “I’ll share a song I love, and you do the same. It’s like a tiny window into who we are.”

You hesitated for a moment but nodded. “Okay. You first.”

He scrolled through his playlist before handing you one of his airpods. The track was a mellow, soulful tune with heartfelt lyrics, and as it played, you found yourself surprised at how much it suited him—genuine, unpretentious, and quietly warm.

“I like it,” you admitted, handing the phone back.

“Your turn,” he said, leaning closer as if to make sure he wouldn’t miss a beat.

You picked something a little more upbeat but with a nostalgic edge. The second it started, Mark grinned, nodding along to the rhythm. “Good choice. I can see why you like it.”

For the rest of the evening, the two of you exchanged little pieces of yourselves—stories, favorite movies, quirks. It wasn’t the traditional gift exchange, but it felt like something better, something that fit the budding connection between you.

Later, as the family settled down for a Christmas movie, Mark ended up beside you on the couch. The warmth of him sitting close felt comforting, and somewhere in the middle of Love Actually, his hand found yours under the blanket draped over your laps. It wasn’t showy or obvious; no one else noticed.

As the movie played on, you felt your phone buzzing on your lap. You picked it up in a heartbeat, a force of habit that made you feel a little pathetic. Letting out a sigh, you tucked your phone away, refusing to check what the notification was about—or who it was from.

Mark leaned closer, his voice low but curious. “Who is he?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“The guy,” he clarified. “The one who keeps making you wait for him.”

You chuckled nervously. “There is no guy.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. You sighed. “Fine. There is—was, actually. I think I’m done waiting for him.”

“Why is that?”

You tilted your head slightly, taking a very good look at the beautiful man before you. A smile crept across your lips. Why, he asked? It was because you met him—Mark Lee, who wanted you and made it clear. Mark Lee, who gave you signals and acted on them. Mark Lee, who not only spoke honestly about how much he liked you but also went out of his way to show it. Mark Lee, who gave you more in two days than Yeonjun had in three months.

“You staring at me like that is making me wanna kiss you right now,” Mark said softly, cutting through your reverie.

You grinned. “Do it then.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips brushed yours, warm and soft, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Across from you, Hendery grimaced, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Guys. Just get a room already.”

You pulled back, laughing, your cheeks warm with embarrassment. Mark didn’t seem fazed, his smirk playful as he leaned closer, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Ignore him,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You giggled, the giddiness bubbling up despite yourself. “He’s right, though,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “We should probably get a room.”

Mark’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Okay,” he said, as if it was the easiest decision in the world. “I’d never say no to that.”

Hendery let out another theatrical groan from across the room, muttering something about needing bleach for his eyes. But neither of you paid him any attention as you shared a knowing glance, the warmth between you now impossible to ignore.

Laughter spilled from your lips as you and Mark slipped out of the living room to the quiet halls upstairs. The muffled sounds of the movie still playing below faded with every step. Mark stayed close, his hand brushing yours until he tugged you gently back, spinning you to face him.

“Come here,” he murmured, stealing another kiss, his lips warm against yours.

You giggled, pulling away just enough to tease him. “Have some restraint, will you?”

He grinned, leaning in to whisper in your ear, his voice low and mischievous. “That’s too much to ask of me, you know?”

Your laughter filled the empty corridor as you took a step back, only for Mark to chase after you. His hands found your waist, pulling you close before kissing you again, slower this time, his lips lingering like he had all the time in the world.

By the time you reached your bedroom door, your cheeks ached from smiling, and your heart was racing. You kissed him there, leaning against the doorframe, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands rested firmly on your hips. The kiss deepened, heat building between you as your breath hitched.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made you both freeze. You pulled apart to see your old uncle shuffling past, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing as he continued down the hall.

Mark pressed his forehead against yours, biting back a laugh. “Think he’ll tell your mom?”

You snorted, pushing him lightly. “Does it matter? Bet everyone knows there’s something between us by now.”

“Touche.”

With a shared grin, you twisted the doorknob and pulled him inside. The door clicked shut behind you as you stumbled into the room, your lips finding his again in the quiet.

With a shared grin, you twisted the doorknob and pulled him inside. The door clicked shut behind you as you stumbled into the room, your lips finding his again in the quiet.

His kiss was unhurried, deliberate—gentle hands cradling your face as his lips moved against yours. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath hitch. His touch trailed to your chin, guiding your head slightly as his lips pressed softly along your jaw.

You tilted your head instinctively, granting him access, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. His kisses wandered down to your neck—soft brushes, playful nips, and teasingly light touches. Each one sent sparks skittering across your skin, your pulse quickening under his attention.

When his tongue flicked against the sensitive spot beneath your ear, you giggled, stepping back slightly. The sound was as much a reaction to the ticklish sensation as it was to the heat pooling low in your belly.

“Sorry,” he said, his warm laugh brushing against your skin. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Oh, I like it,” you admitted, brushing your hair aside to bare your neck again. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

His fingers lightly traced the column of your neck. “Why not?”

“I’m… ticklish,” you said shyly, rolling your eyes to downplay your embarrassment.

Mark chuckled, the sound rich and low, sending butterflies racing in your stomach. His smile softened as he leaned in, teasing, “Noted.”

You sighed dramatically, unable to keep the playful glint out of your eyes. “Did we come up here just so you could tease me like this, or…?”

His eyes narrowed, his expression turning mock-exasperated. “Dude, why are you ruining the moment?” he asked, pulling you by the nape of your neck for another kiss. A deep one—heated, fervent, intoxicating, leaving you heady and utterly captivated.

Carefully, he lowered you down the bed, his lips not leaving yours. With one swift motion, he pulled your shirt off and tossed it aside. Then he paused, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Desire burned in his eyes—raw and unmistakable—leaving no doubt about how much he wanted you.

“Well? Don’t just stand there and stare,” you whined cutely, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment but trying to keep your composure.

Mark exhaled sharply, crawling on the bed to kiss you again. “Can’t help it.”

His lips traveled the length of your neck and collarbone, nipping and sucking, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. With his mouth, he traced the line between your breasts, down to your stomach, until he reached your navel. Mark didn’t stop there. He undid your jeans and tugged it down before pressing his nose on your sex and taking a long sniff.

“Mark,” you whispered, the pressure from his nose making your body burn with anticipation. 

He knew exactly what he was doing, pushing your underwear aside and licking a stripe at the pooling wetness between your legs. He continued with expertise, making you writhe and moan in ecstasy. You tried to close your legs when the stimulation became too much, but Mark’s grasp of your thighs were tight, prying your legs open so he could continue what he came to do. All you could do was whimper and grab a handful of his hair. 

Your mind was screaming for him to stop, but your mouth could only utter his name as your hips bucked forward, eager for more.

Then he suddenly stopped, leaving you momentarily confused. He came back up, hovering over you with a proud smile on his face. You thought he was done but before you could utter a word, two of his fingers slipped into your cunt, making you gasp.

Mark didn’t say anything, he just grinned wider, seemingly proud of how good he was making you feel. His fingers slid in and out in a steady pace, growing more rapid and urgent the more he saw your face contorting with pleasure and euphoria. 

“Yes!” you exclaimed, your back arching as you felt the familiar knot in your belly. “Don’t stop!”

And then came a euphoric wave engulfing your entire being. You froze for a moment, your mouth gaping open as you relished the momentary high that washed over you. Mark’s fingers were still inside you as he kissed your forehead.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he lilted before capturing your lips in a fervent kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you met his kiss with a hunger that bordered on desperation.  Everything else faded, and before you knew it, the two of you were naked on the bed, moving together like it was the only thing that mattered.

The air was thick with the sounds of your shared passion—your breathless moans, his deep groans, and the unmistakable sound of skin slamming against skin. Mark was a perfect fit, his every thrust reaching a depth that had spiraling into an irrational desire for more. More, as though he hadn’t already completely consumed you.

Your fingers dug into his back, your grip tightening with every surge of pleasure. When he pinned your wrists above your head, your body arched instinctively, your hands grasping at the sheets as you gasped for him to keep going.  When his teeth nipped at the sensitive curve of your neck, your entire body lit up, every nerve alive with overwhelming pleasure. And when he murmured your name, his voice rough and breathless, it was enough to push you closer to the edge, leaving you lost in a desperate, dizzying need for him.

Mark was a vice. He unraveled you, body and mind, until nothing existed but the maddening ache of him and the desperate, spiraling desire to never let this moment end.

“Oh, Mark.”

“What do you want, baby?” he asked in a low, deep and raspy voice sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

“Harder, Mark. Please.” you cried out, not even caring to hide how needy you were.

“Fuck,” he grunted, spurred on by the need in your voice. “You’re so...” 

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead, he kissed your lips and picked up his pace. Rocking with more force and intensity. Drilling deeper with every thrust. Fucking you senseless until you were crying out his name and begging him not to stop.

The knot in your core coiled tighter with every thrust, your body trembling beneath him as you clung to the last shreds of control. His movements grew more frantic, each one sending shockwaves through you that built higher and higher.

“Mark,” you gasped, your nails dragging down his back as the heat between you burned hotter. He groaned in response, low and guttural, the sound sending you further into overdrive.

When his mouth trailed down, teeth grazing your nipple just right, your world seemed to have shattered. A wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body arching into his as you cried out, completely undone. He followed moments later, a broken sound leaving his lips as he buried himself deeper, his own release spilling into you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both catching your breaths with your foreheads pressed together. The world slowly shifted into focus, the haze of what had happened between you lingered in the air as you found yourself coming back down from what had felt like an incomparable high. Soon though, the weight of his body pressing against yours made breathing slightly harder. 

You gave him a gentle nudge, your voice soft. “Mark, you’re heavy.”

He grinned, rolling onto the bed beside you with a contented sigh. “Better?” 

You nodded, meeting his gaze as he brushed a few stray hairs from your face. “You okay?” he asked, his tone quiet but sure.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “You?”

Mark’s smile widened. “Never better.”

Before you could think of something clever to say, he leaned in, his lips grazing yours in a way that made your heart flutter all over again. The two of you stayed like that for a while, stealing quiet, intimate moments in the privacy of your bedroom. Eventually, you both knew you couldn’t hide away forever.

When you finally slipped back into the hallway, your cheeks were still warm, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Mark stayed close, his shoulder brushing against yours as you rejoined your family in the living room.

For the rest of the day, his presence was a constant. Whether he was cracking jokes with Hendery or leaning in to share a private comment that made you laugh, it felt like he’d completely settled into your orbit—and you didn’t mind.

It didn’t take long for everyone else in the house to notice your growing closeness with Mark. Your cousins teased you relentlessly, joking that Mark was the Christmas Miracle who made you shed your Grinch fur. Even your parents joined in.

“Had I known all it would take for you to stop grimacing every year on Christmas was a boyfriend,” your dad quipped, “I would’ve asked your mom to set you up on blind dates ages ago.”

“Ew, Dad. That’s so lame,” you replied with a grimace, though a pang of guilt flickered in your chest. For years, they’d put up with your reluctance to embrace the holiday spirit, and it hadn’t been fair to them.

Later, while Mark was off chatting with your cousins, your mom quietly pulled you aside. “I like him,” she said with a knowing smile. “He seems like a really sweet guy.”

“He is,” you admitted softly, hesitating. “But we don’t know much about each other. This is probably just… some temporary holiday fling.”

“Is that what you think?” she asked, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Well, sometimes those ‘temporary’ things surprise you. It’s just nice to see you happy.”

Her words replayed in your head, even as the evening unfolded into more teasing, laughter, and the occasional stolen glances between you and Mark. It felt effortless, the way he was seamlessly pulled into your family’s fold—laughing with your cousins, charming your parents, and somehow always finding his way back to your side.

At one point, as you leaned against the porch railing, your gaze wandering to the clear night sky, Mark appeared at your side. His hand brushed yours before his fingers slipped between them, the motion casual but deliberate.

“Wanna get out of here?” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“And go where?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

“Anywhere,” he said with a crooked smile, hazy with the warmth of the evening—or maybe just you. “I just wanna be alone with you.”

You didn’t even have time to answer before Hendery, lounging on the couch nearby, cut in with exaggerated indignation. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he sighed.

“But now that it is happening, I guess all I can say is fuck you guys and please get out of my sight,” Hendery added, rolling his eyes. “You have no respect for the single loners hanging out with you, did you know that?”

You snickered. “This is why you bring your girlfriend home for the holidays, not a hot friend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Hendery retorted, crossing his arms.

“And whose fault is that?” you teased with a grin.

Hendery shot you a pointed look. “Don’t act so smug. You’ve been a Christmas Grinch for years. I’m not taking any advice from you.”

“Fair,” you admitted with a shrug, wanting so much to keep taunting him but deciding against it because he was right.

Your cousin cut in from across the room. “Dery, when did you say you were leaving again?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he replied.

“Already?” you asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” he continued, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction. “We have a New Year event at uni. Mark’s needed for some important technical stuff. And me? Well, they need me for my invaluable presence.”

The chatter around you faded into the background as Mark tugged you closer. “You should come see it,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with intention.

You tilted your head, curious. “Is it fun?”

“I hope so,” he said with a small, crooked smile. “If it’s not, I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

You giggled when he kissed the side of your head. “How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, for starters…” He paused, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered in a voice full of promise, “I’ll take you somewhere private and show you a really good time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Lame,” you quipped, pushing his face away.

Mark threw his head back laughing. “Okay. I’ll try to come up with something better.”

And just like that, the night became a blur of moments—each one filled with laughter, teasing, and kisses that were never fully explained, only given and received with a kind of sweetness that felt both comforting and thrilling.

It happened again. And again. The gentle pull of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, the way he always found a way to stand just a little too close. By the time the night had fully settled into the quiet of the late hours, the two of you were tangled up in your bedroom again, tipsy, comfortable, and perhaps a little too far gone to really care about the next morning.

The train ride back to the city was as mundane as ever, but there was a sense of excitement buzzing in the air this time around. You sat back comfortable, looking out the window at the snowy landscape that blurred past. The past few days felt like a dream, a Christmas full of laughter, teasing, and beautiful moments with Mark. 

Your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you from your thoughts.

Mark: See you Wednesday?

You smiled to yourself, the memories of the past few days flooding back—his easy laughter, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, and the way his touch always seemed to leave a mark on your skin. It had all gone by so quickly, but in the best way possible. Everything had felt easy, comfortable, and natural in a way you hadn’t expected.

The holiday season had come to an end, but what you’d shared with Mark was just starting to unfold. There was something about it that felt like fate, or maybe just the simple truth that it was time for you to stop waiting for something that had no guarantee would ever happen.

You quickly typed your reply, your fingers moving almost instinctively.

You: Can’t wait.

When you hit send, you leaned back into the seat, letting the train’s rhythm settle the buzz in your busy mind. The thought of seeing him again made your chest tighten in the most pleasant way.

You couldn’t wait for Wednesday. For fuck’s sake, you couldn’t wait for the New Year.

[fin]

[saythenametotheworld]

just wanted to let you know that heartbreak hotel changed my life <3

Yoooo T^T thank you for saying thattt. I appreciate it sm

[saythenametotheworld]

Hiii, I just saw your master list (was looking for till this damn season and suffered again) and did you delete message in a bottle?

Hello :> no, i did not delete message in a bottle. It's in the archive for edits and (slight) revision :>

[saythenametotheworld]

Wonderland | l.yy (18+)

A carefree spring break, a charming stranger, and unforgettable moments that felt like they’d last forever. You and Yangyang both knew it wouldn't, but boy, it was hands down the best spring break ever.

one | TWO | three | four | five

Genre: vacation romance, smut Pairing: Liu Yangyang x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, alcohol, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 20k words. Part 2 of the Campus Confessions series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Wonderland by Taylor Swift. Genuinely, let me know what you guys think of this. I am very open-minded to constructive criticism. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Highway to Heaven by NCT 127, Love Talk by WAYV, Untouchable by Taylor Swift, Wonderland by Taylor Swift

“Didn’t you calm my fears with a Cheshire cat smile?”

Aruba was bursting with color—yellows, blues, pastel pink, and shades of orange. The buildings were vivid with these colors, almost as if they were smiling at you as brightly as the locals did. Even the road to the villa felt like a postcard—trees with twisted trunks that you’d never seen before were bent permanently toward the west, adorning a desert landscape. The ocean shimmered to your left, gleaming blue and inviting, sending reflections of sunlight dancing through the air.

Despite the beauty of it all, you couldn't wait to get to your Airbnb and take a cold shower. The long flight was straining, and the taxi ride felt like a sauna. Your friends weren’t much better—Giselle had asked the driver several times if you were there yet, while Ningning passed out beside you, half-asleep with the windows open.

By the time you arrived at the villa, your brains were too fried to think and picked your rooms at random. The villa was booked by two groups—yours and some strangers. You’d hoped it wouldn’t be awkward, but right now, you couldn’t care less and it seemed like the other group wasn’t there yet. You slipped into the first door you saw, dropping your bag unceremoniously onto the floor. Then you kicked off your shoes and stripped out of your travel clothes with your eyes fixed on the bathroom door ahead. Standing in just your underwear, you pulled your hair into a messy bun, already daydreaming about the cold shower that would bring you back to life.

And then, out of nowhere, you heard the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.

You froze, hands still gripping your hair, and slowly turned toward the source of the sound. A man was leaning against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shamelessly roaming from your bare legs up to your wide eyes. 

“You’re welcome to stay,” he said, his voice warm and amused, “but usually, I’d buy a girl dinner first.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as your brain scrambled to catch up. The embarrassment hit you fast. You grabbed the dress off the floor, flinging it over yourself with an urgency that only made the situation more awkward. “What the hell?” you managed, your voice coming out sharper than you intended. “Who are you?”

His grin widened, one brow arching as though he found your indignation charming. “Yangyang,” he said simply, like the name alone explained everything. “And you’re clearly not one of my friends, which makes this even more interesting. You must be with the other group.”

Right! This was a shared villa! “Yeah, well, if I’d known someone else was in here, I would’ve knocked,” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively, even though it didn’t help much—given the fact that you were still standing there half-naked.

“Ah, I see. It was my fault. I should've locked the door.” Yangyang’s eyes flickered with amusement, clearly enjoying your reaction. He stepped off the bed and walked toward you with slow, deliberate steps, but there was no real threat in his movements—just an unspoken confidence that radiated from him.

“Sorry,” he apologized, though his tone was far from sorry. “But next time, maybe try the door before you barge in and… unpack. I can’t be expected to play the gentleman if you don’t give me the chance to act shocked, you know?” 

You didn't say anything, conscious about the way he was looking at you now that he was closer. Only then were you able to get a good look at him—dark, neatly parted hair that framed his face, a downturned nose that balanced his delicate features, dark eyes with a glint of mischief in them, and lips curved in a soft, effortless smile.

He's cute, you caught yourself thinking. “Aren't you leaving?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Yangyang flashed you a toothy grin, one that reminded you of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Not without thanking you for the entertainment. I must say, it was a bold first impression.”

“I wasn’t trying to impress anyone,” you retorted, tightening the dress around your body. “Could you please just get out of my room?”

Yangyang shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze still scanning you with that unhurried intensity. “It’s not your room, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a little lower, more playful now. “I called dibs on it first. If you’re going to claim it, you’ll have to be more convincing.”

You huffed, looking away and hoping he’d just walk out of the door like he was intending to. Yangyang turned the doorknob but didn’t open the door yet.

“You know what, it’s all yours,” he said, making you glance at him. He was shamelessly ogling at your body, again. “You are making it a little hard to say ‘no’,” he added with a wink.

You gasped, a flush rising on your cheeks again, but before you could respond, he gave a lazy wave and stepped out. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you flustered with a memory you wouldn’t soon forget.

Later that evening, you woke up feeling rested but starving. The soft glow of sunset was pouring into the room from the floor-to-ceiling window, and the view from where you sat on the bed was majestic. You didn’t pass up the chance to grab your phone and snap a photo. After that, you rose and stepped out of the bedroom.

The faint sound of music and laughter drifted up from downstairs. You followed it, wondering if it was your friends while your stomach was growling with every step. Sure enough, in the kitchen, Giselle and Ningning were perched at the counter, drinks in hand and plates of food in front of them. They waved you over immediately.

“Finally! Thought we’d have to drag you out,” Giselle said with a grin, pushing a plate toward you. “Here.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, grabbing a fork and digging in without hesitation.

“Did you sleep well?” Ningning asked, eyes glimmering beautifully—like they always have.

“Totally. I was so tired. I took a shower and just passed out immediately,” you replied, sighing dramatically. Then the memory of meeting Yangyang in the bedroom suddenly flashed in your mind. “Wait. We’re sharing this villa with other people, right?”

Giselle nodded. “Yeah. It’s really big. It has eight bedrooms. You haven’t explored it yet, have you?”

As you shook your head, Ningning said, “Our housemates just left a few minutes ago, actually. Said they’re going out to sight-see.”

“You’ve met them?” you asked.

“Yes,” Giselle replied, placing a finger on her chin, thinking. “Let’s see, there’s Hendery, Xiaojun, and Yangyang. They’re tourists from China.”

“Did they say anything?” you pried, wondering if Yangyang told them what happened earlier.

“We just introduced ourselves. You know how it goes,” Giselle answered. “Why? Did something happen?”

“Nothing,” you lied, looking away. “Just… wondering what they’re like.”

“They’re pretty chill, from what I can tell. Didn’t really hang out much, though,” Ningning chimed in.

“Yeah, they didn’t stick around long enough to make an impression,” Giselle added. “But they’ll probably be back later. Speaking of impressions, you should hurry and get ready. We’re going out tonight.”

The nightlife in Aruba’s Palm Beach Area was everything you’d imagined and more.

As soon as you stepped into the vibrant strip of bars and clubs, the energy hit you like a wave. The streets were alive with music blaring out from every corner, and the air was filled with the chatter and laughter of tourists and locals alike. Neon lights glowed in every direction, illuminating clusters of people moving from one bar to the next, drinks in hand, their faces flushed with excitement.

The first bar was packed, with music thumping loudly and bodies pressed together on the dance floor. The drinks were just as colorful and varied as the crowd—fruity cocktails with little umbrellas, classic mojitos, daiquiris, frosty beer bottles dripping with condensation. They came fast—colorful and sweet, and the three of you hit the dance floor almost immediately. Giselle and Ningning moved like they owned the place, and before long, you found yourself swept up in the rhythm too.

Ningning didn’t waste time—by the time you’d finished your first drink, a tall guy with a cheeky grin was already glued to her side, following her every move. She seemed to enjoy the attention but kept him at arm’s length, toying with him like a cat with a mouse.

You and Giselle, meanwhile, owned the dance floor. The music vibrated through your chest, your limbs moving in sync with the rhythm as you lost yourself to the beat. The drinks flowed, cooling your throat and warming your veins, adding a carefree edge to your movements.

Men naturally began approaching you and your friends. It was a strange but refreshing difference from back home. In Aruba, every guy seemed more confident and considerate, striking up conversations or asking you to dance without hesitation. When turned down, they didn’t linger or sulk—they simply moved on to the next opportunity, unfazed.

By the time you hit the second bar, Ningning’s admirer was still trailing your group, determined to win her over despite her aloof attitude. You and Giselle exchanged amused glances as you ordered another round of drinks.

“It’s like a buffet,” she whispered to you, her eyes scanning the room as she sipped her martini. Her sharp gaze flickered over the men who glanced her way, assessing each one.

“Too tall,” she muttered after one man caught her eye. “Too short,�� she said about another. 

While dancing, a third guy approached her, but he was gone within a minute. Giselle rejoined you with a wrinkled nose. “His perfume was making me dizzy.”

You both giggled, shoulders bumping.

“What about him?” you teased, gesturing toward a handsome guy by the bar. “You danced with him, right?”

She shook her head with a dramatic sigh. “Thick accent. Totally not it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as she dismissed each contender, whispering her sharp remarks to you before turning back to the dance floor. Giselle wasn’t just selective—she was a queen surveying her court, unbothered by anyone who didn’t meet her standards.

Meanwhile, you were simply enjoying the music and the atmosphere, dancing until your feet ached and declining the occasional offers to buy you drinks or join you on the floor.

Ningning found you and linked her arms with yours. You grinned, “Where’s your shadow?”

Ningning rolled her eyes. “Told him to leave me alone. I couldn’t stand him anymore.”

“Why? I think he was cute.”

“He is but—” she sighed— “his English is worse than my Spanish.”

You winced. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work.”

“Absolutely not.”

By the time you reached your fifth bar, the night was catching up to you. You slumped onto one of the stools of the tiki bar, grateful for the chance to sit after hours of dancing and wandering. Your friends were nowhere in sight, but you weren’t worried—they’d either found their own fun or were still tearing it up on the dance floor. For now, you just needed a moment to recharge.

“What can I get you, Miss?” asked the bartender, flashing a pretty smile at you. You smiled back, finding her bold red pixie cut and honey skin tone immensely attractive.

“I’m not sure,” you replied, unable to take your eyes away from her face. “What do you suggest?”

“Have you tried our signature cocktail?”

“Not yet, but you’re gorgeous so I’m gonna trust you. I’ll have one please.”

She chuckled lightly and her smile just made her even more alluring. “Your judgment is a little questionable, but alright.”

You scrunch your nose cutely, the alcohol making you less shy about acting cute in front of a stranger. As the bartender was making your drink, you took pictures and videos of the party around you, determined to collect as many remembrances of your first spring break trip as you could.

“It’s called Aruba Ariba,” the bartender said, placing the glass on the counter and pushing it gently toward you. “I’m surprised the previous bars didn’t give you one.”

“Well, this is the first time I asked for a recommendation. I like sticking to the drinks I’m already familiar with, so,” you replied, shrugging. “Thanks.”

You took a sip and let the flavors as well as the spice dance on your tongue before letting out a satisfied hum. “This is good.”

“Thank you,” the bartender replied, bringing a hand on her forehead as if she was tipping a hat in appreciation. She then moved to another customer who had just approached the other side of the bar. Meanwhile, you were happily enjoying your drink while scrolling through your phone.

“Mind if I join you?” A man had slid onto the stool next to you, flashing a grin that was meant to be charming but came off a little too practiced. Before you could answer, he flagged down the bartender and ordered himself a drink, then turned back to you.

“You look like you could use some company,” he said smoothly.

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but firm.

You expected him to leave, but he didn’t. “Aw, come on. It’s gonna be fun.”

“No, thank you.” You forced a small smile, hoping he’d move on, but he leaned in closer. He tried cracking jokes, tossing compliments your way, and making small talk that you weren’t interested in entertaining. When it became clear that your polite disinterest wasn’t working, you finally said, “I’m actually here with my boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? Where is he?”

“He’s around,” you lied, looking toward the entrance as though expecting someone to walk through any second.

The guy smirked, clearly unconvinced. “You don’t have to lie. I can tell you’re not really with anyone.”

Before you could respond, the bartender stepped in. “Excuse me, sir, she said no. Leave her alone.”

But even that didn’t deter him. “Relax,” the guy said dismissively, waving off the bartender. “She’s just playing hard to get.”

You sighed, your patience running out, when suddenly an arm slid around your waist.

“There you are, honey,” a familiar voice drawled, soft but unmistakably amused.

Yangyang.

You turned your head just in time to see him leaning in, his free hand casually resting on the small of your back. “Sorry I took so long,” he said, before turning to the man beside you, the amusement in his eyes quickly cooling into something sharper. “Is this guy bothering you, sweetheart?”

The man blinked, caught off guard. “Are you with her?”

Yangyang tilted his head, giving a lopsided grin. “Of course, she’s my wife. We’re newlyweds, you know. Honeymoon and all that.”

The guy scoffed, still skeptical. “She’s been sitting here alone for a while. I thought she was lying about having company.”

Your patience snapped. “Shouldn’t you leave someone alone when they ask you to?”

The man waved you off, his tone growing defensive. “Women say ‘no’ all the time. You like being chased. You say no because you want to see if we’ll try harder.” He turned to Yangyang, as if expecting backup. “You know how they are, right?”

“Ah, why is a grown man barking like a dog?” Yangyang asked, looking bored, digging his ear with his pinky like he was trying to unblock it. “Even a dog’s bark is more pleasant than this.”

The man’s expression twisted. “What did you just say?”

Yangyang tilted his head slightly, his hand still resting casually on your waist. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say that out loud?” He smiled, the kind that could either charm or infuriate someone depending on the context. “I meant to say, why is a grown man yapping like a toy poodle? All bark, no bite—you know what I mean?”

You snickered before you could stop yourself, then covered your mouth and looked away. The harasser didn’t share your amusement. His face reddened, his ego clearly stung. “You’ve got a big mouth,” he spat, standing from his stool and squaring his shoulders.

Yangyang raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “And you’ve got a small brain. It makes sense though, seeing how you can’t seem to take a hint.”

The man’s hand curled into a fist, his body tensing as he lunged toward Yangyang. You gasped, but before he could get close, two figures appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Hendery’s voice cut through the tension. He stepped between the two, holding up his hands as if refereeing. “What do you think you’re doing, buddy?”

Xiaojun flanked him, his expression calm but his stance solid as he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You don’t wanna do that,” he said evenly, his tone low but firm. “Not in here,” he added, nodding at the muscular, almost gigantic bouncers at the entrance of the bar.

The man glanced between them, his bravado faltering as he sized up the newcomers. Hendery’s casual grin didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Xiaojun’s calm demeanor carried an unspoken warning.

The man clenched his jaw, glaring at all three of them before finally backing down with a muttered curse. He grabbed his drink and stormed off, his pride clearly bruised.

“Was that really necessary?” Xiaojun asked, turning to Yangyang with a slight shake of his head.

Yangyang shrugged, a sly grin on his face. “He started it.”

Hendery clapped him on the back, chuckling. “You’ve got a real gift for getting under people’s skin.”

“Come on, now. If you ruffle my feathers like that, my head might get bigger,” Yangyang quipped, shooting them a playful wink before turning back to you. “You okay, honey?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your heart still pounding from the confrontation. “Yeah but—” you took a deep breath— “Honeymoon? Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yangyang shrugged, his grin returning. “Seemed like the easiest way to get rid of him. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You guess?” he teased, leaning just a little closer. “Wow, tough crowd.”

Shaking your head, you turned to Hendery and Xiaojun. “Thanks to you guys too.”

“Anytime,” Hendery smiled.

Xiaojun crossed his arms over his chest, studying your face. “We’ve been here for a day and Yangyang’s already married. Aruba really is something.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that.

At some point after the encounter with the creep, you were introduced to Hendery and Xiaojun, Yangyang’s friends. They stuck around at the bar, chatting over drinks and swapping stories. You learned that they were also on vacation from China and, like you, were incoming sophomores. Their easygoing vibe made it surprisingly easy to relax, even after the earlier drama.

“By the way,” Xiaojun said, eyeing you. “How do you guys know each other? We didn’t see you at the villa earlier.”

The memory of your mortifying first meeting with Yangyang made you roll your eyes. “You don’t wanna know.”

Hendery snickered, leaning on the bar. “It’s Yangyang, so he probably did something dumb and left a stupid impression.”

You exchanged glances with Yangyang, who gave you a knowing grin. Then he told his friends, “Let’s not talk about it, guys. Trust me—you really don’t want to know.”

Before you could respond, Giselle and Ningning appeared, weaving through the crowd with flushed faces and wide smiles. Giselle spotted you first and threw her arms in the air. “There you are! We’ve been looking for you!”

“Yeah!” Ningning added, her voice slightly breathless. “We found a place upstairs with amazing views. Where’d you disappear to?”

“She was busy fighting off creeps and getting married,” Hendery said before you could explain.

“Wait, what?” Giselle blinked, clearly taken aback. “Married?”

You rolled your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. “This guy wouldn’t leave me alone, so Yangyang told him we were on a honeymoon to get rid of him.”

Giselle and Ningning exchanged amused glances before turning to Yangyang, grins tugging at their lips. “That’s kinda cute,” Ningning mused, her eyes sparkling. “Fake or not.”

“I see you’ve met our housemates,” Giselle said, nodding toward the guys with a warm smile.

The five of you chatted for a while before Giselle and Ningning eventually made their way back to the dance floor. Yangyang’s friends joined them.

“I’m not moving,” you declared, leaning back against the bar. “I’ve been walking and dancing all night. My legs are officially done.”

“Oh, come on,” Yangyang said, leaning closer with a mischievous grin. “I saved you. Doesn’t that earn me at least one dance?”

“Wow, so you’re holding that over my head now?”

“Absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat.

Yangyang headed for the dance floor, dragging you along. You opened your mouth to protest, but his grip was firm. Your legs felt like jelly, and the idea of moving even a little more was downright cruel. But Yangyang’s grin was so smug that resisting him suddenly felt like losing a challenge you hadn’t even agreed to. Against your better judgment, you let him lead you into the crowd.

Giselle and Ningning were pulling off ridiculous, exaggerated moves, laughing at themselves without a care in the world. Hendery, ever the show-off, attempted a wild spin that almost sent him crashing into a stranger, while Xiaojun kept it smooth and controlled, his steps simple but effortlessly cool.

Then there was Yangyang. He didn’t just dance—he owned the floor, his movements confident and effortlessly in sync with the beat. You hated to admit it, but he was good—like, really good.

At one point, he turned to you, holding out a hand. “Come on, Mrs. Liu Yangyang. Show me what you’ve got.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you into the fray. He spun you lightly, his grip steady but playful. Your initial reluctance faded with every step, and before you knew it, you were grinning and giggling.

Maybe it was the music, or maybe it was the way Yangyang’s friends treated you like you’d always been part of the group. Whatever it was, the tension you’d carried earlier had melted away, leaving behind only laughter and the steady rhythm of the night.

You woke up to the sharp rays of sunlight streaming through the window. Groaning, you rolled over—only to realize you weren’t even in bed. The floor was as unforgiving as it was unfamiliar, with a crumpled pillow under your head and a blanket twisted awkwardly around your legs like a makeshift cocoon.

Foggy memories of the night before flashed in your mind—the taxi ride, Giselle belting out the wrong lyrics to Dancing Queen, Ningning laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, and your voice joining the chaos with something equally off-key.

Dragging yourself to your feet, you grabbed a towel and stumbled into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. Fifteen minutes later, feeling somewhat human, you headed downstairs on a hunt for food.

In the kitchen, Xiaojun stood at the stove, flipping a ladle like it was a microphone as he hummed a tune you didn’t recognize. “Morning,” he said without turning around.

“Morning,” you mumbled, sliding onto a stool by the counter. “That smell is fantastic. What is it?”

“Hangover cure,” he replied, grabbing a bowl and pouring soup in it. “Chinese-style. Trust me, you’ll thank me later,” he added, sliding the bowl toward you.

“Later?” you chuckled, accepting the spoon he handed you. “I’m thanking you right now. Thank you very much.”

“You’re very welcome,” Xiaojun said with a smile.

Not long after, Giselle and Ningning shuffled in, both looking like they’d been hit by a truck. Giselle flopped onto a chair with a groan. “Remind me why we thought mixing tequila and rum was a good idea.”

“Because we’re dumb,” Ningning replied, reaching for a glass of water. “Morning, guys.”

“Eat first, complain later,” Xiaojun said, sliding bowls of steaming soup across the counter.

Hendery appeared from the patio. “That smells fantastic!” he cheered, hurrying over to Xiaojun’s side and peering into the pot. “Is there more?”

“There’s enough for everybody,” replied Xiaojun, handing the ladle to Hendery so he could help himself.

The kitchen island was quiet for the first few minutes, with only the sound of the spoon against china and satisfied hums from everybody filling the silence. Xiaojun’s soup was phenomenal, and you couldn’t decide whether it was because you were hungry and hungover, or because he was simply an amazing cook.

After last night, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between your group and the boys. For some reason—probably last night’s shenanigans—neither group seemed awkward with the other. It felt like you’d known each other for a long time despite only meeting yesterday. And it also felt like you were one big friend group on a vacation rather than two separate groups sharing the same villa. You liked it better this way.

You were halfway through your portion when Yangyang appeared, looking way too refreshed for someone who had been just as wild the night before. He plopped into the chair next to you, his grin as bright as the sun you wished would dim.

“So,” he began casually, resting his chin in his hand. “Have you made your decision?”

You blinked at him, not saying anything but giving him an inquiring look. He smirked. “You know, the thing we talked about last night.”

It took a moment for the fog in your brain to clear, but then it hit you—his ridiculous offer to ‘show you a good time’ while you were in Aruba, whatever that meant. You shook your head, suppressing a laugh.

“Pass.”

Yangyang feigned a look of heartbreak. “Ouch. Can’t you at least pretend to think about it?”

You shook your head again. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

Across the table, Giselle and Ningning exchanged confused glances, but Yangyang only winked at them. “Inside joke,” he said smoothly, leaving it at that.

The rest of the day was a blur of sunshine and downtime. Everyone had their own thing going on. Some were catching up on sleep, the others were watching TV, while the rest were just enjoying the down time after last night’s activities. Yangyang, however, was relentless.

You’d found a quiet spot on the patio with a book in hand, ready to soak up the calm. But you were barely a chapter in when Yangyang appeared, sitting onto the bean bag next to you with a loud sigh.

“Perfect day to say yes, don’t you think?” he asked, his voice filled with exaggerated optimism.

“Say yes to what?” you said without looking up, feigning ignorance.

“Come on, honey,” he replied, taking a magazine from under the table. “You know what I’m talking about.”

You turned a page, ignoring him. Undaunted, he leaned closer. “You’re missing out, you know. I’m offering you the ultimate spring break experience. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t know,” you said, finally glancing at him while he flipped through the pages of the magazine lazily. “Maybe you’ll turn out to be very terrible at it?”

He paused, meeting your gaze. “Oh, ho ho ho,” he chimed, mischief evident not just in his grin but in his tone. “The only way to find out is for you to try it for yourself.”

“Pass.”

What was so crazy about Yangyang’s offer? Nothing, to be honest. If anything, a hookup was basically part of a trip like this one. When you were planning the trip with Giselle and Ningning, you talked excitedly about beaches, island adventure, bar-hopping, and cute foreign boys. You might not have been as excited as they were to find a good-looking tourist who’d sweep you off your feet, but you half-expected to get cozy with one.

But it was different with Yangyang. Your first meeting was unconventional, and the way he casually asked you to be his ‘travel wifey’ was far from the whirlwind spring break romance you were imagining. So, it’s an absolute ‘no’.

You didn’t tell him any of this though, so he kept at it. Later, while you were swimming alone, enjoying the cool water against the heat of the afternoon sun, Yangyang showed up again. He stood at the edge of the pool, hands on his hips like some kind of self-proclaimed lifeguard.

“Still thinking it over?” he called out.

You swam to the edge, wiping water from your face as you looked up at him. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“What else could be better than trying to win over a pretty girl’s heart?” he admitted with a grin. 

“Wow, you’re persistent.”

He shrugged, “I’ve been told my persistence is part of my charm.”

You splashed water at him, but he dodged it with a laugh. “Keep playing hard to get, Mrs. Liu Yangyang. You’ll give in eventually.”

“Go away,” you shot back, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

That evening, after the sun dipped below the horizon, the group gathered in the living room for a round of card games. You had just beaten Hendery in a particularly competitive game when Yangyang slid into the seat next to you, carrying two glasses of some fruity cocktail. He handed one to you with a grin.

“Bribery,” he said.

“For what?” you asked, accepting the drink but eyeing him warily.

“For you-know-what. I figured I’d at least sweeten the deal,” he quipped.

Before you could reply, Giselle leaned over from across the table. “What deal?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, shooting a glare at Yangyang.

“Inside joke,” Yangyang said again with a wink, taking a sip of his drink.

He didn’t stop there, though. While you were distracted helping Ningning figure out the rules of the next game, he whispered, “I’ll even let you win at cards if you say yes.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the amused smirk that crept onto your face. “You haven’t even won one against me yet.”

He pointed finger guns at you. “That’s me letting you win,” he said, winking.

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoffed.

“And yet,” he replied, leaning back in his chair, “you can’t seem to ignore me.”

Yangyang was getting on your nerves. You could have shut him down for good, told him to leave you alone—but you didn’t. Maybe it was his ridiculous persistence, or the way his grin seemed to disarm you every time. Or maybe it was the infuriating fact that he wasn’t wrong—you couldn’t seem to ignore him. And somehow, you weren’t sure you wanted to.

“You are not barhopping again,” Karina groaned in envy while you were on FaceTime the next morning.

“No, we’re not,” Giselle replied, checking herself out in the mirror while you were helping her tie her bikini top.

“Not right now, anyway,” you added teasingly, grinning at Karina’s expense. She had wanted so badly to come with you, but she couldn’t because she had to go back to her hometown.

Ningning was in front of the vanity, putting on some makeup. “You really should have come. Aruba is a dream.”

You could hear Karina sigh dramatically on the other end of the phone. “Ugh, I swear, it’s like you guys are living in paradise without me. I really should’ve come.”

“Well, you were too busy being all responsible and going back home,” you chimed, joining Ningning by the vanity to look at yourself. “You’d have loved it. The beach, the sun... we loved it.”

Karina’s voice was laced with playful sarcasm. “Yeah, yeah, rub it in. I’ll be here, in my hometown, living my best life... not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics, then turned to Giselle, who was now fiddling with the straps of her bikini top in front of the mirror. “You sure you don’t want to just rush over here last minute? We could all have the best time together.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Karina replied, but you could tell she was still slightly regretful. “Someone has to look out for you girls from here. I’ll just live vicariously through your snaps and photos.”

Ningning smirked. “We’ll make sure to flood your inbox with those so you really feel like you’re here.”

“Please don’t,” Karina said with a mock exasperated tone. “I’m already getting jealous just hearing about all the fun.”

Giselle adjusted her sunglasses, clearly amused. “You should have come, Karina. Aruba is everything you said it would be... plus a little extra.”

You caught her eye in the mirror, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Karina asked, “A little extra? What exactly does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Giselle said quickly, turning away with a grin. “Just, you know, the whole vacation vibe...”

“My girl is not still moping out there, is she?” Karina asked, feigning strictness. “She’s not still thinking about some nerd called Huang Renjun, is she?”

You gasped. “Excuse me? Say it to my face.” You pouted at Karina. “I’m having a really great time. Thank you very much.”

“That’s good then.”

You grabbed your sheer layer top and pulled it over your head. “Also, don’t make it sound so upsetting. Renjun and I are still friends.”

Giselle scoffed. “Girl, Renjun and you weren’t anything else but friends.”

You rolled your eyes, mocking her. “Whatever. It’s all in the past.”

“Pretty sure it was just three weeks ago,” Karina teased.

You sighed. “Are we gonna hit the beach or should we just sit here and talk about my failed romances?”

Fortunately, they stopped teasing you and finished getting ready. You bade Karina goodbye with a promise to show her pictures and have fun. After grabbing everything you needed, the three of you hurried downstairs.

Giselle flicked her hair over her shoulder and wore her sunglasses. “Alright, let’s go make some waves, ladies.”

As you walked toward the beach, the guys were already lounging on the sun beds lining up the shore. Hendery was sprawled across one, his legs dangling in the sun, while Xiaojun and Ningning had already gone off to the water’s edge. Yangyang, of course, was right where you expected him to be—leaning casually against the sun bed, watching you approach with an almost predatory glint in his eyes.

His voice reached you first, as always. “What took you so long?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips. “Did you take your sweet time dolling up for me?”

You didn’t even flinch. “Do I know you?” 

Yangyang laughed, his grin widening. “Give me one chance and you will.”

You raised an eyebrow as you placed your towel on the bed next to his. “I guess since I’m in paradise, I can tolerate this much of a nuisance.”

He sat up and leaned forward to you, his eyes never leaving you. “We may be in paradise right now, but I know I could take it up a notch. Make it feel more like paradise,” he said, his tone far too smooth for your liking.

You crossed your arms, trying to keep the irritation from your voice. “Didn’t you almost get into a fist fight with someone who couldn’t take a hint?”

Yangyang shrugged, leaning back on the sun bed. “I still haven’t heard the one definitive answer, so, yeah. I’ll keep trying until you say it.”

“Say what, exactly?” you asked, genuinely puzzled because you were sure you’d been discouraging his advances. If that wasn’t enough for a hint, then what exactly does he need?

“You haven’t really said no yet,” he said, closing his eyes with a smug grin. “All you’ve done so far is evade and dodge.”

You scoffed but didn’t say anything.

“It’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’, my dear wife,” he added, humming. “If you can’t give it, that means you’re not done thinking about it yet. I could still make you give in to my charm.”

“You’re very optimistic, did you know that?”

“Yes. I’m very appreciative too,” he chuckled, glancing sideways at you. “I’ll show you just how much I can appreciate everything about you if you say ‘yes’ to me.”

You held his gaze, unwavering with a glint of mischief. You wanted to say ‘no’, it was the most logical answer. But you couldn’t utter the word.

“Suit yourself,” you huffed. With a playful roll of your eyes, you rose to your feet and headed to the water. You could hear him laughing as you walked away, but you weren’t going to let him get to you that easily. Still, the way his gaze followed you made your pulse quicken just a little. The beach was warm, the water cool and refreshing, these were things you could always count on in this paradise—along with Yangyang’s relentless pursuit.

You and your friends frolicked by the beach—swimming, taking pictures, enjoying citrusy drinks from the nearby tiki, and letting the salt and sun get soaked up by your skin. The boys were off in their own world, swimming ang fighting on the sand like school boys. At one point, Hendery roped you into a game of beach volleyball, sparking an intense competition between the girls and the boys.

You were winning the match, with your easy teamwork and general proficiency with the game itself. You won the first set and it looked like the second set was yours too, leading with a score of 22 against their 19.

The sand was warm under your feet as you and Ningning jogged into position, Giselle was already hyping up the team from the backline. Across the net, the boys were plotting their strategy with the seriousness of a championship game. Yangyang stood in the middle of their huddle, pointing and gesturing animatedly, while Hendery crouched low, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Are they actually strategizing?” Ningning asked, tying her hair into a high ponytail.

You shrugged, hiding your smirk. “Let them think they have a chance.”

Giselle clapped to get your attention. “Focus, ladies. They’ve got height, but we’ve got heart.”

“And skill,” Ningning added.

“Mostly skill,” you corrected with a grin.

The first serve was Yangyang’s, and he started with a smug grin as he launched the ball over the net. It was fast, but Giselle intercepted it with a smooth dig. You set it up for Ningning, who spiked it perfectly, narrowly avoiding Hendery’s desperate lunge.

“Point for the queens!” Ningning yelled, pumping her fist.

The boys groaned, and Hendery rolled dramatically in the sand. “I need a sub!” he cried.

“You are the sub,” Yangyang shot back, flicking sand at him.

The game continued with fierce determination on both sides. Hendery proved to be a surprisingly agile blocker, while Yangyang was quick on his feet, diving for saves and trash-talking at every opportunity.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he called out after Giselle narrowly missed a serve.

“Keep talking, Yangyang,” she shot back, adjusting her sunglasses. “It’ll make our victory even sweeter.”

Ningning served again, and the ball sailed high over the net. Yangyang jumped to spike it, but you were ready, blocking it with a well-timed jump.

“Boom!” you shouted as the ball hit the sand on their side.

Yangyang stared at you, mouth agape. “Where did that come from?”

“From the talent I was born with, where else?” you said with a wink.

As the match wore on, the stakes grew higher. The boys managed a few lucky points, but the girls maintained a narrow lead. The final play was an intense rally, with the ball going back and forth across the net.

“Come on!” Hendery shouted, diving to save a near-miss.

“Mine!” Ningning yelled, running to the backline.

Yangyang jumped for a spike, but you leapt just in time, blocking it again. The ball tipped off the edge of the net and landed on their side. Then you girls erupted in cheers, jumping and hugging each other as the boys slumped to the sand in defeat.

“Unbelievable,” Yangyang muttered, shaking his head.

“Victory tastes so sweet,” Ningning said, doing another celebratory spin.

Hendery flopped onto his back, covering his face with his arms. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Correct,” Giselle said, grinning. “Now, about that bet…”

Yangyang sighed, waving his hand lazily in the air. “Fine. Full-course barbecue it is.”

“Yes and we get to pick what we’re putting on the barbecue,” Giselle added.

Yangyang rose to his feet and jogged toward the sun bed where his bag was. When he came back, he was waving the card in the air. “Knock yourselves out. Just don’t max it out, yeah?”

“Fair enough,” Ningning said, snatching his card. “Let’s go shopping, Giselle. I’m craving scallops.”

Xiaojun offered to join them, saying he’d make sure they got everything needed for the barbecue party.

As the others drifted away, you stayed behind, enjoying the quiet hush of the waves and the cooling breeze. Yangyang plopped down onto the sand beside you, stretching out with an exaggerated sigh.

“Great game,” he said, his tone light. “Even if it was rigged.”

“Rigged?” you laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You lost fair and square.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “But I bet you all practiced in secret. No way Hendery and I could lose.”

“I didn’t think you’d be such a sore loser,” you teased, shaking your head.

“And yet, here I am, still hanging out with the enemy.” He grinned, his hair ruffling in the breeze.

The tiki bar server approached with two drinks, setting them on the low table nearby. Yangyang reached for one and handed it to you, his smirk still firmly in place.

“To the victors,” he said, raising his glass.

You clinked yours against his, laughing. “And to the losers who get to do all the work.”

Yangyang chuckled, leaning back and taking a sip. “How long are you guys here for by the way?”

“Two weeks,” you replied, savoring the sweetness on your tongue.

“Really? We’re here for two weeks too.”

You scoffed. “Wow, we’re so unlucky.”

The conversation flowed from playful teasing to lighter topics—the best dishes you’d tried on the island, the funniest moments from the trip so far, and the weird tan line you pointed out on his shoulder.

Yangyang stretched his legs out in the sand, inspecting his shoulder. “You know, this tan line is going to be a conversation starter. ‘Hey Yangyang, what’s that weird patch on your arm?’ Oh, you know, just me being the MVP of a beach volleyball game. No big deal.”

You snorted. “MVP? You lost.”

“They don’t need those details,” he said, waving it off with a grin. “But seriously, I’m loving this trip so far. I just know I’m gonna miss this place once we go back to uni.”

“Are you a freshman?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

You shrugged. “I just assumed we were the same age, so…”

“You’re a freshman too?” he asked, glad to find something you had in common. “So, what are you studying? Something artsy, right?”

“Do I look like I’m studying something artsy?”

Yangyang leaned against the sun bed. “You don’t seem like the ‘numbers and spreadsheets’ kind of person. Figured you’d be one of those artsy types.”

“Well, I guess it counts since it’s Liberal Arts.”

“Which liberal art is it?”

“English,” you admitted, flattening your lips together, sheepish. “I know. Very basic.”

“Basic?” Yangyang tilted his head curiously. “I didn’t say that. I think it’s cool. English is interesting—grammar rules, stories, all that stuff.”

“Thanks, I think?” You took a sip from your glass. “I only picked it because I didn't really know what I wanted to do.”

Yangyang’s grin softened, his tone unusually thoughtful. “That’s fair. Not everyone knows right away. Sometimes, it’s better to explore than to lock yourself into something you’re not even sure about.”

You tilted your head, surprised by his response. “I guess so. But don’t you think it’s a bit lame? Everyone else seems to have a clear path, and I’m just figuring things out.”

He shook his head, his gaze shifting to the horizon. “I don’t think it’s lame. Most of the time, people stick to their clear paths because they’re scared of the unknown, not because it’s what they actually want.”

His words lingered in the air, carried by the gentle sea breeze. For a moment, you forgot the mischief in his smile and the teasing remarks. Yangyang, it seemed, could be more than just the guy who cracked jokes and flirted needlessly.

“Well, it happens,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You’re not so bad, you know,” you said, smiling at him.

“Only ‘not so bad’?” he asked, feigning offense.

“Don’t push your luck,” you quipped, but your tone was warm.

The space between you grew smaller as the conversation went on. You talked about anything and everything. During that, Yangyang’s shoulder brushed yours, his closeness oddly comforting. His laughter was contagious, and his gaze—bright and mischievous yet sincere—had a way of making you forget your initial impression of him.

“Are you laughing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” he said, clearing his throat. “I just didn’t think you’d do something like that.”

“What? Spend every passing day in the library just to see my crush?” you asked, making Yangyang chuckle.

“Yeah. I almost thought you were talking about someone else,” he laughed, his toothy Cheshire cat grin making you grin too. “That guy is lucky. He’s got you stalking him daily while I’m this close to getting on my knees just for an hour alone with you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s nothing like you. You’re okay, but he’s on an entirely different wavelength. Now that I’ve thought about it, I realized we weren’t even compatible at all. He’s smart and knows exactly what he wants.”

“His loss,” Yangyang shrugged. “You’re probably too pretty for him anyway.”

“No,” you said briskly, shaking your hands. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him. He’s way prettier. You have no idea,” you added, pressing your hands against your cheeks at the memory of Renjun’s beautiful smile.

Yangyang nudged your shoulder, making you glance up at him. “I don’t need to see him to know you’re prettier.”

The compliment caught you off guard, but before you could respond, you found yourself lost in his eyes. They crinkled slightly at the corners as he smiled, and there was something disarming about the way he looked at you—like he genuinely couldn’t see anything or anyone but you.

Yangyang winked and then looked away to break the silence. “You’ll find this hard to believe, but I used to spend a lot of time in the library too. Especially when it’s—”

“Yes.” The word slipped out before you could stop it, hanging between you like the weight of the moment.

Yangyang blinked, tilting his head. “Yes?”

You bit your lip, heat rising to your cheeks. “Yes,” you repeated softly.

His smile returned, slower and more genuine. “Finally,” he murmured, leaning in.

The world seemed to fade away as Yangyang’s lips met yours. The kiss was warm and light at first, but it quickly deepened, making your stomach flutter with butterflies you didn’t think you’d get from Yangyang. His hand found the back of your head, kissing you deeper as if he’d been waiting for it all this time.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his grin as mischievous as always.

“See?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Told you I’d win you over.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he teased, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he pulled you into another kiss.

Ten minutes. That was how long you sat there making out with Yangyang by the beach. Maybe it was even longer than that, you weren’t sure, you just knew it was long long. You were both laughing and giggling over nonsense, and he wouldn’t stop teasing you about giving in to him after pushing him away several times. 

If it wasn’t for Giselle calling your phone and asking why you weren’t back in the villa yet, Yangyang would probably still have you locked in his arms on that sun bed.

“Scallops, wow,” you exclaimed, peering over Xiaojun’s shoulder while he was working the grill. “Beef too? How much did you guys spend?”

“Enough,” said Giselle, chuckling darkly at Yangyang who was standing next to you with his hands on his waist.

“Oh man, you didn’t just let them splurge, did you?” Yangyang asked Xiaojun who just shrugged.

“You did tell them to knock themselves out,” Xiaojun replied, grinning.

“Babe, come try this,” Ningning called out to you, waving a spoon in your direction.

You jogged toward the table, curious, but Yangyang followed closely behind.

“Did she just call you Babe?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you reached for the drink Ningning was mixing.

Ningning shot him a look. “Listen here, Mr. Liu. I know you’re into my baby, but I’m the only one allowed to call her that. Let’s get that straight.”

You laughed, your cheeks warming. “Ning Yizhou, please. Stop it.”

But Ningning and Giselle exchanged glances, their mischief practically glowing.

“Oh, they’ve definitely hooked up,” Ningning said.

“Totally,” Giselle added, nodding with mock seriousness.

“What? No, we didn’t!” you protested, your voice an octave higher as you glanced at Yangyang.

Yangyang shrugged, looking entirely too smug. “Not yet. But we’ll get there.”

“Go away!” you huffed, shoving him playfully toward the grill.

The barbecue dinner continued with hearty laughter and the smoky scent of grilled food filling the air. Plates piled high with scallops, beef, and seafood skewers were passed around, everyone digging in and teasing each other between bites. Xiaojun manned the grill with expert ease, the sizzle of the food mixing with the sounds of playful banter from the group.

“Xiaojun,” Ningning said dramatically, pointing her fork at him. “If you don’t become a chef, the world will suffer.”

Xiaojun chuckled, flipping a skewer with a confident flick of his wrist. “Thanks for the pressure, but I think the world will survive without my scallops.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Giselle added, her voice mock-threatening.

Hendery, leaning back in his chair with a piece of grilled beef in hand, scoffed. “You’re all hyping him up too much. Watch him get cocky.”

Xiaojun rolled his eyes but grinned. “Just tell them you’re jealous.”

You found yourself laughing along with them, the whole evening filled with warmth and good company. The laughter seemed endless as you all shared stories, your plates refilled again and again, everyone thoroughly enjoying the meal and each other’s company. The tropical air was still, the night stretching comfortably ahead, like the perfect kind of pause before the whirlwind of activities you all had planned for the coming days.

As the evening wore on, the boys headed out to the bar as planned. Yangyang, as usual, did his best to persuade you to join them. “Come on, you really have to come. It won’t be the same without you.”

But you weren’t convinced. “You guys go ahead. We have plans tonight.”

Yangyang dramatically threw his head back, sighing as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Are you seriously just gonna let me mope out there by myself?” he complained, but the teasing glint in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t really upset.

You shook your head, laughing. “I think you’ll survive without me for one night,” you said, nudging him lightly. “Go have your fun.”

Once they were gone, you and the girls settled into the cozy confines of the villa for a quieter night. You poured yourselves some wine, the gentle music from Giselle’s playlist filling the space. It was a calm, slow evening, the perfect contrast to the hustle and bustle of the days ahead. The three of you sank into the couch, chatting and laughing, catching up on things you hadn’t had the chance to talk about during the day.

“This is exactly what I needed,” you sighed contentedly, sinking into the couch.

Ningning raised her glass, eyes twinkling. “Babe, you gotta give that guy a chance,” she said, her voice half teasing, half serious. “He’s so whipped. It’s pathetic at this point.”

You snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Pathetic? More like smug and overconfident,” you shot back.

“Exactly,” Ningning agreed, taking a sip of wine. “He’s trying to play it cool, but if you take that smug grin off his face, he’s just a massive simp worshipping your feet.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “You make him sound like some love-struck puppy.”

“Well, if the shoe fits,” Ningning teased, her lips curling into a sly grin.

Giselle rolled her eyes, but there was a softness to her expression. “You seem closer now, though? What happened back at the beach?” she asked, her gaze flickering between you and Ningning, clearly curious.

“We uh,” you paused, biting your lip at the memory of kissing Yangyang. “Nothing really. I gave him a chance. I mean, what do I have to lose? We’re in Aruba and Yangyang seemed like a really fun guy.”

“He is,” Giselle added with a nod, her eyes sparkling. “But not for me. I like it better when my options are open.”

Ningning raised an eyebrow at you. “That’s ‘cause you’re a slut,” she teased, giving Giselle a wicked grin.

Giselle blinked in surprise, then smirked. “Oh, I’m a slut? Which one of us was toying with some guy the other night only to send him back looking depressed and defeated? I’m a slut?”

Ningning’s eyes lit up, and she struck a playful pose, one hand on her hip, batting her eyelashes. “You and me both, Gigi. Let’s let this boring vanilla baby have her fun with her guy. We’re rocking this island,” she said, winking.

You laughed, feigning disgust, even though you were thoroughly entertained. “You guys are promiscuous,” you said, giving them a mock disapproving look.

Ningning tilted her head and flashed a confident grin. “You mean hot and fun?” she said, clearly proud of her carefree approach.

“Hot and fun,” you agreed, rolling your eyes but smiling. “And promiscuous.”

The conversation drifted from small talk to more meaningful topics, laughter occasionally erupting as the wine worked its magic. You all took turns talking about the things you were looking forward to most on this trip—the beaches, the hiking, the sightseeing, the endless opportunities to explore. Despite the excitement for the days ahead, there was something so refreshing about the peacefulness of tonight.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Ningning said, looking around the villa, her wine glass cradled between both hands.

“I know, right?” Giselle added, swirling the wine in her glass. “It’s nice, though. We’ve got a packed schedule starting tomorrow, but I love this little downtime.”

You nodded, leaning back into the cushions, letting the peace of the moment sink in. “Exactly. I’m so excited for this trip.”

“We should probably get to bed soon,” Giselle said, glancing at her phone to check the time. The hike tomorrow would be an early one, and you wanted to be well-rested for it. “We’ve got an early morning.”

“You’re right,” Ningning replied with a sigh, stretching out her legs. “But this feels so nice, I don’t want it to end just yet.”

“I get that,” Giselle said, glancing at you two. “But I’m not about to regret a single minute of this trip by staying up too late.”

Eventually, the night wound down, and you all went to your separate rooms. You lay on your bed, your phone in hand, scrolling through your phone until you stumbled upon Xiaojun’s Instagram stories. His latest post showed him and Yangyang at the bar, Hendery beside them, clearly enjoying themselves. The music was loud in the background, the neon lights making everything look vibrant and alive.

You couldn’t help but smile, tapping through more clips. Yangyang, of course, looked like he was having the time of his life, though you remembered how much he’d pleaded with you to come. You thought it was sweet how much he’d wanted to hang out with you, though you knew he just wanted to bone.

“This guy is promiscuous too,” you muttered under your breath, grinning to yourself.

As you continued scrolling, the soft knocks on your door interrupted your thoughts. You froze for a second, unsure of what you’d heard. Then came the knock again, a little louder this time. You moved across the room in your barefoot, reaching for the doorknob. When you opened it, Yangyang stood there, his hair slightly tousled, his grin as effortless as ever.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, his voice low and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re back so soon? I thought you’d be out until at least two.”

He shrugged, stepping a little closer. “Yeah, well, Giselle said we have to wake up early if we want to join the hike,” he replied, his tone light. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated for just a moment before stepping aside. “Don’t make yourself too comfortable,” you quipped.

Yangyang slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him. His gaze fixed on you, and before you could say another word, he pulled you into a loose hug, his arms wrapping around your waist. His nose brushed against your neck, and you felt his warm breath against your skin.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice muffled.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just horny.”

Yangyang straightened up with an exaggerated look of shock and indignation on his face. “Wha—no, I’m—” He stopped mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open like he couldn’t believe you’d called him out so easily.

Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I know I’m right,” you said, your tone light but smug.

For a moment, he just stared at you, then threw his head back in laughter, the sound rich and unrestrained. “You’re so cute,” he said, stepping closer again, his grin turning wicked. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint, and you just knew he was up to something.

“Go away,” you said, turning your back to him with mock exasperation, though you didn’t really mean it.

“Aw. Don’t I get a kiss?” he asked, trailing behind you like an eager puppy as you headed back to your bed.

You stopped, spinning around to face him. “Just a kiss?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you perched on the edge of the bed.

Yangyang tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… I was hoping we could do more than just kiss.”

“Goodnight,” you said with exaggerated finality, slipping under the sheets and yanking them over your head. “Lock the door on your way out.”

“Come on, honey,” he whined, tugging playfully at the edge of your blanket. “I’ve waited my whole life for this.”

Peeking out from the covers, you shot him a skeptical look. “We’ve known each other for three days.”

His grin only widened as if you’d just confirmed something he already knew. Without missing a beat, he climbed onto the bed and slid under the covers, settling beside you. His arm snaked beneath your head, pulling you closer until his warmth enveloped you completely.

“I’ll just sleep here then,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Is that okay?”

You sighed, taking a deep breath. The weight of his arm, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the way his presence seemed to fill the room all felt… unexpectedly comforting. Like slipping into a cozy jacket on a cold winter night, his warmth wrapped around you, lulling you to sleep.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyes fluttered shut. “It’s okay.”

You woke slowly, feeling the steady rise and fall of someone’s chest behind you. A weight rested lightly around your waist, warm and solid—Yangyang’s arm.

Oh. Right.

Your eyes fluttered open as memories of the night before came into focus—his teasing grin, the way he’d wriggled under your covers, and how his arms felt annoyingly comforting as you both drifted off. It was nice. Waking up with his warmth beside you was just as nice.

What you didn’t expect was the firm, unmistakable pressure against your lower back.

You froze, your half-asleep mind trying to convince you it was not what it felt like. But the more you became aware of it, the harder it was to deny.

Oh my God. That’s… definitely his...

Your face burned as you tried to wriggle away without waking him, but the movement only made you graze it. Yangyang stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy groan. Then his arm tightened, pulling you back against him—and the problem.

“Don’t move,” he rasped into your ear, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“Yangyang—”

“Shh. Please,” he mumbled, his arm tightening around your waist. “Just give me a second to, uh… recalibrate.”

You bit your lip, both mortified and fighting the urge to laugh. But then his grip on your waist loosened, his fingers brushing against the thin fabric of your shirt. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, you weren’t so sure you wanted to pull away anymore.

“Sorry about that,” he said, chuckling lightly. “Happens all the time.”

You turned your head slightly, catching the hint of vulnerability in his sleepy, lopsided smile. It was disarming, even in a moment like this. Or maybe especially in a moment like this.

“Must be hard for you,” you quipped, smirking because you were low-key proud of the pun.

His grin widened. “Very hard. Do you like it?”

“You wish.”

His hand on your waist slid up—testing, gauging your reaction. You didn’t pull away—instead, your fingers instinctively curled into the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His touch grew bolder, tracing the curve of your hip and slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your neck.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was ridiculous. Insane. And yet, every nerve in your body screamed at you to lean into it, to see where this would go. You’d spent the past few days brushing off his advances, telling yourself he was nothing more than a fun distraction. But at this moment, with the morning light casting soft shadows across the room, it felt like the only thing you wanted was him.

A long pause stretched between you, your eyes locked in a quiet conversation as you let the tension envelope the air around you. And then, biting your lip shyly—

“…Yes,” you whispered.

That was all the invitation he needed. Yangyang shifted, turning you on your back so he could hover over you. His eyes met yours, searching for any hesitation, but all he found was curiosity and anticipation. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, exploratory kiss.

The kiss started slow, tentative, as if he were testing the waters. But when your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer, all restraint fell away. He kissed you deeply, passionately, and every nerve in your body lit up like a firework.

Your mind was a blur, a tangle of disbelief and desire. How had you gone from playfully bickering with him to this? His touch, his warmth, the way he seemed to savor every second—it was almost too much, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“Yes,” you said, breathless. “Yes.”

Yangyang chuckled softly, his tone both teasing and serious. “Just checking. I won’t be able to stop once I start, so no take-backs halfway.”

“Oh my god, Yangyang,” you huffed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “You’re ruining the mood. Just—come here.”

He pressed his hips against yours, and you gasped softly at the hard evidence of his desire. The sound seemed to spur him on and just as his hand trailed down the waistband of your pajamas, a loud knock echoed through the room, startling you both.

“Wake up, babe! Gigi said we’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” Ningning’s voice called out from the other side of the door.

Your heart raced for a different reason now as Yangyang groaned, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Seriously?” he muttered, his voice dripping with frustration.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your cheeks flushing as you gently pushed him back. “We should probably get up now.”

Yangyang shook his head, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. “Nope. I’m not going anywhere.”

Another knock followed, more insistent this time. “Babe! Are you still sleeping?”

“No! I’ll be out in a bit!” you called back, your voice a little too high-pitched.

“Okay! Breakfast is ready!” Ningning replied before her footsteps faded away.

Yangyang sighed dramatically, flopping onto his back. “Fifteen minutes? Think we can use five minutes and—”

“And ruin our first time?” you smirked, shaking your head. “I don’t think so.”

You rose to your feet, heading toward the bathroom, but Yangyang caught your waist mid-step, pulling you back on the bed and the sudden tug made you yelp.

“What do you mean our first time?” he asked, trailing kisses on your jaw down to your neck. “Are you looking forward to this?”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Gosh, I hate feeding your ego so much.”

“Come on, wifey. Honesty is the foundation of every marriage,” he quipped, flashing his signature grin.

“We’re not married,” you shot back, pushing him off with a laugh. “Now go get ready. I don’t think they know you’re here, and it’s better that way. My friends are way too interested in my affairs right now.”

Yangyang gave a mock pout. “You’re kicking me out now? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Yangyang, I swear—”

“Okay, okay!” He held his hands up in mock surrender, slipping out of bed and wrapping you in one last hug. “I’ll see you at breakfast, honey.”

“Just go.”

As he left, you caught your reflection in the mirror, your flushed cheeks and wide smile revealing just how much his presence affected you. With a deep breath, you headed to the bathroom, already bracing yourself for the days to come.

The Aruba sun was relentless, its heat bouncing off every surface and making even the thought of hiking unbearable. You and your friends gathered in front of a small station offering ATV rentals, a fortunate backup plan Giselle had arranged in case of unexpected situations like weather extremes.

“I thought we were going on a hike?” Hendery asked, squinting at the information board.

“It’s too hot for a hike right now,” Xiaojun replied, fanning himself with a brochure. “So we’re going there on ATVs instead. Same view, less sweat.”

You stood beside Yangyang, his arm draped loosely around your waist as he scanned the crowd of tourists. The weight of his hand was comforting, familiar, and yet it still sent tiny sparks through you.

Glancing up, you noticed the tan line on his shoulder. “Did you put on sunscreen?” you asked, nudging him lightly.

Yangyang glanced down, momentarily caught off guard by the question. “Hmm? Yeah. I think I did.”

“You think?” you teased, chuckling. “Did you even bring one?”

“No. I did. My mom made sure I packed it before we left. She’s very thorough about this stuff.”

“Your mom did?” you repeated, your grin widening. “She’s very thoughtful.”

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “She nagged me a lot before the trip, though. She packed this entire bag of skincare, some fancy oil thing, and bug bite ointment. You should see it. The bag’s probably bigger than your pouch of skin stuff.”

You laughed, imagining it. “That explains why your skin’s so nice. She really knew what she was doing.”

“Do I have nice skin?” he asked, genuinely surprised. He touched his cheek as if testing the claim. “Huh. I didn’t realize.”

His lips suddenly quirked into a grin, and he leaned a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Have you been checking me out?”

Heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away, pretending to check on your friends. “Don’t get cocky. I was just being polite.”

“Sure, sure,” he teased, his hand squeezing your waist lightly. “I’m flattered either way.”

After securing your ATV tickets, the rental staff organized everyone into pairs. The sun blazed overhead, but the excitement in the air was enough to make you forget about the heat for a while. Your friends paired up immediately, and it came almost naturally for you to get paired with Yangyang.

It wasn’t even a discussion—he had claimed you before anyone could suggest otherwise.

While the group waited for instructions, Xiaojun laughed as he wiped sweat off his brow. “You girls really saved us on this trip,” he said, glancing at Giselle. “If it were just us, we’d probably be bar hopping every night and getting tanned all day.”

“And endlessly complaining about how there’s nothing to do too,” Hendery added with a grin.

Yangyang smirked, sliding his arm casually around your waist. “Speak for yourself. I was fully prepared to wing it.”

“You? Please,” Xiaojun shot back. “If you were in charge, we’d all be passed out on the beach right now.”

“Well, good thing you’ve got us,” Giselle chimed in. “I told you my itinerary wouldn’t let you down.”

“It’s a blessing in disguise,” Yangyang admitted, his fingers tracing small circles on your hip as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed under his touch, though you tried to act unfazed. “So, what you’re saying is, without us, you’d have no idea what you’re doing?”

Yangyang grinned down at you. “Exactly. What would I have done without you, my darling wife?”

You elbowed him lightly, trying not to laugh. “Don’t push it.”

As the staff explained the rules and safety precautions, Yangyang didn’t bother hiding how drawn he was to you. His hand shifted from your waist to your shoulder, and occasionally he leaned in close to comment on something random, like the mismatched helmets or a particularly enthusiastic tourist who was already revving their ATV.

Your friends noticed, of course. Ningning raised her eyebrows at you, a sly smile tugging at her lips, while Giselle gave you a look that screamed I’ll ask you about this later. But to your relief, they didn’t tease you outright. Instead, they exchanged knowing glances and carried on as if everything was perfectly normal.

The staff finally directed everyone to their vehicles, and Yangyang beckoned you over so he could put the helmet on you. “I’m driving so you better hold on tight.”

“Oh, so I don’t even get a say?” you teased, watching him focus on the buckle of the helmet.

“Do you want to drive?” he asked just as he finished with his task.

“No,” you replied without missing a beat. “But I still would’ve preferred it if you asked for my opinion.”

Yangyang chuckled. “You’re adorable. Alright, next time, I’ll ask you first,” he said, getting onto the ATV. You followed after him.

“Can I trust you?”

“Absolutely. Just make sure to hold on tight,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“Okay. Don’t get us killed.”

“Trust me,” he said, revving the engine. “I got you.”

The ATV lurched forward, and you tighten your grip instinctively, your laughter getting carried away by the warm breeze. You could feel Yangyang’s chest shaking with his own laughter as he expertly navigated the bumpy trail.

The ride to Conchi—Aruba’s famed natural pool—was as exhilarating as it was nerve-wracking. Yangyang seemed to live for the bumpy, uneven trails, pushing the ATV to its limits as you clung to him for dear life. Every sharp turn or sudden drop earned a loud squeal from you, and each time, he’d throw his head back and laugh like it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“You okay back there, honey?” he called over the roar of the engine, glancing over his shoulder.

 “If I fall off, I’m haunting you!” you shouted back, tightening your grip around his waist. “Keep your eyes forward! Oh my god!”

“Sorry. I’ll drive slower,” he teased, though he didn’t ease up on the speed at all.

By the time you reached Conchi, your legs were shaky from gripping the ATV, but the sight in front of you quickly made you forget the rough ride. The natural pool sparkled under the sun, its turquoise waters framed by black volcanic rocks. Tourists crowded the area, snapping photos and dipping into the clear, refreshing water. It was a postcard-perfect scene, breathtaking enough to make you forget the heat and the crowd.

“Wow,” you breathed, hopping off the ATV.

Yangyang joined you, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back. “Not bad, huh?”

“Not bad?” You glanced at him, a grin spreading across your face. “It’s incredible.”

He leaned in closer, his lips just brushing your ear. “Told you I’d take you somewhere cool.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, you planned this whole thing,” you deadpanned, only playfully.

“Am I the best tour guide ever?” he asked, his grin shamelessly cocky.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

The group split up as everyone wandered toward the water. Yangyang stayed glued to your side, his hand occasionally brushing yours as the two of you navigated the rocky path. When you slipped on a particularly uneven surface, he caught you immediately, his arm circling your waist.

“Careful,” he said, his tone softer now. “These rocks are sharp. Can’t have you getting hurt.”

You steadied yourself, his proximity making your heart do a weird little flip. “Thanks. Didn’t realize I brought my personal lifeguard.”

“Full service,” he quipped, winking at you. “Wait till you see my swimming skills.”

Down by the pool, Yangyang took off his shirt, revealing his toned, sun-kissed torso. You tried not to stare—tried really hard—but he caught you anyway, smirking like he’d just won something against you.

“See something you like?” he teased, tossing his shirt onto a rock.

You scoffed, though your cheeks burned. “Not at all,” you said, looking away.

“Uh-huh.” He stepped closer, leaning in as if to whisper a secret. “Don’t worry, honey. You can look all you want. It’s all yours.”

Before you could respond, he dove into the water, his laughter echoing behind him. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as you slipped off your sandals and joined him.

The water was cool and refreshing, a perfect escape from the blazing sun. Yangyang was everywhere—helping you find footing on the slippery rocks, playfully splashing water at you, and floating close enough that his arm would occasionally brush yours.

At one point, he swam up behind you, his hands gently resting on your hips as you stood by a shallow edge. “Having fun?”

You turned to face him, water dripping from his hair and running down his face. “Would be a lot more fun if you weren’t here,” you replied, but you didn’t mean any word.

“Aw, I know you don’t mean that, honey. Your cheeks will soon ache because you’re smiling too much,” he teased, poking your cheek.

You rolled your eyes, pushing a hand against his chest to create some space. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But Yangyang didn’t budge. Instead, he caught your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours under the water. His expression softened, his playful smirk giving way to something more genuine.

“Thanks for letting us come,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I like being here with you.”

You scoffed, masking the flutter in your heart with an aloof attitude. “As you should.”

The moment lingered, charged and electric. His fingers brushed yours again, sending a shiver up your spine. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning closer. The sounds of the pool faded, and all that existed was the warmth of his gaze and the soft rush of the water around you.

Just as your lips were about to meet, Giselle’s voice cut through the moment.

“Yangyang! Quit hogging my girlfriend and come take a picture!”

Yangyang groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I swear, they’re like children.”

You laughed, tugging him toward the group. “Come on.”

As you two joined the others, cracking jokes and striking ridiculous poses for the camera, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation. Yangyang was unpredictable and a little reckless, but he made you feel like the center of his world.

And, for now, you were perfectly okay with that.

The rest of your Aruba trip unfolded like a colorful dream, a whirlwind of laughter, sun-soaked adventures, and moments that made your heart skip.

You zipped across rocky trails and sandy paths on the ATVs, the wind whipping through your hair as Yangyang stayed close behind, calling out dramatic warnings like, “Don’t fall off, honey—I’m not carrying you!” 

His teasing only earned him a shower of sand as you sped ahead, his laughter echoing in the semi-desert terrain.

At the Butterfly Farm, he pretended to be afraid of the delicate creatures, flinching exaggeratedly every time one landed on him. “What if it’s poisonous?” he whispered, eyes wide with mock horror. You laughed so hard you nearly scared off the butterflies, but you couldn’t help snapping a picture of him with one perched on his shoulder.

Everyone was having a blast, until the first week passed and Yangyang realized that Giselle’s itinerary left no room for boredom—or rest. Mornings started early, with breakfast by the pool where he would dramatically yawn and stretch, groaning about how Giselle was running the group like a boot camp.

“Can’t we just have one lazy day?” he complained, his head resting on your shoulder as you sipped your coffee.

“Nope,” you replied, amused. “We’re on Giselle’s schedule now. Resistance is futile.” 

He sighed, but the glint in his eye told you he wasn’t really upset. “Do we really need to see everything Aruba has to offer?” he asked, mock-serious. “Maybe I just want to lie on the beach and gaze into your eyes.”

“Okay, lover boy,” Giselle teased, standing up. “Get up and get ready to leave.”

“Come on, Yangyang. Think of it as building stamina,” Hendery said, patting Yangyang on the back.

“For what?” he asked, grinning wickedly.

“For you-know-what?” Hendery grinned, standing up after wiggling his eyebrows knowingly.

Yangyang, still grinning, glanced at you with expectant eyes. You rolled your eyes and said, “Bye.” Then walked away before he could say anything.

Each day blended into the next, packed with scenic drives, swimming and visits to historical landmarks. Through it all, Yangyang was a constant presence—sometimes exasperated by the pace, but always finding ways to make you laugh. Whether it was by stealing bites of your food, pointing out oddly shaped rocks and giving them names, or spinning you around on the sand just to hear you squeal, he managed to make every moment unforgettable.

It was chaotic, exhausting, and utterly perfect in its own way. And even as Yangyang grumbled about Giselle’s tight itinerary, you could tell he was enjoying every second—especially the ones he spent with you.

The evenings in Giselle’s schedule were reserved for beach bonfires, sunset sails, or dancing under the stars at local beach bars. That particular night, the group had taken over a corner of a lively beachfront bar, its warm glow spilling out onto the sand where tiki torches lined the perimeter.

Yangyang stayed glued to your side as usual, his hand casually resting on the small of your back or tangling with yours as you both sipped on fruity cocktails. His presence was magnetic, and no matter how crowded the bar became, you found yourself instinctively gravitating toward him.

The live band struck up a slow, sultry tune, and without hesitation, Yangyang set his drink down, pulling you gently toward the sand where couples were swaying under the open sky.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing as he spun you once before pulling you in close.

“Making my move,” he said with a grin, his hands settling comfortably on your waist. “Can’t let this song go to waste.”

You rolled your eyes but let him guide you, your arms loosely wrapping around his shoulders. The music was soft, and Yangyang hummed along, his head dipping slightly to meet your gaze. For a while, you just danced, his thumbs brushing against your hips in lazy circles. His face was so close, his eyes locked on yours like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. You tried to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest, the way your heart skipped a beat every time he moved closer.

Then he leaned in for a kiss—a soft one, long, unmoving, but it left a lingering warmth after he pulled away.

“When do I get you all to myself?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

The heat that rushed to your face wasn’t entirely from the tropical air. “You’re with me now, aren’t you?” you teased, trying to keep your voice light.

“Yeah,” he said, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he pulled you closer, your bodies barely a breath apart. “But not like this. I want real alone time.”

“You’re just horny,” you replied, masking the flutter in your chest with a laugh. 

As special as he made you feel, you couldn’t let yourself forget why you were here with him in the first place. You didn’t want to blur the line between a romantic connection and what this really was—a spring break fling. He was just a travel perk, a handsome one but still temporary. You didn’t do relationships in a place where everything was temporary, and everyone was just passing through.

“You’ll survive,” you added.

Yangyang groaned dramatically, his head dropping back in mock defeat. “You’re ruthless, you know that?”

“Oh, I do,” you shot back, grabbing his hand to lead him toward the others who were gathered by the bonfire, roasting marshmallows and laughing at Hendery’s attempts to play guitar.

As you both rejoined the group, Yangyang kept his hand intertwined with yours. Despite the banter, the tension from your moment on the dance floor lingered, charging the air between you. You focused on the laughter with your friends, on the drinks being passed around, and the warmth of company and friendship. It was easier than thinking about how you and Yangyang could have something deeper.

“Who’s that?” you asked Giselle, pointing at the guy sitting next to Ningning across from you.

“Ningning met him at the kayak yesterday. I’m not sure if they agreed to meet here or if it was a coincidence,” Giselle explained, leaning closer to you. “They look cute together though, right?”

“That’s what I was thinking! He’s so cute. Ningning has been smiling from ear to ear all night,” you giggled, genuinely giddy for your friend, but it was easier to focus on them than the thoughts tugging at the back of your mind.

It was easier to smile and laugh about Ningning’s new interest than think about Yangyang. You didn’t want to admit it, but a part of you felt that same giddy feeling whenever Yangyang smiled at you, or when he touched you in ways that felt a little too intentional.

The night went on, stretching until late. A few hours later, as the fire crackled and someone started an impromptu sing-along, Yangyang leaned over, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“For the record,” he said, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips, “I’ll survive, but don’t think I’m giving up that easily.”

You shook your head, laughing softly, but his words stayed with you, lingering in the air. “Didn’t think you would.”

The morning started with high energy, the group gathering at the dock for your scheduled snorkeling trip. Giselle confidently led the way, tablet in hand. You’d been teasing her about her ‘vacation CEO’ vibes all week, but you secretly admired how smoothly everything had gone—until now.

“Name on the reservation?” the staff member asked, not even glancing up as they scrolled through their tablet.

“Giselle Uchinaga,” she replied with her usual crisp efficiency.

A frown crept onto the staff member’s face. “Hmm, I don’t see a Giselle Uchinaga here.”

Giselle’s expression faltered, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, I booked this weeks ago. Check again, please.”

You exchanged looks with Ningning, while Yangyang leaned lazily against the booth, clearly more entertained than concerned. After a tense back-and-forth, it turned out there’d been a mix-up—the tour company had double-booked, and there were no more spots available for the day.

The mix-up left Giselle fuming, her carefully planned itinerary crumbling right before her eyes. As she argued with the dock staff about overbooking policies, Yangyang stood off to the side, a lazy grin plastered on his face like he’d been waiting for this moment all week.

“This is a disaster,” Giselle groaned, throwing her hands up. “They don’t even have a backup option for us.”

“It’s okay. We can just go to the beach or something,” you said, offering an alternative.

“This was supposed to be the highlight of the trip!” Giselle shot back, shrugging off his hand.

You patted her back. “I know. We were excited for it too, but maybe we can try again tomorrow?”

“What about today?” Ningning asked and you shrugged.

Yangyang strode over to your side, still grinning. “How about this—we ditch the whole plan and do something way cooler?”

“Like what?” you asked, arms crossed but already sensing he was about to suggest something outrageous.

He didn’t answer, instead, he turned to Xiaojun and Hendery. “Bros, I think it’s time to do what we came here to do.”

Hendery’s face lit up. “Oh, you mean… that?” he asked, bouncing on his feet with excitement.

Xiaojun, on the other hand, appeared to be deep in thought, shaking his head. “No. I don’t think the girls would like that.”

“What is it?” Giselle prompted, looking a little impatient.

“Is it better than snorkeling?” Ningning asked.

Yangyang grinned wider. “Way better. Trust me, you’re gonna love it. And if you don’t, well… I’m used to being unappreciated.” He turned to the group, clapping his hands together. “Alright, troops, let’s roll. I know just the thing to turn this day around.”

“Is it dangerous?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Only if you’re boring,” he shot back, winking at you.

That should’ve been your first clue.

Twenty minutes later, you stood on a pristine stretch of beach, the waves glittering under the midday sun. Kite-surfers were on the water, their colorful kites soaring against the bright blue sky as they glided across the surface. One of them caught a gust of wind and launched into the air, soaring for a brief moment before landing gracefully back on the waves.

“This is your plan?” you asked, incredulous.

“Yup.” Yangyang looked impossibly pleased with himself, his hands on his hips like he’d just unveiled the eighth wonder of the world.

“Kite-surfing?” Giselle asked, her voice tight. “There’s a reason we didn’t put that in the itinerary.”

“Because you’re scared,” Yangyang teased. “I get it. Kites are terrifying. I cried the first time I saw one too.”

“I’m serious,” Giselle sighed.

“I know. Look, we’ve been following your schedule all week,” Yangyang told her, pausing to raise a palm. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fun schedule, you totally nailed it! But a little chaos never killed anyone—well, maybe a few people, but we’re smart, right?”

“You could’ve at least warned us,” Giselle said, her tone teetering between exasperation and resignation.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hendery chimed in, clearly in on the plan. He and Xiaojun were already chatting with the rental staff, signing waivers like this was just another day.

“This is insane,” Ningning muttered, her eyes wide with both fear and excitement. “We have to do this.”

You, however, weren’t so sure. Your eyes kept drifting to the surfers, the way the kites pulled them with such force. The idea of being at the mercy of the unpredictable wind, with the water rushing beneath you, felt more terrifying than exhilarating.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you muttered under your breath.

Yangyang turned to you, his expression softening. “Hey, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I think you definitely should.”

The crash course was a whirlwind of instructions and laughter. Hendery and Ningning were naturals, picking up the basics quickly and cheering each other on as they stumbled through their first attempts. Giselle grumbled her way through the setup but eventually got the hang of it, her competitive streak kicking in as she chased after the others.

Meanwhile, you struggled. The kite seemed to have a mind of its own, jerking wildly in the wind as you gripped the control bar with desperation. And Yangyang, naturally, picked it up like he’d been born to do it, showing off with spins and whoops that made you want to strangle him.

“Relax!” Yangyang called out from his board, effortlessly gliding past you. “You’re overthinking it!”

“Easy for you to say!” you shouted back, the kite yanking you forward before dumping you unceremoniously into the water.

Yangyang paddled over on his board, laughing so hard he nearly fell off. “You good, honey?”

“I hate you,” you muttered, pushing wet hair out of your face.

“No, you don’t,” he said, his grin infuriatingly charming. “Come on, let’s try again.”

The next attempt was better. The kite tugged gently, and instead of fighting it, you let yourself lean into the motion, trusting the wind to guide you. Your board skimmed across the water, the salty breeze whipping against your face as exhilaration replaced fear.

“I’m doing it!” you shouted, laughing uncontrollably as Yangyang cheered from nearby. Your other friends saw you doing it and started cheering for you too.

The thrill was addictive. With each pass, you grew more confident, your movements smoother and more deliberate. The water sparkled under the sun, and for a moment, you felt completely weightless, like you could conquer anything.

Back on the beach, you collapsed onto the sand, your legs shaky but your heart soaring. Yangyang dropped down beside you, his hair dripping and his grin smug as ever.

“See? You’re a natural,” he said, nudging your shoulder.

“Natural?” you scoffed. “I fell, like, ten times!”

“Yeah and everyone saw that,” he teased. “It’s okay, I still like you.”

The rest of the group gathered around, swapping stories of near-misses and minor victories, their laughter echoing across the beach. As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, you realized this chaotic, unplanned day had turned out to be the highlight of the trip after all. You couldn’t help but glance at Yangyang. Despite his chaotic energy, there was something comforting about having him there, cheering you on and pushing you out of your comfort zone.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, nudging his arm.

He turned to you, surprised. “For what?”

“For, you know,” you said, gesturing to the ocean. “For making me try this.”

He smiled, a rare, genuine softness in his expression. “Aw. You’re welcome, honey. What would you have done without me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes but didn't argue. You were sure you would've been fine without him, that you didn't need him to turn the day around. But now that it has come to this, you knew you wouldn't have it any other way.

As the sun began to descend, the sky glowed pink and orange, taking your breaths away with its magnificence. You didn’t pass up the chance to take pictures—lots of it. Everybody gathered by the beach, still in your rashguards, to commemorate the day.

Yangyang was an enthusiastic photographer, directing your poses and finding you the best spots by the shoreline. He complimented you the whole time to make you feel more confident. But after a while, the attention became a little embarrassing, especially when tourists walked by, giving you curious looks.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me,” Yangyang called out one more time, kneeling on the sand with one leg stretched out as he held your phone up. 

“That’s enough!” you whined, walking toward him and grabbing your phone. You scrolled through the pictures, skimming through them just to see the angle. 

“The lighting is really good,” Yangyang said, peering over your shoulder. “You look like a model, you know?”

“Thanks, although, you probably say that to everyone,” you teased, shaking your head.

“Nope, only the truly photogenic,” he said, smirking as he put on his sunglasses. “Which, clearly, you are.”

You laughed, stepping closer to him. “Well then, thank you. Come on. Let’s take one together.” You wrapped a hand around his arm, and he immediately grinned, his eyes lighting up.

“You sure about that?” he teased. “You don’t want me stealing the spotlight?”

“I think we both know you’re already doing that,” you shot back, your voice playful. “Now smile.”

Yangyang struck a dramatic pose, his chin tilted up and his sunglasses crooked in the most ridiculous way. “How’s this?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Perfect,” you said, snapping the picture.

Yangyang leaned in, peeking at the photo. “You’re lucky I look good in every shot. Makes you look better too.”

“Uh-huh, sure, Yangyang. Keep telling yourself that,” you teased, nudging his side.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just speaking facts.”

After getting dressed, the boys rounded everyone up with mischievous grins and promises of an unforgettable evening. Hendery called it, “Phase two of Operation Best Day Ever.”

“Phase two?” Giselle raised an eyebrow, grinning playfully. “Let me guess—something equally chaotic?”

“Not at all,” Yangyang replied, feigning offense. “This is the sophisticated portion of the day.”

You smirked. “Define ‘sophisticated.’”

Yangyang just waved for everyone to follow, refusing to spoil the surprise. The walk along the beach led to a dock where yachts of all sizes bobbed gently on the water. Their sleek hulls gleamed in the soft evening light, and your eyes widened at the sight.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, stopping in your tracks.

“You guys booked a yacht?” Ningning gasped, squeezing your arm tighter.

Yangyang turned around, his grin as wide as the horizon. “Not just any yacht. This baby is our ride for the night.” He pointed toward a mid-sized vessel docked at the far end. It wasn’t the most extravagant yacht in the lineup, but it was undeniably impressive—its polished deck and elegant design exuded understated luxury.

“If you don’t know it yet, Liu Yangyang is rich,” Hendery quipped, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “See? Just casually throwing around yacht reservations like it’s nothing.”

Yangyang laughed, shaking him off. “If I were rich, we’d be on that one.” He gestured to a towering superyacht nearby, complete with a helipad. “But hey, this one’s cozy. We’ll call it charmingly attainable.”

“Charming,” Xiaojun echoed.

Onboard, you were greeted by the soft strains of instrumental jazz playing through the yacht’s speakers and a crew who ushered you to the deck, where a long table was set up for dinner. White linens and flickering candles added an air of elegance, and the faint scent of sea breeze mingled with hints of garlic and rosemary wafting from the kitchen.

“I have to admit,” Giselle said as she took her seat, “this is actually impressive.”

Yangyang shot her a triumphant look. “Told you. Sophisticated.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

The first course arrived—a delicate seafood bisque served with freshly baked rolls. Hendery immediately dipped his bread into the soup, groaning with exaggerated delight. “This is what I imagine heaven tastes like.”

“Can you not sound like you’ve never had good food before?” Ningning teased, delicately spooning her bisque.

Hendery shrugged. “What can I say? I’m easily impressed.”

The banter flowed as smoothly as the wine being poured, laughter and stories filling the gaps between courses. You found yourself leaning back in your chair, soaking in the moment. The soft glow of the candlelight reflected off the water, and the gentle rocking of the yacht made everything feel dreamlike.

By the time the main course arrived—a perfectly grilled steak for some, fresh seared tuna for others—the group had reached peak comfort. Even Xiaojun, normally reserved around you girls, launched into a surprisingly hilarious story about his disastrous first attempt at surfing.

“So there I was,” he said, gesturing wildly, “upside down, tangled in the leash, and the instructor is just yelling, ‘You’re doing great!’ with his thumbs up.”

Everyone burst out laughing, Hendery nearly choking on his drink.

As dessert was served, the crew dimmed the lights on the deck, allowing you to enjoy the starry night. The sky was a vast expanse of shimmering constellations, the kind you never saw from the city.

“This really is the best day ever,” Ningning said softly, leaning against the railing.

Yangyang grinned at her. “You heard that, guys? Best day ever!” he called to the others, who cheered in response.

You wandered to the edge of the deck, letting the gentle night breeze brush against your skin. Yangyang joined you a moment later, holding two glasses of wine.

“For you,” he said, handing one over with a wink.

“Thanks.” You took a sip, glancing at him. “Okay, I have to admit—today was pretty incredible.”

He leaned against the railing beside you, his smile softening as he looked out over the water. “Glad you think so. But, uh, it’s not over yet.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? What’s next?”

Yangyang’s grin widened. “Fireworks,” he said, pointing toward the open water with an exaggerated flourish.

You held your breath, anticipation winning over your skepticism. But after two or three minutes of nothing, you couldn’t help but glare at him. “You were lying.”

Yangyang burst out laughing, throwing his head back and stepping away as if to dodge your fist. He caught your hand instead, gently unfolding your fist and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Sorry,” he said, his eyes warm and sincere. “This was last minute, so I couldn’t arrange the fireworks.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “No, don’t be sorry. Today was amazing. I was only a tiny bit disappointed because I thought there really were fireworks. Doesn’t mean you didn’t do well today.”

Yangyang chuckled and leaned closer. “Well, I might not have fireworks, but I can promise the rest of the night will be just as memorable.”

You shot him a teasing look. “Oh, really? What else do you have up your sleeve?”

“Nothing really. But I’m hoping for a miracle that would let me have my most-awaited alone time with you,” he replied, not even trying to hide his intentions.

You chuckled, but before you could say anything, Ningning gasped loudly, making everyone turn to her. She froze for a second, hand over her mouth as she looked at each of you.

“Why, what happened?” Giselle asked, looking concerned.

Ningning moved her hand from her mouth to her chest and revealed an excited grin. “Who’s up for a yacht party?”

Andre, the guy Ningning met when you went kayaking a few days ago, happened to be at the same pier as your group were. He had invited Ningning to his yacht party and told her to bring her friends. You’d met him several times, even hung out with him when he would join your group at the bars. You didn’t think he’d have his own yacht though, or that he’d invite you out there for his party.

“I mean, who could say no to a yacht party?” Xiaojun grinned, nudging the others.

“Right?” Ningning said, bouncing on her heels. “So, who’s in?”

The group erupted into enthusiastic chatter, all of them agreeing to go. You, however, found yourself suddenly feeling very tired, the events of the day catching up to you.

“Guys,” you said with a soft yawn. “I think I’m just gonna head back first. I’m a bit exhausted from all the kite-surfing earlier.”

“What? No,” Ningning said, shaking her head. “We can’t just leave you alone.”

“It’s okay. I’m passing up on this one too,” Yangyang said, casually putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll stay with her.”

Everyone exchanged knowing glances and smirks.

“Of course, Yangyang,” Giselle teased. “You stay with the tired one while the rest of us live it up on the yacht.” She raised an eyebrow playfully. “How romantic.”

The rest followed up with hoots and whistles.

Yangyang waved them off. “Alright, guys, don’t make it weird. We’re just keeping things chill for the night.”

“Oh sure,” Ningning added with a mischievous grin. “Just you two and a night full of... conversations, right?”

“Conversations!” Hendery affirmed, while Xiaojun was nodding beside him.

You laughed, feeling the teasing warmth of your friends, but the idea of a quiet night with Yangyang wasn’t bad at all. It felt surprisingly nice to have some space to just relax after an eventful day.

“Alright, alright,” Giselle said, finally getting the group moving. “We’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Get some rest and have fun!”

You and Yangyang exchanged a glance, both of you shaking your heads with amused smiles as the others filed off the yacht to join Andre at the pier.

Once they were gone, Yangyang settled next to you again, his smile soft and content. “I guess it’s just us now.”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a wave of comfort. “Just us.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back against the railing. “I can think of worse ways to spend the night.”

And with that, the two of you simply enjoyed the peace of the night, the quiet after the excitement, and the company of one another.

With your friends gone, the yacht was suddenly quiet, the sounds of the water lapping against the hull and the occasional creak of the boat being the only background noise. The dim lights above cast a soft glow on the deck, creating a tranquil, almost intimate ambiance.

You and Yangyang stood there, side by side, the space between you two comfortable. You were scrolling through your phone’s gallery, examining the pictures you took all day, deleting the ones you didn’t like and saving the rest.

Yangyang took a slow sip from his glass of wine, his eyes glinting mischievously as he studied you. “How many photos did you end up taking today? I lost count,” he said, his lips curling up into a teasing smile.

You raised an eyebrow at him, playing along. “Being pretty in a beautiful place like Aruba comes with a responsibility, Mr. Liu Yangyang. I’ve got to take the pictures. If I don’t I’d be letting everyone down.”

Yangyang chuckled, stepping closer to you, his gaze flicking over your face as if he was taking mental snapshots of his own. “Yeah, well, you’re too gorgeous. One would think I’m just part of the background in your photos,” he teased, glancing down at his own clothes as if evaluating his outfit.

“Yes, well, I’m sure you’re honored. You’re welcome,” you chimed, eyes back on your phone. “Do you wanna take a picture right now?”

“Why?”

You glanced at him, shrugging. “Just because. Memories.”

Yangyang paused for a second, his eyes darkening as if he was considering something else entirely before he reached out, gently taking your phone from your hand. His touch lingered for a moment, a spark that you both seemed to feel, but he quickly turned back to the view, lifting the phone as if it were nothing more than a prop.

“Fine, but you better not blame me if you end up swooning at how good we look together,” he said, his voice light as he pulled you by the waist so you’re pressed side by side.

You rolled your eyes again, but it was clear you were enjoying this. “You’re so full of yourself,” you teased, leaning against his chest and smiling at the camera. Yangyang pressed the button, capturing a shot of you two with the ocean in the background.

“Here,” he said, handing the phone back to you. “Don’t fall in love with me. I know your camera roll is full of pictures of me and you.”

You checked the picture, sighing. “I would have loved taking pictures at the yacht party with my girls too.”

“Didn’t you say you were tired?”

You sighed, locking your screen and facing him. “Yes. Kitesurfing was such an exercise. I just want to lie down right now. When are we going back to the villa?”

Yangyang tilted his head. “Oh, I… uh. I was actually gonna ask if you want to stay the night. You see, I booked this thing until tomorrow morning because I thought everyone would be hanging out here until late.”

“Seriously?” you asked, looking around the wide and empty deck. “We can’t let it go to waste then.”

Yangyang’s gaze dropped briefly, shamelessly checking you out. “You know, we can make the most of it... if you’re up for it.”

You looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously, don’t you get tired of it?”

He groaned, stomping his feet as he buried his face on your neck. “This is the first time I’m alone with you in days. Honey, please.”

You chuckled, feeling his warmth against your skin. “Wow, desperation looks good on you,” you teased.

Yangyang lifted his head. “Desperate? Yes, I’m very desperate.” His eyes flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “It’s really hard to be patient when you’re always so beautiful and sexy.”

You felt a rush of heat spread through you, but you forced yourself to stay casual. “You say that to all the girls?”

He wrapped her arms around your waist, tugging you closer. “Not all of them,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. “Only you.”

You swallowed. “You really think I’m gonna fall for that?”

Yangyang’s expression softened as he reached out, gently cupping your face with one hand. “I figured you won’t. You never fall for any of my tricks.”

You stared at him, completely aware of his intentions but you did not share his eagerness. “Yangyang, shouldn’t you set the mood first if you really want this?”

“Of course. It’s not that hard. Here, let me show you.” Before you could process anything, his lips were on yours—slow and deep, tasting like wine and something more, something raw. 

The kiss deepened, and the warmth of his lips on yours ignited something in you, a heat that you were very familiar with. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your bodies together. You responded eagerly, your hands finding his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as you kissed him back, the pressure building with every second. His kiss was insistent, hungry, and you could feel the tension between you both heightening, like a spark just waiting to catch.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling that same pull you had all day, but now stronger, undeniable. “Then show me,” you challenged.

He didn’t need any more instructions. His hands moved to your back, gently urging you toward the cabin door as his lips found yours again. The playful mood from earlier had given way to something much more intense, the teasing now replaced by need.

The yacht swayed gently, setting a calm rhythm, but inside the cabin, everything was on the verge of unraveling. The lights were dim and warm, casting a yellowish glow on the walls as you stood by the bed. Yangyang took his time watching you, his lips curling into a slow, almost predatory smile when you finally met his eyes.

“Do you always stare this much?” you teased, your voice low.

“Only when I know what I want,” he replied, stepping closer.

Yangyang’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer so he could rub your hip against his aching manhood. You tried not to gasp or show just how much your skin was tingling to be touched by him. You curled your hand on his shirt, tugging it twice, urging him to take it off. He took it off just as quickly, before wrapping his arms around your smaller frame and crashing his lips into yours.

Your hands wandered, taking your time to explore his body with featherlight touches. He shuddered under your fingers when you skimmed over the muscles of his abdomen until you reached the hardness between his thighs. The slight hitch in his breath ignited something wicked inside you, something that made you smirk.

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured, his lips curving against your neck before trailing lower.

You didn’t get the chance to respond because his hands quickly slipped under your dress, fingers tracing the bare skin of your thighs with a touch that was both reverent and infuriatingly slow. Your knees threatened to buckle when his hands found your sex, sending warmth all over your body.

When his fingers pressed and moved, your head fell back, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He kissed his way down your collarbone, lingering on the sensitive spot between your shoulder and neck. Your fingers dug into his back when he sucked a mark in your skin, and the moan that you let out only spurred him on.

Yangyang hooked his finger on the strap of your dress, letting it slip off of your shoulders. Then he buried his face between them, taking a long sniff while tightening his embrace. He tilted his head back releasing a satisfied sigh before looking into your eyes.

“My dear wife,” he began, tugging on the other strap of your dress and letting it fall. “I won’t be able to stop. So if you think you’re gonna regret this, we can end it here and pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I won’t,” you breathed, running your fingers on his neck down to his chest. “I just know that I won’t regret it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice low and filled with meaning.

You answered with a kiss—hungry, unrelenting. It wasn’t soft or tentative; it was a claim, and Yangyang surrendered without hesitation.

He responded fiercely, competing with your hunger, as if the mere act of touching you wasn’t enough. You moved together, falling onto the bed, and the soft sheets were cool against your heated skin. When he pulled away from you, you panicked for a second, only to scoff when you saw him pull out a condom from his pocket.

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” you asked, rolling your eyes playfully as he tore the packet open. Your eyes followed his every move, and the view before you made you bite your lip in anticipation.

Yangyang chuckled seeing your reaction. “I didn’t. But I’ve been carrying one every day since the day you said yes to me.”

“Oh, so you’re always prepared?”

He shrugged, sporting a smug grin as he lowered himself, one hand reaching down to spread the slick that had gathered in your cunt. “You never know when the opportunity might arise.”

He kissed you again, a feeble attempt to distract you from what was happening down below. But it was no use, a guttural moan tore out of your lips as soon as he pushed himself inside, your back arching. Yangyang planted soft kisses on your neck and jaw, shushing you gently.

“You’ve got it. I know you do,” he whispered against your skin.

You got used to the stretch soon enough, and Yangyang watched your face carefully as he rocked inside you in a steady rhythm. Whenever he thrust deeper, your body would arch instinctively, and you’d let out a whimper, the sensation blurring your mind and blooming like fire through your veins.  It wasn’t just the physicality of his touch—it was the way it seemed to unravel you, as though he knew every nerve, every secret, and was intent on exploring them all.

He swallowed your moans with a kiss that only made you more feral. You responded in kind, legs wrapping around his waist, and hands threading through his hair and pulling just enough to make him groan against your mouth. Every thrust of his hips and every movement of lips evoked sensations that left you gasping and clinging to him.

The world outside faded—there was no yacht, no ocean, no stars. Only the two of you, lost in the raw intensity of each other. The bed rocked beneath you, a rhythm that seemed to echo your movements, slow and steady at first, then building, relentless and unstoppable. You were wild with need, and Yangyang was almost animalistic with the desire to unravel you, to watch you lose your mind in pleasure.

“Yangyang,” you whined, knees on your chest as he stretched you out some more.

Your movements grew more erratic and urgent. Each touch, each kiss, each whispered name built upon the last, until you were both trembling on the edge of something immense and unstoppable.

And when you finally collapsed together, your bodies tangled and your breaths ragged, the tension in the room slowly dissolved into something quieter, softer. When your eyes met, you didn’t say anything and just breathed in sync. Then after a few moments, you two burst out laughing, seemingly at a loss for words.

“You are… incredible,” Yangyang exhaled, reaching for your hand and bringing it to his lips.

“I know,” you quipped, giggling.

You rested your head against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat soothing the wild rhythm of yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, letting the gentle lull of the yacht carry you back to reality.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost drowsy.

Yangyang chuckled slowly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’d make me a very happy man.”

Your smile was small but genuine, and you closed your eyes. There was no way this would last forever, but there was no point in dwelling on it. All you could do, and all you wanted to do, was to enjoy it while you still can.

The next few days unfolded like a whirlwind of adventure and adrenaline. By day, the group embraced the thrill of risky adventures. Cliff diving back in Conchi left your heart pounding, your squeals of hesitation turning into triumphant laughter when you finally took the plunge. Dune buggy rides through golden sands turned into wild competitions, Yangyang and Hendery competing to see who could kick up the biggest trail of dust, their boisterous energy infecting the rest of you.

Evenings were just as lively. Barbecue dinners became the highlight of the villa, the scent of grilled meat and vegetables wafting through the air as everyone pitched in. Hendery, the self-proclaimed grill master, charred the skewers more often than not, while Yangyang kept spirits high with his antics, attempting acrobatic flips with the food—earning him laughter and scoldings at the same time.

When the drinks came out, the nights grew rowdier. Card games devolved into noisy competitions, while Truth or Dare exposed embarrassing stories and hidden crushes. Laughter echoed through the villa as the group let loose, cherishing the carefree charm of this trip. But amid the chaos, there were moments when you and Yangyang slipped away, unnoticed—or perhaps ignored—by the others.

It didn’t take much—a glance, a whisper, or the casual brush of his hand against yours. Upstairs, the bedroom became your retreat from your chaotic friends. The air in those stolen moments were heavier, hotter, more intense. Yangyang’s teasing confidence would melt into something more fervent and more passionate as he shut the door behind you and closed the space between you.

The way he’d kiss you—slow, deep, and unhurried—never failed to make your head spiral. His hands would find your waist, tugging you closer as if you weren’t already pressed against each other’s bodies. The laughter you shared downstairs would transform into soft whispers, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as you tilted your head back, letting him take his time.

“Damn, you’re so beautiful,” he would murmur, his voice low and thick with affection. His words would hang in the air between kisses, and though his tone carried his usual cheekiness, there was a softness there that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t expected.

You didn’t always make it to the bed right away. There were nights when the edge of the dresser became your perch, your legs wrapping around his waist as his fingers dug into your skin. Your gasps would be hushed, and your need would be urgent, and Yangyang’s eyes would be boring into you, observing your reactions and memorizing your cues.

During the day, the intimacy didn’t vanish entirely, though it was more playful than physical. You were always attached to the hip, and would sometimes wander off by yourselves. On one lazy day when your group decided to skip going out and just lounge around the villa, you and Yangyang stayed by the poolside, enjoying the sun and the quiet.

You were reading a book on the sunbed, occasionally flipping pages, while Yangyang played a game on his phone. It didn’t last long—he soon got tired of it and squeezed himself next to you, tugging your arm until he could rest his head there. He curled up beside you, his arms loosely wrapped around your torso.

You put your book down and rested your hand on his head, absently running your fingers through his hair. “Are you bored?” you asked, smiling as he groaned and nodded his head dramatically.

“Are you a puppy? Why are you acting like one?”

Yangyang laughed softly, his shoulders rocking, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he tightened his hold on you, his face pressed into your side. You continued running your fingers through his hair—dark, messy, and had a faint minty smell. Your eyes fell on a faint scar on his elbow, curiosity sparking again.

“What happened to this?” you asked, your thumb gently brushing the scar.

“Hmm?” He glanced lazily at his arm. “Oh, it’s a surgery scar. Got it when I was a teenager after a basketball injury.”

“You played basketball?”

“Yes. I loved basketball.”

“Did you dream of becoming a pro?”

Yangyang shook his head, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “No. I dreamed of becoming a racer. Cars fascinated me more than courts.”

“So what happened?”

“Life had other plans,” he said with a shrug, his fingers drawing absentminded circles on your side. “My mom thinks racing equals instant death. Basketball? My knee begged me to stop. And now, here I am, working toward a business degree like a good boy.”

“Would you change anything?” you asked, cringing internally at how cliché the question sounded. But you wanted to know.

“Not really,” he said after a pause, his lips quirking up. “My grandma always said, ‘If something’s yours, it’ll come back around. Even if it falls out of your hand and rolls under the couch.’ So I just let life take its course. It’s a trip, and I’m just cruising.”

“Wow,” you said, your grin matching his. “That’s surprisingly wise.”

Yangyang smirked. “Well, my gran was very wise. She’s old now though and always asks if I’m on drugs or something.”

“Are you?” you asked, your voice light and teasing.

He grimaced. “She’s the one on drugs with all those maintenance pills she keeps popping every day.”

“You sound like a really fun guy,” you chuckled, pressing your cheek on his head. “I mean, I knew you were fun. I’m just surprised you could get more fun than you already are.”

“You’re so good at getting to know people.” Yangyang lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your shoulder as his gaze met yours. “Wanna go upstairs and get to know me better?” he murmured, his voice low and playful.

You flicked his forehead lightly, laughing. “That’s a hard no.”

“Wow, do you hate it that much?” he asked indignantly, and you just giggled.

There was something about the way he fit into your space—or maybe how you fit into his—that felt natural, like you’d been orbiting each other longer than just a few days. Your connection had deepened, unwittingly so, in the stolen silences and the shared laughter, in the way your walls had crumbled without you even noticing.

And yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but feel the faintest hint of unease—like a reminder that this was a story with an ending. But you brushed it all off. For now, the sun was warm, the breeze carried the faint scent of the sea, and Yangyang was nestled against you, warm and snug.

The last three days passed in a blur. The energy had softened—fewer high-energy activities, more slow hours and gathering in the living room. Time seemed to slow down as the vacation drew to a close. The laughter was still there, of course, but it held some kind of weight, like everyone was trying to make each second count before the inevitable goodbye.

Yangyang and the boys still found ways to keep things lively. During the day, he joked around more than ever, teasing everyone relentlessly, especially you. Yet at night, when the group dispersed to their corners, it was just the two of you again—by the pool, on the patio, or simply sitting together in the dim glow of the villa’s lanterns.

That night, you found him leaning against the patio railing, his silhouette outlined by the faint light of the moon. He didn’t turn when you joined him, but his arm instinctively curled around your waist, pulling you closer.

“It’s going to be weird going back to normal,” you murmured, the thought slipping out before you could stop it.

Yangyang didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. “Yeah. No sun, no ocean... no crazy adventures,” he said lightly, his grip on you tightening a little. “No you.”

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I know I’m unforgettable, but you’ll survive, right?”

He chuckled lightly, and he finally looked at you. “Come on, be honest. You’re gonna miss me way more than I’ll miss you, won’t you?”

You feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically on your chest. “Excuse me? I’ve been the highlight of your Aruba experience. You be honest.”

“Highlight?” He arched a brow, his smirk widening. “I don’t know. The kite-surfing was pretty epic. The barbecue nights? Top-tier.”

“Okay, but who made those barbecue nights top-tier? Me. I’m the one who kept you from burning the villa down.”

“Fair point,” he admitted with a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “But you still owe me for losing that paddleboarding race.”

You gave him a look. “Liu Yangyang, we’ve been over this. You cheated. I was literally halfway to victory when you—”

“—skillfully redirected the board. Totally fair game,” he interrupted, grinning like the devil himself.

“Cheater,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“In my dictionary, it’s called, strategy.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. Then, like an unwelcome guest, a sudden thought struck you: what’s gonna happen in the morning?

Yangyang shifted, turning to rest his chin on your shoulder. “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?”

“Just conserving energy,” you replied lightly, nudging him with your elbow.

He hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t push. Instead, he started recounting some ridiculous story about the time he got stuck in a hammock and somehow managed to flip himself into a kiddie pool. His voice was animated, his gestures over the top, and you laughed until your stomach hurt, taking your mind off of things for a while.

That night, you shared the bed with him again, curled close like it was the only place you were meant to be. When you weren’t kissing, you talked about everything and nothing—the kind of conversation that stretched lazily through the hours. Neither of you dared to bring up what came next, but it hung in the air, unspoken yet understood. You could feel it in the way his hand lingered a little longer in your hair, in how tightly he held you when you finally gave in to sleep.

Morning came too soon.

The villa felt different, quieter, like it was holding its breath. Bags lined the hallway, and everyone moved with some kind of heaviness. Your friends hovered in the kitchen, trying to keep the mood light with jokes, but the laughter didn’t carry the same carefree weight it had days before. They talked about how Aruba was beautiful and that they wish to come back soon, how they were gonna miss the time you’d all spent together, and how everyone should keep in touch.

Yangyang, for once, was quiet, fiddling with his camera as he sat on the couch.

When you found a moment alone with him, the easy chit-chat that had carried you through the week felt harder to summon. Still, he gave you that signature smirk. “So? Did I or did I not keep my promise?”

“What promise?”

“That I’d show you a great time and make Aruba more memorable for you.”

“Barely,” you teased, though your voice wavered just enough to give you away.

He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Guess I’ll have to step it up next time,” he said, his tone light, even if his eyes lingered on yours for a moment too long.

You managed to smile, but the ache in your chest only deepened. There was no next time—not one you could count on, anyway. And as the villa was filled with the echoes of your friends’ chatter and laughter, you sat there and stared at Yangyang, memorizing the details of his face, his voice, and the way he made you feel.

The goodbye would come, as they always did. But for now, you let the moment stretch, hoping it might last just a little longer.

The first day back in uni was always vibrant and energetic, with students darting across the quad, groups reuniting after the break, and the faint hum of music playing from someone’s portable speaker. You spotted flyers littering every wall, announcing everything from club fairs to house parties, the vibrance was nearly overwhelming after the lazy warmth of Aruba.

You adjusted the strap of your bag, glancing over at Giselle, who seemed unusually quiet as the two of you navigated through the crowd. “Thinking about Ningning?” you asked knowingly.

She sighed, kicking a stray leaf across the path. “Yeah. Feels weird without her. I wish she didn’t have to move.”

“She’ll visit,” you said, more confident than you felt. “And you can always crash at her place. It’s not like she’s on the other side of the world.”

“I guess,” Giselle muttered, but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly at the thought.

The two of you walked into the cafe and spotted Karina and Jaemin at a table by the window, their cups of iced coffees already halfway gone. Karina waved so enthusiastically it was a wonder she didn’t topple over, while Jaemin sat beside her, his arms crossed and a lazy grin on his face.

“Finally!” Karina exclaimed, throwing her arms around you and Giselle as if it had been months instead of weeks since you’d last seen each other. “Tell me everything! I want the drama, the chaos, the juicy stuff.”

“Relax, we just got here,” you laughed, patting her on the back.

Jaemin smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Wow, and here I thought you’d squeezed everything out of them over FaceTime?”

“Quiet, Jaemin,” Karina shot back, but her grin didn’t falter. “Did Aruba live up to the hype? Don’t leave anything out.”

You hesitated, your mind wandering back to late nights on the patio, the sound of Yangyang’s laughter, the weight of his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder. 

“It was incredible,” Giselle exclaimed before you could say anything.

The four of you talked about Aruba, the breathtaking beaches, the chaos of group outings, and Giselle’s over-the-top retelling of Ningning’s escapades. You also caught up on the little things—new professors, gossip about campus life, and the inevitable groans about upcoming assignments. It was like nothing had changed at all, like your time in Aruba was a fever dream and you were getting pulled back into the real world right now. Giselle’s accounts of everything you did and experienced on that beautiful island was proof that it happened though, as well as the pictures you took every day while you were there.

“Wow. Ningning is so pretty,” Karina commented while you were showing them pictures on your phone. “I can’t believe she left.”

Giselle sighed dramatically. “Ugh, I wish she didn’t have to move. Our group’s so scattered now.”

As Karina nodded in agreement, Jaemin swiped to the next photo. “Wait, who’s that?” he asked, pointing at the screen.

Your heart jumped—Yangyang’s grin stared back at you, sunlit and easy. Before anyone could look closer, you snatched your phone.

“No one,” you deadpanned, hiding your screen and sticking your tongue out playfully.

Jaemin chimed teasingly. “Did you get a boyfriend in Aruba?”

Giselle chuckled knowingly. “Oh, she got more than just a boyfriend. She got a husband in Aruba.”

“A husband?” Jaemin exclaimed.

You giggled. “Sorry you couldn’t come to the wedding,” you teased. “It was super exclusive.”

Giselle threw her head back laughing. “More like, sorry you couldn’t come to Aruba. It was for fun people only,” she added, shrugging playfully.

“Hey. Aruba was last minute. If you’d planned it ahead of time, I wouldn’t have agreed to go with my family to Korea!”

While your friends bickered, you glanced outside and saw the campus moving on around you like it always did. Yet, something felt different—like you’d stepped into a new chapter, leaving a part of yourself behind on a sandy beach far away.

“What are you doing?” Karina prompted, peering into your screen.

“Sending an entry to Campus Confessions,” you said, holding your screen just out of reach.

She blinked. “You follow that page?”

“No. I just submit entries,” you replied, showing her after you hit send.

To: LYY We found wonderland. You and I got lost in it, and we pretended it could last forever. -xx

Karina tilted her head. “Wait, does he even know what Campus Confessions is?”

You shrugged, slipping your phone into your pocket. “He doesn’t need to.”

You put your phone away, focusing back on your friends, their chatter pulling you into the rhythm of the moment. There was plenty to say about Aruba, but some memories? Those were yours to keep.

[fin]

[saythenametotheworld]

Foolish One | h.rj

A chance encounter with Renjun at the campus library turns into late-night study sessions and stolen moments. He's everything you're looking for—thoughtful, kind, intelligent. But is this the start of something real, or just a story you’re telling yourself?

ONE | two | three | four | five

Genre: crush-at-first-sight, college AU Pairing: Huang Renjun x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, language, the plot is dragged out a bit lol Notes: 17k words. Part 1 of the Campus Confessions series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Foolish One by Taylor Swift. Genuinely, let me know what you guys think of this. I am very open-minded to constructive criticism. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: 1 2 3 by NCT DREAM, Risk by Gracie Abrams, Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift, Foolish One by Taylor Swift

“Wishful thoughts forgot to mention when something's really not right”

The campus library was quieter than you expected for a Tuesday afternoon during exam week, the kind of silence that made your every move feel amplified and noticeable. You were feeling self-conscious, wondering if everyone was noticing you standing awkwardly at the front desk while the librarian refused to check out the book you wanted to borrow. But the embarrassment didn’t bother you as much as the growing panic in your chest. You really needed this book right now so you could do a last minute study before your exam in thirty minutes.

Clutching a notebook against your chest, you gave the librarian a pleading look. “Please? Just this once?”

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t do that without your student ID,” the librarian said, her tone polite but firm. “You know how it works right? We need it for the record.”

You gave a tight smile, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Isn’t there any way to bypass that? I mean, don’t you have librarian privileges, something like that? Please, it would take at least fifteen minutes to get to my apartment for my ID, and another fifteen to come back here.”

The librarian sighed, taking her glasses off and setting it down on her desk. She gave you a stern look. “I know you’re desperate, but I can’t just bend the rules even if I want to. Especially not for a student who’s negligent enough to forget her ID at home when you should be carrying it on your person at all times.”

You were about to protest when a smooth and calm voice spoke from behind you. “Here use mine.”

You turned to see a boy holding out his ID card. Silvery blond hair brushed lightly across his eyes, and his pale skin seemed to glow faintly under the library lights. The thin-framed glasses resting on his nose didn’t hide the sharp clarity in his gaze—calm, observant, and entirely unbothered by the chaos you were exuding. His expression was calm as if lending his card to a stranger was the most natural thing in the world. Somehow, that made you even more flustered.

“Oh,” you said, blinking at him. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you.”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You looked like you’re about to cry.”

Letting out a sheepish laugh, you took the card and handed it to the librarian. “I mean, I was just about to, actually,” you quipped.

It didn’t even take two minutes for the librarian to check out the book. You returned his ID, your gaze catching his name—Huang Renjun—before handing it back.

“Here. And, uh, thanks again.”

“No problem,” he said, smiling before taking his turn to check out his books. “Good luck with your exam.”

“Thanks. You too,” you replied. As he went to talk to the librarian, you stood there for a moment, hesitating, wanting to say more, or to ask him something—anything—but you had stuff to do. The exam wasn’t going to study itself.

You rushed out of the library, muttering his name under your breath and telling yourself not to forget about the cute boy with the silvery blond hair and an ID he didn’t hesitate to lend.

It’s your second semester as a freshman, and so far, you could say you weren’t the type of student to get caught up in the grind of academics. You took up Liberal Arts out of necessity instead of passion. After highschool, you didn’t have a clear-cut direction or dream job in mind, but you knew you had to go to college so you picked something that left the options open, hoping that eventually, you’d figure it out.

When it comes to academics, you do just enough to get by. Your grades are respectable but nothing extraordinary. You’re not taking things for granted—you just didn’t see the point in staying up all night studying or stressing over perfect grades. Even with average grades, as long as you passed, that was good enough for you. While you respected those who worked hard to excel in their academics, you didn’t feel the need to compete with them. You weren’t interested in pushing yourself that far.

Your friends often teased you about it, calling you laid-back or lazy, but they understood. You didn’t need to be at the top of the class to feel content. You just gave enough to get by, balancing school and the rest of your life without too much strain. You figured most people probably felt the same way—just doing enough, hoping things would eventually fall into place.

“How are you feeling?” Karina asked Giselle, her eyes full of concern. The two of them sat beside you on the mat you’d spread out on the grass in the quad.

They were your housemates—your friends, too—living in the big apartment you all shared. You’d met them at the start of the school year, and sharing a space together had made it easy to grow close.

Giselle sighed, leaning her head against your shoulder. “Not any better. I think the medicine’s not doing anything.”

You rubbed her back gently, trying to comfort her. “Just give it some time. If it gets worse, you can rest at home. I’ll make you some healthy soup.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You can’t cook.”

You laughed, shrugging casually. “How hard can it be? I’m a fast learner.”

Jaemin, who had been sitting across from you, snickered. “Shut up. You can’t even tell the difference between a cucumber and a zucchini.”

You gasped dramatically, scooting away from him, glaring. “You shut up! You used to follow me around like a puppy when we were kids. Stop acting like you’re the smart one.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes. “We were fourteen, not kids.”

You smirked. “Doesn’t change the fact that you followed me around like a lost puppy.”

Jaemin crossed his arms, sighing heavily. “I’m just making things clear because I don’t want to sit here and watch you rewrite the facts in front of your friends. And just for the record, I was lost at the time.”

Karina turned to Giselle. “How does anyone confuse zucchini with cucumber?”

Giselle just shrugged, unimpressed.

You shot them both a look. “In my defense, they look exactly the same!”

The two stared at you, shaking their heads in perfect unison. It was almost comical. “No, they don’t,” Giselle said flatly.

“They really don’t,” Karina agreed.

You were about to fire back when something—or rather, someone—caught your eye. That unmistakable side profile, the silvery hair catching the sunlight just right. “Huang Renjun,” you blurted out, your voice almost dreamy as your gaze followed him.

“Huang who?” Giselle asked, turning to follow your line of sight. Her eyes lit up. “Oh, the guy from the library?”

“Yes!” you gasped, clasping your hands over your mouth like you’d just seen a celebrity. “See? I told you he’s cute.”

“You’re right, he totally is,” Karina chimed in, sharing the same gleeful smile as you and Giselle.

“What’s going on? Who’s that?” Jaemin leaned closer, his curiosity piqued.

You grinned, leaning toward him like you were about to spill the juiciest secret. “He’s the guy who saved my ass yesterday.”

All eyes shifted back to Renjun, who stood by the library talking to a group of students. From this distance, you could see the bright smile on his face as he laughed at something his friend said. He looked so effortlessly friendly, so unbothered—and something about that gave you butterflies.

Giselle nudged your arm, eyes glinting with mischief. “Go say ‘hi’!”

“No way!” you hissed, snapping your head toward her. “He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

You stayed rooted to your spot, feeling your friends’ teasing remarks rain down on you like playful jabs. They nudged and prodded, daring you to make a move, but you could only keep your eyes on Renjun. He lingered outside the library for a few minutes before finally stepping inside, disappearing through the double doors. Before you could think too much, your body moved on autopilot.

“I'll be back,” you mumbled to your friends, brushing off their teasing ‘oooh’s as you hurried across the quad. They exchanged knowing looks, grinning like they’d already won some secret bet, but you ignored them and followed him.  

Inside the library, the cool, quiet air made you pause. You spotted Renjun by the window just as he was sitting down at a vacant desk. Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you approached him.

“Hi,” you said softly, feeling your voice wobble just enough to make you cringe.

Renjun turned, his expression neutral at first before recognition lit up his eyes. “Oh, hey,” he said with a small smile. “What’s up?”  

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, clutching the book in your hands like it was a lifeline. “I was going to return this today, so I’m gonna have to bother you again with your ID to check it in.” You laughed nervously, hoping the self-deprecation would make up for how awkward you felt.  

Renjun’s smile widened just slightly. “Sure, don’t worry about it. It would’ve been worse if you didn’t.” he teased lightly. Before you could answer, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his own card. “Here.”

“Didn’t want a loaned book to hold your GPA back at the end of the semester, right?” you quipped, taking the card from his hand. Renjun chuckled as he nodded. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” you added before turning to head to the front desk.

After the book was returned, you skipped over to Renjun’s desk and thanked him for his help. He seemed busy with something, so he just told you you were welcome before returning to his task. Meanwhile, you found yourself lingering. The rational part of your brain was telling you to leave and not push your luck, but the louder part was convincing you to stay.

You spotted a vacant desk next to Renjun’s, so you slid into a seat, pulling out your laptop and the notes for a class paper you were gonna start. The paper wasn’t due until next week, but you needed an excuse—a reason to stay within Renjun’s orbit. So you started typing, glancing at your screen for a few seconds before inevitably stealing a look at him. He was sitting a few tables away, scribbling in a notebook, his expression focused.  He looked extra cute by the window, a soft beam of sunlight catching his hair and his flawless skin as he worked. The way his brows furrowed in concentration, the absentminded way he twirled his pen—it was like he didn’t even realize how distractingly handsome he was. Then again, maybe it was just in your eyes because there was no denying the fact that you were immensely infatuated by him.

You were mid-sentence in your essay when you stole another glance. But he glanced up just as your gaze lingered a second too long. Your eyes darted back to your screen so fast it was a miracle you didn’t get whiplash. Too late, you’d been caught red-handed already. Still, you couldn’t help yourself from doing it again, making sure to be more subtle this time—only to fail at it.

The second time he caught you looking, he held your gaze for a second longer, one eyebrow lifting in silent amusement. By the third or fourth time, he set his pen down, leaned back slightly, and called out softly, “Am I distracting you from your work?”  

You froze, heat rushing to your cheeks. “What? No, I wasn’t—” You fumbled, searching for an excuse. “I was just… looking around. Yes. I’m looking around as I think.”

Renjun chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I see. I thought I had something on my head,” he said, gesturing over his head.  

You huffed, flustered, and busied yourself with your notes, hoping to regain your composure. To your surprise, Renjun didn’t let the moment hang awkwardly. Instead, he asked casually, “What are you working on?”  

“Oh,” you said, grateful for the topic shift. “It’s an essay for a philosophy class.”  

He tilted his head, curious. “Which one?”  

You named the subject, and his expression brightened. “I took that last semester,” he said. “Professor Lee, right?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” you confirmed.

Renjun nodded thoughtfully. ““Well, then you don’t need to worry much. She’s really chill. She’s not the kind of professor who’ll mark you down for having a different opinion, so you can pretty much write how you actually feel about the topic.”  

His words surprised you. “Really?”  

“Really,” he said with a nod. “She actually encourages it. Just make sure you explain your points well. She likes a good argument.”  

You found yourself smiling, his advice easing some of the stress you hadn’t realized you were carrying about the essay. “Thanks. That’s actually very helpful.”  

“No problem.” He picked up his pen again, flashing you one last smile before returning to his notes.  

And just like that, you had one more reason to stay a little longer. You continued writing your paper, making sure you did it well and explained your points clearly. Occasionally, you would glance up at him, grinning to yourself at how attractive he looked when he was focusing. You didn’t need to talk after that. You wanted to, but you couldn’t find the right timing nor the right topic. By the time your phone alarm went off for your next class, you were already halfway through your essay.

Standing up to gather your things, you gave Renjun another glance, debating whether to say goodbye. The idea of walking off without a word felt odd, but you worried a goodbye might seem too eager, too obvious. So you hesitated—just long enough for him to notice.

“Done already?” Renjun asked, tilting his head slightly.

““No! Not yet.” Your response came faster than you intended. “I mean, I have to go to class, so… I’ll finish later.”

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “If you need help with that paper, let me know. Maybe I can offer some pointers.”

The offer caught you off guard, and for a second, all you could do was blink at him.

Renjun seemed to realize how it sounded, and his hand darted up to rub the back of his neck. “Wait, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like—uh—it wasn’t supposed to sound—” He let out a nervous chuckle. “That was kind of arrogant, wasn’t it?”

“No! Not at all!” you said quickly, shaking your head with more enthusiasm than you intended. “I mean, I would definitely let you know if I needed help.”

His laughter softened, and he ducked his head slightly, as though embarrassed. “Well, now it sounds like I think I’m a genius or something.”

“Renjun, stop. You’re fine,” you assured him, a smile creeping onto your face. And you meant it. There was something unexpectedly charming about his fumbling attempt to explain himself.

He hesitated, then asked, almost shyly, “What’s your name?”

You blinked again. “Sorry?”

“I just realized… you know my name, but I don’t know yours,” he explained, the tips of his ears noticeably pink.

“Oh!” You told him your name, watching as he repeated it under his breath—not once, but twice, as though memorizing every syllable.

When he looked up at you, his smile was soft, almost boyish. “Nice to meet you. You should get to class before you’re late.”

“Right. Yeah. Um, see you around,” you said, clutching your bag tightly and walking out before you said something embarrassingly incoherent.

As soon as you were out of sight, you let the grin you’d been holding back take over. It was silly, how a few awkward exchanges could make your heart race like this. For the first time in a long while, it felt less like fleeting, hormone-driven infatuation and more like a genuinely innocent crush.

For the next few days, the library became your favorite spot, and it definitely wasn’t just because of your paper. Whether it was morning or late afternoon, you found yourself there, trying to catch glimpses of Renjun. Sometimes he was already settled in when you arrived, headphones on and pen tapping rhythmically against his notebook. Other times, you got there first and watched the door with anticipation.

You made it a point to sit near him whenever you could. If the spot next to him was taken, you’d find a table within view. Eventually, you started interacting a bit more, small moments that shouldn’t have felt significant but somehow they did.

Like the time you dropped your pen and Renjun leaned down to retrieve it, handing it to you with a quiet, “Here you go.” 

His fingers brushed yours briefly, and though it lasted less than a second, it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. Another time, while unpacking your bag, your water bottle rolled off the table. Renjun caught it mid-fall and handed it back with an amused smile. “Careful, your bag is out for sabotage today,” he joked.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not when you’re here to save the day,” you retorted, feeling proud of your quick and witty response.

Then there was the time you walked past him on your way to the shelves, and he looked up, offering a small nod of acknowledgment. It wasn’t much—just a polite gesture—but it left you grinning like an idiot as you pretended to browse the books, replaying the moment in your head.

One morning, Renjun sneezed, and you instinctively murmured, “Bless you.” He glanced at you, surprised but touched. 

“Thanks,” he said softly, his smile warm enough to make you forget where you were.

Each interaction, however small, only made you more drawn to him. One day, Giselle decided to tag along, claiming she needed to ‘see this Renjun guy’ for herself. The two of you walked into the library, and sure enough, he was already there, engrossed in his notes. Giselle wasted no time making her move, striding right up to him with her trademark confidence.

“Hi! You’re Renjun, right?” she asked, her tone friendly but direct.

Renjun looked up, startled but polite. “Uh, yeah. Do I know you?”

“No, but I think we have a mutual friend. Ningning?”

Renjun’s expression softened at the mention of Ningning, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, yeah, Ningning.”

“How is she? I haven’t seen her since last semester.”

You watched the exchange from a few steps away, nervous and embarrassed at the same time. Giselle was handling the conversation so effortlessly, but you couldn’t help but worry about how this would make you look.

After chatting for a minute, Giselle turned to you and grinned. “Nice to meet you, we’ll leave you to it. Or, actually,” she gestured to the empty seat across from Renjun, “do you mind if we sit here?”

Renjun shook his head. “No. Go ahead.”

Giselle gave you a pointed look as the two of you sat down, clearly proud of herself for setting this up. That day, you ended up sitting with Renjun without needing an excuse. Giselle paved the way with her easy conversation, dropping Ningning’s name enough times to turn the awkward encounter into something comfortable. She only stayed for about twenty minutes before leaving, claiming she had other things to do. 

“Good luck with your paper!” she called out, leaving you alone with Renjun. You chatted a lot more than usual then, and you were giddy and smiling the whole time.

The moment that truly melted you, though, happened on a particularly busy day. The library was unusually crowded, and you could not find a vacant seat. You were about to leave for the day when you spotted a hand waving in the air. It took you a second to realize it was Renjun, beckoning you over to the seat next to him.

The sight made your stomach flutter, sending a wholesome kind of warmth through you. You didn’t even hesitate, smiling as you walked through the maze of desks and sat down next to him. “Hi! This place is full full.”

“I know. It’s not even exam week,” he replied while you were setting your stuff down. Then he gestured to the side of the table where his books were sprawled. “Do you need more space? I can move these.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” you said quickly, but the gesture made your chest flutter all the same.

It was almost the deadline for your paper, and while you were hoping you could use that as an excuse to sit with him that day, it seemed unnecessary now. Still, you thought it would be best to ask for his help while you were there.

“I’m taking you up on that offer today,” you began, hoping your cheerfulness would mask the nervousness you were feeling.

“Finally,” he quipped back, closing his book as he watched you open your laptop beside him. “I was starting to feel embarrassed about that offer. I was thinking you never really needed help and I was being arrogant.”

“Oh, stop it,” you huffed, toggling to the paper in your device. “Here. Would you mind taking a look at my draft? Just to see if it makes sense?”

Instead of tugging the laptop toward him, as you normally would, Renjun scooted closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as he leaned over your screen. He read it as it was, eyes scanning your words with quiet focus. Probably too focused to even notice you holding your breath beside him, heart racing in your chest at the sudden proximity.

“This is good,” he said after a moment, his voice low and thoughtful. “But here, maybe you could elaborate more on this point. And this—” he gestured to another part, “—is strong, but you could link it back to this statement more clearly.”  

You nodded, though most of his advice went over your head because your brain was too busy short-circuiting over how close he was. The scent of his cologne, the way his lips moved as he explained something you didn’t catch—all of it was impossibly distracting.

When he leaned back, you snapped out of your daze enough to say, “Thanks. That was really helpful.”  

“It’s nothing,” he said, flashing a small smile. “If you need help again, just let me know—so long as it’s something I actually know.”  

And then he added, almost offhandedly, “It’s nice studying with someone.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, and you didn’t hesitate to seize the moment. “Maybe we could be study buddies?” you offered, trying to sound as casual as you could.

Renjun looked at you for a second, then nodded. “You know what? Maybe we should be study buddies.”

Ever since you moved away for college, you’d grown to enjoy three things: first, the independence of doing things on your own time without having to consider family members; second, experiencing a city so different from the hometown where you’d spent most of your life; and lastly, going to parties without a curfew.

These might sound shallow to some people, and honestly, you thought so too. Then again, you’d happily admit that you weren’t a profound kind of girl.  Growing up, you’d always been easy to please—and just as easy to disappoint. You wore your heart on your sleeve, never bothering to bottle up your feelings or hide your opinions. It helped that you were outgoing, the kind of person who cared more about your own well being than having beef with other people, so you never really had to fight anyone.

That being said, you liked to keep your circle small, only making friends with people you like and keeping a civil relationship with everyone else. With your small circle of friends—only Giselle, Karina, and Jaemin—it was easy to just tell them everything about you.

But tonight, even that small circle couldn’t make this party feel less exhausting.

“Girl, you did not come here just to stay invisible in a corner,” Karina sighed, towering over you on the lumpy corner couch while you sipped from a red plastic cup.

“What?” you asked, genuinely puzzled. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, be normal? You’re more fun than this,” she retorted, squeezing herself into the seat next to you. “Don’t make me sound like your mom, but it’s like you’re not even trying tonight. You’re usually the one dragging me into something embarrassing.”

“Yeah, but this is kinda boring, don’t you think?” you said, gesturing vaguely at the chaos around you.

Music blared from the speakers, with strobe lights dancing in the ceilings and the floors all around you. Blending with the music were the sounds of people chatting and laughing animatedly. Students were either drunk or high, dancing in circles or hanging off each other. Even the air felt too heavy, thick with the smell of sweat, booze, and something you were pretty sure wasn’t tobacco.

Karina’s eyes widened like you’d just said something ridiculous. “Boring? This?” she scoffed, throwing her hands up at the lively crowd.

You grinned at her over the rim of your cup. “Just saying.”

She rolled her eyes, but you noticed the corner of her lips twitching like she was trying not to smile. The two of you must have looked ridiculous, crammed onto the tiny couch while the rest of the party swirled around you.

“Where’s Gigi, anyway?” Karina asked, scanning the crowd.

You leaned to the side, spotting Giselle at the bar. She was laughing with a guy who was practically draped over her, his lips close to her ear as he whispered something that made her toss her hair back and giggle.

“She’s having fun,” you said, nodding toward her.

“At least one of us is,” Karina grumbled.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to sit here and look lonely with me. I was doing a good enough job of it by myself,” you teased, nudging her shoulder.

Before she could retort, Jaemin appeared between the two of you, crouching slightly so he could speak right into your ears. “Long faces at a party? You two are ruining the vibe.”

“Go away,” Karina grumbled, shoving Jaemin’s face with her palm.

Undeterred, Jaemin grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers with a devilish grin. “I know why you’re sulking. Forget about him; he’s not coming.”

“You little—” Karina tried to yank her hand back, but Jaemin held on, wagging his head as if scolding her.

Turning his attention to you, he asked, “And you? What’s your excuse? Hungry? Sleepy? Time of the month? Which is it?”

“What are you even talking about?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Jaemin narrowed his eyes like he’d caught you in a lie. “You do know that it’s weirder to see you idle at a party than when you’re throwing it back on the dance floor, right?”

You shrugged, taking another sip from your cup. “Can’t a girl take a break from all that?”

Karina, finally prying her hand free, leaned back with a smirk. “Shouldn’t you be happy about this? Less activity from her means less work for you.”

Jaemin stood upright like he’d just had a light bulb moment. It was also then that Giselle came bounding over excitedly. “Jeno. Jeno. Jeno,” she chanted, pointing toward the staircase.

Your ears perked up as you followed her gaze. There he was—Lee Jeno—locked in a steamy makeout session with a pretty girl you’d seen around before.

Karina gave you a sidelong glance, her voice cautious. “Are you seeing that right now?”

“I am,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “What a fuckboy.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow, nudging your arm. “Yet you still like him, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” you admitted with a chuckle. “Him being a fuckboy doesn’t change the fact that he’s hot.”

Karina cringed dramatically. “Your judgment is so questionable.”

Jaemin snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Hold up. What’s going on? Do you have a thing for Lee Jeno too?” When you grinned instead of answering, he groaned, shaking his head. “Just how many crushes do you have, woman?”

Honestly, only two—Jeno and Renjun. But these days, Renjun had the edge. Jeno might’ve been the one who flirted with you last semester, but lately, you couldn’t help but swoon over Renjun’s quieter, more thoughtful charm.

“I like Renjun more,” you confessed. “He’s just the complete opposite of Jeno. I kinda wish he were here. Though I know this isn’t really his scene.”

“Girl, doesn’t it bother you that you like two completely different types of guys at the same time?” Karina asked, genuinely curious.

You scoffed, throwing your hands up in mock exasperation. “Girl, does it matter?”

For a while, you stayed in the corner, sipping your drink and chatting with your friends. But as the minutes ticked by, the infectious energy of the crowd started pulling you in. Soon you were getting up from the couch and joining the thrumming crowd, Karina trailing behind you.

Giselle and Jaemin quickly found their own adventures—Giselle gravitating back toward the bar, her giggles disappearing into the noise, and Jaemin vanishing somewhere toward the dance floor. That left you and Karina sticking close, both of you weaving through the chaos as you searched for the makeshift minibar.

That’s when Donghyuck appeared.

The first thing he did when he saw you was flirt. “Hi, gorgeous. Are you going home with me after this, or should we just skip the formalities and head back to my place now?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Pass.”

He smirked, completely unfazed. “The bathroom’s closer if my place is too far for you.”

“Isn’t your place Mark Lee’s place?” you shot back. “Hard pass.”

Donghyuck’s grin widened like he’d been waiting for you to say that. “Aw, still sore about getting rejected by Mark?”

“I wasn’t rejected,” you snapped, turning to face him fully. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“Sure it was,” he drawled, leaning in closer. “But lucky for you, Mark’s not coming home tonight. Think of it as a golden opportunity.”

“Dude, she’s just not that into you,” Karina cut in, her tone flat as she rolled her eyes.

Donghyuck turned to her with a theatrical gasp. “I don’t know about that,” he replied, looking back at you and winking playfully.

You felt a chill run down your spine—not the kind caused by fear or disgust, but the kind that made your skin tingle and sent heat between your thighs. It was infuriating how easily Lee Donghyuck could pull that off, and even more infuriating that your body had the nerve to respond.

But you’d sooner gouge your own eyes out than admit that to him. “Go away, Hyuck,” you said, shoving him lightly with your free hand.

He laughed, stepping back just enough to give you space but staying close enough to remain a nuisance. “See you later, then.”

As he walked off, Karina gave you a side-eye. “You’re not hanging out with that guy, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” you lied, taking another sip of your drink and avoiding her gaze.

“Good. That guy is nothing but trouble,” she replied, glancing back at Donghyuck who had now found another girl to bother.

The next morning, you woke up to the sharp ring of your alarm blaring in your ears. Disoriented, you reached out blindly to silence it, only for your hand to slap the cold, hard floor. Floor? You groaned, peeling your cheek off the surface and wincing at the sticky residue clinging to your skin. Why were you on the floor?

Your head pounded mercilessly, a dull ache that only grew worse as you sat up and tried to piece together what had happened the night before. Your phone buzzed on the table, and when you reached for it, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the black screen: mascara smudged, hair in complete disarray, and a faint red mark on your forehead where you must have hit something.

“Crap,” you muttered, staring at the time. You had twenty minutes to make it to your study session with Renjun!

Scrambling to your feet, you almost tripped over your own feet on your way to the bathroom. No matter how tight your schedule was, you must not skip taking a shower before going out today because you stink. So you stepped under the shower head, using cold water on purpose in hopes that the freezing water would jolt you into wakefulness. You scrubbed your face like it would erase the remnants of last night’s chaos.

What even was last night’s chaos?

Snippets of loud music, flashing lights, and Donghyuck’s smirk popped into your mind, but you shoved them aside. You could recall every bit of last night if you tried hard enough, but there was no time to dwell on your questionable life choices. You threw on a hoodie and jeans, grabbed your bag, and sprinted out the door, hair still damp and heart pounding.

When you reached the library, you were breathing hard, and the cold air made your headache even worse. The library was almost deserted. Pulling out your phone, you texted Renjun to let him know you’d made it, only for his reply to make you cringe.

Renjun: Love your enthusiasm, but aren’t you an hour too early? 😀

The realization came with shame: you were way too eager. There was no other way to spin it. You sat down at a random table, trying to blend into the background despite the fact that the library was far from crowded. You spent the next few minutes scrolling through your phone, distracting yourself from the embarrassment you were feeling inside.

Ten minutes later, Renjun walked in, his usual calm demeanor intact. When he spotted you, he smiled and quickened his pace. “Hi,” he greeted, setting his bag down across from you.

“Hi,” you greeted back, moving your bag out of the desk. “Aren’t we supposed to meet later?”

“Yeah, but you’re already here, so might as well,” he replied, shrugging. “This works better for me, actually, since I have errands later.”

“We could always reschedule, you know?” you suggested, though that was far from what you were feeling inside. “And did you rush here? You look out of breath.”

“Ah.” Renjun chuckled as he grabbed his water bottle and took a huge sip. “I didn’t want you to wait too long, so I rushed out,” he said after a drink.

His words caught you off guard. He looked so nonchalant about it, like it wasn’t a big deal, but the thought of him rushing because of you warmed your chest.

From that day on, Renjun always sat with you during your study sessions. It wasn’t something you planned, but it became an unspoken agreement between the two of you, a rhythm that settled into place without either of you needing to say a word.

Small gestures like him offering his pen when yours ran out of ink felt special, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. It was just convenience, you told yourself, but the way his hand lingered a second too long or the faint smile he’d flash before going back to his notes made it impossible not to wonder.

He’d text you ahead of time if the library was packed, letting you know he’d saved you a seat or that you should just reschedule. You’d thank him, trying to sound casual, but your chest always felt lighter seeing his name light up your screen.

Over time, your study sessions became less about the textbooks and more about getting to know the little things that made Renjun… Renjun. He was a linguistics student who could explain the quirks of syntax or the history of a word with an enthusiasm that made you want to listen, even when you weren’t entirely interested. He liked sci-fi movies—ones with confusing plots and bizarre visuals—and he’d binge them whenever he wasn’t drowning in assignments.

You noticed he had a birthmark on the back of his hand—grayish with a hint of purple, like a bruise that never faded. The first time you commented on it, asking if he’d hurt himself, he chuckled and said, “It’s been there since I was a kid.”

Sometimes, when he was particularly focused, his brows would furrow and his lips would press into a pout that you found annoyingly endearing. You’d have to stop yourself from staring too long, afraid he’d catch you.

Renjun had this habit of quietly humming under his breath while writing notes. It was so soft you almost missed it, but once you noticed, you couldn’t unhear it. When you teased him about it one day, he laughed, embarrassed, but the sound of his laughter stuck with you long after the session ended.

It was in these in-between moments that you realized how much you looked forward to spending time with him—not just as a study buddy, but as someone who made the world feel a little less ordinary.

One afternoon, you caught him sketching in the margins of his notebook while you took notes. His pencil moved with a quiet confidence, tracing lines and curves that turned into an intricate little doodle.

“Is that what you do when you’re bored?” you asked, leaning over to get a better look.

Renjun quickly covered the drawing with his hand, chuckling nervously. “It’s nothing. Just a habit.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “A habit? You’re pretty good.”

He gave you a small smile but didn’t seem convinced by your words.

“I mean it,” you insisted, giving him a sincere look.

He hesitated before glancing down at his notebook. “Thanks,” he said softly, opening his notebook again. “Do you wanna see it?”

“Are you kidding me? Yes!” you giggled, leaning closer to take a look. “I love visual arts. It’s like something I wish I could do but since I don’t have the talent for it, I just settle with appreciating it.”

“Well, I don’t have the talent either. It’s just a hobby,” he replied while you were flipping through the pages of his notebook, admiring the small doodles on the margins.

“You’re too modest,” you chimed, impressed by the effortless beauty of his cute, almost cartoonish art. “I think you’re really good at this.”

Encouraged by your sincerity, he opened up a little. “I liked drawing as a kid. I used to think I’d pursue it as a career, but, you know, priorities. I have a vision of an ideal future which seemed difficult to achieve if I chose art.”

You frowned. “That’s kinda sad.”

He quickly shook his head, his tone light. “I don’t feel that way about it, though. It’s not like I’m completely banned from making art. I’m just putting it on hold for now.”

You watched him closely, noting the way his expression shifted between wistfulness and acceptance. The way he brushed it off so easily tugged at something in you. “Well,” you said after a moment, “for what it’s worth, I think you should keep doing it. Even if it’s just for yourself.”

Renjun looked at you, his lips quirking into a soft smile that lingered a little too long. “Thanks,” he said again, and this time, he sounded like he meant it.

“I think he likes you,” Karina said, sprawled across the couch, hugging a throw pillow with a dreamy grin on her face. “You’ve been spending so much time together lately. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks you out soon.”

“Agreed,” Giselle added, flipping through a magazine that was clearly not as interesting as this topic. “He really should do it soon.”

You plopped down on the floor with a loud sigh, dramatically draping an arm over your eyes. “You think so?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Jaemin muttered from his spot on the carpet, tossing popcorn into the air and catching it with his mouth. “You’ve barely seen each other outside the library. For all you know, he’s just being nice.”

“Oh, come on,” you shot back, lifting your arm to squint at him. “You don’t see the way he looks at me with this little smile, like…” You mimicked an exaggerated dreamy face.

Karina giggled. “You’re so delusional. It’s cute, though.”

Giselle joined in. “Yeah, the way you’ve been acting lately is straight out of a high school drama. You, of all people, getting excited about study sessions? Who are you?”

“Hey, I’ve always been academically inclined!” you defended, sitting up.

Jaemin snorted. “Cramming at 3 a.m. doesn’t count as ‘academically inclined.’”

You threw a popcorn kernel at him, which he dodged with an annoyingly smug grin. “For your information,” you said, pointing at him with mock indignation, “I’ve been taking notes. Like, actual, color-coded, neat notes. With highlighters.”

“Oh no,” Giselle gasped, feigning horror. “The highlighters! It’s worse than we thought!”

“It’s called being responsible,” you huffed, crossing your arms with a proud smirk.

“It’s called being whipped,” Jaemin corrected, leaning back with a smirk. “You’re not fooling anyone. You’re basically studying because you’re hoping he’ll think you’re smart and fall for you.”

“First of all,” you said, holding up a finger, “Renjun already knows I’m smart.”

Jaemin snorted.

“Second of all,” you continued, ignoring him, “this newfound work ethic has nothing to do with him.”

“Right,” Giselle drawled, shooting Jaemin a look.

“Absolutely nothing,” you repeated with a grin, tossing popcorn into your own mouth.

“Guys, give her a break,” Karina chided softly, though she was grinning playfully too. “Isn’t it good that she’s motivated?”

Giselle snickered, giving you a mischievous side eye. “Anyone would be motivated if they’re being promised some di—”

You cut her off by shoving popcorn in her mouth. “I haven’t been promised anything.”

Giselle chewed her food quickly and started poking your sides. “You’re grinning so hard your face is gonna crack.”

You laughed, playfully swatting her hand away. “I just think it’s nice, okay? To have a study buddy who, like, actually cares if I pass my exams. Unlike some people.” You gave Jaemin a pointed look.

“Hey, I care,” he replied, holding up his hands defensively. “I just don’t think you should fool yourself into thinking it’s anything more than studying.”

Karina laughed. “Don’t listen to him. I think it’s sweet. It’s cute seeing you so motivated, even if it is…” she trailed off, glancing at Giselle.

“Dick-motivated,” she finished bluntly, popping another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“You’re so gross,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at her.

“Hey, I call it like I see it,” Giselle shrugged. 

“I will say this, though, if it’s making you study harder, maybe it’s not the worst thing. We’re freshmen, so you can still pave the way for yourself to graduate with flying colors,” Jaemin added, wiggling his eyebrows. “But you guys need to go out of that library first. Go to the quad for a change. Maybe get coffee together or something.”

“Jaemin,” you said, resting your chin on your hand with an exaggerated pout, “why would I need coffee when Renjun already gives me a caffeine rush by just existing?”

Giselle cackled. “Oh my god, you’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love,” you declared dramatically, flopping back onto the floor with a hand over your heart.

Karina shook her head, laughing. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“You love me anyway.”

Jaemin groaned. “No, seriously. Stop living in your fantasy world and ask him to hang out. Outside. Of. The. Library.”

You peeked up at him with a mischievous grin. “But what if he’s waiting for the perfect moment to confess? What if he’s just as nervous as I am?”

“Then you’re both pathetic,” Giselle deadpanned, though her lips twitched like she was holding back a laugh.

“Don’t worry,” you said with mock seriousness. “When we finally get together, I’ll make sure to invite you to the wedding.”

Giselle and Jaemin groaned again, this time louder. “You’re insufferable when you’re like this,” Jaemin complained.

You just laughed, the giddy, teenage-like crush bubbling over until it spilled out of you in the form of exaggerated dramatics. Maybe your friends were right, and you should try to take things further, but for now, you were perfectly content basking in the joy of it all—even if your friends never let you live it down.

However, it seemed like your friends weren’t the only ones bothered about the slow development in your relationship with Renjun. The universe too, knew that it was time for you to leave the safe confines of the campus library. 

It happened on a late Sunday afternoon. You walked into a café, expecting nothing more than a quiet moment with your usual overpriced latte. But then you spotted him—Renjun. He wore a soft expression that caught the golden light streaming through the window, his face almost glowing as he leaned over a notebook. He was sitting alone with a half-empty cup of coffee by his side, his pencil moving in quick, deliberate strokes.

You knew, logically, that Renjun didn’t spend every waking moment in the library. He had a life outside of it, of course. But seeing him in a place without the endless shelves of books and the soothing silence of the library around felt a little weird, in a good way. There was something oddly intimate about it, like you’d stumbled into a part of his life you had never seen before—and in a way, it really was something you hadn’t seen before. 

You were still rooted to the spot, trying to decide whether to turn around and flee or walk over and say hi, when Renjun glanced up—and noticed you. His eyes widened slightly in surprise before his face broke into a small, easy smile. He lifted a hand in a casual wave, gesturing for you to come over.

Well, so much for running away, you thought to yourself as you waved back. You walked over, trying your best to seem like you weren’t overthinking every step. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his smile widening as he closed his notebook and pushed it aside. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too,” you replied, hoping your voice sounded light and not as jittery as you felt. You glanced around, pretending to take in the café like it wasn’t the hundredth time you’d been there. “I was just gonna grab some coffee but I didn’t expect to run into you here. No offense but I thought your all-time favorite place is the library.”

Renjun chuckled. “Not really. I like coming here when the library gets too quiet.”

You nodded, though his words sent your mind spiraling. He’d been here all this time, escaping the quiet of the library, while you’d been basking in it, thinking it was your shared haven.

“I see, so you come here often?” you asked, cringing internally at how cliché you sounded.

Renjun nodded. “Not as often as I’d like. I get caught up in schoolwork most of the time. But when I do, this is my go-to spot.”

“Cool,” you replied, though you felt anything but. Your mind was screaming at you to think of something interesting to say but all you could do was nod.

“Do you want to join me?” he asked, gesturing to the chair across from him.

The question caught you off guard, and for a second, you just stared at him like he’d asked you to solve an equation without a calculator—and you sucked at Math!

“Yeah, sure,” you said finally, sliding into the seat. As you settled in, the reality of the situation hit you—this was your chance! No library distractions, no pretense of study sessions. Just you and Renjun, in a cozy café, with nothing but time and the faint buzz of espresso machines between you. And suddenly, your usual crush-induced dramatics didn’t seem so silly anymore.

Renjun had this ability to make the simplest moments feel meaningful. Like when he offered to buy you coffee, even remembering your favorite drink—something you’d mentioned in passing weeks ago. You couldn’t help but wonder if he paid this much attention to everyone or if you were, somehow, different—special, in a way. Maybe you were delusional. Maybe he was just polite. But maybe, just maybe, he actually cared.

The two of you talked about random things as the café buzzed quietly around you—favorite movies, weird study habits, how caffeine was both a blessing and a curse. Renjun listened intently, and just when you thought the conversation might drift into silence, he asked, “Why did you choose your major?”

The question caught you off guard, not because it was invasive but because of how thoughtful it was. It wasn’t something you expected to be asked over coffee. You paused, giving yourself a moment to consider your answer.

“I guess I just fell into it,” you admitted, twirling your straw. “It felt like the safe choice, you know? Like something I couldn’t go wrong with. But sometimes, I wonder if I should’ve picked something else. Something I’m actually passionate about.”

Renjun tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “What would that be? If you could choose anything?”

You hesitated, surprised by his genuine interest. “I don’t know. I’m not really passionate about something in particular.”

“Well, you are interested in something though, right?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

You shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “I’m interested in a lot of things, just not interested enough to pursue them.”

“Any hobbies?” he asked again, looking genuinely curious. “They said what you do in your free time says a lot about what you’re passionate about. Sometimes you don’t even realize it.”

“I don’t know if the things I do in my free time are considered hobbies.”

“That’s the general description of hobbies, isn’t it?” He chuckled lightly. “Things you do in your free time?”

You smiled sheepishly. “I know. I do have hobbies and I tried looking at them to see which one would be interesting enough to pursue. Couldn’t decide on one. Everything just seems so generic.”

Renjun’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he nodded like he understood. “I think a lot of people feel that way about the things they love. But it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you simply smiled back, warmth blooming in your chest.

When you mentioned that you were on your way to the library to catch up on assignments, Renjun said he’d join you since he had nothing else to do. Your heart flipped at his casual offer, though your mind immediately began spiraling. Did he actually want to spend more time with you, or was it just convenient?

The evening passed in quiet companionship at the library. While you worked on your assignments, Renjun sketched in his notebook, the sound of his pencil scratching faintly against the paper. You stole glances at him, unable to help yourself. There was something peaceful about the way he was so focused, his  hair falling into his eyes as he worked. At some point, you asked to discuss your assignment with him, hoping to get his opinions on your stance.

When it was time to leave, Renjun offered to walk you home. The offer sent your mind reeling again, but before you could respond, Jaemin showed up, his usual smirk firmly in place. “You guys going somewhere?” he drawled, the mischief in his eyes impossible to miss.

You blinked, barely processing his words, because all you could feel was a faint irritation bubbling up. Of course, Jaemin had to show up now, of all times. You trudged toward him with your brows furrowed. And in a low voice, you scolded him. “What are you doing here? You’re ruining my moment!”

“Karina sent me,” he explained, also lowering his voice. He looked irritated too. “She’s going cuckoo. Said you weren’t picking up your phone and it’s past ten o’clock now.”

You stole a glance at Renjun, who was watching the interaction quietly, his expression curious but unreadable. You cleared your throat. “This is Jaemin,” you said reluctantly, gesturing toward him. “He’s a friend.”

“Best friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Jaemin corrected.

You elbowed him in the rib, making him wince in pain. “Teenagers. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers. He’s my mom’s friend’s son.”

Renjun’s gaze shifted to you briefly, as if silently asking for more context. The slight crease in his brow made your stomach flutter, and you felt the need to elaborate. “My roommate Karina made him come check on me.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And you must be Huang Renjun. I’ve heard so much about you,” he said, offering his hand for a shake.

Renjun took it. “You have?” he asked, his tone polite but clearly surprised.

“Yeah. She’s been talking about—ow!” Before Jaemin could finish, you elbowed him again.

“Thanks for today,” you chimed, smiling brightly at Renjun in an attempt to steer the conversation back to normalcy. “For, you know, the coffee and the help with my assignment.”

Renjun turned to you with an easy smile. “Anytime. Hopefully, I didn’t distract you from it too much.”

“Absolutely not,” you replied, shaking your head.

“That’s good then,” he said with a small nod. “I guess I’ll leave you to it. See you next time?”

The words were casual, but they echoed beautifully in your ears. See you next time? Did he mean that? Like, does he actually want to see you again? Or was it something polite people like him would say? You started overanalyzing right then and there, picking apart his tone, his word choice, the little upward curve of his lips when he said it.

“Yeah. See you next time,” you replied, waving a hand as he gave both of you one last look before exiting the double doors.

Your eyes followed him as he walked away, his silhouette framed by the glow of the library’s lights. It was like your crush had decided to script this scene for maximum drama. You wondered if he’d think about this moment later. Would he replay it in his head the way you would? Probably not.

As soon as the door closed behind Renjun, Jaemin leaned in, pulling you out of your musings. “You’re smiling like a total lovesick fool right now,” he sniggered. “It’s almost painful to watch. Almost.”

Your smile vanished as you shot him a glare, though your cheeks burned. “You’re literally the worst.”

“Maybe. But I’m also the reason Karina’s not hunting you down with a broom, so, you’re welcome.”

You rolled your eyes and started walking toward the exit, Jaemin falling into step beside you. Still, as much as you wanted to be annoyed, your thoughts kept drifting back to Renjun’s soft smile and the way he’d said, See you next time.

Karina and Giselle were at the apartment when you got back. Before Karina could preach about your agreement to let each other know if one of you would come home late, you told them about Renjun and the teasing started immediately. 

“Did he say anything?” Giselle asked, practically bouncing with excitement.

You groaned, dropping onto the couch dramatically. “No, he didn’t say anything. But he wanted to walk me home, kind of.”

“Kind of?” Karina repeated with a laugh.

“He offered, but Jaemin showed up, so it didn’t really count,” you admitted.

“Well, at least he offered,” Giselle pointed out.

“Exactly,” Giselle said. “That’s practically a confession of love in boy language. Men are simple like that.”

“Hey!” Jaemin protested but no one paid any attention.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at the thought. Maybe they were exaggerating. Or maybe you were just hopelessly, blissfully delusional. Either way, you didn’t mind.

The smell of food greeted you as soon as you stepped out of your bedroom, and your stomach rumbled in approval. Following the aroma, you found Jaemin in the kitchen, busily moving around with your hot pink apron tied over his t-shirt.

“Guys, it’s my favorite person in the whole wide world!” you announced dramatically, taking a seat and marveling at the spread of dishes already on the table.

“Stop lying and eat,” Jaemin scolded, his tone sharp but his eyes amused. He carefully set a steaming clay pot in the center of the table, the savory aroma filling the room.

“Na Jaemin, you’re cooking up a feast!” Giselle exclaimed, appearing in the doorway and eyeing the food hungrily. “What’s the occasion?”

Karina came in last, casually pulling her hair into a bun. “I asked him to cook for us because everything in the fridge was about to go bad.”

“Really?” you asked, your spoonful of fried rice hovering mid-air. “All of it?” Without waiting for an answer, you stuffed the spoon into your mouth, letting out a satisfied hum at the flavor.

“Nearly all of it,” Karina confirmed as she sat down next to Giselle. “We haven’t been cooking much lately. The groceries have been untouched for over a week now.”

“Why do we even bother to buy groceries when all we do is order takeout,” Giselle asked, shrugging.

“Hey, don’t say that. We eat home cooked meals sometimes,” you chided, pouting because you were the cook in the house. “Although, I’ll have to admit, I haven’t been cooking much lately.”

“Good thing you have me,” Jaemin said smugly, wiping his hands on the apron. “Everybody say ‘Thank you, Jaemin.’”

“Thank you, Jaemin,” all three of you obliged.

As everyone dug in, Jaemin leaned back, watching you all enjoy the food with a satisfied expression. The sound of clinking utensils and satisfied hums filled the room, and for a moment, you thought this was just another one of Jaemin’s regular ‘save the kitchen’ moments. But then Jaemin reached into his backpack, slung over the back of a chair, and pulled out a small stack of flyers. 

“Speaking of appreciating my genius,” he began, sliding one to each of you, “the fine arts department is hosting an exhibit this weekend. Photography, paintings, sketches—you name it. You guys should come.”

You glanced down at the flyer. The bold text read ‘Life Imitates Art: NCIT Student Art Exhibit’ accompanied by an artsy photo of a painted skyline.

“Oh, this looks cool!” Giselle said, holding up her flyer.

“Of course it does. My department made it,” Jaemin replied smugly. “And, I know someone who loves art and would definitely appreciate this.”

“Who could it be?” Karina muttered, smiling as she glanced at you.

You rolled your eyes at Jaemin’s theatrics, but you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling in your chest. Art exhibits were totally your thing, and Jaemin knew it. However, the moment you looked back at the flyer, your thoughts drifted to a certain someone.

Would Renjun enjoy something like this? You remembered how he’d once shown you his drawings, shyly flipping through margins of his notebook filled with sketches and doodles of nature, cartoons, and people.  The idea of walking through the gallery with him, admiring the art and sharing thoughts, made your heart skip a beat.

“Will our photos be there?” Giselle asked, pulling you back to reality. “You’ve taken enough pictures of us to fill a gallery.”

Jaemin snickered. “Nope. Freshmen aren’t allowed to participate.”

“What?” the three of you exclaimed in unison, outraged.

“Unfair,” Giselle muttered. “You’re better than half the juniors I know.”

“Exactly!” Karina added, frowning. “Who decided that rule anyway?”

Jaemin shrugged, unbothered. “Rules are rules. Besides, you think I want to deal with more critiques from professors? Hard pass.”

“That’s so lame,” you chimed in, frowning as well. “Your pictures of us deserve to be up there.”

“Flattery won’t change anything,” Jaemin replied with a grin. “But you will come to the exhibit, right?”

“Of course,” Karina answered immediately.

“Definitely,” Giselle said, nudging you. “Right?”

“Obviously,” you replied with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Do we have to RSVP, or can we just show up?” Karina asked.

“Just show up. But get there early—it’ll be packed,” Jaemin said. Then he turned to you specifically, raising an eyebrow. “And don’t flake.”

“Who, me?” you said, feigning innocence. “I’d never miss a chance to see what the fine arts department cooked up. You know that.”

The conversation continued with Jaemin fielding questions about the exhibit, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how to casually bring it up with Renjun. Would it be weird to invite him? Would he even want to come?

By the time dinner was over, your mind was already racing with possible scenarios. One thing was clear: you needed to find a way to mention the exhibit to Renjun without sounding like you were asking him on a date. Even though that’s exactly what you were hoping for.

Three days later, you wondered how you managed to invite Renjun to the exhibit without fumbling over your words too much. The memory of your awkward phrasing made you cringe slightly every time it replayed in your head, but here you were—standing next to him in the middle of the gallery, surrounded by art.

He seemed genuinely interested in the pieces, his eyes darting from one frame to another with a quiet intensity. Every now and then, he’d point something out—a brushstroke technique in a painting or the composition of a photograph—and you’d nod along, pretending you weren’t hyper-focused on the way his lips curved as he spoke. 

Normally, you’d be more proactive than this. You could talk about art and techniques for days. But at the time, you were more focused on spending the time with him that you could only listen to his thoughts. You offered some of your own comments, but not as much as you would when it was someone else there with you.

The exhibit didn’t lead to anything romantic, as you’d half-hoped. There were no magical moments, no grand gestures, no accidentally brushing hands that sent sparks flying. But somehow, that was okay. You were content just being there with him.

Dinner was a grander affair than the exhibit, to you, at least. It wasn’t anything fancy—just fast food at a brightly lit diner. You sat across from each other, unwrapping burgers and sipping on sodas, talking about this and that.

As you both ate, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—how the exhibit had surprised you both with its variety, how one of the paintings reminded him of a place he’d visited as a kid, and the sheer horror of seeing the price tags on some of the pieces.

“Five thousand dollars for that?” he exclaimed, gesturing vaguely as if the painting were still in front of him.

“Art is subjective,” you replied with a shrug.

Renjun shook his head, biting into a fry. “Subjective or not, I think my two-year-old cousin could’ve done that with finger paints.”

You laughed, nearly choking on your drink. “Okay, now you’re just being mean. But honestly, same.”

After a pause, he leaned forward slightly. “Do you like art? Like genuinely?”

You nodded, pushing your tray aside. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not an expert or anything, but I like looking at it. It’s relaxing, and sometimes it makes you think about stuff in a different way.”

“I see. Art can make people feel feelings.”

“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head cutely. “Do you just doodle on your notebooks or do you, like, genuinely want to pursue it?”

“I like sketching, but I’m more into digital arts,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “Like I said, it’s more of a hobby. I don’t think I’m good enough to call myself an artist or anything.”

“You do digital arts?” you asked, leaning forward with genuine interest. “That’s so cool! I thought you just sketch on the margins because you want your hands to not stop moving.”

Renjun chuckled heartily, looking a little sheepish. “I do like art a lot. And yeah, maybe I doodle on my notes because I don’t know what to do with my hands sometimes.”

“Can I see them?” you said firmly, leaning closer.

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Your digital arts. Can I see them?” you asked and Renjun shrugged. “Only if you wanna show them, of course.”

“Maybe,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “If I ever think they’re worth showing.”

The conversation shifted naturally from there. You learned that Renjun liked savory food more than sweets, that he loved sci-fi movies and old-school animation, and that his favorite season was summer because it was warmer.

In return, you told him about your favorite books and the time you’d tried to paint but ended up with more paint on yourself than the canvas.

Renjun’s laugh came easily, and you found yourself wanting to hear it more. “Sounds like you’d be a hit at one of those paint-and-sip nights.”

“Only if the wine is good,” you replied, grinning.

At one point, he pointed at your tray. “You’re not going to finish that?”

You glanced at the fries you’d left untouched. “No, I’m stuffed. Why? You want them?”

“Waste not, want not,” he said, sliding the tray toward himself.

“Do you even like cold fries?”

“Food is food,” he replied simply, popping one into his mouth.

It was such a small thing, but the casual ease of the moment made your heart warm. You wanted to believe this connection, this closeness, was something meaningful—something real.

But doubt crept in, uninvited and persistent. Was this really going anywhere? Renjun was affecting you more than you’d expected—your mood, your energy, even your plans. You were falling so fast, yet he hadn’t even shown you anything to suggest he was on the same page. Every small gesture, every laugh, every lingering glance—you found yourself dissecting them, overthinking, convincing yourself they meant something when they might not.

Would you be okay if the spark you felt wasn’t mutual?

When dinner was over, the two of you stepped outside, only to find it raining. The kind of rain that drenched you in seconds if you stepped out without an umbrella. You both stood under the awning of the restaurant, staring out into the drizzle. The air was cold, and small splashes of water reached your feet, soaking through your shoes.

Renjun stood beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him even in the chilly air. Despite the miserable weather, you didn’t feel annoyed. If anything, the rain seemed to add a certain weight to the moment—a quiet intimacy that made your heart ache in a good way.

You wondered what he was thinking. Was he just as hyper-aware of the proximity between you as you were? Did he feel the way your shoulders nearly brushed every time one of you shifted your weight?

“I didn’t check the forecast,” he murmured, his voice cutting through the rhythmic sound of raindrops hitting the ground. “Guess we’re stuck here for a while.”

You nodded, your hands buried in your pockets. “Yeah. Bummer.”

It was a half-hearted reply, and you hoped he didn’t notice how your voice trembled, not from the cold but from the nervous energy bubbling in your chest.

“What should we do now?” he asked after a moment, turning slightly to look at you.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say anything coherent. “No idea,” you mumbled, keeping your gaze firmly on the rain.

Then, without warning, you felt his hands on your shoulders. The touch was light but firm enough to make your heart leap. Before you could even process it, Renjun had pulled you closer, draping his jacket over both your heads.

“Alright,” he said, his tone suddenly full of determination. “We’re making a run for it.”

“What?!” You looked up at him, wide-eyed, half-hidden under the shared shelter of his jacket.

“It’s just rain,” he said with a grin that sent your stomach into a flurry of butterflies. “If we don’t do this, we’ll be stuck here all night.”

You hesitated for a split second, but his enthusiasm was contagious. “Fine,” you relented, unable to suppress a small laugh.

“That’s the spirit,” he said, his smile widening. “Ready?”

“Not really,” you admitted, but before you could overthink it, Renjun tightened his hold on you, and the two of you darted out into the rain.

The world seemed to blur as you ran, your laughter mingling with his as water splashed up around your feet. The jacket did little to shield you, and soon, droplets of rain were sliding down your cheeks and soaking through your clothes. But you didn’t care—not when Renjun was pulling you along, his own laugh ringing like music in your ears.

When you finally reached the bus shed, you stumbled to a halt, breathless and soaked but grinning from ear to ear. Renjun let out a relieved sigh, shaking his wet hair like a puppy, which only made you laugh harder.

“We made it!” he announced, his voice tinged with mock heroics.

“Barely,” you shot back, pushing your damp hair out of your face. “I didn’t know you were the type to do something like that. You’re insane.”

“Insane or genius?” he countered, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the metal pole of the shed.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile. The rain continued to pour, the sound of it hitting the roof above you creating a soothing rhythm. You both stood there, catching your breath, the moment stretching into something quiet and tender.

“Thank you for today,” Renjun looked at you, his expression softening. “I’m really glad we did this.”

The way he said it made your heart flutter, but before you could dwell on it too long, he added with a teasing grin, “Even if I had to brave the rain for it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Totally worth it, though.”

“Totally,” he agreed, his gaze lingering on you just a little too long.

For a moment, you thought he might say something else—or that you might—but the sound of car horns broke through your silence, and you both turned to watch the busy streets. The road in front of you was alive with motion—cars speeding past, their headlights streaking through the rain-soaked night. Most of the taxis that passed were already occupied, and when Renjun checked the bus schedule on his phone, he sighed. 

“Caught in traffic,” he said, showing you the GPS map with the slow-moving icon of your bus.

“I figured,” you replied, leaning against the metal pole of the waiting shed. But oddly enough, you didn’t mind. Despite being drenched and stranded, you were having fun.

“Well,” he said, giving the jacket a rueful look before glancing at you, “I’d offer you this, but it’s basically a sponge at this point.”

You shook your head, smiling. “It’s fine. We’re already wet. What difference would it make?”

He shrugged, tucking the useless jacket under his arm. “Fair enough.”

The two of you spent the next few minutes chatting about anything and everything—jokes about how your shoes squelched when you moved, your terrible luck with rain, and a particularly embarrassing story Renjun shared about slipping on wet pavement once.

Then your gaze wandered to the poster on the wall of the waiting shed. It was an advertisement for some soft drink, with bright colors and cheerful models smiling down at you. Or at least, they had been cheerful—someone had scribbled on their faces with marker, adding mustaches and angry eyebrows.

You tilted your head, amused. “What are your thoughts on this piece?” you asked, the same way you’d asked him about the artworks in the gallery earlier that day.

Renjun followed your gaze and chuckled. Then he put on a serious face, as if he was seriously thinking about it. “It’s tasteful, yes. Based on the lines, I think the artist made this on the spot. A spontaneous piece. Overall, it’s top-tier art.”

You tilted your head at the poster, humming in disagreement. “I think it’s mid-tier at most.”

“Think you could do better?” he challenged.

“I’m not much of an artist.”

“Well, how about this?” he said, pulling a pen out of his pocket with a mischievous grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that for?”

“To write,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Vandalism?”

He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re probably gonna change those posters soon anyway. Might as well leave our mark.”

You grinned, loving the gleam of mischief in his eyes that was too tempting to resist. “Alright,” you said, taking the pen from his hand.

You leaned toward the poster, careful not to smudge it too much with your damp sleeve, and drew the best fox drawing you could make, unsuccessfully, but you were content with it. Then you wrote in large, messy letters: CUTE LITTLE FOX, INJUN.

“That’s a fox?” Renjun asked, surprised. You nodded with a grin. “Looks more like a wet squirrel.”

“That’s fine. Art is subjective,” you scoffed, handing him the pen. “Your turn.”

He shook his head, laughing. Beneath your writing, he drew a cartoon girl who resembled you, and added: YOU’RE MUCH CUTER THAN THE FOX ^_^

The two of you stepped back to admire your masterpiece, grinning like a couple of kids who’d just gotten away with a prank. “Think it’ll make someone’s day?” you asked.

“Either that or they’ll roll their eyes and wonder what middle schoolers did this,” Renjun replied, pocketing the pen.

When the bus finally pulled up, its headlights cutting through the rain, you both boarded, still laughing. As you climbed the steps, you turned back for a moment and snapped a quick picture of your vandalism.

Renjun noticed and leaned closer to take a look at your screen. “What’s that for?”

“Evidence,” you said with a smirk. “Just in case the poster police comes after us.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile as the two of you found seats near the back of the bus, the sound of rain and the hum of the engine accompanying your ride home.

That weekend, while your friends were out doing their own thing, you were in your bedroom, grinning at your phone. You spent the morning scrolling through the pictures you took with Renjun the day before—zooming into his face and admiring the features you’d grown so fond of in the last few weeks. The picture you took of the graffiti was posted in your stories, and you kept checking who’d seen it, hoping one of them would be Renjun himself.

You wished there was an excuse to go out and meet him, but there wasn’t any. Even if there was a valid excuse, you probably wouldn’t act on it because you were worried about being too obvious. Besides, anything you say to invite him outside would only seem like an eager attempt to see him. So you opted to wait till the next time you can hang out with him.

“It’s still Saturday morning?” you grumbled upon seeing the date and time on your phone. “Has the weekend always been this slow?”

As soon as Monday rolled in, you went to your classes with a bounce in your step, listening intently to the lectures and hoping time passed faster. When it was all over, you skipped to the library knowing Renjun would already be there.

And so it continued. The library was your sanctuary as usual, but after a few more days of hunching over the same cramped desks and flickering fluorescents, you suggested a change of scenery. Renjun wasn’t keen on the idea at first, but you managed to convince him to see the appeal of the wide open space and the green grass of the quad just outside the library.

You would spread a small blanket on the grass, and sprawl there with your books or laptops. There were times when your friends would join you but when they did, you’d spend the time chatting instead of studying, so you limited their participation.

Other times, you opted for the cozy cafe outside the campus,  books spread across the table. That space was more intimate and somehow, private. You would read through notes and discuss theories over coffee and dessert. Sometimes, you’d just be talking about random things.

At a glance, it would seem like you spend every day with him without fail, but that wasn’t the case. You studied together once every two days, for only two to three hours max. But it was enough time to fall harder for Renjun. When you weren’t together, you’d be thinking of him. And when he was right before your eyes, your thoughts would still be filled with him. When you were out doing things you usually did with your friends, you wondered who he was hanging out with, or what he did when he wasn’t buried in books.

One day, Renjun suggested a detour after your study session. “There’s this little bookshop near campus,” he said. “It’s got a good vibe. You’ll like it.”

You followed him through winding streets until you reached a hole-in-the-wall shop with dusty windows and a bell that jingled as you entered. The air smelled like old paper and candles. Renjun drifted toward the art section, his fingers skimming the spines of books.

“Here,” he said, pulling one out and handing it to you. “This one’s good.”

You looked at the title, a collection of essays on creativity. A smile tugged at your lips as you were reminded of the time Renjun complimented a creative essay you once showed him. “Are you trying to inspire me?”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “The piece you showed me last time was really good. You need to write more of those.”

You hummed, looking around the shop. Your eyes stopped at a shelf of vintage sketchbooks and canvasses. “Well, in that case, you should sketch more,” you told him, beaming as you led him toward said shelf so you could pick one.

Later, back at your apartment, you flipped through the book, pausing on a passage about capturing fleeting moments. You thought of Renjun—his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the quiet intensity when he was focused on his work. Your chest tightened with both affection and frustration. Just how much longer could you go on without telling him how you felt?

As long as you could, it seemed. The days passed, and the feelings only grew stronger, but Renjun remained blissfully unaware. Sometimes you wondered if he truly didn’t know, or if he was just pretending not to. You’d catch little moments—a smile, a glance—but you dismissed them. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe you were imagining it all.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make the first move. You were too shy, too scared of risking everything, too afraid that the warmth you thought you saw in his eyes was nothing more than your imagination. If you never confessed, you could never be rejected. And so, you kept quiet. It was easier this way. But even in the silence, you couldn’t stop wondering if he ever thought about you the same way.

And so it goes.

One day, you sprawled out on a blanket beneath the oak tree in the quad. Karina joined you, which was fine because she wasn’t as noisy as Giselle or Jaemin. Renjun was supposed to be studying, but he was sketching in his notebook instead, the soft scratch of pencil against paper the only sound you could hear from him.

You tried to focus on your notes, but your eyes kept drifting to him—how his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed together in that adorable way that made your chest tighten. His focus was so intense, so effortless, and it made you wonder if he even knew how attractive it was.

“What are you drawing?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Just something,” Renjun replied, turning the sketchpad slightly toward you. “It’s not finished.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” you said, genuinely impressed by the details of his art. You glanced up at the oak tree, which was clearly the reference for his sketch. “How old do you think this tree is?”

Karina looked up from her tablet, following your gaze. “Probably a few decades old.”

“Seventy-three,” Renjun said, his eyes still on the tree. “They said it was planted by the founder of this school. It’s been here since.”

You smiled, looking back at the tree with new eyes. “Is that why it’s in such a weird spot on the school grounds? I always thought it looked out of place.”

“Hi, Jun!” she said, pulling your attention away. She was pretty, with an effortless kind of grace that immediately made you wonder who she was.

“Hi, Lia,” Renjun greeted back with a smile, and you couldn’t help but measure how much of a smile it was. Was it just friendly, or was there something more?

“Is that a sketchbook?” she asked, leaning down to peek over his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah,” Renjun said, closing it quickly, though not before she caught a glimpse of the pages.

“Wow,” she said, her smile widening. “You’re so talented. I didn’t know you could draw.”

Renjun laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I can, though I’m not that good at it.”

You felt your jaw clench as she lingered, her gaze fixed on him. It wasn’t subtle—how she twirled her hair, leaned just a little too close, like she was trying to get his attention in the most obvious way. But Renjun seemed oblivious, like it was all just normal.

Beside you, Karina tugged at your sleeve. When you exchanged looks, you saw the same confusion in her eyes.

“Who’s that?” she mouthed, and you could only shrug, your stomach tightening with an unfamiliar knot.

After she left, you tried to play it cool, but Renjun noticed the shift in your mood. “Everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head in that endearing way.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile that felt like a mask. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

It was hard to ignore the knot of frustration that settled in your stomach—jealousy, confusion, possessiveness. The way Lia had leaned in just a little too close, the way she smiled at him like she knew something you didn’t—it made your heart twist. You weren’t oblivious to it. She was clearly a competition. And you hated how much that thought stung.

But then, you reminded yourself: you were in no position to feel frustrated or jealous. You couldn’t expect him to cater to your feelings when you hadn’t done anything to express them. And even if he did know, he didn’t owe you anything. Just because you had feelings for him didn’t mean he was obligated to cater to whatever unspoken expectations you’d built in your head.

And so it goes. You stayed quiet, enjoying his company and hoping he’d one day confirm that he too had feelings for you. That all this time, he’d been keeping it to himself worried that it might ruin your friendship.

“Worried about your hair?” Renjun teased one day, while you were standing outside the cafe under the dull gray sky. It has started drizzling and you were wondering if you could make a run for it.

“No,” you shot back, laughing. “Are you worried about yours?”

“No, but just in case…” He reached into his bag and pulled out a bright yellow umbrella with cartoon characters. “I brought an umbrella.”

You stared at it, then at him. “Did you steal that from your little cousin or something?”

“It’s mine, actually,” he corrected nonchalantly. “I got it yesterday.”

“You’re walking around campus with that?” you snickered.

“Hey, Moomin is cool,” he said, unfazed. He popped the umbrella open. “And it’s functional.”

You giggled. “I’m just teasing you. I think it’s very cute.”

Renjun gave you a deadpan stare. “Ha-ha. Thanks,” he said sarcastically.

The two of you huddled under the umbrella, the sound of rain pattering against it. The closeness made your heart race, and you were hyper-aware of the way his shoulder brushed yours as you walked side by side. By the time you reached the library, your cheeks felt warm despite the chill of the rain.

Inside, you settled at a desk by the window. Renjun started sketching again, and you observed him quietly, wondering how much longer you could keep your feelings bottled up. You didn’t know how much longer you could stand being this close to him and not telling him everything.

You busied yourself with an assignment, racking your brain and going through your notes to come up with the best output. Anything to distract yourself from Renjun. And it worked for a while, until the appearance of a certain someone made it impossible to focus on anything at all.

“Renjun,” Lia said, appearing beside your desk with a hand on his shoulder. “Do you have a minute?”

“What’s up?” Renjun asked, setting his pencil down.

“There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Sure. What is it?”

Lia glanced at you with a glint of embarrassment in her eyes. “Can we talk there?”

“Alright.” Renjun nodded, rising to his feet. He gave you a small smile and a nod before following Lia.

You stayed at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the corner of your notebook. You tried to focus on the notes spread across the table, but your eyes kept darting toward the direction Renjun and Lia had gone. What could they possibly be talking about? A prickle of curiosity crept under your skin, impossible to ignore. The logical part of you insisted it was none of your business. But another part—a louder, restless part—was dying to know.

Your fingers tapped rhythmically against the notebook, and your knee was bouncing uncontrollably under the table. You glanced out at the rain, trying to convince yourself to stay put, to respect their privacy, but your thoughts were spinning out of control. What if she was confessing? What if he said yes?

You shook your head, banishing the thought. You didn’t even know what they were talking about. For all you knew, it could be about something entirely irrelevant to confessions and feelings. Still, your chest tightened at the idea of them sharing something you weren’t a part of. Once again, you tried to focus on your work, but your resolve crumbled with each passing second.

“Fuck this,” you muttered, and before you knew it, your legs were moving, carrying you toward the shelves where they had disappeared. Your heart thudded in your ears as you peeked around the corner. There they were, standing by the window, their voices low.

“I hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us,” Renjun said, his tone warm. “You’re an amazing friend, and I’d hate to lose that.”

“No, not at all,” Lia assured him. “I actually just wanted to get that off my chest. Thanks for being honest.”

You covered your mouth, stopping the gasp that almost escaped your lips. You were right after all. Lia was confessing her feelings for Renjun!

They continued chatting briefly, their tones light and unstrained. You couldn’t hear everything they said, but it was clear there was no animosity. Lia seemed to take it well, laughing softly at something Renjun said before they started walking back.

Panicking, you quickly ducked behind another shelf, snatching a random book. When they passed by, you waited a few more moments before returning to the table. You then sat down across from Renjun, and when he noticed you, he gave you that easy smile that always made your chest flutter.

“Where were you?” he asked, one hand flipping a page in his sketchpad.

“I just grabbed something from there,” you lied, showing him the book you took from the shelf. “Are you done talking?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Nice, you thought to yourself, smiling. I think I’m good too.

By the time the rain had stopped, you were done with your assignment and Renjun had packed his sketchpad away. These days, he had been drawing a lot, and it made you giddy each time you saw him take out the vintage sketchbook you got for him. Sometimes, you liked to think he was properly practicing his art because of you, but that was just something you told yourself. He didn’t really say or do anything to back it up.

As you glanced out the window, sunlight began to peek through the rain clouds, and you gestured toward it. “Looks like the weather is getting better. Should we head out?”

“Sure,” Renjun said, tucking his pencil into his bag. “We’ve been here long enough.”

The two of you walked side by side, the damp air cool against your skin. Renjun tugged on the sling of his bag, his gaze distant, as though he had something on his mind. You didn’t press him, though you were wondering what was bothering him. It was unusual to see him so conflicted—Renjun, who was always so calm and composed.

You let the silence stretch, looking around the campus grounds. There was nothing you could think of saying, and it didn’t seem like Renjun was in the headspace to talk about anything either. But then he let out a deep sigh, making you glance at him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, peeking at his face.

“Nothing, just…” he trailed off, his voice low with a hint of uncertainty. “Have you ever had a friend confess their feelings for you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, maybe? I mean, I think most of the people who confessed to me were my friends at first.”

In your mind, you were wondering if he was asking because of his conversation with Lia earlier.

His lips quirked in a faint smile, though his eyes stayed distant. “Yeah, I figured. It’s just... earlier, Lia said she liked me. Romantically.”

You knew that already. “Okay. What happened?”

“Apparently, she felt that we had a really good connection. She enjoyed hanging out with me and started liking me because I was nice and all that.”

You hummed, urging him to continue.

“It got me thinking, I should probably draw lines with friendship. As flattering as it was to be ‘liked’, I don’t really want to keep unintentionally leading people on,” he continued, tugging your jacket sleeves gently to veer you away from a puddle.

“That’s fine. You can do that,” you told him, your eyes lingering on his hand on your jacket. “But it’s not your fault if people get the wrong idea. There’s nothing wrong with you or your personality. That’s just how you are as a person.”

“You think so?”

You glanced up at him. “Yeah. But I do understand Lia though. It happens to some. Sometimes people catch feelings, even if they know they shouldn’t,” you chuckled, hoping Renjun wouldn’t notice you were literally talking about yourself.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, shrugging. “I wasn’t trying to make her like me like that. I’ve spent way more time with you than with her, but you don’t feel that way for me.”

You froze mid-step, your breath catching in your throat as a jolt of panic engulfed you. Your chest was tightening as if all the air was being sucked out of you. Renjun kept walking ahead, oblivious, until he realized you weren’t beside him

“What are you doing?” he asked and you couldn’t answer him, so you bit your lip nervously.

What should you do? Should you let his assumption slide? Or should you finally be honest and tell him what’s been bugging you all this time? What if you said something you couldn’t take back?

“Is something wrong?” he asked again, reaching for your shoulder.

“I-I…” you stammered, locking eyes with him. His gaze was steady, but your thoughts were a mess. You swallowed hard. “You’re wrong. I do feel that way.”

It was his turn to be stunned. His brows furrowed slightly, and his hand on your shoulder loosened as he looked at you with an unreadable expression. 

“Actually, I have felt that way before we even became friends,” you continued. Your chest tightened further, but there was no turning back now. “It was just a crush at first, but I got to know you and I just fell harder. I have feelings for you, Renjun and I don’t know what to do with it. I just know I had to tell you about it.”

Renjun still didn’t say anything, flustered and confused by your sudden confession. In your mind, you were screaming, hoping you could fast forward and skip this part because it was making you cringe with embarrassment. But you couldn’t back out—not now that you’d spilled everything out.

The two of you continued to stare at each other, seemingly communicating with your eyes but not coming to an understanding. Your mind raced with questions and possibilities, all pointing at Renjun and begging for him to finally say something. Every brain cell in your head was rioting, a chaos that was the complete opposite of the weighted silence stretching between you and Renjun.

And when his hand  slowly slipped away from your shoulder, you held your breath again, bracing yourself for what was about to come.

“I’m so sorry.”

Your heart sank to your stomach, and you released the breath you were holding. Those three words—though short and straightforward—were enough to sum up everything Renjun was about to say. You already knew what it meant, and despite the heavy weight settling on your chest at his words, you somehow hoped he’d surprise you with a plot twist.

“I swear I didn’t have any bad intentions,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I really just wanted to be friends with you. I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh.

You nodded, even though the words stung. He didn’t need to finish for you to understand. “It’s alright. I understand.”

He sighed your name out, shoulders sagging as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. You smiled, despite the turmoil in your head. It was hard to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside you—hurt, embarrassment, frustration—but you forced it down. You could handle this. You could take it like an adult.

“Renjun, it’s fineee,” you said, your voice a little lighter than you felt. You laughed softly, almost as if to convince yourself. “I said I wanted to tell you about it. I wasn’t asking you to reciprocate or anything.”

He still looked uncertain, his brows furrowed with that familiar concern you could never shake. But you didn’t want to drag this out any longer, didn’t want to let him see how much his words had hit you. It wasn’t his fault.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” you added, giving him a small wave as if to dismiss the whole conversation. “We’re still friends. Nothing’s changed.”

Renjun hesitated for a moment, still looking at you like he wasn’t sure how to handle your response. You could tell he wasn’t completely convinced, and that made you want to reassure him more.

“Really,” you said with a shrug, “I’m fine. Let’s just go. I’m starving. I need to get home and make some food, otherwise I’d be eating takeout again for dinner.”

You both continued down the path, the sound of your footsteps against the wet pavement the only noise between you. Renjun didn’t say anything more, but you could feel his gaze on you, lingering with that worried expression. He was probably still processing everything. You could almost hear him overthinking it in his head, trying to figure out if he had somehow hurt you.

But for now, you were just grateful to keep moving. You had your pride, and you had your space. And for a moment, despite the mess of it all, you felt a small wave of relief.

You said you’d be fine, that nothing would change between you and Renjun. But as the last few days of the semester rolled around, you found yourself doing what any mature, emotionally stable woman would do—avoid him like the plague. You had a perfectly reasonable excuse—last-minute assignments and projects that seemed to always appear every end of semester. You were both swamped with coursework, so really, it wasn’t avoidance; it was just conveniently timed busyness. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You also told yourself it was just temporary. You’d heal, bounce back, and return to being the friend who could sit across from Renjun without your stomach twisting into knots. After all, you were still friends. Nothing had changed, right?

Wrong. In the quiet moments, when there was nothing to distract you from your thoughts, the truth would play itself on a loop: it had changed. The ache that would creep in your chest was sharp and annoyingly persistent like a bad pop song stuck on repeat. No matter how hard you tried to bury it under denial, it kept rising to the surface, demanding to be felt.

When Renjun texted you, your responses were cheerful, using the same emojis and the same upbeat tone to mask the fact that your heart was broken. You couldn’t tell if he bought it, but since his replies sounded as casual as ever, you figured your performance deserved an Oscar. Or at least a participation trophy for effort.

Your roommates, Karina and Giselle, noticed it. They could tell something was off. You had always been the one who kept things light and bright, the one who filled the room with laughter and jokes. But now, they could see the small cracks. They could hear the silence that replaced your usual chatter, the way you kept to yourself more often. Even your jokes had gone from playful to suspiciously self-deprecating. 

“Girl, you don't look okay. Like, at all!” Giselle had told you once.

“This is fine,” you’d said with a lopsided grin. “I’m just living my sad rom-com arc. All I need now is a montage of me crying in the rain, but the weather isn’t cooperating.”

It was even more obvious to Jaemin, who, instead of teasing you or trying to get under your skin, seemed to have adopted a strategy of quiet support. He didn’t press you to talk, didn’t try to fix things, and—bless him—didn’t say, “I told you so”. You appreciated the space, but you also hated the awkwardness that had replaced his usual antics. You didn’t like it when he walked on eggshells around you, and it only made you feel worse.

“You know you can talk to us, right?” Karina offered again one night, her voice full of concern. “You don’t have to keep it all in.”

“Thanks, but really, I’m fine,” you said, waving her off with a half-hearted laugh. “This is character development. Pain builds personality, or something like that.”

Giselle handed you a tub of ice cream. “Here, have a snack while your character is developing.”

No amount of jokes or distractions could fully numb your heartache. You kept telling yourself you’d get through it, that it would pass, but every time you were alone with your thoughts, the weight settled back onto your chest. You weren’t sure how long you could keep pretending to be okay, but for now, the show had to go on.

Then, by the time spring break was around the corner, the heaviness in your chest had started to lift. It wasn’t gone entirely but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been two weeks ago. You were finding your way back to yourself already. Giselle even pointed it out one evening while you were packing for the trip home.

“Hey, look at you, humming again,” she teased, flopping onto your bed. “I was starting to think Renjun broke you for good.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled at her. “Oh please. He wasn’t even a fling. Being rejected by a crush wouldn’t break me,” you said, folding another shirt into your bag. “Besides, it’s my first spring break. I can’t walk out of this campus brokenhearted.”

“Aha, I see you’ve found your lost vigor for real fun.” Giselle gave you an approving nod, like a coach satisfied with her team’s performance. “Progress. I’ll take it.”

The next day, as you walked across campus for one last errand before heading home, you spotted Renjun. He was walking toward the library, balancing a stack of books in one hand and holding his bag in the other. You hesitated for a moment, instinctively considering walking in the opposite direction, but the impulse passed as quickly as it came.

You reminded yourself you were okay now—or at least getting there. Avoiding him would only keep you stuck, and besides, the two of you were still friends. Nothing had changed. Right?

“Hey,” you called out, jogging up to him.

Renjun turned at the sound of your voice, a small smile forming when he saw you. “Oh, hey! I thought you left already.”

“Not yet. I’m heading out later today,” you said, nodding at the books in his hand. “Still cramming in some last-minute reading?”

“No, I’m returning these,” he said with a chuckle. “What about you? Got big plans for spring break?”

You grinned. “Are you kidding me? Of course, it’s our first one as college students. You?”

He shrugged, trying to keep his tone light. “Just going home. Last night, my mom sent me a whole list of chores waiting for me when I get back.”

You laughed, and for a moment, it felt easy between you two again, like the past few weeks hadn’t happened.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, his tone softening. “Sorry. I’ve been meaning to ask, but I thought it would be wrong to bring it up when we’re not face-to-face.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his question. For a moment, you thought about brushing it off, but you realized you didn’t need to. Not anymore. “I wasn’t,” you admitted with a small smile. “But only for a bit. I’m okay now. Really.”

Renjun studied your face, his expression unreadable, before he nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, and for once, it wasn’t suffocating. It didn’t feel like something was left unsaid or hanging in the air.

“Well,” he said, shifting his bag on his shoulder, “I should get going. Have fun doing… whatever it is you do during spring break.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “You have fun with your chores too.”

“I don’t know if I will, but I’ll make sure to try,” he replied, chuckling. “Text me if you need anything though, okay? Or if you're bored, I don't know. Just... Feel free to talk to me whenever you want."

“I will,” you promised, waving as you walked away.

As you made your way across campus, you fished your phone out of your pocket, remembering that Karina once told you about a confessions page on X. It was called NCIT Campus Confessions, and after skimming through the posts, you typed in a submission of your own:

To HRJ, Maybe I will finally learn my lesson. -xx

You felt lighter. Maybe not entirely free from the disappointment, but enough to know that you’d be okay. After all, it wouldn’t do to carry heartache with you to a place as vibrant and alive as Aruba.

[fin]

[saythenametotheworld]

Hi. Just wanna let you know I have a countdown for campus confessions and I'm excited to be a foolish one for Huang Renjun -3-

i appreciate you looking forward to it!

no but srsly, thanks. this had been in my drafts for a while now, but I couldn't figure out how to integrate each part and make a cohesive story out of five different plots so I had to set it aside for later. BUT NOW I'VE FIGURED IT OUT! FOOLISH ONE IN 10 HOURS!

[saythenametotheworld]

Campus Confessions | nct series

College is a whirlwind of unforgettable moments, spontaneous romances, and messy, heart-pounding drama. Through every crush, fling, and heartbreak, you learn what it really means to be young, wild, and in love.

Genre: college AU, anthology, romance Status: on-going Pairing: NCT 00-Line x Reader Warnings: mature themes Notes: 5 parts. Part 1, Foolish One, drops on 11/25! It will be a weekly update from then onwards. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

1. Foolish One (Huang Renjun)

A chance encounter with Renjun at the campus library turns into late-night study sessions and stolen moments. He's everything you're looking for—thoughtful, kind, intelligent. But is this the start of something real, or just a story you’re telling yourself?

2. Wonderland (Liu Yangyang)

A carefree spring break, a charming stranger, and moments that feel like they’ll last forever. You and Yangyang both knew it wouldn't, but boy, it was hands down the best spring break ever.

3. You're Not Sorry (Lee Jeno)

Being with Jeno was a whirlwind of dizzying highs and crushing lows, each moment burning brighter—and darker—than the last. Even with someone new, someone infinitely better, why does it always feel like every road leads back to him?

4. Guilty as Sin (Lee Donghyuck)

A summer in Mykonos, a tumultuous romance, and a classmate who’s always been trouble—only this time, you’re too broken to care. What starts as an escape from the wreckage of your past relationship soon becomes a mess of its own. Was it worth it?

5. Long Story Short (Na Jaemin)

Na Jaemin—your best friend, the one person who’d always been there for you, comes to help you back to your feet again. But is it too late to finally see him for what he truly is?

[saythenametotheworld]

when coups said and i quote “I think you’re capable of anything as long as you put your mind into it” yeah i was GONE. i don’t even remember who said it before, just like y/n (i think it was vernon…or maybe wonwoo?) , and her not knowing 😭😭 GROWTH YALL. SHES A FREE WOMAN!!!

"SHE'S A FREE WOMAN," we all said in unison.

[saythenametotheworld]

me rereading my past works and finding every single mistake in grammar and structure (even the smallest ones):

you really need to keep writing and keep reading to improve. my god I'm cringing at myself because I was too lazy to proofread before :< and I used to just go ahead and post whatever I came up with without editing them or making them better :>

[saythenametotheworld]

biiiiish ngl, I usually don't comment or send messages to writes but GODDAMN if HBH didn't pull on my hearts strings. The way I didn't sleep two night in a row because of how invested i was on the stories. u truly have a way of stringing together the plot, describing the emotions of the characters and making them just humans, with all their highs and lows. the vernon chapter had me going thru it, my heart was so unsettled... it's been a while since a fanfics has done that. and overall ur writing is amazing, from the plot to the grammar. I just felt it was necessary to let u know.

(btw if u ever consider taking writing seriouslyseriously all say go ahead, if stuff like after can became a best seller then the world is ur oyster, u got the talent to do so)

love and admiration -💕

Aww you're so nice. Thank you! Although I'm only writing for fun, I like to give it my best and deliver a fic that is good or at least exceeds expectations. And I said it before, but I really really like to make everything as realistic as possible. Except for the parts where I can't 😅 Anyway, thank you again!!! It's such a pleasure seeing all these kind praises.

[saythenametotheworld]

[saythenametotheworld]

THANKS FOR THE LOVE :> this was my first fic series and I had lots of anxiety about it. i like to keep things realistic in my works because, as a reader, I tend to gravitate toward realistic romance novels that can actually happen irl. also because being with our idols irl is already unrealistic as it is soooo... yeah :>

AGAIN, thanks for this. It means a loooot to me :>

Plot Twist | c.sc (18+)

A chance encounter blossoms into a whirlwind romance when you become enchanted by the enigmatic stranger—Choi Seungcheol. As you spend more time together, one question lingers: could he be the unexpected plot twist that changes your story forever?

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Scoups x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 24k words. Last part of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Plot Twist by NIKI. Finally down to that last part! I loved working on this fic. Kinda sad now that it is over. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Plot Twist by NIKI, Nobody Gets Me by SZA, long story short by Taylor Swift

When Choi Seungcheol first arrived at the hotel, you pegged him as just another rich man passing through—the noble charisma he was exuding made that clear. But unlike most guests, he hadn’t just come to book a room. He had asked for something far more unusual—stories about your past relationships.

At first, you thought he might be a writer, searching for inspiration for his next novel. But then he handed you his card and, no, he wasn’t a writer. He was a young CEO of a holding company. That alone was impressive, but his request? Odd, to say the least.

Then again, what did you have to lose? All you had to do was share a few stories from your past and pocket the fee he offered. You could even make up the most dramatic story ever and he’d probably bite. Yet you found yourself being completely honest, revealing parts of your life you hadn’t thought about in years.

You told him about your first real heartbreak with a guy who wasn’t even your official boyfriend. You spoke about an unforgettable relationship you had with the most breathtaking man you’d ever known. And you relived the time when your own insecurities ruined what was beautiful and perfect.

“I actually skipped the depression part of my breakup with Mingyu,” you confessed, rolling your eyes at your own expense. “It was kinda embarrassing telling a stranger all that. But I had a feeling you could see through me.”

“Not really, but I figured,” he shrugged, sipping his drink. There was a knowing look on his face—one that he didn’t bother to hide. “And honestly, I didn’t mind. I was a stranger after all. I was surprised you told me anything at all.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, I guess I needed to talk about that stuff more than I thought.”

“So,” he said, leaning forward with genuine curiosity, “is there anyone else?”

You paused. “That’s it. That’s all of them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You never dated much, huh?”

“No, not really,” you said, laughing. “There are others but it's not worth telling. They were either so-so, just passing through, or, you know... toxic.”

“Hmm. I see.” Seungcheol reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. He slid out two checks, handing them to you. You took it and your eyes widened slightly at the numbers on them.

“This is... a lot,” you stammered. “Surely, my stories aren’t worth this much.”

He met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “I disagree. But if you think so…” He nodded at the checks still in your hand. “Consider it a tip for your—remarkable—room service.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Except, we didn’t even have it in the room, did we?”

“We could have,” he said smoothly. “But you weren’t interested in seeing my room.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his shift in tone. “Is that your way of inviting me to your room, Mr. Choi?”

He tilted his head slightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “No. But now that you mention it... maybe it is.”

You hummed, biting your lower lip. “And here I thought you’d be the assertive type.”

“Well, I was raised to have manners, but if you’re into assertive men then.” Seungcheol’s demeanor shifted in an instant. His eyes, once playful, turned sharp, commanding. “Come join me in my room.”

Your heart skipped a beat. And the way he said it made your skin tingle. You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Okay.”

Seungcheol’s suite was spacious and immaculately tidy. Though the interior resembled every other suite in the hotel—neutral tones, minimalist decor—you couldn’t stop your eyes from looking around the space he’d been staying at for the past two days. Sure enough, there were almost no signs of him anywhere—not a stray jacket, a personal belonging—nothing that would give you the slightest clue about who he was or what kind of life he led outside this hotel.

“More champagne?” Seungcheol offered, motioning to the bottle of champagne sitting on a bucket of ice. He didn’t wait for you to respond, reaching for it and pouring some of the sparkling liquid into the glass. The soft clink of the bottle against the flute felt almost loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Thanks,” you said softly, taking the glass he handed you as you sat down.

You didn’t need more champagne, not really. But the cool bubbles offered a welcome distraction. Anything to give your hands something to do, and your mind something to focus on other than the thick tension swirling between you both.

You took a slow sip, eyes flitting to the abstract painting on the wall—blotches of color, indistinct shapes that blurred the longer you stared. But no matter how much you tried to focus on the artwork, you could still feel Seungcheol’s gaze on you.

He’s the one who asked me to come here, you thought, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. He should say something.

You didn’t know exactly what you were expecting when you agreed to join him in his room—but you do know that the conversation part was over. There was nothing left to talk about, this time right now was not for talking. You couldn’t trust yourself to look at him, afraid that meeting his gaze would confirm what you already knew—the desire building between you both, the unspoken question lingering in the air.

Seungcheol shifted on the couch across from you, the sound of fabric brushing against leather making your heart race. You wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you took another sip of champagne, more to keep your hands occupied than anything else.

It felt like an eternity passed before his voice finally broke through the tension.

“Come here,” he said, low and commanding, his tone sending a ripple of warmth down your spine.

“Yes,” you blurted out, standing up almost too quickly because your body was responding before your mind could catch up. You crossed the space between you in seconds, your heart racing in your chest, as though you had been waiting for that very invitation all along.

Seungcheol’s eyes were dark as he tugged lightly at your hand, pulling you down onto his lap. Your legs straddled his, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. And as you stared into his eyes, a mutual understanding passed between you without having to say a single word.

With one hand, he cupped the back of your head, drawing you in until his lips met yours. His lips were warm and firm, and the moment they touched yours, everything inside you unraveled. The knot of tension that had been coiled in your stomach loosened, sending heat through your entire body as his hand traveled down your back.

But just as quickly, you pulled away, breathless. “I—uh… I think we’re moving too fast,” you muttered, trying to collect your thoughts.

Seungcheol nodded. “Yeah, too fast,” he said, though his eyes remained fixed on your lips.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the tension between you crackling like electricity. Then, without thinking, you leaned in again, your lips meeting his with more urgency this time, more need. The kiss was hungrier now, both of you pushing against the boundary you had just set, as though the pull between you was impossible to resist.

His hands found your waist, fingers curling into your skin as he pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours. But again, the rational part of your mind kicked in, and you broke away, laughing breathlessly.

“Definitely too fast,” you whispered, though you made no effort to move away.

“Definitely,” Seungcheol agreed, his voice low, amusement flickering in his eyes as he kept his hands on your waist.

And yet, before you could stop yourself, your lips were on his again, the heat between you too consuming to fight. This time, neither of you pulled away. You let the moment stretch out, giving in to the pull as words fell away and your bodies did all the talking.

You were back at your usual spot at the front desk the next day, almost as if everything was completely normal, as though nothing of note had happened the night before. It didn’t help that the hotel was quiet with barely any people coming in, so your mind kept slipping back to Seungcheol. His intense kisses, his tender touches, the rush of heat that coursed through your veins, the ecstatic high—all of it was still fresh, vivid as if it had left a permanent mark on you. You caught yourself smiling for no reason, or at least, no reason that anyone here could understand.

“Are you alright?” Elena asked as she passed the front desk, her sharp gaze narrowing when she saw your flustered expression.

“Huh? I’m fine. What’s up?” you responded, hoping you didn’t sound too defensive.

“You’re flushed,” she noted with a raised eyebrow. “You look like you’re coming down with something,” she added, giving you a suspicious glance before walking off.

You touched your face, realizing with a start that your cheeks were warm—whether from embarrassment or the memories swirling in your head, you couldn’t tell. Pulling out your phone, you opened the camera app to check your reflection, only to be greeted with a slight flush coloring your skin. You stared at your reflection for a moment, wondering how much of last night’s excitement was still etched into your features.

Before you could think too much about it, the telephone rang, snapping you back to reality.

“This is the front desk. How may I help you?”

“Hi,” Seungcheol’s deep voice resonated from the other line, causing your heart to skip a beat. “Could you send housekeeping up? This suite is in dire need of tidying.”

His tone was casual, but there was a hint of mischief in it that made your stomach twist pleasantly. You knew exactly what he was implying. The memory of last night’s aftermath flashed through your mind—as if you hadn’t already been thinking about it all day.

You cleared your throat, trying to maintain a professional tone. “Absolutely. Housekeeping will be there shortly. Is there anything else, Mr. Choi?”

There was a brief pause on his end before his voice dropped a little lower. “Is it too early to request room service?”

Your heartbeat hastened, knowing full well that he wasn’t just talking about food. You could almost picture the smirk he must have had on his face, enjoying how easily he could fluster you.

“Have a good day, sir,” you replied, brushing him off in the most polite way possible before hanging up the phone.

You were still grinning to yourself when the phone rang again. Glancing at the telephone, you didn’t even have to guess who it was. You picked up the receiver.

“This is the front desk. How may I help you?” You kept your tone as professional as possible, but the smile was hard to hide.

“I know you’re thinking about me,” came Seungcheol’s teasing voice, playful and smooth.

Your breath hitched as you tried to suppress a laugh. “Whatever are you talking about, Mr. Choi? It’s inappropriate to speak to staff this way during work hours,” you chided playfully.

“You’re right. I forgot my manners for a second,” he replied, the humor in his voice evident. “I just woke up and I am starving, so I was thinking of actually ordering room service.”

“You just woke up?”

“Yeah. Alone, but somehow, I had a feeling someone was here with me but they sneaked out came morning light,” he replied, still teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, enjoying the playful banter. “Maybe because they have a job and said job requires them to wake up and get ready by eight in the morning?”

“I figured. Still, it would’ve been nice to get a proper goodbye.”

“Didn’t wanna disturb you,” you replied in a low voice, your index finger drawing circles on the desk in front of you. “Anyway, work hours,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

You tried to get back into professional mode. “Why don’t you just eat in the restaurant? It’s much more comfortable down there—and you won’t be in the way of housekeeping.”

There was a brief pause, and then he chuckled softly. “Are you allowed to tell guests what to do?”

You laughed, shaking your head at the playfulness in his tone. “No, technically not. We’re supposed to cater to their every need, but since I know you, I’ll take my chances and tell you what to do.”

“Oh, so we’re at that level now?” he teased. “You think you can boss me around now?”

“Only because I know you’ll listen,” you shot back, unable to resist the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ve got a good read on you, Mr. Choi.”

“I don’t know about that,” Seungcheol hummed, amusement thick in his voice. “Maybe I’ll just stay up here and starve, wait for housekeeping to finish.”

“Or you could go downstairs and eat like a normal person,” you retorted. “How about that instead?”

He chuckled again, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Alright, alright. I’ll head down.”

“Good. I’ll have the restaurant expect you,” you replied, feeling satisfied.

“Mm-hm. But don’t think this means I’m done with you for the day,” he added, his tone lower, more suggestive. “We’ll pick this up later.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the promise in his voice, but you managed to keep your composure. “I’ll take you up on that. Enjoy your meal, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you,” he said before hanging up, leaving you grinning like a fool at the front desk.

The day had dragged on slower than usual. Being in a remote area meant there weren’t many guests, so it was quiet—almost too quiet. After taking care of a handful of check-ins in the morning, you spent the afternoon fielding calls, helping with some basic concierge tasks, and trying not to think about the previous night with Seungcheol. It was hard to concentrate with his voice still ringing in your ears from the teasing call earlier, and the stillness of the hotel only amplified your wandering thoughts.

As the evening rolled around, you were grateful to finally be clocking out. You grabbed your things and made your way out of the front desk, ready to head out when a familiar figure appeared from the corner of your eye.

Seungcheol stood there, casual yet polished as ever, with his hands tucked into his pockets. His presence was magnetic, and you could feel your coworkers’ eyes darting toward him and then back to you in curiosity.

“Going somewhere?” Seungcheol asked smoothly, his smile playful as he leaned casually against the counter.

“Just clocking out,” you replied, trying to sound composed despite the flutter in your chest.

“Well, since you're off the clock… how about you join me for dinner?” His invitation was simple, but the implication made your pulse quicken.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the intrigued stares of your coworkers lingering on the both of you. But the thought of spending another evening in his company was too tempting to resist.

“Sure,” you said, keeping your tone light, though your heart was racing. “But first, I need to change.”

“Alright,” he chimed, blinking slowly. “You can take your time. I’ll wait for you at the restaurant.”

As you made your way toward the employee exit, you passed the kitchen, where Leo, one of the chefs, caught sight of you. His grin was playful as he leaned on the doorframe.

“Somebody’s got a boyfriend,” Leo asked with a teasing lilt, wiggling his eyebrows. “After all this time, and after all the guests who tried to sweep you off your feet, someone has finally tickled your fancy huh?”

Drea, another kitchen staff, appeared beside him. “Looks like it. They’d been hanging out all weekend.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just making a friend, guys. There’s no need to be all giddy about it.”

“Sure, sure,” Leo chuckled as he turned back to the stove. “Make as many ‘friends’ as you want.”

Drea fell into step with you as you walked toward the exit, lowering her voice to a whisper. “So… I guess your ‘friend’ let you crash at his place last night, huh?”

You blinked in surprise. “What? What are you talking about?”

She giggled softly. “I saw you sneaking back into your quarters at the crack of dawn, sugar.”

You grinned, waving her off with a laugh and gesturing for her to keep it down. Drea mimed zipping her lips before heading back to her tasks, letting you continue on your way in peace.

The restaurant had a cozy ambiance, with warm lighting and soft music playing in the background. As you settled into your seat across from Seungcheol, the enticing aroma of food filled the air, making your stomach growl.

“What’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten here?” Seungcheol asked, leaning back in his chair as he scanned the menu.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” you replied, running your finger along the edge of the menu. “I don’t eat here unless I can’t help it.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “So, I’m your first real dinner date at this place? How flattered am I?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you laughed lightly, but your heart raced at the playful glint in his gaze. “It’s just dinner.”

“Last night begs to differ,” he commented, making you gasp audibly.

Before you could say anything, Seungcheol gestured for the waiter who approached immediately. You ordered a rich pasta dish while Seungcheol opted for the steak. 

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked after the waiter left.

You shook your head. “No, not at all. I’m just not the type to openly talk about… you know, my activities in the bedroom.”

“Alright. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, smiling as he watched you curiously. “What do you usually do when you’re off the clock?”

You shrugged, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. “Not much. Just… binge-watch shows or read.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “A woman of refined tastes, I see.”

“Hey, everyone needs a little escapism,” you shot back, your cheeks warming. “What about you, Mr. CEO? What keeps you busy?”

His expression shifted slightly, the playful facade dropping just a notch. “Well, I run a holding company that invests in other businesses.”

You leaned in, intrigued. “That sounds interesting. What does that involve exactly?”

Seungcheol took a sip of his drink before answering. “We invest in companies we think have potential and help them grow. Sometimes we acquire them and either hand them over to other people to manage or strip them down for parts.”

“Sounds awful for the owners,” you remarked, unable to hide the frown forming on your lips. The thought of someone losing their livelihood sent a chill through you.

Seungcheol shrugged, his expression neutral. “That’s just the way it is. We usually only acquire companies on the brink of bankruptcy. It’s better than losing everything, right?”

“What do you even gain from a failing company?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion. The whole business seemed ruthless, a world away from your warm hotel lobby.

Seungcheol chuckled, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “Are you seriously enjoying this conversation?”

“Not really,” you admitted with a laugh. “But there’s nothing else to discuss.”

“Then let’s talk about you,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes searching yours. “Why are you still in hospitality?”

You felt your defenses rise. “Hey, that’s straight-up prying into someone’s personal business.”

“Weren’t you prying into mine just now?” he challenged, crossing his arms.

“Not the same! I was asking about how you make money; you’re asking about my life choices,” you shot back with a pout.

“I can see why you wanted to be a journalist,” he said, his voice softer now.

“What? How?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

“I just know,” he replied, an enigmatic smile on his face.

“Okay, Mr. Can See Through Me,” you laughed, but deep down, you wondered how much he could actually see—and if it was more than you intended to show.

After what happened with Seungcheol, you figured you’d be back in his suite once or twice more while he stayed in the hotel. When you think about it, like really think about it, it felt strange to hook up with a guest you’d known for only three days. But it didn’t bother you as much as you expected. Maybe because you’d already shared so much with him; intimate stories and personal memories that left you feeling vulnerable, strong, even a bit broken. Somehow, being with him physically felt minor compared to the depth of everything you’d revealed.

That said, you weren’t expecting to just keep sleeping with him the whole time. No. He was amazing—that was an understatement. And it wasn’t just because you hadn’t had any action in months; it was simply the truth. But Seungcheol didn’t seem like the type to put physical needs before familiarity.

“Good night, then,” he said, smiling as you both lingered in the hallway between the elevator and the employee exit.

“Good night, Mr. Choi,” you smiled back, trying to keep it light. “Thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. I had a great time,” he replied, closing the distance to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. In your ear, he whispered, “And please, just Seungcheol.”

“Sorry, I keep forgetting that,” you chuckled softly. For a moment, you stood there, eyes holding each other’s, as if something else was left unsaid. You weren’t sure what exactly, but you could tell he felt it too.

“Go on, then,” you prompted, nodding toward the elevator.

“No. You can go first. Don’t worry about me.”

You shrugged, reluctant but trying not to show it. “Alright. See you next time.”

“Tomorrow,” he corrected with a grin. “Hope you’re not sick of me yet.”

You laughed. “Not yet, but we’re getting there,” you teased. Leaning forward, you brushed a quick kiss over his lips.

Seungcheol’s hands settled on your waist just as you started to pull away, his eyes searching yours. You grinned, tapping his arms twice to signal he should let go.

“Would you like to—”

“No, thank you,” you interrupted a bit too quickly. His face fell, and seeing it made you laugh. “I would’ve if you’d asked earlier.”

He sighed, shaking his head with a small smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t want to overstep.”

“I know. And I appreciate that.” You walked toward your exit, giving him another smile before pushing the door open. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” he replied with a small wave.

The next day, the morning felt lighter somehow. You went to work in high spirits, smiling at coworkers more than usual, even humming a song to yourself while you were sitting at the quiet front desk, scanning the deserted lobby.

You caught sight of Seungcheol a few times throughout your shift. Once in the lobby, sitting by the window with his laptop and a coffee, his expression focused and distant; and later, he walked by while in a quiet exchange with someone on the phone.

In those moments, he was just like any other guest, a charming yet distant stranger. Yet every time he passed by the front desk, his eyes would flicker up, a sweet smile plastered on his lips.

At the end of your shift, you found him waiting in the lobby, leaning against the marble pillar with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Dinner?” he asked, his tone casual yet warm.

“Sure,” you replied, smiling. “Give me a few minutes?”

“Take your time. I’ll wait for you in the restaurant,” he said easily.

“Alright then.”

You and Seungcheol got to know each other more this way. During work hours, he didn’t cross any lines, and neither did you. It was almost like an unspoken rule between you—when you were on the clock, you were strictly concierge and guest.

But in the evenings, he would swing by the front desk, waiting for you to clock out to invite you to dinner. Dinner became a quiet ritual for the two of you, a rhythm that felt almost natural despite how suddenly it had started. On the second evening, Seungcheol had ordered in from a local restaurant he claimed had the best ramen in the area. You laughed when you saw the spread of takeout boxes arranged across his room’s coffee table, a bottle of wine between them.

“Who told you this place had the…” you made air quotes, “ ‘best ramen’ around here?”

“Uh…” He narrowed his eyes, thinking as he uncorked the wine. “The internet?” he said, just as the bottle popped open.

“The internet? Right,” you teased, sinking into the armchair across from him. “Do you always look up best ramen places online?”

“Not usually,” he admitted, handing you a glass of wine. “But I was craving something more familiar than steak and pasta.”

The rich, savory aroma of the ramen mingled with the scent of the wine, filling the room with a cozy warmth. You clinked glasses and sipped quietly, the casual laughter and teasing slipping in like it was second nature. Between bites, he asked about the town, and you shared stories—of slow nights at the hotel, odd guests, and a few personal memories you hadn’t thought about in a while.

The conversation flowed easily, often sidetracking into random topics that carried you late into the night. He asked you about more stories from your past, not always about relationships—just small things,  places you’d always wanted to see, anecdotes from college, or dreams you’d put on hold.

At some point, you found yourself telling him about your old plan to be a journalist, how you’d gone through a whole phase of pitching stories to magazines, only to give it up when you didn’t hear back from any of them.

“You ever think about going back to it?” he asked, watching you with curiosity.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But I don’t know… it feels far-fetched now. I think I’ve lost the ‘spark’. Besides, this job is steady.”

“Steady is good, but there’s usually no progress in steady. No room for growth in a place that doesn’t challenge you.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his statement. He held your gaze and you could see the sincerity in his eyes that caught you off-guard. “I guess not,” you admitted softly.

He leaned back against the couch, his eyes holding yours. “How about doing what excites you? You know, taking risks and challenging yourself?”

You scoffed lightly, though his words hit a nerve. “Like running empires, taking over companies?” you quipped.

He raised a brow, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

And then the conversation turned light again. He kept surprising you in small ways. He’d remember details, ask questions that dug deeper than the usual surface-level chatter, and share a few of his own stories, mostly humorous or random, yet still holding a touch of mystery.

And after dinner, you put on a random TV show, but barely pay attention to it. His hand rested on your leg, and you could feel the warmth of his touch through your skin. At some point, he leaned in to kiss you, and the rest of the night became a blur of tangled sheets and stolen breaths.

It was unsettling how easy it felt, how natural it was to be with him. There was no awkwardness, no need for pretense. When you weren’t kissing, you were talking—about everything, really, but especially your dreams. Seungcheol kept pushing you, nudging you to think beyond the walls of the hotel.

“You’ve got something to say. And it’s about time you said it,” he’d told you once.

His belief in you always left you speechless for a moment. You didn’t need anyone to tell you that you were capable, but it felt good to be encouraged. Your friends and family, even Vernon, constantly encouraged you to pursue your passion. Only now were you realizing that you could have been unstoppable with their support if you weren’t so hung up on your own insecurities. You didn’t realize it then, but their belief in you was genuine, and they looked at you the same way Seungcheol did—as if they saw something in you that you hadn’t allowed yourself to see.

“You’re glowing these days,” one coworker had said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Drea couldn’t resist chiming in as you walked past the kitchen. “Dinner again tonight?” she asked, winking. “Must be some guest to get that kind of special treatment.”

You’d laughed it off, but there was a part of you that knew they weren’t entirely wrong. Something was shifting between you and Seungcheol—something that went beyond casual hangouts or even the growing physical intimacy. It was like you were slowly unraveling pieces of yourselves to each other, bit by bit, until there was nothing left to hide. He knew more about you, your past relationships, your fears, your dreams, than anyone else ever had.

And the pattern continued: dinner in his room, sometimes in the restaurant, laughter mixed with stolen kisses, and whispered conversations that lasted well into the night. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to ignore the growing connection between you.

And while the teasing at work stoked the fire, you brushed it off with a smile, trying not to think too hard about Seungcheol and everything that had happened between you. He was a guest, sooner or later, he’d go back where he belonged and he’d be nothing but a fever dream—someone who stirred up your usually mundane days in this hotel. It is best not to get too attached to someone who will eventually leave. Maybe you’d meet again, maybe not, but you’d remember the few days you spent with him—easily, no doubt because he was simply unforgettable.

You had just finished drying your hair when you heard soft knocks on your door. You glanced at the clock and frowned. No one ever came by this late. Opening the door a crack, you were met with the familiar grin of Seungcheol, leaning casually against the frame with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, feeling both surprised and thrilled. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

He shrugged, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips. “Rules can’t be that strict if they let me get all the way up here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, glancing behind him to make sure no one was around. “You’re lucky the night staff doesn’t usually do rounds here. Come in—before you get us both in trouble.”

As you closed the door behind him, he looked around with a curious gaze, hands in his pockets. The small, modest space suddenly felt even smaller with him there.

“So, this is where you retreat after charming all the guests in the lobby,” he mused, taking in the sparse decor and impersonal furnishings.

“I think this is like, three times smaller than your suite,” you quipped, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Yeah, but it’s much cozier,” he replied, flashing a warm smile.

His eyes softened as he looked around, and for a moment, you watched him walk around your space. Then your stomach growled—a loud, unmistakable sound in the silence. You both froze before dissolving into laughter.

“Hungry?” he asked, barely containing his amusement.

“Starving,” you admitted, covering your face with your hands. “I skipped dinner because you weren’t there to pick me up.”

“Seriously?” he scowled, concern evident in his voice.

You burst out laughing. “No, silly. I had dinner with some coworkers but I didn’t eat much.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Oh, I thought you were serious. I was in a virtual meeting with some people earlier so I couldn’t treat you to dinner.”

“Hey, it’s totally fine,” you said briskly, shaking your hands. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“Alright but we should still do something about that,” he replied, pointing at your belly. “How about a late-night snack?”

“I could go for that,” you agreed, grinning. “But only if you’re okay with whatever random ingredients are lying around the hotel kitchen.”

A few minutes later, you led him into the quiet kitchen. Inside, the quiet hum of the fridge filled the room as you checked the shelves for ingredients available for employees. Seungcheol leaned on the counter, watching with amused fascination as you assembled a simple meal from what you could find.

“You know, I think you’re a little too comfortable in here,” he remarked, eyebrows raised as he watched you pull down a pan with a smirk.

You shrugged, turning on the stove and tossing some ingredients into the pan. “Just another perk of the job,” you replied lightly. “Besides, if anyone asks, I’ll say it’s for an important guest.” You gave him a wink.

He laughed, and as you stirred the ingredients together, he kept up a steady stream of questions about your work, your routines, and little quirks about the hotel you hadn’t realized you’d noticed. You could feel his gaze on you, warm and steady, and for a moment, you forgot about the quiet kitchen and the hotel entirely.

When the food was ready, you both sat down at the small table, sharing bites and laughter as though this were something you did every day. He listened closely, chiming in with his own stories, asking questions that went deeper than you’d expected. You found yourself opening up easily, letting him in on things you usually kept tucked away.

Once the plates were cleared, Seungcheol reached for the dishes. “I’ll take care of these,” he said, standing and moving to the sink before you could protest.

“Sure, but…” You trailed off, watching as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, muscles flexing in his forearms. You’d seen those arms several times before—even felt them holding you close—but somehow, it still left you speechless how effortlessly captivating he was.

A sudden urge to close the distance between you overcame you and it was too tempting to resist. So you did, slipping behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. He chuckled as he rinsed the dishes with care.

“You’re not very good at standing idle, are you?” he murmured.

“Not when I have such a sexy man washing the dishes for me,” you replied, resting your head against his back. His back vibrated when he chuckled.

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, amused, just as he set the plates aside and peeled off his gloves. Turning to face you, he wrapped his arms around you, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re pretty sexy yourself. And your cooking’s top-notch,” he added, lifting your chin to give you a quick kiss.

“What can I say? I have many talents,” you teased.

Seungcheol pressed his thumb on your lower lip, staring at it with desire in his eyes. “About that sleeping quarter of yours,” he murmured, voice lowering. “Think you can keep it quiet in there?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Definitely not.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “We’d better not stay there then,” he said with an almost playful glint in his eyes. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

“My shift starts at noon,” you whispered.

“Good. You can sleep in,” he grinned before pulling you into a deep, feverish kiss.

Back in his suite, laughter turned into whispered words, and conversation faded into shared warmth. He watched as you moved to his bed, peeling away your clothes one by one before sprawling across the bed, hair fanned out against the pillows, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. He stood there a minute, enjoying the view with half-lidded eyes.

“Are you just going to stand there?” you lilted, propping yourself on your elbows, watching his reactions as you spread your legs open for him. “Or do I need to invite you properly?”

Your confidence shot through the roof when you saw how he clenched his jaw and narrowed at the sight of you. He chuckled darkly, crossing the room with deliberate slowness, pausing at the edge of the bed. “Proper invitation, huh?” he murmured, leaning down, his face hovering just above yours. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to make the first move.”

“This is my first move,” you replied in a low voice, trying not to just go ahead and kiss him right there. You arched a brow, and with a grin, reached up, looping your arms around his neck to pull him down beside you.

Seungcheol closed the distance, capturing your lips in a torrid kiss. You swear you could feel the tension crackle in the air as he trailed a slow line of kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone, each one making your heartbeat quicken.

Your eyes met again, just as his hand cupped your naked sex, making you bite your lip. His laughter softened the intensity as he whispered, “How long can you stay up?”

You tutted, shaking your head playfully as you unbuttoned his shirt. “Don’t start making promises you can’t keep now.”

“You think I can’t keep it?” he challenged, putting pressure between your legs. Your body arched ever so slightly.

“How would I know if we’re just gonna keep talking like this?” you retorted, reaching down to grab the erection underneath his pants.

“Are you always this impatient?” he chuckled before leaning in to kiss you again.

You melted together, movements slow and gentle at first, then deepening as his hands roamed your body. He didn’t miss a spot, touching every crevice with his hands, kissing every sensitive spot, and sucking where he knew you’d love to be sucked.

He kept his promise—not a wink of sleep was had that night until dawn came through the windows. You’d given up at that point and just passed out next to him on the bed.

When you were trying to leave Seungcheol’s suite late the next morning, he had given you a soft kiss on the lips, bidding you goodbye but his arms were tight around your waist, unwilling to let go. 

“You seriously need to let me go now,” you chided softly, though you weren’t making a move to leave either. “Elena’s gonna kill me.”

“Then she’d be in jail for murder. I’m sure she doesn’t want that,” he quipped, biting your earlobe softly.

You giggled, pushing his face away. “Stop. I’m serious. I have work to do.”

Seungcheol pouted his already pouty lips and gave you the saddest puppy face you’d ever seen from a man. He even tilted his head for a dramatic effect.

“Is that the best you can do?” you sneered, rolling your eyes. “It’s not working.”

His face softened back to his usual, easygoing look. “This is why you should leave this job.”

“No, this isn’t.”

“No, but this could be," he shot back.

You chuckled, letting him pull you back into his arms. You settled against him, knowing you really should go but letting yourself stay in that comfortable quiet until the very last possible second.

When you finally rushed out, you had to practically sprint to your quarters to shower and throw on your uniform. Even as you hurried to the lobby, Seungcheol’s words and the warmth of his last kiss lingered in the back of your mind.

You settled into your morning routine, shaking off the haze of the late night, but two hours into your shift, you caught sight of Seungcheol stepping out of the elevator hauling his luggage while looking as composed and put-together as ever. An unsettling sensation crept into your heart, causing it to beat rapidly in your chest.

“Leaving already?” you asked when he approached, struggling to keep your voice casual.

“Yeah,” he replied with a small smile. “Can’t avoid work forever.”

You nodded, trying to mask your disappointment. You’d known from the start that this was temporary, but the reality of him leaving still hit harder than you’d expected. “Well, I’m glad you stopped by to say goodbye,” you said, managing a small smile.

He tilted his head, gaze softening. “Doesn’t have to be goodbye, you know.”

“Huh?” You blinked, surprised. Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and a moment later, your own phone buzzed in your pocket. When you checked it, you saw a message from him. It was a link to a job posting.

“It’s a publishing company I’m investing in,” he explained. “They’re looking for new writers for their magazine,” he explained with a playful tilt to his tone. “I could make a call and help secure you a position there, but I don’t think you’d like that.”

You raised a brow jokingly. “Are you serious? I’d kill for an easy way in.”

“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting slightly as if actually considering it.

“Of course not,” you laughed, shaking your head. “But… thank you. I’ll definitely check it out.”

“Good,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “See you soon?”

You nodded, voice softening. “Maybe, if you ever find yourself back in town.”

“Or,” he countered, his smile widening, “if you find yourself in mine.”

You smirked, leaning in a little closer. “No promises, but I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, pulling back with a look you couldn’t quite read. “Take care, alright?”

“You too,” you whispered back. With a final glance, he picked up his bag and walked toward the doors. Watching him disappear, you glanced down at the job posting on your phone, your lips curving into a small smile.

The days that followed Seungcheol’s departure drifted by in a slow but steady routine. You returned to work, easing back into the usual rhythm of the hotel. Tasks that once kept you occupied now felt a little empty, missing the spark his presence brought. Although you kept in touch, neither of you could commit to a steady chat correspondence because you both had work to do.

The teasing began as soon as he left, of course. One morning in the break room, Drea and Clara from housekeeping cornered you with knowing smiles.

“So,” Drea began, leaning in with a smirk, “guess Mr. Loverboy had to hit the road?”

“Heartbroken already?” Clara teased, nudging you lightly.

Rolling your eyes, you tried to brush it off. “Please, I knew he was going to leave. He was here for business, not for… whatever you’re implying.”

“Uh-huh,” Drea said with a slow grin, “and all those late-night chats and ‘work dinners’ were totally normal, right?”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks and huffed, trying to keep your cool. “Can we not do this right now?”

They both winced, and Drea placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Sorry, we’re just teasing. You looked a bit gloomy after he left.”

“I’m not. Maybe I’m just…” you trailed off, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe I’m just missing the ‘work dinners’, you know?”

They laughed, and you joined in, letting humor push away the gloom—even if only temporarily. As you returned to your duties, their words lingered, nudging a realization you’d been trying to ignore. Seungcheol had stirred something within you—a restlessness, a desire for something more than the steady routine you’d settled into at the hotel, this place far from home.

The days dragged and you buried yourself in mundane tasks. You updated records, tweaked guest files, and even took extra shifts, but the thoughts of what you wanted next kept creeping in. There were quiet moments when, mid-shift, you found yourself idly scrolling through the job posting he’d sent, rereading the requirements and trying to imagine what it would be like to actually take the leap.

In the quiet of your room, you’d take a pen and paper and scribble down short articles on random things: the day’s specials, trends in the hotel’s online promotions, even quirky stats like how many times housekeeping was called to the same suite. It was practice, a taste of what it might be like to write for real. The more you wrote, the stronger the pull grew to step beyond the winding roads of this small city.

Your coworkers noticed the change. Sometimes, they’d catch you smiling to yourself, drifting off mid-sentence, or jotting ideas on scrap paper between check-ins.

“You’ve got that ‘I’m making a big decision’ look,” teased Leo, always keen to know when something was brewing. “I’ve seen it a hundred times before. Spill it!”

You laughed, brushing it off at first, but as days went on, your secret plans came into focus. Each conversation—some encouraging, some bittersweet—helped you admit to yourself that maybe it was time to step forward. Even the strict, watchful General Manager Elena took notice.

One day, on an unsurprisingly slow afternoon, she called you into her office. When you entered, she had her glasses on, nose deep in some paperwork, but she looked up with a rare softness in her usually stern demeanor.

“I heard you’re considering leaving,” Elena said, getting straight to the point. 

For a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. “Actually… yes. I’ve been thinking about it. There’s this job posting that might be… a better fit for what I want.”

She studied you, her expression unreadable. “That’s a shame,” she finally said. “You’re good at what you do here. But I understand. We all have paths we need to explore.”

It was strange hearing those words from Elena of all people—the one who seemed to keep everyone on a tight leash. You hadn’t expected her understanding, and her support only fueled your desire to follow through. Still, you didn’t make a decision right away. The idea had gotten so real, you could almost touch it, yet you kept putting it off.

“You’re still thinking about it?” Leo would ask, crossing his arms with a look that was half-concerned, half-excited.

“Yeah, but… it’s not easy to let go of something so familiar,” you’d admit, trying to make sense of it yourself.

Eventually, after more late nights of wondering and overthinking, you knew what you had to do. It took a deep breath and a lot of inner pep talks—you even came up with a small mantra for yourself—but you finally handed in your resignation to Elena. She accepted it with a knowing smile, and, much to your surprise, added, “You’ll be missed. We don’t get people like you often.”

They gave you a two-week transition period to train the new concierge. It was bittersweet, teaching someone else the ropes, walking them through routines and the hotel’s small quirks. You realized how much you’d grown attached to it all—the people, the quiet corners, the smell of fresh coffee in the lobby. Each day brought flashes of memory—Tony pulling you into yet another crazy story; Leo cooking up a storm during restocking season; late-night conversations with Drea; and the soft light filtering through the lobby as you’d start your early shifts. It was your life for the last seven months, and letting go felt like peeling away a part of yourself.

On your last day, you finished training your replacement and said your goodbyes, packing up the small personal items you’d kept at your station—a worn-out notebook, a stray earring you’d misplaced months ago, and a couple of pens. Standing at the door, you took a last, quiet look back at the lobby, thanking it silently for what it had given you. Then you stepped out of the hotel, feeling strangely sad and excited at the same time. It was time to open a new book. Hopefully, this one would have a different plot, and maybe, just maybe, a plot twist you so badly needed.

The train pulled into the city’s central station just as the sky softened into late afternoon shades. Stepping off with excitement and nerves twisting in your chest, you took a deep breath and pulled out your phone to dial Seungcheol. You hadn’t told him about your decision to move, and as the call connected, you wondered briefly if surprising him like this was a bit too sudden.

“Hi. How are you?” Seungcheol’s voice came through the receiver. You could hear a faint chatter on the other line and he said, “Excuse me,” to someone.

“I’m fine, where are you?” you asked, unable to stop the slight tremor in your voice. 

“I’m here and there.” You could hear the sound of a door opening and closing. “This is a pleasant surprise. You never called during work hours. What’s up?”

“I just thought I should call you,” you replied, unable to stop grinning. “You did tell me to let you know if I ever find myself in your city.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just let out a soft chuckle that seemed to hold both relief and excitement. “Where are you?”

“At the station.”

“Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.”

The city loomed around you, humming with life and endless possibilities. For a moment, you stood in the crowd, letting the sound of distant conversations and the sharp aroma of fresh coffee sweep over you. It hit you then—this was a new chapter, and there was no going back.

Fifteen minutes later, Seungcheol’s familiar figure came into view, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. The moment he spotted you, his smile widened, and as soon as he was close enough, he swept you into a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Aw,” you cooed, hugging him back. “Did you miss me?”

“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmured against your hair, his grip on you firm and almost possessive.

You laughed, pulling back just enough to look at him. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well, you nailed it,” he replied, leaning in to press his lips to yours. The kiss was deep, lingering, as if he’d been holding back all this time and could finally let it spill out. It felt like no time had passed at all since you’d last seen each other, yet there was a new energy—an excitement and sense of anticipation in the air between you.

The drive to his place was filled with teasing and sidelong glances, his hand never quite letting go of yours. Arriving at his penthouse, he wasted no time with pleasantries, trapping you in his arms as soon as you walked in and locking your lips together. His hands roamed your body, exploring familiar curves, while yours tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

You left a trail of clothing on the floor as he guided you into the bedroom. With each kiss, you melted into him, feeling his heartbeat quicken against yours. You failed to notice the marvelous view of the cityscape stretching out under the setting sun, reflecting shades of orange and pink in the tall glass windows. The world outside simply faded into a blur, leaving just the two of you in a connection that was charged with all the longing that had built up during your time apart. As your bodies moved together, a sense of urgency guided you—each touch igniting a flame that had only been waiting for the right moment to burn.

When you finally caught your breath, lying intertwined in the soft glow of the fading sunlight, you stared at the ceiling with pleased smiles on your lips. The warmth wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and a comfortable silence settled between you.

Seungcheol reached for you, and you glanced at him, smiling as you scooted closer and tucked yourself into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. “So,” you started, grinning up at him, “do you mind if I stay with you for a little while? Just until I find my own place.”

His face shifted, the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at you. “Actually, I think it’d be smarter if you stayed until you got the job.” His hand slid down your back. “Then you can pick a place close to work and save yourself a long commute.”

The logic made sense, of course, but the glint in his eyes told you there might be more to his offer. “Or maybe you just want to spend time with me day in and day out. Be honest,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He laughed. “I was trying to be cool, but alright. I want you here with me everyday. That’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You could at least continue pretending to be hard to get. You’re no fun.”

“What?” he asked, confusion written all over his face. “I thought you wanted honesty?”

“Whatever. No fun,” you said, fighting back a grin.

But inwardly, a warmth spread in your chest at the thought that he wanted you here—that he wanted you close. You didn’t know where this leap would take you, but sitting there with Seungcheol, the uncertainty felt like something you could embrace.

After Seungcheol gave you a quick tour, the two of you found yourselves tangled up on the couch again. His hands skimmed over your arms, your back, your thighs, tracing over your skin with a familiarity and a desire that sent your pulse racing. The TV murmured in the background, but his slow, deliberate kisses made the world feel quiet and distant. 

Just as you were beginning to sink into that familiar haze, the sound of his phone ringing on the coffee table cut through the moment. You both glanced at it, sharing a look, but Seungcheol ignored it, his focus solely on you as he wrapped his arms tighter, pressing his lips to yours as he eased you down onto the plush couch. His hand slipped under your shirt, leaving a trail of warmth along your skin, and you couldn’t help but surrender to the pull of the moment, melting into him completely.

But the phone wouldn’t stop. The ringing resumed, persistent enough that eventually, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, gently pushing him away. “Aren’t you gonna take that?”

“No,” he murmured against your skin, moving to kiss the sensitive spot near your collarbone. “Ignore it.”

Yet another ring, and you couldn’t help but laugh, giving him a playful push. “Take the call, Cheol. It seems important.”

With a sigh, Seungcheol pressed a quick kiss on your lips, and then moved to grab his phone. There was a slight furrow of annoyance on his face as he answered. “What is it?”

You were sitting so close that you could faintly but clearly hear the other person speaking. “Where did you run off to, man?”

“What is it?” Seungcheol repeated, ignoring the other guy and adding weight to his own question.

“Dude, you left in the middle of a meeting. The Takahashis were livid.”

Leaning back against the sofa, Seungcheol rolled his eyes as though this wasn’t worth his time. “Buy them out.”

The other voice paused, clearly taken aback. “What? I thought you wanted a partnership?”

“The man is senile, Josh. Can’t even remember his own son’s name. There’s no point partnering with someone who doesn’t know when it’s time to step down. Let’s buy them out.”

You could hear ‘Josh’ sighing on the other side. “Alright. But it won’t be easy to convince them after your little disappearing act.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Seungcheol said with confidence. “Bring Yoon Jeonghan with you.”

“Alright. Is everything okay? Where are you? What was so important that you had to rush out like that?”

Seungcheol glanced at you, his gaze heavy with what seemed like an unspoken answer to his coworker’s question. The small smile that tugged at his lips told you exactly what he wanted to say without saying it. Rolling your eyes, you gave his arm a light slap.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Seungcheol said with a smile.

“Tomorrow? Dude, we have 4pm scheduled with the construction company. Don’t—”

Seungcheol ignored the rest of Joshua’s protests as he hung up and tossed the phone aside, refocusing his attention entirely on you. He pulled you back toward him, his lips finding yours as his arms wrapped around you in a familiar, easy embrace. But before he could deepen the kiss, you pressed a hand against his chest, pausing just long enough to catch your breath.

“Go back to work, Cheol,” you said, trying to keep your tone firm. “I can’t believe you ditched work for this.”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’d rather be here.”

When he tried to kiss you again, you dodged, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m serious. You can’t just skip work whenever you want, even if you’re the CEO.”

“I thought being CEO means I can do just that?” he teased, watching your expression. When he saw your jaw drop in playful shock, he laughed. He took your hand, pressing it gently against his chest. “Alright, I’ll go. But only because you told me to,” he said, stealing another kiss.

You rolled your eyes and let him cup your cheek. “Are you sure you want me to go?” he asked.

“Yes. Stop being dramatic. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Seungcheol sighed, glancing at his watch for a second and turning back to you. “Alright, but I’ve got time before my next meeting. Anything you want to do before then?”

You thought for a moment, glancing at your bag. “Actually, yeah. Can you drop me off at an electronics store? I need to get a laptop.”

“Sure. Let’s go,” he invited, but instead of standing up, he lunged at you with a kiss that had you staying on the couch for a good five minutes.

The very next morning, Seungcheol sat across from you at the dining table, his coffee steaming as he watched you scroll through company profiles on your laptop. “It’s important to think about their vision, not just the job title or pay,” he said, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his mug. “A company’s culture and goals say a lot about how they’ll treat you and how you'll grow there.”

You glanced up, catching the intensity in his gaze as he shared his thought process—like a glimpse into the inner world he often kept guarded. “When it comes to investing, I look for places that share my values or at least lean in the same direction. Even if they’re a little off, if there's room for alignment, and they have really good potential I give them a shot. But if it's a hard no from the start…” he shrugged, smiling a little. “Then it's not worth my time.”

“So, I should find a place that’s worth my time?”

He smiled. “Yes. If it’s worth you time, then it’s exactly where you fit.”

His words echoed in your mind as you stepped into the publishing house for the interview. The receptionist greeted you warmly, and as you waited, you couldn’t help feeling lighter—more confident. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were making choices that aligned with who you were and who you wanted to become.

Over the next few days, Seungcheol’s advice seemed to anchor you, guiding your approach to each application and interview. Whenever he was out for work, you spent your time filling out forms, researching companies, and drafting cover letters. And with each application, you felt a step closer to rediscovering a part of yourself that had gone quiet.

One evening, you found yourself staring at your laptop, a small smile spreading across your face. It hit you suddenly how long it had been since you’d felt the drive to pursue something. The doubts that had once held you back seemed far away now, chased away by the growing belief that you still had what it took to make this work.

When the rejection email arrived, it hit a bit harder than you’d expected. You stared at the screen for a moment, feeling the disappointment settle in. This was the company Seungcheol had suggested—the one that aligned with everything you’d been hoping for.

Seungcheol found you still at your laptop when he got home, catching sight of the email over your shoulder. Without a word, he placed a comforting hand on your back, leaning in close enough that his warmth almost made the disappointment a little easier to bear. “Hey,” he murmured gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles. “These things happen. A rejection doesn’t define you. If anything, it just means that place wasn’t ready for someone like you.”

You sighed, leaning into him for a second before tilting your head up with a small, determined smile. “You’re right. Anyway…” You toggled to a few other emails on the screen. “Who cares if H Publishing isn’t ready for me? I’ve got three other alphabets practically falling over themselves to snatch me up.”

His eyebrows rose, and he chuckled, folding his arms as he looked at you with mock admiration. “Three companies? Wow, look at you. Guess I gave pretty solid advice, huh?”

“Oh, please. I’m the one with the charm and talent.” You grinned, crossing your arms in triumph. “But yeah, some random guy did tell me to find a place that really fits. He was very wise.” You leaned over, planting a quick, playful kiss on his cheek.

Seungcheol’s face softened as he pulled you in for a real hug, resting his chin on top of your head. “Wise guy, huh? He sounds like he wants you to be somewhere that lets you shine.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased, glancing up at him. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughed softly, his arms still wrapped around you, neither of you in any rush to pull away. The moment lingered, easy and unhurried, as if you both knew things were exactly as they should be.

Once you’d finalized the details with your chosen company, the reality of your situation began to settle in. Your start date was fast approaching, and with it, the understanding that your time in Seungcheol’s apartment was coming to an end. He hadn’t mentioned anything, but you knew that, now that you had a stable job, there was no reason for you to stay here anymore.

It was bittersweet. In the past three weeks, you’d become more attached to this life—sharing a space, a routine, even the quiet moments with him. The thought of going back to an empty bed, waking up without Seungcheol’s warm embrace, or the comforting ritual of morning coffee together, weighed on you. But this was a necessary part of starting over; after all, you’d come here to stand on your own, not to fall into the comfort of living with someone you weren’t even officially dating.

Wait… You paused, realization dawning on you. You and Seungcheol weren’t exactly in a relationship… were you?

Up until now, you hadn’t given it much thought, but now that you’d asked yourself the question, suddenly, it was all you could think about!

Was this casual? It was while you were still a guest and a concierge in a faraway hotel. Right now, it doesn’t seem that way anymore. What kind of relationship would you have if Seungcheol had already offered you his home, supported your dreams like it was his own, and focused on you with a warmth and attentiveness that made you feel like his world revolves around you?

“Do you even have feelings for him?” Jill asked when you told her about it over the brunch you’d planned with her a few days ago. She lived in the same city and while you were genuinely happy to spend time with her after all these years, she noticed that something was bothering you and managed to coax you into talking about it.

“No?” You answered, though it sounded more like a question directed at yourself. “I don’t know. I just… hadn’t thought about it until now. Everything felt so easy and so natural. I guess I forgot that things like this might need an actual label.”

Jill’s eyebrow lifted. “Things only need a label if you’ve got feelings and aren’t just hooking up.”

You flattened your lips, contemplating. “Does ‘hooking up’ mean making me breakfast every day for three weeks? Bringing home random gifts just because he thought I’d like them? Or being completely supportive of my career and dreams like it was his too?”

Jill’s knowing look softened as she studied your expression. “Well… when you put it like that, no,” she said, a teasing smile creeping in. “It sounds a lot more like someone who wants to be in your life than just in your bed.”

You sighed, feeling the warmth of her words and, at the same time, a little overwhelmed. “So… what do I do now? Ask him if he wants to be something more?”

Jill shook her head, reaching out to pat your hand. “Relax. You’ve got a lot going on already. You don’t have to figure it all out now,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “Just let things unfold naturally. Enjoy this stage, see where it takes you. If it’s meant to be more, you’ll both feel it, and you’ll know.”

And yet that was the problem. You weren’t patient. When something bothers you, you just have to get to the bottom of it as soon as you can.

That evening, as you were preparing dinner together, the inevitable topic was finally brought up. You’d just plated the food when Seungcheol leaned back against the counter, watching you with a contemplative smile.

“So… you’ll be looking for apartments soon,” he said, almost casually, though his gaze held something deeper. “Have you found any places that catch your eye?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you set the plates down on the table. “No. I haven’t gotten to it yet. But I’ll start tomorrow, don’t worry.”

A flicker of something—disappointment, maybe?—crossed his face before he gave you a small nod. “Right. That’s good.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, thick with the things you both weren’t saying. The thought of leaving left a strange ache in your chest, and as you looked at Seungcheol, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he felt it too.

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked just as you sat down to start eating.

“What about work?” you asked back and he shrugged.

“I don’t have anything important to do tomorrow, so I can leave it to them.”

You gave him a smile, one with a hint of sadness about your impending departure. “Alright, then. I could use some company who could show me which neighborhood would be best for me.”

The next morning, the air felt different as you and Seungcheol set out for apartment hunting. As you drove through the city, Seungcheol pointed out various areas, describing their unique vibes. 

“This neighborhood has some great coffee shops, and the park nearby is perfect for a morning jog,” he said, gesturing toward a tree-lined street bustling with life.

“Looks perfect,” you replied, though your mind lingered on the idea of leaving his apartment behind.

As the realtor showed you a particularly spacious unit, you couldn’t help but compare it to Seungcheol’s massive penthouse with its high ceiling and floor to ceiling windows. Then again, you had to brush it all aside. This was a hunt for your home, the place you’d be spending your days in while doing what you loved. Somehow, shifting your perspective that way filled you to the brim with excitement.

At the next stop, you walked hand in hand, your fingers interlaced as you each enjoyed churros from a nearby vendor. You wandered through a vibrant farmer’s market, the scent of fresh produce and flowers enveloping you. Picking up a bundle of herbs, you turned to Seungcheol with a grin. “What about an apartment where I can have little herb pots by the window?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Do you think they’d survive though? What if I can’t take care of them well enough?”

“I think you’re capable of anything as long as you put your mind into it,” he replied and you felt a tug of familiarity in your chest. You were sure you’d heard someone tell you the same thing before, you just forgot when or who it was.

After picking up a few fresh ingredients to bring home, you resumed your hunt for an apartment. You stepped into an open house at a newly-built complex, just two blocks from your workplace. The agent who welcomed you in boasted about the high-tech security system and beautiful amenities, showcasing a rooftop garden that took your breath away.

“Based on your description, Ma’am, this unit might suit your taste perfectly,” said the agent, guiding you into a unit that was a bit smaller than the previous three-bedroom one he’d shown you. “It has one bedroom, a spacious living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom with both a shower and a tub. And of course, a bay window with a beautiful view of the city.”

You marveled at the empty space, envisioning it as a blank canvas waiting for your personal touch. As you exchanged glances with Seungcheol, his eyes sparkled with curiosity, mirroring your excitement. It felt like the beginning of a new chapter, one where your dreams were within reach.

“Feel free to look around and let me know what you think,” the agent said, noticing the delight on your faces. Someone called his name outside, and he excused himself, closing the door behind him.

Practically vibrating with excitement, you walked up to Seungcheol, wrapping your arms around his waist and beaming up at him. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“I love it!” you exclaimed, pulling away to explore the living room further.

Seungcheol leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a fond smile. You pushed open every door, gasping at each detail that captivated you.

When you finally felt satisfied, a realization tightened in your chest: It’s happening. You took a deep breath and met Seungcheol’s gaze. “This is it. This is the place.”

He offered a soft smile, one that reached his eyes. “I know. I like it too.”

Once again, the sinking feeling of leaving his place overcame you. “I’m gonna miss your house.”

He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, gently squeezing your shoulders. “You don’t have to go just because the job is set, you know?”

There it was—the invitation you hadn’t dared hope for. But as much as you wanted to stay, your resolve to stand on your own was stronger than any feelings you had for him.

“No, I have to go. I can’t keep invading your space,” you said, smiling, though the sadness flickered in your eyes.

He pulled you closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’re not invading, sweetheart,” he said softly, cupping your cheeks and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I like having you there.”

“I know,” you scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes at his obvious affection. “But it wouldn’t make sense to stay there when the purpose of me moving here was so I could pursue something of my own.”

He sighed. “Why did you have to be so independent? Can’t you just stay with me forever? If you haven’t noticed, I’m very capable of making you live a life of luxury without you having to lift a finger.”

“Really? Wow. I didn’t notice,” you deadpanned in mock-surprise. You both laughed for a bit and the quiet that followed was heavy. You just stared at each other, conversing with your eyes but not coming to an understanding. “I’m sure you can make that happen, but forever is such a long time, Cheol.”

“It is,” he replied, his voice low as he looked into your eyes.

“You know, the most common factor that caused my past relationships to fail was our lack of communication. After the last one, I realized I have to make communication the very foundation of my relationships with people—friends, family, boyfriends.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed slightly as he absorbed your words. “I get that. Communication is important,” he said slowly, his gaze steady on you.

You felt a surge of courage as you met his eyes, willing yourself to be vulnerable. “That’s why I want to know exactly what you think about us. If this is casual, or if there’s more to this than what we both intended. I like what we have, but I also know that the beginning of our relationship was unconventional and we haven’t known each other that long. But I like it, I like you. Maybe not so much right now, but I’m willing to see where this takes us. So…” You took a deep breath and reached to cup his cheek. “I need to know where you stand.”

His expression shifted, and for a moment, you could see the hesitation flicker in his eyes. But then he leaned into your hand. “I like you more than words could ever describe, sweetheart. I haven’t felt this way for anyone, ever.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his confession, a mix of relief and excitement coursing through you. “Do you mean that?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for sincerity.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I do. I agree that we started off in a weird way, but I wasn’t even expecting to form something so profound with you in the first place. Still, I’ve enjoyed every moment we’ve spent together. You make me feel different... better.”

A warm flutter spread through you, but the uncertainty still lingered. “So, where does that leave us? I mean, I’m glad we like each other but I don’t want to jump into something without knowing we’re on the same page.”

He leaned to kiss you softly and slowly, as if it was the answer to your question. When he pulled away, there was an affectionate smile on his lips. “There. I jumped first. What are you gonna do?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and crashed your lips into his for a much deeper, much fervent kiss. The world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the electric connection that buzzed between your bodies. As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of warmth flood through you, and your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

Seungcheol responded eagerly, his hands roaming your back. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and soon you found yourselves pressed against the wall, lost in the embrace. The kiss grew more passionate, hands exploring—fingers tracing along arms and waists, as you both got lost in the vice of each other.

But just as you felt the desire to take things further, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling you back to reality. The agent’s voice cut through the haze, followed by the sound of the doorknob clicking. You pulled away abruptly, breathless and wide-eyed, a rush of embarrassment flooding through you. Seungcheol looked just as startled, both of you momentarily flustered. The heat of the moment dissipated, replaced by the urgency to regain composure.

The agent’s smiling face appeared from the foyer, greeting you cheerfully. “So, what do you think?”

“We’ll take it,” you replied abruptly, still flustered.

“Yes. It’s ours,” Seungcheol added.

“Mine,” you corrected gently, patting his chest. 

“Huh?” he asked dumbly, gawking at you for a second. “Oh, yeah. Hers.”

The transition into your role as an assistant editor felt seamless. The initial apprehension faded quickly, replaced by a surprising confidence as you organized articles and collaborated with your team. Being in a creative environment was thrilling and fulfilling. It didn’t even bother you that the pay was average—this was your passion in action, it should be priceless.

Twice a week, Seungcheol would sweep you off to dinner, the routine becoming another cherished ritual. He watched you with a fond smile as you animatedly discussed your day, your words flowing freely as you shared your small wins and challenges.

“I was nervous because they asked for my input out of nowhere but guess what?”

“They liked it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They did. They thought it was fantastic!”

“Wow, you’re brilliant.”

You giggled. “Oh, and earlier the chair gave out when I was—” you stopped, realizing how much you were rambling. “Sorry. Was I talking too much?”

“It’s okay I’m used to it,” he smiled, offering you a slice of his food. He smiled when you accepted it. “You could go on for hours once you start telling stories, remember?”

You sighed, remembering when you used to recount stories about your exes at his request. “Of course. But back then, you actually wanted to hear it. This is just me going on and on.”

“I like it,” he murmured, nudging another bite your way. “It’s endearing.”

“You’re saying that because you like me too much,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully before taking the bite from his fork.

His laughter echoed in your ears, affectionate and genuine. You continued eating and talking. Every little touch, every shared smile, left a warmth that lingered even as the plates were cleared. And as you both walked home, Seungcheol slipped his hand into yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly.

“Do you wanna sleep over?” you asked, leaning against his shoulder as you walked. 

“Can I?”

You hummed affirmatively. “It’s kinda cold and I kinda missed you.”

His chuckle was low and warm. “Do you miss me every day?”

“Yes,” you replied softly, sniffing the sleeve of his jacket. “Every single day.”

He glanced at you, a glint of mischief visible in his eyes. “Then what do you think about moving in with me?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking?” you scoffed, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“It’s fun. Who knows? Maybe if I keep at it, you’ll give in,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

“Or maybe I’ll kick you out of my life forever.”

“You can try.” He smirked. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you often spent your evenings at your apartment since he’d pick you up from work, and your place was closer. His job demanded much of his time, even on weekends, so you’d only managed a couple of trips in the last few months. Still, you made time to hang out at his place whenever you could.

Seungcheol always treated you with warmth and care, never missing a chance to hold you, lean against you, or pull you into a hug. It felt like he was always close, a steady presence you’d come to cherish.

“Yes, right there,” you exclaimed, moaning in delight as Seungcheol massaged your tensed shoulder with expertise. You grinned, aware of how you were affecting him. “Oh, Seungcheol. That is so good.”

“Keep doing that and I’ll give you something to really moan about,” he teased, shooting you a look that made you quickly mime a zipper over your lip.

You settled back, savoring the massage, though you couldn’t resist letting out a dramatic moan here and there just to tease him. Seungcheol, as it turned out, is more in control of his urges than you’d expected.

When he finished with your shoulders, he moved to the carpet beside the couch, taking one of your legs into his hands and massaging it. You gave him a warm smile. “You know, I really enjoy being treated like a princess by you,” you mused.

He paused, tilting his head at you. “Princess, huh?”

You nodded with a giggle. “Mmhm, exactly.”

Seungcheol chuckled, setting your foot down with exaggerated care. “Maybe I’m not doing enough, then.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—what? You’re already doing more than enough!”

“Then why are you a princess and not a queen?”

Your mouth fell open in mock surprise before you started laughing at the cringe line. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve got rizz. Come here.” You leaned forward, cupping his cheeks with both hands as you guided him up to meet your lips.

“Choi Seungcheol?” Mina asked, glancing up at you as she leaned back in the salon chair. You’d been looking forward to this weekend with her, Jill, and Lea, a chance to unwind over manicures and girl talk.

“Yeah. Do you know him?” you asked, mildly intrigued.

Mina sighed dramatically. “Do I know him? Everyone in the industry knows him. The guy’s a genius.”

“Really?” You tilted your head, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know all the details, but he founded his holdings company back in 20XX, and it only took him seven years to build a multimillion-dollar empire,” Mina explained, her tone awestruck. “He’s actually one of the investors at my company.”

You blinked in surprise. “That’s... impressive.”

Mina gave you a look. “Wait—didn’t you know this?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I mean, I knew he had his own company, but he doesn’t talk much about it.”

Jill chuckled. “Your boyfriend is mysterious.”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”

The three of them stared at you, expressions of disbelief on their faces. Finally, Mina broke the silence, “If he’s not your boyfriend, what is he?”

You hesitated, then admitted, “I mean, well… We’re together, but he didn’t really ask me to be his girlfriend. And I didn’t ask him either. We just came to a consensus that we wanted to be together.”

“Girl, that’s literally what dating is,” Jill deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

You laughed. “Fine, maybe you’re right. I just didn’t want to dwell on labels, you know?”

“Unbelievable,” Mina muttered, but her grin softened the words.

“So, is he self-made or did he get help?” Lea interjected, steering the topic back to Seungcheol’s career. “Nepo baby?”

Mina shrugged. “Not entirely sure. I heard he started out with just one investor—apparently the father of his business partner.”

“Or maybe he’s a genius who just knows how to make the right investments,” Jill mused.

As they chatted, your mind drifted, replaying Mina’s words. You’d never asked Seungcheol much about his past because he was usually reserved about it. He’d drop hints now and then, but he never got into the deeper details. You didn’t even know whether his parents were wealthy—or if they were alive. Somehow, you’d just assumed he’d built his company on his own, out of necessity.

But now, a strange, almost bittersweet curiosity tugged at you. Just who was the man you’d grown so close to? Why did it feel like you barely knew about him?

The weekend went on as the four of you bounced between shopping, brunch spots, and lazy strolls through the streets. Your friends were great company, their laughter and stories taking you back to your youth when things were much simpler. Yet, every now and then, your thoughts wandered back to Seungcheol and the half-formed questions he’d unknowingly left with you.

Had he really kept his career and his life so under wraps out of modesty, or was it just a deliberate choice to keep you in the dark? Was his interest in you genuine, or were you just another distraction to him—an easy escape maybe?

“Earth to you!” Jill’s fingers snapped in front of your face, pulling you back to the table. She looked at you, brow raised, with a teasing smirk. “Where’d you go off to?”

“Oh—nowhere,” you said, smiling sheepishly.

Mina shot you a knowing glance. “Does ‘nowhere’ happen to be a certain tall, good-looking, and mysterious Choi Seungcheol?”

Your cheeks warmed. “Maybe.”

“Thought so.” Mina took a sip of her drink, eyes twinkling. “You’ve been a little preoccupied. Did something bad happen?”

“Not exactly. It’s just…” You hesitated, picking at the edge of your napkin. “I just realized I didn’t know much about him, which is dumb because he probably had me memorized by now. What if there’s more he’s not telling me? And what if he’s not telling me these things because… you know, I’m temporary?” You winced, not quite sure how to put it into words.

Jill reached over to squeeze your hand. “That’s understandable. I mean, the guy’s clearly got a lot going on. Maybe he’s just waiting until he feels it’s the right time?”

“Or maybe he’s afraid of something,” Mina chimed in, thoughtful. “A rich guy like him? People probably approach him with motives all the time. Maybe he’s cautious around people he cares about.”

You sighed, staring down at your coffee. It didn’t help that Seungcheol hadn’t called or messaged you since Friday, leaving a quiet ache you hadn’t quite anticipated. Usually, you’d hear from him at least once, even if it was a short message to check in. Although he did promise he won’t bother you while you were hanging out with your friends. Still, this silence felt different, unsettling.

The afternoon passed by in comfortable, busy distraction. You all wandered through shops, trying on clothes and laughing at ridiculous sunglasses, sharing in the small, simple joys of being together. But every so often, while waiting in line or glancing at your phone, you found yourself hoping to see his name light up your screen, only to be met with empty notifications.

“Are you okay?” Lea asked later, when the two of you found yourselves alone for a moment, the others a few steps ahead.

You managed a smile, brushing it off. “Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

She gave a sympathetic nod. “You know, it’s okay to ask him these things. Better than sitting around wondering. Just… don’t let it ruin your weekend, okay?”

You appreciated her concern, and as the evening stretched into night, you pushed the thoughts aside, letting yourself laugh along with the others and lose yourself in the joy of good company.

On your last night together, you especially looked forward to tomorrow, knowing you’d finally see Seungcheol again. But as you and your friends shared wine, the conversation turned deeper and more personal.

“To be honest? You get the worst when it comes to relationships,” Mina slurred drunkenly, pointing a wavering finger at you. “Jill always attracts cheaters, but she has never let them walk all over her, no.”

Jill raised her glass with a laugh. “Never!”

“Lea is engaged to her high school sweetheart,” Mina continued, gesturing at Lea, who grinned proudly. “And I’ve always dated long-term—though I’m single now,” she added with a shrug.

You chuckled, finding Mina’s drunken antics endearing. She turned her gaze back to you, suddenly serious. “You, my darling girl, you…”

She stumbled over to you, landing next to you on the floor, and you reached to steady her. She rested her head on your shoulder, taking a deep breath before nuzzling into your warmth. “Why do you always get hurt?”

“I don’t do it on purpose,” you replied softly.

“Of course not. Who would ever choose to hurt themselves?” she chuckled bitterly. “I just mean… you always find these amazing guys, only for them to slip through your fingers in the end.”

Lea scoffed playfully, joining Mina on the carpet. “You’re one to talk. You always date long-term, then break up anyway. What’s the point of dating for years if it’s not going anywhere?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Lea, since you’ve only dated one guy since high school,” Mina teased, nudging her. “But with my exes, they were all great at first, only to turn out to be self-absorbed jerks or cheats.”

“So why am I the worst?” you asked, running your fingers through her hair.

“You’re not the worst,” she sighed, leaning her head on Lea’s. “You just have the worst luck out of all of us.” She closed her eyes, voice softening. “Mingyu was broken, and you were right to leave him, but if he’d been in a better place, it could have been beautiful. You wouldn’t have had to go through that heartbreak when you were still young.”

You nodded, feeling the memories settle heavily between you all.

“And Wonwoo…” Mina continued, “well, he was perfect. But he was just passing through your life. And of course, there’s Vernon…”

Mina paused, and the others went quiet. You held your breath as she looked at you, her gaze full of sympathy.

“Breaking up with him… that was your lowest point,” Jill murmured, joining the huddle, her hand resting on yours.

You huffed, a self-deprecating smirk tugging at your lips. “Worst time of my life, to be honest.”

Mina tilted her head, her eyes meeting yours with earnest sympathy. “Do you know what happens to you once you’re in a relationship?” she asked quietly. You shrugged, feeling the gentle press of her hand urging you to listen. “You hyperfixate on them. You forget you had a life before them.”

A pang of guilt struck you, sharper than expected. She was right, and you already knew it—had felt it but never fully admitted it to yourself. In the background of every relationship, your friends and family had often become shadows. You swallowed, words heavy. “I’m sorry, guys.”

Mina waved her hand dismissively. “That’s all in the past. But honestly?” She gave you a half-smile. “It’s a little frustrating to see you dissociate this weekend, drifting off because of your current guy.”

“It really is,” Jill agreed, chuckling. “And you’re not exactly subtle about it.”

“Come on, girl!” Mina sighed, though her tone held a warmth only close friends could manage. “This weekend is supposed to be for us, but your mind’s clearly somewhere else. I get it, we all do, but… I guess I just wonder why that part of you hasn’t changed after all these years.”

You opened your mouth to apologize, but Jill cut you off, her tone softer. “Hey, you don’t have to be sorry. We get it. It’s just… we worry about you.”

Mina’s hand found yours, giving it a light squeeze. “We just hope you find your happiness soon, whatever that looks like.”

You managed a small smile, touched by her words. “So do I, Mina. So do I.”

As you settled into bed that night, Mina’s words lingered in your mind. Her gentle yet unflinching honesty made you confront a truth you’d avoided for years: once you entered a relationship, you tended to lose yourself in it, almost as if everything else faded to the background. And while the connection with Seungcheol felt different, you couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling that you were once again falling into old patterns.

You rolled over, staring at the ceiling as a strange but comforting realization took shape in your mind. For the first time, you decided to hold onto your own life and interests alongside a relationship. You’d never thought about it before because it never seemed necessary, as if love could fill every space. But now, you understood that nurturing your own dreams and friendships was just as vital—that it was the way to truly keep the people you love close to your heart for as long as you could.

The next morning, you found yourself surprisingly refreshed. As you packed up and prepared to leave the villa, you felt a lightness that hadn’t been there before—a sense of confidence that came from knowing you could hold onto yourself, too.

When Seungcheol arrived to pick you up, he stepped out of the car with his usual charm, dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit that drew appreciative glances from your friends. He greeted them warmly, offering a firm handshake and a genuine smile that seemed to put everyone at ease. You introduced each of your friends, watching the small exchanges of laughter and chatter that followed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Seungcheol said, a warm glint in his eye. “You’ve been taking great care of her, I can tell.”

“We try,” Lea teased, elbowing you playfully.

With a grin, Seungcheol offered, “How about I treat you all to brunch, as a thank you?”

The girls exchanged quick glances, and Mina, always the spokesperson, politely declined. “That’s sweet of you, Seungcheol, but she’s all yours. We’ve already had her to ourselves all weekend.”

They bid you both goodbye, with Jill pulling you aside for one last, quick hug. “Remember what we talked about, okay?”

You hugged her back, nodding. “I will.”

As you settled into the passenger seat, Seungcheol reached over to clasp your hand, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. You glanced over at him, feeling both the comfort of his presence and, for the first time, a quiet certainty that you didn’t need to lose yourself to love him. That this time, you could have both—your life and his presence in it, without one overshadowing the other.

Seungcheol glanced at you as he pulled onto the road, catching the thoughtful expression on your face. “Good weekend?”

“Yeah,” you replied, squeezing his hand. “It really was. I think I needed it more than I realized.”

He smiled softly, eyes returning to the road. “Glad to hear that. I think it’s important you keep in touch with friends. They’re usually the ones who know you very well.”

You nodded. “They really are.”

When you reached your apartment, Seungcheol immediately pulled you into a kiss, his arms tight around you. You couldn’t help but smile, coming to a conclusion that he’d been waiting for you.

“Miss me?” you teased, fingers tracing idle patterns on the back of his neck.

“Always,” he replied, his voice a low murmur against your temple as he brushed a kiss there, slow and unhurried. 

You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your fingertips trailing up to his jaw, grazing the hint of stubble there. “Then why didn’t you call me?”

“You said you were gonna catch up with your friends,” he pouted, burying his face on the crook of your neck. “I took everything in me not to text you. I spent three hours in the gym every night just to distract myself.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Liar.”

“I’m serious.” he shot back indignantly. “I would never lie about that.”

You scoffed, but your grin was hard to conceal. Seungcheol kissed your cheek. “I miss you so much,” he said softly, his hand sliding to the small of your back, drawing you close.

Your fingers curled at the back of his neck, pulling him down until your lips met in a slow, languid kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips, his fingers tracing gentle circles as he pulled you even closer as if you weren’t already pressed flush against each other.

Soon his mouth left yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck. You sighed into him, savoring the warmth that wrapped around you, letting your heart and body override your brain and lose yourself to the vice of Seungcheol’s touch.

The warmth grew more intense as the familiar press of his body against yours stirred your passion awake. Soft sighs escaped your mouth each time Seungcheol’s teeth grazed your skin and sent a ripple of pleasure throughout your nerves. His strong hands traced slow, deliberate lines along your back, mapping the familiar curves with ease, not stopping when he reached your ass all the way down to your thigh.

Without warning, he lifted you off your feet, making you yelp. Seungcheol grinned, kissing your lips briefly before walking straight into your bedroom. Inside, he dropped you down the mattress and you bounced slightly as you fell.

“You’re such a tease,” he commented, making you blink in confusion and chuckle.

“I’m a tease? I’m not even doing anything,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“I know. It’s crazy,” he grinned, discarding his shirt and crawling toward you. “You’re not doing anything and yet…” he guided your hand to his crotch, leaning into your ear as he whispered. “...you’re making me lose my fucking mind.”

Your breath hitched when you felt how hard he was under his pants. His cock pulsed against your palm and it sent a sudden wave of desire through your body that made your pussy tingle with anticipation.

It didn’t take long before you were both naked on your bed, lewd sounds of pleasure and skin against skin echoing through your apartment. If your neighbors could hear you, you wouldn’t know—you didn’t even care anymore at this point. Each kiss and every thrust spoke volumes, a language only the of you knew, built over countless moments like this, yet still feeling as thrilling as the first.

Seungcheol’s pace was delightfully rough, rutting into you with a force that reached the very core of your of cunt and made your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your mouth was gaped open the whole time, letting every moan and whimper escape your throat. 

It was wonderful the way he seemed to know you so well, understanding every sigh and shift in your expression. You found yourself responding instinctively, matching his pace as if you were two parts of the same whole.

“Cheol,” you managed to gasp, feeling your body clench with the familiar ache in your belly. You clawed his back frantically, desperate to hold onto something in fear that the intense euphoria would actually send you into orbit. “Please… don’t—don’t stop!”

Recognizing the slight scrunch on your expression, Seungcheol maintained his pace, lowering himself so you could hold onto him properly. “It’s okay. Hold on tight and go ahead. Go ahead, sweetheart. Let it all out.”

Time seemed to slow down, as he rasped your own name in your ear, his voice amplifying the need for release. Eyes rolling back, you let out a dragged-out moan, back arching as you came undone underneath him. He held you by the waist, pausing while he was balls deep inside of you and your walls pulsated around him. He watched your fucked-out expression with a proud smirk before slowly setting you back down, your body twitching a few more times with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You smiled at him, pushing him up just enough so he could continue. Seungcheol didn’t need to be told, immediately thrusting into you and riding the high that hadn’t even left you yet. Your moans were throaty, losing your mind once more as he rammed into your overstimulated cunt.

And when he finally stilled, he let out a guttural grunt you’d ever heard before collapsing next to you. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you as if letting go wasn’t an option as if you could stay this close forever. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling the quiet warmth settle between you, a deep, steady comfort that lingered even after the last whispers of passion had faded.

“I love you,” you whispered, just as Seungcheol drifted off to sleep.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Your career was blossoming, you were closer with your friends, and you talked to your parents more often. Adding in Seungcheol by your side, your life felt fuller than it ever had. In this new chapter, you embraced everything as it came, ready to weave your dreams into the fabric of your life.

Then again, life just likes taking a turn when you least expect it to. After all, if it’s all sunshine and daisies, then it isn’t life at all. Challenges are necessary for growth. In this chapter of your life, the ‘turn’ was both familiar and new. Something you’d seen before, but somehow, it felt different.

“Would you like to come with me this weekend? There’s a party and I could use some company,” Seungcheol asked while you were lounging in your living room one night.  “A gorgeous one,” he added, winking at you.

“What party?” you asked, considering the invitation but needing to know the details first.

“It’s the anniversary of Hong Industries. I’m close with them so I can’t miss it,” he explained.

“Alright,” you chimed, smiling at him. “But first, am I your girlfriend?”

Seungcheol paused, looking at you with a slight scowl on his forehead. “Of course, you are.”

You hummed. “Just making sure there’s an actual label to this.”

Seungcheol chuckled, placing his spoon down and giving you a fond look. “Of course there is. What happened? What made you ask me that out of nowhere?”

“Nothing. I was just checking,” you replied, shrugging. “If I am to accompany you to a party where I might meet your acquaintances, I should know how to introduce myself.”

“You’re not gonna go there and introduce yourself as my girlfriend, are you?” he asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

Seungcheol shrugged as if the answer should be obvious to you already. “You could introduce yourself as a writer.”

“I’m an assistant editor at a publishing company. Not a writer.”

“Then you can introduce yourself that way too.”

You leaned back on the couch, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at him with playful suspicion. “Do you not want me to be known as your girlfriend, Choi Seungcheol?”

“Again with the full name.” 

You smirked. “What? I thought you liked it when I called your name?” 

“Oh, you’ll call my name alright,” he smirked, tugging his necktie off and lunging at you. You let him lay you down on the couch, but you didn’t let him kiss you, covering his mouth with your hand.

“Come on. Tell me the truth,” you said sternly, narrowing your eyes at him,

Seungcheol smirked. “You know, I could lie right now just to get what I want.” 

“Yes, but you wouldn’t. You’re not the type to do that,” you challenged, feeling confident despite the voice in the back of your mind telling you he was changing the subject and avoiding the question.

“You know me too well,” he lilted, kissing your lips softly. “You’re my girlfriend, and we can introduce you as such to anyone and everyone who would care to listen.”

“See? How hard was that.”

Seungcheol sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “I just don’t want you to feel... overshadowed. Being my girlfriend might sound simple, but trust me, it’s not gonna be easy. They’ll see you through that lens first and it’s gonna stick.”

You studied him, intrigued by the rare moment of openness. “I get it, but I know who I am. I’m okay with the label if it’s one we’re both proud of.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. “See? You’re one of a kind.” His hand slid down your arm, pulling you closer, and you nestled into the warmth of his embrace. The ease of your familiarity made your heart flutter, the way it always did.

As the evening of the gala approached, you slipped into a fitted, elegant gown, one that was classic yet alluring, the kind that made you feel like you belonged in the world Seungcheol occupied so easily. You finished with a touch of makeup, something that highlighted your eyes and a bold lip to match the confidence you wanted to project tonight. Right on cue, Seungcheol arrived, stepping out of his car looking every bit the part in a sharp black tuxedo. He stopped when he saw you, taking a moment as his gaze swept over you.

“You look marvelous,” he said, reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

The gala venue was grand, a historic mansion converted into a luxury event space. Tall windows lined the walls, offering a stunning view of the city skyline. The chandeliers bathed the room in a golden glow, illuminating guests dressed in designer clothes, mingling with ease over champagne and laughter. As you stepped into the space, you felt Seungcheol’s hand slip to the small of your back, a subtle gesture that felt both protective and possessive.

“Stay close,” he murmured, guiding you through the crowd.

Seungcheol was a magnet for attention tonight. As soon as you arrived, people began gravitating toward him, friends and colleagues, associates he had to greet. Each time, he would introduce you with an easy, charming smile. “She’s an assistant editor at V Publishing,” he’d start, then add with pride, “and also my girlfriend.”

Every introduction made you feel both more part of his world and distinctly aware of how different it was from your own.

“CEO Choi!” someone called from the crowd.

You and Seungcheol turned toward the voice, spotting a man approaching with a friendly, approachable charm. He looked polished in his navy-blue tux, his expression warm. Seungcheol sighed as he saw him, a subtle reaction that made you wonder if he wasn’t fond of this guy.

“Hey, Josh,” Seungcheol greeted, his tone drier than usual. The name triggered a vague recognition in your memory.

Joshua ignored Seungcheol, focusing on you with a bright smile as he extended a hand. “You must be her—the woman who made CEO Choi go AWOL for a whole week in some far-off hotel. I’m Joshua Hong, COO of his company.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly but shook his hand anyway. “Somehow, I feel like you don’t like me already.”

“Oh, I adore you! I’ve been dying to meet you,” he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, though you weren’t quite convinced.

“Okay…” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Before you could continue, another voice chimed in from behind. “Well, would you look at that,” a smooth voice said. You and Seungcheol glanced over your shoulders to find a strikingly handsome man with blonde hair, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “If it isn’t Choi Seungcheol with the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol replied flatly, sighing as though he’d already braced himself for this. “Just my luck.”

Jeonghan slipped over to Joshua’s side, eyeing you with a knowing smile that made you feel self-conscious. He looked you over with a slow, appraising gaze.

“Alright, you two are creeping me out,” you said, scowling slightly. “What’s going on?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t checking you out,” Jeonghan teased, his gaze shamelessly drifting from your face to your dress. “You’re kinda hot.”

Seungcheol stepped in, placing a hand on Jeonghan’s chest and pushing him aside. “That’s enough. Don’t make her uncomfortable.”

Joshua stepped forward, positioning himself on your other side with a friendly grin. “Sorry about my friend. He’s a bit of a creep,” he said, nodding toward Jeonghan before offering his arm. “Can I get you a drink?”

You glanced at Seungcheol, who nodded reassuringly. “He’s my friend. Go ahead if you’d like.”

“Hey, why does he get to be her escort?” Jeonghan protested, raising a hand in mock indignation.

“Because you’re a creep,” Joshua replied, dismissing him with a wave of his fingers as he guided you to the minibar.

At the minibar, Joshua handed you a glass of champagne and leaned in with a warm, curious smile. “So,” he began, “how did you and Seungcheol get together?”

You took a sip of your drink, feeling a bit on the spot. You didn’t go into the details but gave him the briefest version. “It just sort of… happened, I guess. We kept running into each other.”

Joshua nodded, looking amused but a little surprised. “Seungcheol doesn’t usually bring dates to these events. I mean, he keeps his private life pretty close to the chest, so seeing you two together tonight is definitely a first.”

You glanced across the room where Seungcheol was in conversation with another guest, his eyes occasionally drifting back to you. The thought that he’d brought you here when he normally came alone gave you a quiet, warm thrill.

Before you could say anything else, Joshua shifted the conversation with a curious glance. “He told me you’re an assistant editor. That must be exciting work. Jeonghan over there,” he nodded toward his friend who was in the same circle as Seungcheol, “he’s in the broadcasting industry. They’re always on the lookout for writers, you know.”

“Oh,” you replied, taken aback by the suggestion. You hardly considered crossing into a field like that, especially given that this was one of Seungcheol’s friends.

Joshua noticed your hesitation and chuckled lightly. “I know Jeonghan comes off… well, a little intense. But he’s actually a decent guy—he just likes to mess with Seungcheol as much as possible.”

You laughed, feeling more at ease. “Yeah, I did notice they seem to have that kind of friendship.”

“Exactly. But hey, if you’re interested in exploring other avenues with your writing, Jeonghan would be a good contact. You’d be surprised at the kinds of opportunities that open up in broadcasting.”

You nodded thoughtfully, his words sparking an idea you hadn’t considered. Working as a writer beyond publishing was unfamiliar but intriguing, and the prospect made your heart race a little. “Thanks for the tip, Joshua. But I’m fairly new in the industry. I will consider it though.”

Joshua smiled at you with a kind of charm that made you feel at ease. But before the conversation could deepen, someone pulled him aside, and he gestured he’d be quick. You nodded, mouthing that he could take his time. As you sipped your champagne, your gaze drifted over the crowd—and then you spotted a familiar face. Mingyu, with that warm, easygoing grin, met your eyes and lit up immediately.

Within seconds, he’d crossed the room in a few quick strides. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this—how long has it been?”

You laughed, surprised and genuinely happy to see him. “Not too long. How have you been?”

Talking with Mingyu felt like no time had passed at all. He was as charming and witty as ever, and soon you found yourself reminiscing, falling into a rhythm as if the year between you had been just yesterday. Mingyu asked about your work, your life, and sprinkled in stories of his own misadventures, making you laugh and remember what had drawn you to him once.

But out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Seungcheol approaching, his gaze locked onto you and Mingyu. His steps were unhurried, but his eyes held an intensity that sent a shiver through you. He slid his arm around your waist as he reached you, claiming his place at your side in a way that left no room for doubt.

“Hey,” Seungcheol greeted before pressing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Hi,” you smiled at him and then turned back to Mingyu. “This is Choi Seungcheol my—”

“Boyfriend,” Seungcheol cut in, his voice steady but carrying an edge that made your stomach flutter. “And you must be Kim Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s face brightened. “You know me?”

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted to you briefly before replying, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really? It’s nice to meet you! CH Holdings, right?” Mingyu asked, genuinely enthusiastic.

“Yes,” Seungcheol replied coolly, sizing Mingyu up in a way that was hard to ignore. The silence that followed, though brief, felt thick and awkward. Mingyu was the first one to break, glancing at you with a smile.

“I’m really glad we ran into each other. We should catch up sometime,” he suggested, glancing between you and Seungcheol with a hint of his usual playfulness.

“Why?” Seungcheol’s reply was direct, and though his tone was mild, there was a possessiveness beneath it that made Mingyu laugh.

“Relax, man. I’m not trying anything. We go way back, that’s all,” Mingyu assured.

Seungcheol’s hand on your waist tightened slightly as he responded with a controlled smile, “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

Mingyu blinked, taken aback for a moment. “What?” He glanced at you, clearly confused.

You could sense the tension simmering beneath Seungcheol’s composed expression, and though Mingyu was mostly oblivious to it, you could feel the subtle line that had been drawn. Seungcheol wasn’t letting his guard down.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you said, gently squeezing Seungcheol’s arm, trying to diffuse the situation. Turning back to Mingyu, you offered, “It was good seeing you, Mingyu. Let’s catch up soon.”

“Definitely. Enjoy the party!” Mingyu’s smile was genuine as he gave a small wave before heading off, but he glanced back at Seungcheol with an amused look as he went.

Once he was out of earshot, you looked up at Seungcheol, catching the faintest trace of jealousy in his expression. “What was that about?” you asked, arching an eyebrow as you leaned into his arm.

Seungcheol shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just remembering what happened the last time you bumped into him.”

You laughed softly, a bit incredulous. “You think something like that would happen again?”

He gave you a look, not entirely joking. “Who knows?”

“Okay, that’s offensive.”

“What do you mean?”

Your smile faded as you let out a short, sharp sigh, feeling a twinge of hurt at his insinuation. You shook your head and stepped away. Seungcheol reached out as if to follow, but before he could say anything, a group of men gathered around him, clearly eager for his attention. He glanced at them, then back at you, his gaze following you even as he nodded along to their conversation.

You were offended, and rightfully so. How could he see you as someone who would betray his trust so easily? Your encounter with Mingyu last year had been a fleeting moment of comfort during a time when you were single and lonely. But now, you’re with Seungcheol. Surely he wouldn’t think you’d jeopardize what you had with him by sleeping with your ex, would he? Did he really really think that low of you?

You barely noticed the woman who approached you until she spoke. “Are you Seungcheol’s designated arm candy? You’re pretty.”

“Excuse me?” you blurted, startled by her sudden appearance and appalled by her question.

“You have an attitude too, hmm,” she commented nonchalantly, looking you up and down before walking away.

You watched her walk away, bewildered by her casual insult. Was that really how people saw you—just a pretty accessory to someone like Seungcheol? Did everyone at this gala see you through that narrow lens?

The woman's words lingered in your mind, twisting with the doubt that had already taken root from Seungcheol's earlier comment. You clenched your fists, trying to shake off the feeling of inadequacy that threatened to creep in.

As you scanned the room, the laughter and chatter around you felt distant and muted. You wanted to enjoy the evening, to stand alongside your boyfriend with pride, but your thoughts kept spiraling back to the weight of his mistrust and the woman’s dismissive tone.

The car ride back to Seungcheol’s penthouse was quiet and tense. He kept glancing your way, trying to coax out the reason for your anger, but you merely stared out the window, letting the city lights blur together into a wash of colors.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he asked again, his voice laced with concern.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak without letting your frustration spill over. The truth was, you didn’t want to talk; you didn’t want to explain the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t shut me out. I know something’s bothering you,” he pressed gently, reaching for your hand. You pulled away slightly, feeling the distance between you growing.

Once you arrived, you wasted no time making your escape. You hurried to the guest room, locking the door behind you. After a quick bath, the warmth of the water soothing your nerves, you slipped into bed, the exhaustion from the night settling in as you closed your eyes. You heard the soft creak of the door sometime later, feeling the mattress sink behind you as Seungcheol lay next to you. But you pretended to be fast asleep, too tired to face the rift coming between you.

“I’m sorry. I was just jealous,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “I trust you with my life. I know you would never go behind my back. I’m so sorry.”

You heard him clearly, but you were intent on your pretense so you didn’t respond. Instead, you allowed yourself to relax into his arms, grateful for the warmth, even if your heart felt heavy.

Morning light seeped through the curtains, casting yellowish light into the room. You blinked against the brightness, feeling the soft fabric of the blanket wrapping around you. You soon waddled out of the bedroom, dressed only in your underwear and Seungcheol’s oversized shirt. As you entered the living room, the casual atmosphere was shattered by the sight before you.

Seungcheol was standing with his hands on his waist, facing a woman sitting comfortably on the couch as if she belonged there. It was the woman from the gala, the one who’d called you an ‘arm-candy’. She was beautiful, with an air of confidence that emanated from head to foot. And she noticed you as soon as you stepped into the living room, raising an eyebrow arrogantly.

“You have a guest,” she said, making Seungcheol glance over his shoulder. The hard expression on his face softened upon meeting your gaze.

“Who is this?” you asked Seungcheol, trying to mask your discomfort with a casual tone.

Seungcheol opened his mouth to answer but the woman was quicker. “I’m his fiancee,” she announced, standing up at once. “Nice to meet you.”

You froze, your mind buffering at the declaration. Seungcheol held your hand and with a warning tone, he said, “Jiwon.”

The woman—Jiwon—raised an eyebrow. “If you like her so much, you should have told her about me sooner.”

“Get out,” Seungcheol practically growled, but that didn’t seem to faze Jiwon. She smirked, picking up her purse and heading for the door.

Before leaving, however, she said, “You’re free to play around as much as you want, Seungcheol. But only for now. I won’t stand for this disrespect once we’re married.”

It felt like your world came crashing down, a weight settling heavily on your chest as you stood there, trying to make sense of it all.  Your mind was spiraling, processing the information painfully fast and coming into a confusing conclusion: was your relationship with Seungcheol simply a distraction from his obligations to Jiwon?

“I can explain,” he began, his voice urgent as he stepped closer. You recoiled when he reached for you, looking straight at him with confusion and hurt. Instead of listening to his reassurances, you turned away, the sting of tears blurring your vision. You retreated into the bedroom, your footsteps thundering against the floor as you shut the door behind you, leaving Seungcheol’s voice echoing faintly in the hallway.

Your hands were shaking as you tugged on your clothes, every movement fueled by a whirlwind of emotions—hurt, confusion, and anger. You were just about to change when you felt Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you from behind, holding you tightly against him.

“Please don’t go,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, a hint of desperation softening his voice. “You said you want communication to be the foundation of our relationship, and yet you walk away when I try to do just that.” 

“I didn’t wanna hurt myself even more,” you muttered under your breath, but he heard you just fine.

His voice grew firmer. “I would never hurt you.”

“That’s too big of a promise,” you whispered, biting back fresh tears. “You already did.”

He sighed, and you reluctantly turned to face him, tears spilling over. “Is it true? Is she your fiance? Are you engaged to that woman?”

His expression softened, and he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “Yes, but—”

He held your gaze, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yes, but—”

Before he could finish, you slipped out of his hold, pulling on your own clothes as if it would shield you from him. Seungcheol reached for your arm again, but you swatted his hand away. Seemingly frustrated, he tugged your shoulders so you would face him.

“Please listen to me.” He reached for your arm again, frustration crossing his face as he gently tugged you to face him. “Jiwon is only engaged to me because of our families’ wishes. It’s a business arrangement, nothing more.”

You tried to absorb his words, but all you could think about was how little you actually knew about him. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re engaged to someone else.”

He sighed. “It’s not that hard to deal with it. I can even go ahead and break it off right now.”

You pushed him away, stepping back to keep a distance between you. “Alright, fine! Let’s say it is that easy to break it off, but that’s not the point, Cheol. You were engaged with another woman. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances were, the fact that you couldn’t tell me—your girlfriend—something so important? That is the problem!” 

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol sighed. “I never meant to keep it from you. I just want to protect you from all this chaos. I know I should’ve been honest from the start. I’m sorry.”

Your gaze didn’t falter, not even after his heartfelt apology. “I hardly know anything about you, Seungcheol. Who were you before becoming such a successful businessman? How did you grow up? What’s your family like? Did you have a good childhood? You never told me any of these things.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed, and he took a deep breath. “I thought it didn’t matter. My life was uninteresting until I met you.”

“But I want to be a part of your life, and for that to happen, you need to open yourself up to me the same way I’ve bared my heart and soul to you.” Your voice trembled as you spoke, frustration mingling with despair. “I don’t know what reasons you have, but all I know is that your refusal to share the intimate details about yourself implies that I am just a temporary phase in your wonderful life.”

“That’s not true!” Without hesitating, he reached out to cup your face. “I’ll bring you into my life. I’ll show you everything—my family, my past, my business. I want you to understand who I am, and I want you to be a part of it all.”

His sincerity pierced through the haze of hurt clouding your mind. You wanted to believe him, to trust that there was more to him than the wealth and the privilege that surrounded his world. But doubt still lingered in your heart.

“I swear,” he added, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. Just don’t walk away from me now.”

His words hung between you, a lifeline in the storm of confusion. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, a reminder of the connection you had built. It was fragile, but it was real. And in that moment, you wanted to fight for it.

You nodded slowly, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Okay. But you have to promise to be open with me. No more secrets.”

Relief flooded his features, his soft smile brimming with gratitude. “I promise.”

As you felt his arms around you again, you found yourself holding onto hope, even as questions lingered in your mind, waiting to be answered.

Seungcheol’s promise of taking you to meet his family came sooner than later. His parents always held a regular family dinner in the grand hall of their estate, the kind you’d only seen in movies. Chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over tables with silver cutlery that gleamed as if they’d never been touched. Seungcheol’s hand stayed firm around yours as you walked in/

He had told you about his family situation before coming here. His mother remarried when he was a kid, and while his stepfather wasn’t hard on him in any way, he wasn’t exactly affectionate either. And that lack of connection made Seungcheol feel distant from him, causing him to feel like he didn’t really belong in the family.

He leaned in, whispering, “Stay by my side, okay?” You nodded, but even his warmth couldn’t ward off the unease settling in your chest.

Seungcheol introduced you to his mother first, a graceful woman with soft eyes and a welcoming smile that made you feel at ease, if only briefly. “It’s so lovely to meet you,” she said, her hands clasping yours warmly. “Seungcheol’s told me about you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Just as she was about to say more, a tall, sharp-featured man walked over—the infamous stepdad. He nodded curtly, his handshake firm but impersonal. “So, you’re the one Seungcheol’s been seeing.” His voice was low, with an edge that made it hard to gauge if he was simply reserved or disapproving.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, and though he made no further comment, his cool gaze lingered on you for a moment before he turned away to greet another guest. You glanced at Seungcheol, who gave you a small, reassuring squeeze of your hand.

As the evening wore on, you began to feel the walls closing in. Each relative seemed to carry an opinion, judging you silently, as though Seungcheol’s mere association with you was an odd choice they couldn’t understand. While his parents were civil, the whispered conversations and lingering looks from his extended family didn’t go unnoticed by you.

As if that wasn’t enough, Jiwon was there too and she made her hostility impossible to ignore. She was seated just across the table, her gaze flicking over to you now and then with a displeased expression. Eventually, she leaned over when Seungcheol stepped away to speak with his mother.

“You surprise me, seriously,” she said, eyes sparkling with a smugness you couldn’t miss. “Where did you get the nerve to come here, meet his entire family, and act as if you would ever be an actual part of his life?”

You sighed, careful not to let your emotions show. “Say whatever you want. I’m here for Seungcheol, not you.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, lips curving in a faint smirk. “I hope you can keep that attitude. His parents may be civil, but everyone else?” Her eyes swept over the hall and you couldn’t help copying her. 

The unease in your chest transformed into an unsettling fear as you caught the sharp gazes of the other family members. It was as if you’d found yourself thrown into a den of venomous snakes waiting for a chance to attack.

“Seungcheol’s life is complicated, you see,” Jiwon said in your ear, her voice low. “If you think your love—or whatever you think you have, is enough to conquer all of this, then, good luck.”

You clenched your hands in your lap, holding back the urge to respond, knowing anything you said would only give her more satisfaction. The evening continued in much the same way, the subtle jabs and dismissive glances wearing you down. By the time Seungcheol returned to your side, you could barely manage a smile. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, brows furrowing as he noticed the strain in your expression.

You forced a nod. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

He sighed, eyes scanning the room as though seeing it through your eyes. “Do you wanna leave now?” he murmured. “We don’t have to stay here.”

His voice was reassuring, but it didn’t change the way you felt, and you weren’t sure anything could. Every glance, every whispered word, reminded you of the differences between you and the world Seungcheol lived in. Your heart felt heavy with the painful realization.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whispered, forcing a smile to at least offer comfort for him.

As you waited for Seungcheol to finish his goodbyes to his parents, an elderly aunt approached you, her lips pursed in a look of utter disapproval. She regarded you up and down, her eyes narrowing as though you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“So, you’re the fling,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. “That ungrateful brat. If he had even the tiniest ounce of self-respect, he wouldn’t parade some crook in front of the people who raised him.” She let out a dry chuckle, glancing pointedly at the oblivious Seungcheol. “He’s not even a part of this family. The least he could do was have enough decorum to not disrespect the fiance picked out for him.”

You felt the blood drain from your face at her words as they echoed bitterly in your mind, ripping through the thin layers of composure you had left. You thought you could endure it, but the attack on Seungcheol stung sharper than any quiet insult directed at you all evening.

As you settled into the car, a heavy silence lingered between you and Seungcheol. He shot a worried glance your way, brow furrowing as he took in your strained expression.

“What happened back there?” he asked, his voice gentle. 

You looked down, fiddling with your fingers. You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a shaky breath. It felt as though the right words were slipping through your fingers, too fragile to grasp. You took a deep breath, willing your heart to calm down.

Finally, you met his gaze, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “I don’t think I belong in your world, Seungcheol.”

His expression shifted, shock clouding his features. “What are you talking about? Of courses, you belong in my world. That there is not mine. It never was.”

You shook your head, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Your family, your friends… the life you come from—it’s so different from everything I know. Tonight just proved that to me, over and over again.” You paused, voice catching in your throat. “I can’t pretend like it doesn’t matter.”

“Who cares what they think?” he countered, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re not dating them, you’re with me. I’m not gonna lose you over this.”

The hurt in his voice tugged at your resolve, but the memories of those sneering faces and whispered words echoed in your mind. You bit your lip, unable to hold his gaze any longer. There was so much you wanted to say—how you didn’t want his family’s disapproval of you to affect how they saw him. The thought of him facing endless judgment and criticism for choosing you, no matter how strong he was, filled you with an aching guilt.

You looked out the car window, gathering your thoughts before speaking. Then, with a quiet voice, you asked, “Why did you date me, Seungcheol? If you knew everyone would be against it?”

Seungcheol’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he drove. “I don’t care what they think. I care about you. You’re the only one I want.”

His words felt sincere, but it only frustrated you more. “Just tell me why?” You turned to him, voice trembling. “Why did you stay in that remote hotel just to spend time with me? Why did you sleep with me? No—actually, let’s go back to the very beginning, why did you ask me to tell you about my exes in the first place?”

He pulled the car to a stop outside your building, silence stretching between you. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to hear it,” he admitted, his voice soft, almost uncertain. 

“Yes, but out of all the people, why me?” You leaned closer, searching his face for answers.

“Because I didn’t know what love is!” he burst out, cutting through your frustration. The rawness in his voice made you pause, your breath hitching at the vulnerability laid bare before you.

“I didn’t single you out. You just happened to be there, and I was desperate.” His frustration spilled over as he punched the heel of his palm on the steering wheel. “I didn't know what love felt like or how it looked. I had an idea, but it wasn’t enough to grasp the whole concept.”

You watched him, heart aching as he avoided your gaze as if it shamed him to tell you all of this. “I thought that maybe I just needed someone else’s perspective. Maybe if I could find someone who’s willing to let me in on their experience of love and being loved, I would come to understand it.”

“Cheol…” you trailed off, heart heavy with sympathy.

“I didn’t mean for it to be you,” he continued, eyes distant, lost in his memories. “You rejected my offer and that was it. I was ready to look elsewhere, but then you came to me and said you’d tell me. I was grateful and I looked forward to it. I was only there for the stories, for your perspective. But then… but then I saw you.”

His gaze flickered to yours, softening with affection. “I saw that you’re the type who wears your heart on your sleeve. I noticed how your eyes twinkled at the happy memories, how your face fell with the sad. You offered the most sensible insights about love and relationships—you made it so easy to understand.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he confessed, leaning his head back against the headrest, exhaling slowly as if releasing a weight. “But the more you spoke about love and its beauty, the stronger I was pulled toward you. You intrigued me, and made me curious about you. I stayed awake all night, looking forward to seeing you again and being greeted by that vibrant smile. I…”

Seungcheol took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours again, revealing the depth of his feelings. “I fell in love with you, and I didn’t even know that’s what it was until right now.”

You couldn’t find your tongue, utterly dumbfounded by his confession and the raw honesty he was willing to share. Your heart raced with confusion, empathy, and heartbreak, making it difficult to breathe. How could he feel this way yet remain so unaware of the consequences?

You wished you could fully embrace this moment, but the reality of the world outside felt suffocating. Would this love be enough to bridge the gap between your worlds? Did that world even matter when Seungcheol was ready to leave it all behind, defying everything just to be with you?

“Choi Seungcheol you…” you trailed off, and you never got to finish what you were supposed to say.

It has been over a year since you last came home. The familiar sights and sounds of your hometown wrapped around you like a warm embrace. You strolled through the tree-lined streets, savoring the laughter and chatter of families and children playing in the parks. Every corner held a memory, a fragment of your childhood and your youth, and it felt good to reconnect with your old life.

One afternoon, you decided to explore the downtown area, a vibrant hub that had seen its fair share of changes over the years, though it looked almost the same as when you left it last year as a heartbroken woman determined to pick yourself up from the god-awful slump you’d found yourself in. As you wandered through the streets, your heart swelled with nostalgia. The familiar shops, cafes, and the old movie theater brought back a flood of memories.

As you passed by the sleek glass building that housed Vernon’s company, a wave of pride washed over you. You couldn’t help but marvel at his accomplishments. You had always known he was meant to succeed, and it felt rewarding to see him thrive in a world that was once a part of you but not felt so distant. You paused for a moment, contemplating your lives, wondering how he was doing now. And while you hoped he was doing great, you had no intention of checking in on him. You knew better.

At home, after a cold shower, you found your phone buzzing incessantly on your bed. You opened a message notification and found yourself added to a group chat with your old friends from senior year of college. The lively banter and enthusiastic greetings flooded your screen, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Lea: 🎉 Heyyy guys! Guess who’s finally in the group chat?! Mina: My girlie! I missed you! Lea: I added her last because her account was deactivated a few days ago. So mysterious 😏 Seokmin: My honeybunch sugar plump! I missed you! You: you guys are so energetic lmao Hoshi: Hi hiiii! Don’t worry. It’s a bit awkward talking to your ex on here but it gets easier lol lol Mina: IDK. You’re the only one who feels that way. You: 😳 Can we not bring up exes? Seokmin: @/wonwoo Hoshi: @/wonwoo Junhui: @/wonwoo You: You know what guy? Fuck you Wonwoo: 😅😅😅

The conversation flowed effortlessly as you reminisced about inside jokes, embarrassing moments, and late-night study sessions. It felt like no time had passed at all.

Jill: What’s everyone up to these days? I feel like I’m in a time warp! Mina: I just got a promotion at work! 🎊 Now I’m officially a project manager! Seokmin: Nice, Minmina! What’s your secret? Mina: Coffee and panic!  Hoshi: Did you guys hear about Wonwoo? He’s working at a big company in London now! You: Really? That’s amazing! Junhui: Living his dream fr! Proud of you man! Hoshi: And he’s also dating a supermodel now, right? Seokmin: Ugh, goals. 🤩 Wonwoo: False. Guys don’t listen to him, he’s an idiot Mina: Some things never change. Hoshi: HEY LOW BLOW! YOU USED TO TELL ME I WAS YOUR IDIOT? Junhui: smells like a comeback

The chat continued to buzz with excitement as everyone chimed in, sharing their own updates and encouraging each other to reconnect. You felt a warmth spread through you, a reminder of the bonds that had shaped your past. You found out later on that Lea made the group chat to tell everyone she was getting married. You spent the rest of the afternoon lost in conversation, laughing and sharing memories.

On the fourth day of your weeklong leave, you walked down the busy sidewalk of the downtown area again, running an errand for your mom who had asked you to buy some bread. When you turned a corner, you almost collided with a couple exiting the same corner.

“Jiwon?” you exclaimed, stepping back in surprise. Of all the people you could run into, Jiwon was the last person you’d expected. “What are you doing here?” you asked, eyes flitting back and forth between her and the guy she was clinging on to.

“Hi! It’s been ages,” she greeted exaggeratedly, catching you off guard. She smiled, though you could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “I didn’t expect to run into you. Do you want to grab a coffee and catch up?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure where this was going. She turned to the man beside her. “She’s an old friend. Can you go back first? I wanna catch up with her for a bit.”

“Alright, no problem,” he chimed, kissing Jiwon briefly and then smiling at you before he walked away.

As you settled into a cozy café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you both. You were reluctant to join her, but curiosity got the best of you. She spoke first and the initial awkwardness began to fade as you exchanged pleasantries. But soon, she leaned forward, a serious expression on her face. 

Is she worried you’d tell someone that you saw her with another guy? Maybe. She was probably gonna ask that you keep it a secret. That was what you were thinking while she was hesitating to speak.

“Do you love Seungcheol?” she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. “What does that have to do with you?”

Jiwon sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world pressed down on her. “I just... I need to know if there’s a chance. I mean, if you could make it so we didn’t have to marry each other, that would be great.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help but challenge her. “That has nothing to do with me.”

She shook her head, frustration lining her features. “I’d hate to tell you this since we’re not close, but I’m the oldest in my family with no brothers, and misogyny is a thing that runs deep into my father and forefathers’ bloodstream. I could never be heir to my family’s estate so I have to marry a rich man and produce a male heir.”

You winced before you could stop yourself. What a backward way of thinking, you thought to yourself. But who am I to judge? “You’re free to follow your traditions.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t want to follow tradition. I don’t even want the estate. My boyfriend is wealthy too, but they preferred Seungcheol over anyone else.” She paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry for being mean to you before. I have no excuse. I just felt it was unfair that Seungcheol gets to openly date someone he genuinely liked while I can’t.”

You felt a surge of empathy for her, a realization that her harshness stemmed from her own insecurities and the pressure she faced. But you kept your thoughts to yourself, knowing that to her, any hint of pity would only feel like an insult.  While you empathize with her, that didn’t excuse her actions before. She was rude and mean, regardless of her personal problems, she had no right to take it out on other people. 

You leaned back in your chair, adopting an arrogant demeanor. “I’m not going to love Seungcheol to do you a favor. If that happens, the reason would simply be the fact that it’s how I really feel.”

Her expression faltered, surprise mixing with frustration.

“And honestly,” you continued, your voice steady, “I couldn’t care less about your issues, or what happens with the agreement between your families. If Seungcheol chooses me, then that’s all the reason I need to fight for our love.”

You didn’t want to tell her what to do, nor offer any advice—you were not in a level of familiarity where you could do that. You didn’t even want to confess your love for Seungcheol to anyone else, but it was your way of subtly supporting Jiwon’s pursuit of true love. It was up to her to interpret.

Jiwon looked down at her coffee, deep in thought. You hoped she was thinking about her options. “I guess that’s fair,” she murmured finally, her voice barely audible.

You watched her for a moment, curious about the vulnerability she’d hidden behind arrogance and pride. Perhaps, in another life, you could have been friends. But in this one, you were on opposing sides, each fighting for your own happiness.

As you walked home, the weight of your conversation with Jiwon lingered in your mind but you were feeling lighter as if a thorn had been pulled out of your chest. You pushed open the front gate, the familiar sound of creaking hinges echoing in the quiet evening. Your heart raced at the thought of what the future held for you and Seungcheol. You tried to get him out of your mind, but now you miss him so badly.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice and made you stop in your tracks. Standing at your front porch, silhouetted against the soft glow of the porch light, was Choi Seungcheol.

“Cheol?” you whispered, eyes wide. You took a step closer, your pulse quickening.

He sighed. “I know I said I’d give you time, and I promised not to bother you while you’re trying to collect your thoughts, but…” His voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability evident in his tone. “I can’t help it. I miss you so much I felt like I was gonna die.”

The sincerity in his words struck you like a bolt of lightning. It pierced through the confusion and doubt that had clouded your mind before you left him a few days ago.

You smiled, walking up to him and pulling him into a tight hug. Seungcheol hugged you back, gripping you so tight that it felt like you would soon melt into his very skin. With his tight embrace and the soft, slow kiss that followed, you knew you were ready to fight for your love, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

Your family took to Seungcheol like they’d known him for a long time. Watching him charm his way through conversations with your parents, sharing laughs with your siblings, you couldn’t help but feel pride swell in your chest. Seungcheol fit in effortlessly, his laughter echoing alongside theirs, his smile as warm and familiar as home itself. He would glance over at you, eyes shining with that unmistakable spark, and your heart would skip every time.

That evening, you invited him out for a walk after dinner, where he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he murmured your name again and again. His voice was soft, as if every syllable of your name was a song he needed to sing.

“You’ll be sick of that name if you don’t stop saying it,” you chided softly as you both settled on a park bench.

“You think so?” he asked, genuinely curious. “That can’t happen.”

You grinned as you watched him zip his mouth. When he glanced at you and saw you smiling, his eyes softened with immense affection. You took the chance to make fun of him. “You like me that much?”

Seungcheol didn’t say anything, instead he let out a long sigh of what sounded like relief and helplessness. That made you raise an eyebrow. “Okay, that’s too much. You’re exaggerating at this point.”

“Am I?” he questioned, more to himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so obsessed with you.”

“I think you’re trying to say you love me,” you quipped, leaning on his chest and basking in his warmth.

“Yes. Fuck that. I do,” he replied, tightening his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. “It’s true that I’m obsessed with you though.”

When it was time to return to the city, Seungcheol was practically vibrating with excitement. He bade your family goodbye, leaving with a promise to visit over the holidays. You sat in the train with him, reading a book with your head on his shoulder while he answered emails on his tablet.

Back in the city, your relationship reverted back to its usual steady course, navigating days of blissful highs and small, inevitable disagreements. Dinners were still a regular thing, though instead of the restaurants, you spent more of it in your homes, sharing home-cooked meals. You cooked together most of the time, laughter echoing in the kitchen as you worked together with ease. Sometimes, his busy schedule left him tired and withdrawn, but he’d still text you, asking about your day, eager to connect even in the smallest of ways. And whenever you argued, his sincerity cut through the tension—he’d listen, apologize if needed, and somehow make everything feel right again.

Your days were made special by small, loving gestures: the way he’d bring you your favorite coffee, or how he’d lean in to whisper something funny during a crowded gathering. You often made him his favorite food, even helping him keep a tidy appearance every day at work. He had sworn that he never needed sunscreen at work, but since you made him use some, Seungcheol has never stopped buying it regularly.

Through it all, he treated you the same—if anything, with more care and respect than ever before. Every little moment, every shared smile, built a quiet foundation of trust and affection, one that felt stronger with each passing day.

And today, as the glow of candlelight flickered across the apartment, you swayed gently with Seungcheol, your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, soft music filling the room. It had been a perfect evening: the surprise dinner, his careful planning, and the way he looked at you as though he couldn’t believe you were really there with him.

He held you close, his hands settling comfortably at your waist, pulling you just a little nearer. “Did you like the dinner?” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair.

“It was wonderful,” you replied, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Then, with a smirk, you looked up at him. “But if you’re planning to propose right now, please don’t. I’m not ready to even talk about it.”

He chuckled, his laugh vibrating against you as he shook his head. “Relax, I’m not proposing,” he said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “We’re not there yet. We still need plenty of time to figure things out.”

You were relieved to hear that, but even with his agreement, the idea was taking shape in your mind. You realized that you couldn’t imagine a future where he wasn’t beside you, bringing out a side of yourself that you’d thought had faded long ago. He was patient, steadfast, and the way he looked at you told you he was here to stay, whether or not there was a ring.

“I love you, Seungcheol,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “Before this, I thought I’d never find love again. I’d convinced myself that I was… I don’t know, incapable of this, given my history. I told myself that there’d never be anyone who would fit.” You hesitated, wondering if he would understand, if he could feel what you couldn’t quite say.

Seungcheol’s hand gently tilted your chin up so your eyes met his. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he said softly. “You were always going to find someone. I just got lucky that it was me.”

The corners of your mouth lifted, a warmth spreading through your chest. He was right there, looking at you as if you were all that mattered. This was more than just a moment, more than just the fleeting connection you had once feared it to be. Choi Seungcheol had somehow become the unexpected twist in your life, the chapter you hadn’t known you needed. And as the two of you continued to dance, you realized with quiet certainty that this was just the real beginning—your beginning, together.

[fin]

[saythenametotheworld]

Seungcheol and yn song is fast forward

do you mean fast forward by somi? bc a few hours after posting plot twist, i heard that song from my sister's bedroom and I was like "WAAAIT? THIS IS LITERALLY HBH SEUNGCHEOL!"

[saythenametotheworld]

Just finished plot twist. I cried so much, thanks a lot lol but seriously I loved it. I was so excited for this one, I knew it would be extra special! And mingyu again omg lol

THANK YOUUU! Also yeah mingyu... lmao it's an inside joke atp

[saythenametotheworld]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I just finished reading plot twist and I noticed that this time Seungcheol is the one who says he's obsessed with reader?????? She didn't have to say it herself????? Seungcheol straight up just admits it????? I dont know if you wrote it that way on purpose but OH MY FREAKIJG GOD I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH!

i didn't think anyone would notice but AAAAAAH! I kept going back to the previous chapters to see how I could better write Plot Twist and I found that she often teased them about being obsessed with her (didn't realize it was a recurring thing until I reread the first three)

i really appreciate you noticing something so minor. thanks a lot!