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thatfeelinwhenyou · 9 days ago

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THE TATTOO ON MY RING FINGER — sim jaeyun

His neglect wasn’t an accident—it was a choice, one you kept excusing as “busy” while swallowing your hurt and waiting for him to care enough to show up. The harsh truth? He simply didn't care enough to make the effort. Remember this, ladies: if he truly wanted to, he would. "Busy" is just another word for “asshole.” And “asshole” is another word for the man you’re married to.

word count: 22k

pairing: ceo!jake x fem!reader

featuring: enhypen, wonyoung from ive

genre: marriage of convenience, slow burn romance, enemies to lovers (kinda), second chance romance, angst

warnings: this story contains dynamics of a toxic relationship, angst and miscommunication at its peak, sensitive power dynamics, mild depictions of violence, themes of loneliness and low self-worth, implications of infidelity (no actual cheating), rich people drama, jake is kind of an asshole, sunghoon and wonyoung are married in this fic for plot purpose.

disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. If any context is similar to any other stories, it's either inspired (in which credit will be given) or just a coincidence. the characters' personalities, words, actions and thoughts do not represent them in real life. any resemblance to any real life events or person, present or past, are purely coincidental. i apologise in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. characters are aged up for plot purpose.

notes from nat: inspired by when the phone rings cause i love the colour red /hj. highly recommended to read with the playlist i curated in order! without further ado, enjoy!

tags: #tfwy thetattooonmyringfinger #tfwy au

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt @neocockthotology @Starryhani @aishisgrey @katarinamae @mitmit01 @youcancometome @cupiddolle

taglist. @heeheeyeoiizz01 @heeweenie @ritahyelee @catlicense @sumzysworld @heartheejake @httpenhoon @dreamiestay @baedreamverse @arusio @ywrens @tinycatharsis @blockbusterhee @xocandypoo @jaengwon @yvnempire @enhaverse713586 @bamguetismee @renaishun @yunhoswrldddd @zyvlxqht @jaems-left-toe

They say if he’s not calling, it’s because you’re not on his mind. The first time you heard it, you shrugged it off. Of course, it wasn’t true. He was busy, wasn’t he? Busy with work, with meetings, with people who needed his attention more than you did in that moment. You told yourself it wasn't personal when the texts became shorter, when the phone calls grew less frequent, when the hours between hearing from him stretched into days.

But over time, the silence becomes heavier. The excuses, sharper. If he promised to be home by eight and didn’t show until eleven, it was work. If he forgot to call when he said he would, it was exhaustion.

You let these small disappointments settle into the cracks of your relationship, a habit you didn’t even notice forming until you could barely remember what it felt like to be a priority.

You tell yourself he’s under pressure, that he’s got a lot on his plate. But deep down, there’s a gnawing thought that won’t leave you alone: If he wanted to, he would. If he cared, he’d show up. Not just in the big moments, but in the small, forgettable ones—the ones that don’t require much but say everything. A text to check in, a call to ask how your day went. Something to remind you that you matter, that you still have a place in the life he leads without you.

But the truth settles in like a bitter cold creeping under your skin: he doesn’t think about you the way you think about him.

When he’s late, when he misses promises, when he leaves you waiting—it’s not a fluke. It’s a choice. And the more you excuse it, the more he learns that it’s okay to disappoint you, that your needs can always wait. He’s fine with it because he doesn’t have to feel the weight of your frustration, your sadness, your growing resentment.

"Busy" has become his favourite shield, his go-to excuse for everything. But “busy” is just another way of saying, "I don’t care enough." “Busy” is what he hides behind when he doesn’t want to confront the fact that he’s letting you down, over and over again.

And each time, you forgive him. Each time, you swallow your hurt, tell yourself it’s not a big deal, and convince yourself to wait a little longer for him to make the effort you’re aching for.

But deep down, you know. "Busy" is another word for “asshole.” And “asshole” is another word for the man you’re married to.

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

A marriage of convenience—that’s what you call this arrangement with Sim Jaeyun. It’s the only thing you can call it. Nothing about it feels real. No feelings. No chemistry. No intimacy. Just labels and the sweet, sweet promise of partnership, sweetened further by the monetary incentive that comes with it.

A deal dressed up as love.

At least, that’s how Jaeyun sees it. For you, it wasn’t always so simple.

You entered this marriage with no great love for him, true enough. Just a sense of duty and loyalty to your parents, to the company, to everything you’ve been raised to uphold as the eldest daughter of your family.

Jaeyun’s aloofness during your first meeting confirmed your suspicions that he felt the same. He was another child born with a silver spoon, another soul sacrificed to family ambition. Like you, he couldn’t complain about marrying someone he didn’t love because his parents had done it before him.

Putting aside the whole nature of your marriage, Jaeyun wasn’t a bad man.

In fact, he was decent. Polished. Accomplished. Sim Jaeyun had graduated summa cum laude from an Ivy League and, at twenty-eight, was already a legend in business circles.

They called him The Prodigy—a nickname that reverberated in the boardrooms of the elite. Women flocked to him, drawn by his sharp intellect, his undeniable charm, and, of course, his devastating good looks.

You’d rather bite your tongue than admit it, but he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Sim Jaeyun could make anyone’s heart race with just a glance. If you had to be forced into this sham of a marriage, at least you could say you were tied to someone who didn’t make you cringe every time you looked at him.

In the beginning, you played your roles so well that even you almost believed it.

To the press, to the public, you were the Dreamlike Couple. The perfect pair. You—poised and graceful, the epitome of elegance. Him—driven and magnetic, a man at the pinnacle of success. Together, you seemed untouchable, the kind of pairing that only existed in fairy tales.

It was a dream. For a time.

Marrying into the Sim family meant becoming the perfect housewife, a shadow to Jaeyun’s brilliance. Your days revolved around him—ensuring his comfort, supporting his exhausting nine-to-five (more like nine-to-midnight) grind.

And in return, Jaeyun played his part too. He brought you flowers, sat across from you at candlelit dinners, and whisked you away for picture-perfect dates on the rare weekends he wasn’t buried in work.

It wasn’t love, but it was enough. And slowly, against all your better instincts, you fell for him.

You fell for him—not all at once, but slowly, like the steady drip of a leaking faucet, each drop carving its way into your heart.

It was in the small, unexpected moments: the way his eyes softened when he asked if you were settling in well, the rare, fleeting smile that lit up his otherwise composed face, the quiet patience with which he listened when you nervously rambled about your day.

He was kind in ways that felt almost invisible, offering you a coat when you forgot yours, leaving your favourite coffee on the counter without a word, defending you in meetings with his parents when they criticised your choices. It wasn’t the grand gestures that pulled you in, but the subtleties—the way he seemed to remember the little things about you, like the books you loved or the songs that made you hum along absentmindedly.

You started to believe, naively perhaps, that behind the formalities and the distance, there was something real. Something that could grow.

And in those moments, you let your guard down, foolishly allowing hope to slip through the cracks of your carefully constructed defences.

But what started as a dream turned into a slow-brewing nightmare.

It took a year.

Just one year for the cracks in Jaeyun’s performance to show. Maybe he got tired of pretending. Maybe the strain of coming home to a wife he didn’t love became too much. Whatever it was, the distance between you started to grow.

The flowers stopped coming. The dinners grew silent, then ceased altogether. Dates became a thing of the past. The man who once made you feel like you were part of his world now barely acknowledged your existence.

You tried to rationalise it at first. He was busy, wasn’t he? Work was demanding. Meetings ran late. Deadlines piled up. Days would pass without a word from him.

But the excuses only held for so long. Because deep down, you knew. If Jaeyun wanted to, he would. If he cared, he’d find the time. He wouldn’t leave you sitting alone at the dinner table or waiting for a call that never came. He wouldn’t let the silence stretch until it swallowed what little connection you had left.

And yet, you forgave him. Over and over again. Each missed promise. Each broken gesture. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that you could bear it. But with every disappointment you let slide, Jaeyun learned he could let you down without consequence.

Now, as you lie awake in the vast emptiness of your bed—yes, your bed, in your room, the one he rarely steps foot in anymore—you can’t help but wonder: Was it ever real? Did he ever try, even for a moment? Or had he always been this indifferent, just more skilled at masking it in the beginning?

Sim Jaeyun—the prodigy, the golden boy, the man you once dared to believe you could build a life with—has become little more than a stranger. A stranger who wears a ring that matches yours, yet feels worlds apart. And here you are, left holding the shattered pieces of a marriage that, in truth, was never whole to begin with.

You should’ve known, from the moment he slipped that ring onto your finger—a ring just a fraction too tight—that you were always going to feel suffocated. It was a perfect metaphor, really.

Now, every time you return home—whether it’s from mingling with the polished wives of his business partners, or from a solitary stroll in the park—you make a ritual of sliding the ring off, desperate to feel untethered, if only for a little while.

But no matter how many times you remove it, you can never truly escape him. Because the ring, with the way it pressed into your skin, leaves its imprint—a faint indentation that lingers long after it’s gone, marking you not as a partner but as a possession of the Sim family.

It feels like a cruel irony, that even without the ring, Sim Jaeyun’s grasp remains, his mark on you inerasable, etched into your skin and your soul like a tattoo.

The clock on the wall ticks steadily, mocking you with its rhythmic precision as the evening stretches into night. The once-flickering hope you’d clung to—that Jaeyun might remember this day—has long since withered, replaced by a familiar, hollow ache.

The dining table is set, the soft glow of candles casting shadows across the untouched plates. You’d debated with yourself earlier, wondering if it was worth the effort. But some stubborn part of you refused to let the day pass unnoticed.

After all, it’s your wedding anniversary. Even if Jaeyun doesn’t care, you do.

By the time the clock strikes eleven, the candles have burned low, the food long gone cold. You sit in the dim light, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, willing yourself not to cry.

When the front door finally opens, the faint sound of Jaeyun’s footsteps echoes through the house. He steps into the living room, his tie loosened and his hair slightly disheveled.

He looks tired—no, careless. He doesn’t even notice the table or the candles.

"You’re still awake?" he asks, his tone neutral, almost surprised.

You rise slowly, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you. "It’s our anniversary, Jaeyun."

He freezes, his brows knitting together as if trying to recall something important. The blank look on his face confirms what you already knew. He forgot.

"Shit," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’m sorry. Work was crazy today. I didn’t—"

"Don’t," you cut him off, your voice trembling. "Don’t tell me it was work. Don’t make another excuse."

He looks at you, clearly unprepared for the edge in your tone. "It’s not an excuse. I was genuinely busy."

"Busy," you repeat, the word dripping with bitterness. "You’re always busy, Jaeyun. Too busy to call, too busy to show up, too busy to even remember the day we got married. Do you even care at all?"

His expression hardens, and he steps closer, his tone defensive. "Of course I care. But I have responsibilities, and I can’t just drop everything—"

"Responsibilities?" you snap, your voice rising. "What about your responsibility to me? To this marriage? Or does that come last, after work and meetings and everything else that apparently matters more than I do?"

"You act like I don’t try," he snaps, his tone sharper now. "I work my ass off to give us a good life, to make sure you have everything you need."

"I don’t need your money, Jaeyun!" you shout, your anger finally spilling over. "I need you! I need a husband who shows up, who cares, who remembers things that matter. But instead, I get this—this stranger who walks through the door whenever he feels like it and expects me to be okay with it."

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re overreacting."

The words hit you like a slap. "Overreacting?" you echo, incredulous. "You think I’m overreacting because I’m upset that you forgot our anniversary? Because I’m tired of being the only one who gives a damn about this marriage?"

His eyes darken, and his frustration boils over. "That’s because it isn’t real!" he snaps, his words slicing through the air like a blade.

You freeze, the weight of his admission sinking into your chest.

"This marriage," he continues, his tone sharp and unrelenting, "was never about love. It was a deal. You knew that going in. So don’t stand there acting like I owe you something I never promised."

His words hit you like a sledgehammer to the face, leaving you momentarily breathless.

"I knew what it was," you say, your voice shaking but steadying as the anger flares in your chest. "But I didn’t sign up to be treated like I’m invisible. I didn’t agree to be an afterthought, Jaeyun. I’ve been trying—trying—to make this work. And what have you done? You’ve shut me out. You’ve made it clear, over and over, that I don’t matter."

Jaeyun exhales harshly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t mean it like that," he mutters.

"Yes, you did," you say, your voice soft but cold. "And that’s the worst part. You meant every word."

The silence between you is deafening. Jaeyun doesn’t apologise, doesn’t take back what he said. He just stands there, his expression unreadable, as if waiting for the conversation to end.

Finally, Jaeyun exhales, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don’t know what you want me to say," he mutters.

"I don’t want you to say anything," you reply, your voice quieter now but no less firm. "I want you to do something. But I don’t think you’re capable of that, are you?"

He doesn’t answer, and the silence feels like confirmation.

You swallow the lump in your throat, tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. "I don’t know why I keep hoping for more from you," you whisper. "You’ve made it clear that I��ll never get it."

Without waiting for his response, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the living room. The weight in your chest grows heavier with each step, but you don’t look back. Once inside your room, you close the door softly behind you, the sound somehow softer than the silence that follows.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you let out a shaky breath and yank the ring off your finger as if it’s searing your skin. It’s almost instinctual, the need to rid yourself of the weight of it—the reminder of promises that were never real. You clutch the ring tightly in your palm for a moment before tossing it onto the nightstand with a dull clink.

You stare down at your hand, at the faint imprint left behind, the tattoo burned into your ring finger. No matter how many times you take the ring off, the mark remains, mocking you with its permanence.

A bitter laugh escapes your lips as tears prick your eyes, the ache in your chest impossible to ignore. You press your hands to your face, trying to smother the sob threatening to break free.

Back in the living room, the faint crackle of dying candles echoes in the stillness. Jaeyun doesn’t follow. He doesn’t knock on the door, doesn’t call your name. He stays where you left him, as he always does, letting the silence speak for him.

The last candle sputters out, plunging the house into darkness. You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your chest hollow but your mind racing.

The ring is now firmly back on your finger, snug against the faint tattoo that refuses to fade.

You sit outside the café you frequent so often that the barista doesn’t even ask for your order anymore, simply bringing your tea the way you like it. The faint clink of ceramic against the table pulls you from your thoughts, and you wrap your hands around the warm cup, as if it can somehow melt the cold ache inside you.

You stir your tea aimlessly, watching the steam spiral into the cool autumn air. Across from you, Wonyoung sits with her usual effortless grace, her beige trench coat draped neatly over her chair, her gold earrings catching the soft light.

"Alright," Wonyoung begins, placing her cup down with a decisive clink. "Spill. You’ve had that look on your face all morning. What’s going on?"

You sigh, leaning back in your chair as the weight of her gaze settles on you. Wonyoung isn’t just your best friend—she’s family now, married to your brother, Sunghoon. That makes her one of the few people who can truly see through you, no matter how much you try to hide.

"It’s nothing," you mutter, though your voice betrays you.

"That’s a terrible lie, and you know it," she says, narrowing her eyes. "Is it Jaeyun again?"

The mention of his name sends a pang through your chest, and you glance away, focusing on the street outside. "It’s always Jaeyun," you admit quietly. "I feel like… I’m stuck. He doesn’t care, Wonyoung. About me, about us, about anything that isn’t his work or his image. Yesterday was the three year anniversary of our marriage. He forgot, and I don’t even know why I’m still trying."

Her jaw tightens, her usually soft expression hardening in a way you rarely see. "That bastard," she mutters under her breath, leaning forward. "You know, I’ve been keeping my mouth shut for months because I didn’t want to overstep, but I’m this close to calling him out. He doesn’t deserve you. Not even a little."

You try to smile, but it’s weak, and the ache in your chest doesn’t ease. "It’s not that simple," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I signed up for this. I knew what it was. And he’s not awful, you know? He’s just… distant. Cold."

Wonyoung reaches across the table, her hand warm as it wraps around yours. Her grip is firm, grounding. "Listen to me," she says, her voice steady and fierce. "You deserve more than 'not awful.' You deserve someone who looks at you the way Sunghoon looks at me when I burn toast. Like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them, no matter how messy or imperfect things get."

Her words bring a faint smile to your lips. You’ve always envied the dynamic between Wonyoung and Sunghoon—how they somehow balance each other perfectly. "You and Sunghoon," you say softly, "you make it look so easy."

Wonyoung chuckles, leaning back in her chair. "It wasn’t always like that. Do you remember how we met?"

You nod vaguely, but she doesn’t wait for an answer.

"It was at one of those insufferable charity galas," she says, rolling her eyes. "I was cornered by some overzealous CEO trying to pitch his latest venture, and Sunghoon swooped in out of nowhere, pretending we were old friends to rescue me."

A small laugh escapes you as you picture it. "Classic Sunghoon."

"Right?" Wonyoung grins. "I thought he was just being polite, but then he started showing up at every event I attended. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but your brother isn’t exactly subtle."

"He’s not," you agree with a smile.

"One day, he asked me to dinner—no pretense, no excuse. Just, ‘Wonyoung, let’s go out.’ And… I don’t know. He wasn’t like the other guys. He didn’t treat me like some prize to win or a business deal to close. He just wanted me."

The warmth in her voice tugs at something in your chest, a bittersweet ache. "And the rest is history," you say softly.

"Not quite." Wonyoung smirks. "Do you know he proposed to me on the ice rink? He can barely skate, but he insisted on doing it there because I mentioned once how much I loved skating as a kid. He spent more time falling than kneeling."

The image of your brother—stoic, composed Sunghoon—fumbling on the ice (LOL) makes you laugh, the sound spilling out unexpectedly.

"That’s Sunghoon for you," you say, shaking your head. "Always dramatic."

"But always sincere," Wonyoung says, her expression softening. "And that’s my point. Love isn’t about grand gestures or perfection. It’s about showing up, every day, even when it’s hard. Jaeyun doesn’t do that for you, and it breaks my heart to see you settling for so little when you deserve so much more.

Her analogy draws a laugh from you, even if it’s faint. "It’s not like I can just leave," you say softly. "You know how our families are. It would be a scandal. And, honestly, what would I even do? This marriage is all I have right now."

"No," Wonyoung says sharply, her voice cutting through your doubt. "You are so much more than this marriage. And if Jaeyun or your family can’t see that, then screw them."

Her conviction startles you, and you blink at her, taken aback. Wonyoung is always poised, diplomatic, rarely letting her emotions boil over. But now her eyes burn with a protectiveness that makes your throat tighten.

"You know what you need?" she says, her tone softening slightly. "A break. Come stay with Sunghoon and me for a while. I’ll make him cook for us—he owes me after shrinking my favourite sweater last week."

You chuckle despite yourself, the image of Sunghoon fumbling in the kitchen almost absurd. "Sunghoon? Cooking? Are you trying to punish me?"

Wonyoung grins, mischief flickering in her eyes. "Okay, fine, I’ll cook. But seriously, think about it. You don’t have to keep carrying this weight on your own. I’m here. Always."

Her words settle over you like a blanket, warm and reassuring. Wonyoung has always been your safe haven, her loyalty a reminder that not everyone in your life sees you as a means to an end.

"Thanks, Wony," you say softly, giving her hand a small squeeze.

"Anytime," she replies, her smile warm and genuine. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she leans back in her chair. "Now, let’s talk about something that doesn’t make me want to hunt Jaeyun down and throttle him. Did you see the dress Jennie wore to that gala last week? Gorgeous, but the heels—ugh, pure torture."

You laugh, grateful for the change in topic. For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest feels lighter. Wonyoung chats animatedly, her presence a rare moment of warmth in the cold, suffocating reality of your life.

The house is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. You sit curled up on the couch, a book open in your lap, though the words blur together as your thoughts wander. The faint scent of candles lingers in the air, remnants of a night spent trying to make this house feel like a home.

When the front door opens, you don’t look up immediately. Jaeyun steps inside, his footsteps heavy against the hardwood floor. You can hear him shrug off his coat and place his bag on the console table, his movements measured. He doesn’t call out for you, and you wonder if he assumes you’re already asleep.

It isn’t until he steps into the living room that you glance up. His tie is loosened, and his shirt is slightly wrinkled—a rare imperfection in the man who always seems so put-together.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice hesitant.

You close your book, setting it aside as you nod. "Hi."

Jaeyun stands there for a moment, his hands in his pockets, as if unsure how to proceed. The silence stretches, the weight of your last argument hanging between you like an unwelcome guest.

"Can we talk?" he finally asks, his tone tentative.

You sit up straighter, your heart tightening. "What about?"

He exhales, running a hand through his hair as he sits down on the armchair across from you. "About us," he says, his gaze flickering to yours. "About everything."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, hope flutters in your chest. Maybe he’s ready to finally have the conversation you’ve been waiting for.

"Okay," you say quietly, folding your hands in your lap.

"I know I’ve been… distant," Jaeyun begins, his voice low. "And I know it’s been hard for you. For us. But I’m trying, I really am."

You nod, though the words feel empty, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. "What does ‘trying’ mean to you, Jaeyun?"

He hesitates, his brow furrowing. "It means I’m doing everything I can to balance everything. Work, this marriage—"

"Work," you cut in, your tone sharper than you intended. "It always comes back to work, doesn’t it?"

Jaeyun frowns, leaning forward slightly. "It’s not just about work. You know how demanding my job is. It’s not like I can just drop everything."

"I’m not asking you to drop everything," you say, your voice trembling with frustration. "I’m asking you to show up. To put me first, just once. To prove that this marriage means something to you beyond a contract."

"I do care," he insists, his voice rising slightly. "Why do you think I work so hard? I’m doing this for us—for you."

"No, Jaeyun," you reply, shaking your head. "You’re doing this for you. For your image, for your career. Don’t pretend this is about us when you can’t even remember the last time you asked me how I’m doing."

He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it, his jaw tightening. "I’m trying," he says again, but it sounds more like a defense than a promise.

You lean back against the couch, the faint hope you felt earlier slipping through your fingers. "Trying isn’t enough," you say softly.

The words hang in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Jaeyun looks at you, his expression conflicted, as if he’s searching for something to say that will fix this. But instead, he leans back in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests.

"I have a big meeting tomorrow," he says finally, his tone almost apologetic. "But we can talk more after. Okay?"

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you look away. "Of course," you murmur. "After work."

Jaeyun flinches at the sarcasm in your voice but doesn’t argue. Instead, he stands, running a hand through his hair as he glances toward the hallway. "I’ll see you in the morning," he says quietly before walking away.

You don’t respond, your gaze fixed on the flickering candle on the coffee table. The room feels emptier than it did before he arrived, the silence colder, more suffocating.

The sound of his footsteps fades as he retreats to his office, leaving you alone with the oppressive quiet of the house. The weight of his absence feels heavier than the space he occupied just moments ago, pressing down on your chest.

You’re angry. Furious, even. The kind of anger that comes not from one isolated hurt but from countless small disappointments piling up into something unbearable. You feel wronged, neglected, like a ghost haunting a house that was never really yours to begin with.

To make matters worse, his words from yesterday night echo in your mind, sharp and cutting: "This marriage isn’t real."

And you’re reminded—again—of what you shouldn’t need reminding of. Jaeyun wasn’t wrong. This marriage, with its polished façade and perfect pretenses, was built on nothing but a deal. A contract. A partnership that never promised love, only convenience.

You shouldn’t be holding him to the vows he read off a script prepared by his secretary, each word meticulously chosen for the press release that followed your wedding. You shouldn’t be expecting more from him when you went into this deal without any expectations.

He’s right, as always. He always is.

You just hate to admit it.

You hate that you’ve let yourself forget the terms. Hate that you’ve let hope slip through the cracks and take root where it was never meant to grow. You hate that his indifference, while expected, still feels like rejection. And you hate that despite everything—despite the truth you’ve known from the beginning—you still feel like you’ve been betrayed.

Jaeyun didn’t lie to you. He didn’t promise anything he hasn’t delivered. You’re the one who strayed from the script, letting feelings creep in where they had no business being.

But even knowing that, the ache doesn’t fade. It settles deeper, rooting itself in your chest like a splinter you can’t quite remove.

It’s fake, you tell yourself again. But no matter how many times you repeat it, it doesn’t feel any less real to you.

The house feels colder now, the weight of Jaeyun’s indifference wrapping around you like a heavy fog. In the distance, you can faintly hear Jaeyun moving around in his office, his presence more distant than the sound of wind outside your window.

You sit on the couch, staring at nothing in particular, your thoughts circling back to the offer Wonyoung extended to you at the café.

It hits you like a revelation, though it shouldn’t. Some time away from Jaeyun, from this house, from the constant ache of trying and failing, might be exactly what you need. You exhale sharply, almost laughing at yourself. Geez, what took you so long to figure that out?

Before you can second-guess the idea, you pick up your phone and dial Wonyoung’s number. She answers on the first ring.

"Hey," she says brightly, as if she’s been waiting for your call.

"Is your offer still open?" you ask hesitantly, gripping the phone tighter.

"Of course it is," she replies without missing a beat. "When do you want me to pick you up?"

"Now?" you say, wincing slightly at how desperate you sound.

"Perfect," she chirps. "Give me ten minutes."

And she delivers, just as she always does. Not even ten minutes later, you hear the low purr of a car engine outside your gate. You peek out the window to see Wonyoung and her bright pink Porsche, the car gleaming under the streetlights. She’s leaning against the driver’s side door, sunglasses perched softly atop her nose, her effortless glamour making her look like she’s stepped out of a magazine shoot.

She waves when she spots you. "Come on!" she calls, her voice light but filled with purpose. "Grab your things and get in."

You hesitate for a moment, glancing back at the house. It’s quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, oppressive. You don’t even know if Jaeyun has noticed you’re still sitting out here, much less that you’re about to leave.

Shaking off the thought, you grab an overnight bag you’d hastily packed and head out. As you reach the car, Wonyoung slides her sunglasses down slightly to look at you, her expression softening.

"You don’t have to explain anything right now," she says, opening the passenger door for you. "Just get in."

You slip into the car, the plush leather seats a stark contrast to the cold, hard reality you’ve been living. As soon as you’re buckled in, Wonyoung cranks up the music—a pop song you vaguely recognise—and pulls away from the gate with a flourish.

"You did the right thing," she says after a moment, glancing over at you. "Sometimes, you just need space to see things clearly."

You nod, though the knot in your chest hasn’t quite loosened. Still, as the familiar streets blur past and Wonyoung’s confident energy fills the car, you feel the faintest flicker of relief.

The soft hum of the kettle fills Wonyoung and Sunghoon’s kitchen, blending with the faint sound of rain tapping against the window. Wonyoung hums as she busies herself making tea, while you sit at the counter, wrapped in a blanket she insisted you take the moment you arrived. It’s warm here—not just from the heater, but from the unmistakable feeling of being cared for, a sensation you’ve been starved of for far too long.

"I swear, this house is the only place where I don’t feel like I’m suffocating," you admit softly, watching the steam curl up from your cup.

"You’re always welcome here," Wonyoung says, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Even if Sunghoon pretends to be annoyed, you know he loves having you around."

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs interrupts her, and Sunghoon appears in the doorway, his hair damp from a shower. His sharp features are set in an expression of irritation that immediately reminds you of how he looked when you were both kids and he’d caught someone picking on you.

"You’re staying the weekend, right?" Sunghoon asks, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe.

You hesitate, fiddling with the edge of your blanket. "If it’s okay. I don’t want to impose—"

"Impose?" Sunghoon cuts you off, his voice firm. "You think you’re imposing by needing space from that asshole? Please. Stay as long as you want."

You wince slightly at his tone. Sunghoon rarely speaks about Jaeyun directly, but you know he’s never approved of how distant your marriage has become. And now, with you physically seeking refuge in his home, it seems his patience has run out.

"Sunghoon," Wonyoung warns gently, though she’s clearly on your side.

"No, babe, she needs to hear this," Sunghoon says, stepping closer. His dark eyes meet yours, softening just slightly. "You deserve so much better than how he treats you. I’ve kept quiet because I thought maybe he’d figure it out, but he hasn’t. And I don’t know what it’ll take for you to realise that you’re too good for him."

"Sunghoon," you mumble, feeling a lump rise in your throat.

"You’ve given him everything," he continues, his voice tight with anger, "and what has he done? He keeps you at arm’s length, barely puts in the effort, and makes you question your own worth. If he can’t see how incredible you are, then screw him."

"Sunghoon, that’s enough," Wonyoung says firmly, though her eyes flick to you with concern.

Sunghoon exhales, running a hand through his hair. "I’m sorry," he mutters, his tone softening. "I just… I hate seeing you like this. You’re my sister. I’m supposed to protect you."

You blink rapidly, fighting back tears. "I know," you whisper. "And I appreciate it. But it’s complicated."

"It doesn’t have to be," he replies, his voice low.

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes on the counter. The screen lights up with a notification, and your stomach twists when you see the name: Jaeyun.

Wonyoung leans over, glancing at the screen. "Let me guess," she says dryly. "He’s just now noticing you’re not home."

You bite your lip, hesitating before picking up the phone. The message is short, as always.

Jaeyun: Where are you?

It’s not the words that make your chest tighten, but the tone you imagine as you read them—detached, almost transactional. There’s no concern, no affection. Just a question, as if you’re a misplaced item he needs to locate.

Sunghoon notices your reaction immediately. "What did he say?" he asks, his voice sharp again.

You hold up the phone, showing him the message. His expression darkens, and Wonyoung sighs, placing a hand on his arm.

"Don’t," she says softly.

"I’m not going to text him," Sunghoon snaps. "But if he thinks he can just demand to know where she is after everything—"

"Sunghoon, please," you interject, your voice shaky. "It’s fine. I’ll… I’ll handle it."

"No, it’s not fine," he says firmly. "But I get it. Just don’t let him guilt you into going back before you’re ready, okay?"

You nod, though your fingers tremble as you type out a response.

You: I’m staying at Sunghoon’s for the weekend.

It feels like a small act of defiance, but even hitting send makes your heart race. You place the phone face down on the counter, half-expecting an immediate reply.

"Good," Wonyoung says, her voice gentle. "Let him sit with that. He needs to know you’re not going to drop everything for him anymore."

"She’s right," Sunghoon adds. "And if he tries anything, you know I’ll handle it."

"If our parents finds out you’re always trying to start shit with Jaeyun, they’d be furious," you half-joke, swirling the tea in your cup. There’s a thin thread of humour in your voice, but it’s tied to a hard truth you both know too well. Your parents owe their entire business to the Sim family.

At the edge of bankruptcy, your marriage to Sim Jaeyun had been the final card they could play, a lifeline they clung to when everything else was crumbling. It worked, of course. The Sims, with their wealth and power, lifted your family’s business from ruin.

And in this, as in so many other things, you lose to Sim Jaeyun.

Be it in this sham of a marriage, in the tenuous stability of your family’s finances, you know the Sims don’t need you. Not really. Not as much as you need them.

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, his expression darkening. "You know I never agreed to marrying you off to that family, despite the consequences," he says, his voice low but resolute.

"I know," you reply softly, your gaze falling to your cup. "You got into a huge fight with Father over it. But you also know I’d do it anyway, even if you tried to stop me."

"Unfortunately, you’re as stubborn as a mule," he mutters, though his tone is fond. He exhales sharply, his brow furrowing. "But I hope you know you’re not tied down to this marriage anymore. Our family’s doing significantly better than it was three years ago, with or without the Sim backing us up. You can divorce him, if you want to."

The words hit you harder than you expect. Divorce. You’ve thought about it in the quiet corners of your mind, but hearing Sunghoon say it aloud feels different. It feels real.

"I’ll… sit on it," you say after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon studies you carefully, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. He knows you too well, knows that even though Jaeyun pretends you don’t exist most of the time, you’re still hanging onto that faint, stubborn hope that things might go back to how they were in the beginning. Even if you can’t admit it to yourself.

He doesn’t push. He simply nods, leaning forward to rest a hand on your shoulder. "Just remember, you’re not alone in this," he says firmly. "Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back."

You manage a small smile, the lump in your throat easing slightly. For the first time in a long while, you feel supported—truly supported.

As the rain continues to patter against the windows, Wonyoung pulls you into a conversation about dinner plans, her voice light and teasing as she asks Sunghoon to attempt making something edible for once. The tension in the room softens, and for a brief moment, you let yourself breathe.

Your phone buzzes faintly on the table, and your heart skips when you see Jaeyun’s name. The message isn’t anything special—nothing more than a curt reply to the one you sent earlier. It’s impersonal, distant, but you tell yourself it’s enough.

At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The house is eerily quiet when you step inside, the echo of your keys hitting the console table filling the space. You kick off your shoes and glance around, expecting the usual stillness of a house that’s more empty than lived-in. Jaeyun should already be at work. It’s Monday morning, and his schedule is usually airtight at the start of the week.

You place your weekend bag by the stairs, your chest feeling lighter than it has in months. The time with Wonyoung and Sunghoon had been a breath of fresh air, a reprieve from the weight of this house and everything it represents.

But as you make your way toward the kitchen, something feels… off.

The air is heavy, and there’s no sign of the usual orderliness Jaeyun insists on. A mug sits abandoned on the counter, and his shoes are still by the door—things that wouldn’t be there if he’d left for the office.

Curious, you make your way upstairs, the faintest sense of unease prickling at your skin. The door to Jaeyun’s room is slightly ajar, and when you push it open, your breath catches.

He’s there, lying in bed, his usually impeccable appearance replaced by disheveled hair and a pale complexion. The blanket is pulled up to his chin, and the faint flush on his cheeks tells you everything you need to know.

He’s sick.

"Jaeyun?" you say softly, stepping into the room.

He stirs at the sound of your voice, his eyelids fluttering open. His usual sharp gaze is dulled, clouded by fever. "You’re back," he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

"I thought you’d be at work," you say, approaching the bed cautiously.

He lets out a weak chuckle that quickly dissolves into a cough. "I tried," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Made it as far as the shower before I gave up."

For a moment, you’re not sure what to do. This is new territory for both of you. But then something shifts inside you, something instinctive. You sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out to press the back of your hand to his forehead.

"You’re burning up," you say, frowning. "Why didn’t you call someone?"

"I didn’t think it was that bad," he mutters, closing his eyes again.

You sigh, standing up and glancing around the room. "Stay here. I’ll be back."

His lips twitch, almost as if he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you leave, his usually stoic expression softening ever so slightly.

You return a few minutes later with a damp cloth, a glass of water, and the medicine you keep stocked in the kitchen. Jaeyun doesn’t protest as you sit beside him again, carefully pressing the cloth to his forehead.

"You don’t have to do this," he says, though his voice lacks conviction.

"I know," you reply simply.

He watches you for a moment, his gaze softer than you’re used to. "Thank you," he murmurs.

You nod, focusing on your task. There’s a quiet intimacy in the moment, the kind you haven’t felt in a long time.

As you help him sit up to take the medicine, his hand brushes against yours, and for a second, neither of you moves. It’s such a small, fleeting thing, but it feels monumental in the stillness of the room.

"You’ve done this before," he says suddenly, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You raise an eyebrow. "Taken care of someone who’s sick? Of course."

"No," he says, shaking his head slightly. "You. You’re… good at this. Gentle."

The comment catches you off guard, and you glance away, busying yourself with adjusting the blanket. "It’s nothing," you say quietly.

But Jaeyun doesn’t let it drop. "It’s not nothing," he says, his voice softer now. "I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that about you before."

The words hang between you, and for the first time in years, you see something in his expression that isn’t indifference or frustration. It’s gratitude.

"Rest," you say, deflecting the moment as you stand. "I’ll check on you later."

"Wait," he says, his voice stopping you in your tracks.

You turn, surprised. "What?"

"Will you… keep me company?" he asks, his tone hesitant. "Just for a little while."

Your heart clenches, and despite everything, you nod. "Okay."

You sit back down, leaning against the headboard as Jaeyun closes his eyes, his breathing evening out. For a while, you watch him, the tension in his face melting away as sleep takes over.

And in that quiet moment, with the soft hum of the rain outside and the warmth of his presence beside you, something shifts.

You open your eyes to find yourself tucked into the comforter of a bed you never thought you’d ever lie in again. The unfamiliar weight of the blankets is warm against your skin, but it takes a moment for you to orient yourself. The room is dim now, the last traces of sunlight gone, replaced by the faint glow of the bedside lamp.

The house is silent, and most notably, Jaeyun is no longer where you left him.

A faint pang of concern rises in your chest as you sit up, running a hand through your hair. He was feverish just hours ago, barely coherent. The fact that he’s no longer in bed is enough to pull you out of the comfort of his room.

You step into the hallway, glancing around. The living room is just as still and empty as it was when you first returned this morning, the silence almost oppressive.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot it: the familiar glow spilling out from under the door to Jaeyun’s office.

You narrow your eyes. Don’t tell me…

You walk toward the door, heart sinking with every step. Pushing it open slightly, you find him perched over his laptop, his face illuminated by the screen. His fingers move swiftly across the keyboard, his focus unbroken. He didn’t even bother changing out of the clothes he slept in, the faint flush on his cheeks a reminder that he’s still sick.

"Jaeyun," you say, your voice sharper than you intended.

He startles slightly, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. For a moment, he looks almost guilty, but the expression is fleeting. His face hardens, and he’s back to his usual self—detached, dismissive.

"What are you doing?" you demand, stepping into the room. "You should be resting."

"I’m fine," he replies curtly, his attention already shifting back to the screen.

"You’re not fine," you retort, your frustration bubbling over. "You had a fever this morning. You could barely sit up. And now you’re here, working as if nothing happened?"

He doesn’t answer, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" you ask, your tone softening despite your anger. "Why can’t you just take a break for once?"

"Because I don’t have the luxury of taking a break," he snaps, his voice sharp. He glances at you briefly, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. "Not everyone can afford to stop when things get difficult."

You flinch at his words, but you refuse to back down. "You’re not invincible, Jaeyun. You’re sick. Pushing yourself like this is only going to make it worse."

For a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a heavy sigh, he closes his laptop and leans back in his chair. His face is pale, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced in the harsh light of the office.

"Why do you care?" he asks quietly, his voice devoid of its usual edge.

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. Why do you care? After everything, after the distance and the arguments, why do you still feel this pull toward him?

"Because someone has to," you say finally, your voice steady. "And whether you like it or not, that someone is me."

He blinks, clearly not expecting your answer. His expression softens, the usual mask of indifference slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the man he used to be—or maybe the man he still is, buried under all the walls he’s built.

"Come on," you say gently, nodding toward the door. "You need to lie down."

To your surprise, he doesn’t argue. He stands slowly, wincing slightly as he stretches. As he follows you out of the office, the silence between you feels less heavy, less hostile.

Back in his room, you watch as he climbs into bed, his movements sluggish. You adjust the blankets around him, your hand brushing against his briefly.

"You’re stubborn," you say softly, a faint attempt at teasing.

He lets out a weak chuckle, closing his eyes. "Takes one to know one."

You smile despite yourself, stepping back toward the door to give him space. But before you can leave, his voice stops you.

"Stay," he says quietly.

You freeze, your hand still on the doorframe. “So I can find you missing again when I wake up?” You joke, but you know it got lost on him when you spot the hint of guilt that colour his face.

"Just… stay," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes open, and for a fleeting moment, you see something vulnerable in his gaze.

You hesitate, your mind racing. Despite the years of being his wife, despite all the public pretenses and shared spaces, Jaeyun has never asked you to stay—not like this.

"Okay," you say finally, your voice soft. You move back toward the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge, unsure of what to expect.

Jaeyun shifts slightly, making space for you. "Lie down," he murmurs, his tone almost… tender.

You blink at him, stunned, but something in his expression—tired, open—compels you to obey. Slowly, you lie down beside him, careful to keep a polite distance. The room is quiet, the sound of your breaths the only thing breaking the stillness.

But then you feel it.

His arm snakes around your waist, tentative at first but firm as it settles. You inhale sharply, your body stiffening under his touch. Despite being his lawfully wedded wife, whose only purpose, it seems, is to sit there and look pretty, Jaeyun has never once touched you—not like this. Not in an intimate setting. Not at all.

"Jaeyun," you whisper, your voice catching.

"Don’t," he interrupts softly, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "Just… let me. Just for a moment."

You don’t move, your heart racing as the weight of his arm presses against you, grounding you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. His warmth seeps into you, a stark contrast to the cold distance you’ve grown so accustomed to.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it feels like something fragile and unspoken is passing between you, an unsteady bridge forming where there had only been a chasm before.

"Thank you," he murmurs finally, his breath warm against your neck.

"For what?" you ask, your voice barely audible.

"For being here," he replies simply.

You close your eyes, your hand hovering uncertainly before resting lightly on top of his. "Get some rest, Jaeyun," you say softly.

His hold on you tightens ever so slightly, and for the first time, you let yourself lean into his touch. As Jaeyun’s breathing evens out and the warmth of his presence lulls you into stillness, you feel something unexpected stir in your chest.

Not hope, not yet.

You tell yourself not to expect too much. This could just be a one-off thing, and it’ll go away just as quickly as it came, disappearing like so many other fragile glimpses of something more in your marriage.

Still, you stay still, letting the warmth of his touch seep into you, even as your mind tries to brace itself for the inevitable return to indifference. You tell yourself this means nothing—it’s just circumstance. He’s disoriented, caught off guard by his own vulnerability.

But then your gaze drifts downward, and you find yourself puzzled. His left hand covers your own, his touch firm yet gentle, and you’re struck by the sight of his wedding ring etched tightly around his finger. The gold band catches the faint glow of the moonlight outside, its presence so sure, so constant, as if it’s always belonged there.

Your eyes drop to your own hand. The ring you once wore is absent, likely discarded at some point when you returned home earlier, leaving only the faint tattoo etched into your skin.

His fingers shift slightly, and you feel the rough edge of his thumb trace over the spot where your ring used to sit. The action is subtle, almost unconscious, but it makes your heart race.

Does he realise what he’s doing? Is it just a fever-driven habit, a thoughtless gesture? Or is there something more to the way his touch lingers there, his warmth seeping into the empty space where a symbol of your bond once rested?

You glance at his face, but his eyes are closed, his breathing soft and steady. He looks peaceful, almost childlike, so far removed from the sharp, composed man you know him to be.

You let out a slow breath, your heart conflicted. This moment feels too fragile, too fleeting, to hold onto. And yet, the weight of his hand over yours, the brush of his thumb against your tattooed ring finger, lingers in a way that’s impossible to ignore.

Don’t expect too much, you remind yourself, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against the pillow. But even as sleep pulls you under, the thought remains, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind.

The soft glow of morning light filters through the curtains, and you stir, slowly coming back to consciousness. Your first thought is that the bed feels strangely warm, a comforting weight anchoring you to the mattress.

Your second thought is that Jaeyun is surely gone by now.

But when you blink your eyes open, you’re surprised to find him still there, lying beside you. His head is propped up on one hand, his eyes watching you with an unusual softness. He’s awake, fully present, and for a moment, you think you might still be dreaming.

"You’re still here?" you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.

He smirks faintly, though there’s a gentleness in his expression that you can’t quite place. "Good morning to you too," he says, his tone light.

You push yourself up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows. "I thought you’d be gone by now. Off to work or something."

He chuckles softly, the sound low and warm. "I figured you’d think that," he says, his gaze steady on yours.

"Am I wrong?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, his lips twitch into the faintest smile, and he says, "I wanted to prove you wrong."

You blink, caught off guard by his words. "Prove me wrong about what?"

"That I’d be gone when you woke up," he says simply. "I know that’s what you expected. I wanted to stay… just this once."

His honesty takes the air from your lungs, and you find yourself staring at him, searching his face for some kind of ulterior motive. But all you see is sincerity, an openness that feels so unlike him it almost makes you uncomfortable.

"Why?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, his expression faltering slightly. "No reason.”

The words hang between you, fragile but significant. You don’t know how to respond, your heart warring with a mix of emotions—hope, skepticism, confusion.

"Jaeyun," you begin, your voice uncertain, "are you—"

"Don’t read too much into it," he interrupts gently, his gaze shifting away for a moment. "I just… wanted to be here. It’s the least I can do in return for taking care of me last night. That’s all."

You nod slowly, unsure of what to say. It feels like there’s more he isn’t saying, but for now, you let it be.

"Well," you say, clearing your throat to break the tension, "you succeeded. I didn’t think you’d still be here, but you are."

He smiles faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to make your chest tighten. "Good," he says, his tone soft.

The two of you lapse into silence, the morning light growing brighter as it fills the room. Strangely, the quiet between you isn’t heavy or suffocating—it’s almost comfortable.

And that scares you.

The late morning sun filters through the curtains, casting soft streaks of light across the living room. You’re perched on the couch, a mug of tea warming your hands, and for once, the house doesn’t feel so empty. It’s quiet, but not the cold, distant kind of quiet you’ve grown used to. This quiet feels… peaceful.

Jaeyun is in the kitchen, rummaging through drawers in search of something. The sound of clinking silverware drifts into the living room, and you can’t help but smile faintly at his muffled muttering.

"You’ve been in there for ten minutes," you call out. "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing," he replies, his tone nonchalant, though it’s clear he’s lying.

A moment later, he emerges with a slightly triumphant expression, holding up a mismatched pair of chopsticks. "Found them."

You raise an eyebrow. "Were we missing chopsticks?"

He shrugs, sitting down beside you on the couch. "Apparently. But not anymore."

It’s such a mundane moment, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and yet it feels monumental. Jaeyun—your distant, often aloof husband—sitting beside you, chopsticks in hand as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

"So," you say, tilting your head to look at him, "you’re really not going to work today?"

He leans back against the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Called in sick," he says simply.

Your eyes widen slightly. "You did what?"

He glances at you, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "You heard me. Just one day. I figured the world wouldn’t end if I wasn’t at my desk for twenty-four hours."

The admission surprises you more than you’d like to admit. "You? Calling in sick? Are you sure you’re not actually still feverish?"

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "I just… thought it might be nice to stay home. Spend the day here."

The words are casual, but they hit you with unexpected weight. He doesn’t say it outright, but you can tell he means with you.

The day unfolds in a series of small, quiet moments.

You make lunch together—or rather, you try to make lunch while Jaeyun critiques your cooking with a faint smirk that earns him a flick of flour to the face. He retaliates by stealing a bite of your eggs before it even makes it to your plate.

Later, you find yourselves sitting on the floor, a forgotten deck of cards between you. The game dissolves into laughter when Jaeyun’s competitive streak makes him accuse you of cheating, though you both know he’s just annoyed that you’re winning.

At some point, he drags you to the couch, insisting you watch an old movie he loves. The two of you sit side by side, shoulders brushing, as the black-and-white film flickers across the screen.

The golden hues of sunset stream through the kitchen windows as you both sit at the table, sipping tea after finishing the leftovers from lunch. The warmth of the day still lingers in the air, wrapping around the two of you like a cocoon.

As you lean back in your chair, savoring the moment, Jaeyun suddenly tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your hand.

"Where’s your ring?" he asks, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp.

Your heart skips a beat. The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you freeze.

"My ring?" you repeat, stalling for time as your mind races.

"Yeah," he says, his gaze still fixed on your bare finger. "You’re always wearing it. Did you take it off for something?"

"I… I must’ve left it in the bathroom," you blurt out, forcing a smile you hope looks convincing. "Probably when I was washing my hands earlier."

He raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "In the bathroom?"

"Yeah," you say quickly, nodding as you avoid his gaze. "I’ll grab it later."

Jaeyun doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes lingering on you longer than you’d like. The air feels heavier, and you’re painfully aware of how obvious your lie probably sounds.

Finally, he leans back in his chair, shrugging slightly. "Don’t forget it," he says, his tone light but his words carrying an undertone you can’t quite place.

You nod, forcing yourself to relax. "Of course."

But as the conversation shifts and the moment passes, the weight of his question lingers. You glance down at your hand, at the faint tattoo where your ring should be, and a wave of guilt prickles at the edges of your thoughts.

It’s not like you haven’t taken it off before. In fact, you do it almost every day when you’re at home. It’s become something of a ritual—the first thing you do after stepping through the door. You slip the ring off your finger and leave it somewhere out of sight, free from its weight, if only for a little while.

The cool metal feels foreign against your skin most days, its presence a constant reminder of what your life is—or isn’t. You never think twice about leaving it behind when you’re within these walls. Here, there’s no one to see, no one to judge, no cameras waiting to catch a fleeting moment that could spiral into something scandalous.

When you’re not out and about, it feels pointless to keep it on. The ring, for all its shine, doesn’t mean much in the confines of this house. It’s more for show, a symbol of an agreement carefully constructed to protect your family’s image and his.

Not a promise. Never that.

At least, that’s what you’ve told yourself. The habit of slipping it off has become so second nature, so tied to the quiet rebellion you allow yourself in these small, insignificant moments.

And yet, when Jaeyun notices its absence today, it feels like the weight of it hasn’t truly left you. As if even without wearing it, the ring leaves its mark in more ways than one.

He’s never noticed before—or if he has, he’s never said anything. So why now? Why today, of all days, when things between you feel… different?

Unlike you, he never seems to take it off. It’s always there, snug around his finger, as if it belongs. The sight of it used to annoy you—how he could wear it so easily, without it seeming to weigh him down.

Now, you’re not sure how it makes you feel.

You run your thumb over the faint tattoo on your ring finger, and force yourself to look away. It’s just one day, you remind yourself again.

Just one day where things feel lighter, less complicated.

But you can’t help wondering if Jaeyun’s question meant more than he let on. And you can’t shake the feeling that this small, seemingly insignificant detail might mean more than either of you are ready to admit.

And like every other time you think things might start changing for the better between you and Jaeyun, you’re reminded once again why you don’t hope.

Jaeyun goes back to his old ways, the distance between you returning like a shadow that never truly left. It feels like déjà vu.

You can’t help but wonder how one person can do such a thing—be kind and leave you helplessly yearning for one day, only to completely pretend you don’t exist the next. It’s as if he’s perfected the art of making you feel like you matter, just enough to keep you tethered, before yanking it all away again.

He’s gone before you wake up, and by the time he comes home, it’s well past dinner, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the crisp air he brings in from the outside world. There’s no more lingering conversations, no more stolen glances or hesitant touches. It’s as though the day you spent together was a dream you woke from too soon.

You try to tell yourself it doesn’t hurt, but it does. Every time he brushes past you without a word, every time his focus remains glued to his phone or laptop instead of on the life you’re supposed to be sharing, it stings.

One evening, as he’s seated at the dining table with his laptop, his face illuminated by the cold, blue glow of the screen, you bring it up.

"There’s a charity gala being held by the Park family this weekend," you say, your tone light, careful. "We’re expected to attend together."

He doesn’t look up, his fingers tapping steadily at the keyboard. "Hmm," he mutters absently, his tone distant.

You suppress a sigh, leaning against the counter. "It’s important, Jaeyun. The Parks have always been close to your family, and you know how much these events matter to them—and to us."

"I’ll see if I can make it," he replies, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"See if you can make it?" you repeat, a note of irritation slipping into your voice. "It’s not a suggestion, Jaeyun. We’re supposed to go together."

He pauses for a fraction of a second before resuming his typing. "I’ll try," he says, his tone flat.

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding even though he isn’t looking. "Alright," you murmur, retreating to the safety of your room.

But deep down, you already know how it will play out. He won’t come. You’ll stand alone at the gala, wearing a practiced smile while the whispers swirl around you. And when you return home, he’ll have some excuse waiting, polished and hollow, leaving you wondering why you even bother to hope.

And yet, against your better judgment, you do. You hope.

You’d spent hours convincing yourself that he would come, that this time would be different. But as the car pulled up to the venue without him, the weight of the truth settled back onto your shoulders. Of course, he hadn’t come. You knew it was too good to be true.

The Park family’s charity gala is as dazzling as you expected. The grand ballroom is a sea of glittering gowns, tailored suits, and sparkling champagne glasses. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light across the room, illuminating faces that belong to the city’s most influential.

As you make your way through the crowd, trying not to let your disappointment show, you almost immediately feel the weight of eyes on you.

People glance at the space beside you—empty, conspicuously so. The absence of Jaeyun is louder than any announcement, a glaring reminder of how alone you are in this marriage.

"She’s here alone again," someone whispers as you pass.

“Where’s Jaeyun?" one woman asks lightly, her tone laced with curiosity.

You hold your head high, your practiced smile in place, though the sting of their words burns beneath your skin. You knew this would happen. You prepared yourself for it. And still, it doesn’t make it any easier.

An hour passes, and you’ve made your way through polite conversations and obligatory greetings. You exchange small talk with acquaintances and pose for photographs, every move calculated to maintain the image of perfection.

And before you know it, you find yourself at the bar, nursing a glass of champagne as the evening drags on. The music is lively, couples twirling across the dance floor, and yet you can’t shake the gnawing feeling of being out of place.

"Mrs. Sim," a warm voice calls out. It’s smooth, familiar, and you turn to see Justin Park standing beside you. The eldest son of the Park family is the picture of charm, his tailored suit impeccable, his smile easy.

"Justin," you greet him with a smile, grateful for the familiarity. "It’s been a while."

"It has," he agrees, taking your hand briefly in his. "I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Never. The Parks throw the best events, after all."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he teases, his grin widening.

The conversation flows effortlessly, his presence offering a welcome reprieve from the otherwise stifling evening. Justin has always had a way of making people feel at ease, and for the first time tonight, you feel a small sense of relief.

But you’re not oblivious to the glances. You can feel the eyes of the room on you, hear the faint murmurs growing louder as the two of you continue talking. Justin doesn’t seem to notice—or if he does, he doesn’t care.

He takes the seat beside you, signaling for a drink. "No Jaeyun tonight?"

You let out a soft laugh, though there’s no real humour in it. "Work," you say, the excuse slipping off your tongue before you can stop it.

Justin raises an eyebrow, his expression thoughtful. "Work seems to take up a lot of his time."

You glance at him, unsure how to respond. There’s a knowing look in his eyes, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he shifts the conversation to lighter topics, asking about your family, your thoughts on the gala, your latest endeavours.

But as the conversation continues, you become more and more aware of the glances being cast your way. The whispers. The pointed stares.

It doesn’t take long to piece together what’s happening.

The perfect wife of Sim Jaeyun, left alone at a gala, seen laughing and chatting with Justin Park—eldest son of the host family, no less. The headline practically writes itself.

You excuse yourself politely, leaving Justin with a gracious smile as you slip away to the powder room. Your heart pounds as you grip the edge of the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The whispers have always followed you, but this feels different.

When you return to the ballroom, the tension is palpable. More eyes follow you now, the buzz of speculation almost tangible. You press on, keeping your head high, your composure intact.

But inside, something breaks.

You’d held onto hope, despite everything, that Jaeyun might show up, that he might stand beside you for once, silencing the whispers with his presence. Instead, his absence speaks louder than words ever could.

The night drags on, and by the time you leave, the damage is done.

When you arrive home, the house is dark, just as you expected. Jaeyun’s car is in the driveway, but the silence inside confirms what you already know—he’s here, but he’s not really here.

You find him in his office, his laptop open, his face bathed in the cold glow of the screen.

"You didn’t come," you say, your voice flat as you stand in the doorway.

He glances up briefly, his expression unreadable. "I told you I was busy."

"Busy," you repeat, bitterness creeping into your tone. "You couldn’t even spare one evening? You didn’t even try, did you?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond.

"Do you have any idea what tonight was like for me?" you ask, your voice rising. "Standing there alone while people whispered and stared? While they speculated about my marriage—and about Justin Park?"

At the mention of Justin’s name, Jaeyun’s gaze sharpens, a flicker of something—anger, perhaps—crossing his face.

"Justin?" he asks, his tone clipped.

"Yes, Justin," you snap. "He was kind enough to talk to me while my husband couldn’t even bother to show up."

Jaeyun’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he might actually say something. But then he leans back in his chair, his expression closing off once more. "I’m sure people will find something else to talk about tomorrow."

The dismissal in his tone is the final blow. You shake your head, the weight of the evening crashing down on you.

"Of course," you say softly, your voice trembling. "Why would you care?"

You turn and walk away, the sound of his keyboard clicking resuming as the door closes behind you. In the quiet of your room, you slip off your gown, your hands trembling as you let it pool around your feet.

You knew it was too good to be true. Jaeyun’s warmth, his attention—it was fleeting, a momentary lapse in the distance that defines your marriage. And now, you’re left with the echoes of what might have been, wondering if it was ever real to begin with.

The days following the gala, marked by a heavy, stifling silence that seems to wrap itself around the house. You try to carry on as if nothing has changed, though it’s impossible to ignore the fact that Jaeyun is now home every day.

It’s disorienting. He’s always been someone who thrives on his demanding schedule, constantly in and out, using work as an excuse to avoid the cracks in your marriage.

But now, he’s here—present in a way that feels more like a shadow than a comfort.

You desperately try to avoid him, sticking to your routines with an almost obsessive precision. You spend longer in the kitchen, longer in the guest room you’ve claimed as your own, and shorter stretches of time in shared spaces like the living room. Yet, no matter how hard you try, it’s like his presence lingers everywhere.

In the mornings, you find him in the kitchen, sipping coffee at the island as if he’s always been there. The air is thick with unspoken words as you pour yourself tea, your movements stiff and deliberate. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge you beyond a glance, but the weight of his silence is deafening.

At night, it’s worse. You hear him moving about the house, the faint sound of his footsteps stopping and starting as though he’s unsure where to go. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to confront him, to say something—anything—but you don’t. You can’t.

One evening, as you retreat to your room, you notice the door to his office is wide open, the lights dim. You hesitate for a moment, glancing inside, only to find him sitting at his desk, staring blankly at his laptop.

He doesn’t look up, but his voice cuts through the quiet like a blade. "You’re avoiding me."

You freeze, your fingers tightening on the edge of the doorframe. "I’m not avoiding you," you lie, your voice steadier than you feel.

He lets out a dry laugh, though there’s no humour in it. "You’re not very good at lying."

You don’t respond, your pulse quickening as the weight of his gaze finally lifts from the screen and settles on you. His eyes are darker than usual, a storm brewing behind them, but you refuse to let it intimidate you.

"Why are you here all the time now?" you ask abruptly, the question tumbling out before you can stop it. "Are you not needed at the office?"

He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I realised I’ve been away too much, I’ve decided to work from home for the time being."

You scoff, shaking your head. "You’ve always been away too much. Why does it matter now?"

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His gaze lingers on you, searching, as if trying to decide how much to say. "Because you were right," he says finally, his voice quieter but firm. "About a lot of things."

The confession catches you off guard, your carefully constructed walls trembling under the weight of his words.

"And what am I supposed to do with that?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t know. But I’m trying."

You laugh bitterly, stepping back into the hallway. "Trying doesn’t undo what’s already been done, Jaeyun."

"I know," he says softly, almost to himself.

You leave before he can say anything more, retreating to your room and shutting the door behind you. The house falls silent again, but it feels more suffocating than ever.

The knock at the door is sharp, insistent, cutting through the quiet of the night like a blade. You hesitate, your book slipping from your hands onto the couch.

It’s late—too late for anyone to show up unannounced. The second knock is harder, more aggressive, and the urgency in it sends a chill down your spine.

Jaeyun’s office light is still on, but the house is otherwise silent. You glance down the hallway, half-expecting him to emerge and handle it, but when he doesn’t, you steel yourself and head for the door.

Justin Park stands on your doorstep, his usually composed face marred by a split lip and a bruise darkening his cheek. His suit jacket is gone, his shirt wrinkled and bloodied, and his eyes burn with a fury you’ve never seen before.

You swing the door open, your voice trembling. "Justin? What happened to you?"

He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, his movements stiff and pained. "Where’s your husband?" he snaps, his voice low and dangerous.

"What—what are you talking about?" you stammer, closing the door behind him as he staggers into the living room.

"Get Jaeyun on a leash," he growls, turning to face you. His eyes are blazing, his anger palpable. "Because if this is how he handles things, you’re going to have bigger problems than rumors about us."

You stare at him, your mind struggling to catch up. "Jaeyun? What does he have to do with this?"

Justin lets out a harsh laugh, though there’s no humor in it. He presses a hand to his side, wincing as he moves. "You really don’t know, do you?"

"Your husband sent his men after me," he growls, his voice dripping with anger. "Three of them cornered me at the bar tonight. Told me I needed to stay away from you. When I didn’t back down, they made sure I 'got the message.'"

The blood drains from your face as you take in his bruised cheek, the torn fabric of his shirt. "Jaeyun… he wouldn’t—"

"Wouldn’t he?" Justin snaps, his eyes blazing. "You think he didn’t know exactly what he was doing? He made it very clear who was behind it."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. This couldn’t be true, could it? Jaeyun, who has spent years pretending you don’t exist, who didn’t even bother to show up at the gala, suddenly cared enough to orchestrate this?

You swallow hard, your hands trembling as you step closer. "Justin, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—"

"Don’t apologise for him," Justin interrupts sharply, his gaze softening slightly as he looks at you. "This isn’t your fault. But you need to talk to him. Make him understand that this isn’t how you fix things."

You nod slowly, your mind spinning. "Let me get you some ice," you say, moving toward the kitchen.

"Don’t bother," Justin says, shaking his head. "I just came to let you know what happened. Whatever you do with this information is up to you."

"Justin—"

"Take care of yourself," he says, cutting you off as he heads toward the door. He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, and glances back at you. "You deserve better than this."

The sound of the door shutting behind Justin reverberates through the house like a final gavel in a court sentencing. You stand frozen, trying to collect yourself, when you hear it—the unmistakable sound of Jaeyun’s footsteps behind you.

"Who was that?" Jaeyun’s voice is calm, almost indifferent, but there’s a sharpness beneath it that makes your skin crawl.

You turn slowly to face him, your anger simmering just beneath the surface. "You already know who it was."

His gaze darkens, his expression unreadable. "And why was he here?"

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Why do you think? He came to show me the bruises your men left on him. Did you send them, Jaeyun?"

Jaeyun doesn’t flinch. Instead, he leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "He needed to understand his place," he says flatly.

"His place?" you echo, your voice rising. "You sent your men to beat him up over a conversation? What’s wrong with you?"

Jaeyun straightens, his eyes flashing. "He was disrespecting our marriage."

You stare at him, stunned for a moment before letting out a bitter laugh. "Disrespecting our marriage? What marriage, Jaeyun? The one you’ve ignored for years? The one you couldn’t even show up to defend at the gala?"

He steps closer, his voice sharp. "Don’t twist this. You were out there talking to him, laughing with him, while people whispered about you. About us."

"Why does it matter to you anyway?" you snap, your anger spilling over. "You don’t see this arrangement as anything more than a convenience. Why do you care if I was talking to Justin or not?"

"Because it reflects on me," he fires back, his voice hard. "On my family. On my name."

You flinch at the bluntness of his words, your chest tightening. "So that’s all this is to you? Image? Reputation?"

He clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "You don’t understand."

"No," you shoot back, your voice breaking slightly. "I don’t understand. Because you don’t let me. You don’t let me in, Jaeyun. And then you act like you have the right to control me when I’m just trying to survive this sham of a marriage."

His expression falters for a moment, something flickering in his eyes—guilt, regret, anger—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

"You don’t know Justin Park," he says, his tone cold. "Not like I do. It’s best you stay away from him."

"And you think I know you?" you ask, your voice trembling with fury. "Maybe it’s you I should be staying away from."

The words hit him like a slap, and for a moment, he’s silent. The tension between you is suffocating, the weight of everything left unsaid crushing down on both of you.

Finally, he exhales, his voice quieter but no less sharp. "This isn’t about me."

"It’s always about you, Jaeyun," you reply, shaking your head. "Your name. Your image. Your pride. But what about me? What about what I want? Or do I not even factor into this equation anymore?"

His silence is answer enough.

You turn on your heel, your chest tight as you storm down the hallway, leaving him standing there in the suffocating silence. Your footsteps echo through the house, but his don’t follow.

In your room, you sit on the edge of the bed, your hands trembling as you press them against your temples. Justin’s words replay in your mind: You deserve better than this.

And for a moment, you wonder if he’s right.

The thought comes to you slowly, quietly, like the first ripples of a tide that eventually swallows the shore. Divorce. You roll the word around in your mind, tasting its finality, its promise of freedom, and the bitter pang of everything it would mean.

For so long, it felt like an impossible idea, a step too drastic to even consider. You told yourself it wasn’t an option—not with the intertwined fates of your family and Jaeyun’s. Not with the whispers that would follow you for years, the headlines that would smear your name.

But now, as you sit alone in the dim light of your room, the faint murmur of Jaeyun’s movements down the hall a constant reminder of how broken things are, it doesn’t feel impossible anymore.

It feels inevitable.

Your mind drifts back to the last few months, to the endless cycle of hope and disappointment. For every fleeting moment of warmth from Jaeyun, there’s a cold wall waiting to slam back down, leaving you questioning your worth, your sanity.

You deserve better than this.

Do you?

The idea both frightens and exhilarates you. To walk away, to sever the ties that have bound you for so long, feels like a leap into the unknown. What would your life look like without Jaeyun? Without the expectations and pretenses that have consumed you?

Your thoughts turn to your family. You know the sacrifices they made, the desperation that led to this marriage in the first place. For so long, you told yourself you couldn’t leave because they needed you to stay. But now, with their business stable and the weight of the Sim family’s influence less critical than it once was, you wonder if you’ve been clinging to that excuse simply because it’s easier than facing the truth.

The truth is, you’ve been afraid. Afraid of the fallout, of the shame, of the unknown. Afraid that walking away would mean admitting failure—not just to your family or society, but to yourself.

But as you sit there, the faint hum of the world outside filtering through the window, you realise something else: staying is its own kind of failure.

You press your hands to your face, breathing deeply as you let the thought settle over you. Divorce. It feels heavy, like a word too big for your chest to hold, but also strangely freeing.

You don’t make the decision tonight. But for the first time, you allow yourself to think about it, to imagine a life where the weight of this marriage is lifted, where you can breathe freely again.

But while the thought of it doesn’t feel impossible, it doesn’t feel like hope either.

Not the kind of hope you would feel when the coldness between you and Jaeyun would melt for a day or two, his rare gestures of warmth thawing the ice between you before it inevitably froze over again. Not the kind of hope you would feel when you allowed yourself to dream of a happy marriage with him, only to wake up to the nightmare of its absence.

This doesn’t feel like hope.

It feels like resignation. A quiet acceptance of the reality you’ve been avoiding for years. But even as the word divorce lingers in your mind, whispering promises of freedom and relief, there’s something else that you can’t seem to ignore.

Even after everything—after the indifference, the distance, the way he treats you like an afterthought—you can’t deny the feeling that has rooted itself so stubbornly in your chest.

You love him.

It feels absurd, almost laughable, to admit it even to yourself. How could you love someone who has hurt you so thoroughly, someone who has made you feel invisible in a marriage that he vowed to protect? And yet, the truth is undeniable.

You love him.

You love him in the quiet moments when his mask slips, and he shows glimpses of the man you thought he could be. You love him in the memories of the rare times he made you feel seen, however fleeting they were. You even love him in the ache of longing, in the endless hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll come back to you in the way you’ve always wanted him to.

It’s maddening. It’s painful. And it’s real.

The thought makes your chest tighten, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. How can you even think of divorce when your heart refuses to let go? When a part of you still clings to the idea that something salvageable remains between you?

You press your fingers to your temple, willing the thoughts to quiet, but they don’t. Instead, they linger, heavy and unrelenting, as the faint sounds of Jaeyun moving about the house reach your ears.

You love him. Despite everything. And maybe that’s the worst part of all.

You decide that you’ll never be able to come to a conclusion as long as you’re stuck in this house, surrounded by everything that reminds you of him. The walls feel like they’re closing in, every corner holding fragments of a life you’re not sure you can continue living. His cologne lingering in the hallways, the faint indent of his weight on the sofa, the silent hum of his presence—all of it suffocates you.

So, you do the only thing you can think of. You pack your bags.

You don’t give yourself time to overthink it. A small overnight bag is enough; you don’t even care if you’ve forgotten something. The urgency to leave, to breathe, to escape the weight of him, pushes you forward.

You don’t bother texting or calling Wonyoung or Sunghoon first. She’s your best friend and he’s your brother. You trust that they’ll understand. Frankly, you don’t care if you’re interrupting something. You just want out of this house.

When you step out into the cool evening air, the weight on your chest lifts ever so slightly. You pull your coat tighter around you and get into the car, gripping the steering wheel as if it’s the only thing anchoring you.

The drive to Wonyoung’s is a blur, the city lights flashing past your windows like fleeting memories. You don’t know what you’re going to say when you arrive, but you trust that she’ll take one look at you and know. She always does.

Your grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles white as you try to focus on the road and not the storm brewing inside your mind. But as you take a glance at your rear-view mirror, a flicker of unease slithers into your chest.

The car behind you has been following you for far too long.

At first, you brush it off as coincidence. It’s a city, after all, and traffic can be unpredictable. But the longer you drive, the more you notice the pattern. Every turn you make, every lane change—it mirrors your moves with eerie precision.

Your chest tightens, and your breath comes a little faster. You test the waters, making an abrupt turn onto a side street. The car behind you follows.

Panic starts to creep in, and your mind races with possibilities. Who would follow you? And why?

Your foot presses harder on the accelerator, your heart pounding as the car behind you matches your speed. You weave through the streets, your mind screaming for clarity, for an explanation. But none comes. The only thing that matters is the need to escape.

As you merge onto a less busy road, the car behind you inches closer, its headlights glaring in your rear-view mirror like eyes boring into your soul. You push the accelerator to the floor, the speedometer climbing as your car barrels down the road.

The high-speed chase feels endless, your pulse a deafening roar in your ears. You barely register the turns you’re making, the streets blurring together as you fight to stay ahead. But in your desperation, you take a corner too sharply.

The car swerves, tires screeching against the asphalt. The world tilts as your vehicle careens off the road, smashing into a lamppost with a bone-jarring impact.

Everything goes quiet.

Your head throbs, the airbag deflating in front of you. Smoke wafts from the crumpled hood, and your vision swims as you try to make sense of what’s happening. Before you can gather your thoughts, the sound of approaching footsteps snaps you to attention.

You fumble with your seatbelt, panic surging as the car door wrenches open. A figure looms over you, silhouetted against the harsh glow of the headlights.

"Let’s go," a voice growls, low and urgent.

Before you can react, strong hands grip your arm, dragging you from the wreckage. You kick and thrash, your protests muffled by the haze of adrenaline and the ache radiating through your body.

"Stop fighting," the voice snaps, and you freeze, recognition dawning.

"Justin?" you rasp, your voice hoarse and disbelieving.

He doesn’t answer, his grip on your arm tightening as he pulls you toward a waiting car parked just behind yours.

"What are you doing?" you demand, trying to resist despite the pounding in your head.

"Saving you," he bites out, his tone cold and unrelenting. "From yourself and from him."

The words send a chill down your spine, confusion and fear swirling in your chest. "What are you talking about? Let me go!"

But Justin doesn’t falter. He opens the car door and all but shoves you inside before sliding into the driver’s seat and locking the doors.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. "You’re a pawn in his game, and he’s not going to let you go. Not unless someone forces his hand."

The engine roars to life, and the car speeds off, leaving the wreckage—and your sense of safety—far behind.

"Justin, what are you doing?" you whisper, your voice trembling as the weight of the situation presses down on you.

He glances at you briefly, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Making sure you don’t go back to him."

Panic bubbles up in your chest, and you realise this night is far from over.

The warehouse is cold, damp, and utterly silent except for the faint hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Your wrists ache from where Justin had bound them to the chair, though he’d been careful not to make it too tight—almost as if he wanted to justify this madness to himself.

He paces in front of you, his movements restless, his face a storm of emotions. His disheveled appearance is a far cry from the polished, composed man you’d spoken to at the gala. Now, he looks unhinged, his sharp gaze flickering between intensity and something softer that makes your stomach churn.

"Why are you doing this, Justin?" you demand, your voice trembling but resolute. "What do you want from me?"

He stops abruptly, turning to face you. His lips twitch into a faint, humourless smile. "This isn’t about what I want," he says quietly. "This is about what’s right."

You scoff, your anger surging despite the fear gnawing at you. "Right? You call kidnapping me right? You’re delusional."

He doesn’t flinch at your words, instead crouching down to your level, his eyes boring into yours. "You don’t understand, do you?" he says softly, almost pityingly. "You’re a pawn in a much bigger game. Jaeyun’s game."

"And what does that make me in your game, Justin?" you snap, your voice sharp.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away. "I’m not playing games," he insists. "I’m trying to show you the truth. Jaeyun doesn’t care about you—he never has. To him, you’re just another piece on the board, someone to control and manipulate to his advantage."

You glare at him, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. "And you think you’re any better? You think dragging me here, tying me up, and ranting about Jaeyun makes you some kind of saviour?"

His face darkens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or guilt. "I’m trying to free you from him," he says, his voice low.

"Free me?" you laugh bitterly, shaking your head. "Stop treating me as your moral compass. You know damn well this has nothing to do with saving me. You just want to use me to get back at Jaeyun."

Justin’s expression falters, his composure cracking. He stands abruptly, running a hand through his hair as he begins pacing again.

"It’s not like that," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

"Then what is it, Justin?" you press, your voice trembling with both anger and exhaustion. "Because this isn’t about me. This is about you and Jaeyun. And your obsession with him."

He stops pacing, his back to you. For a long moment, he says nothing, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire. Then, he speaks, his voice quieter, almost reflective.

"Jaeyun and I… we’ve been at this for years," he admits, his tone tinged with something bitter. "University. Work. Every step of the way, we’ve competed. Top marks, top internships, top investments. And every time I get close, he finds a way to edge me out."

You stare at him, your mind racing to process his words.

"Do you know how frustrating it is to always be second to someone who doesn’t even care?" he continues, his voice rising. "He doesn’t care about the people he steps on, the lives he ruins. He just takes. He took everything from me—and now he’s taken you too."

"Taken me?" you echo, incredulous. "This isn’t some prize to win, Justin. I’m a person, not a trophy for your petty rivalry."

He turns to face you again, his expression hard. "You don’t understand. He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t even see what he has."

"And you think you do?" you snap. "You’re not trying to save me, Justin. You’re trying to hurt him."

Justin’s pacing grows more erratic, his voice rising as he spits out his frustrations. "He never cared about you," he snaps, his tone dripping with venom. "Sending men to beat me up because he can’t even do it himself! Everything he does is about rubbing it in my face."

You flinch at the bitterness in his words, your breath catching as the room seems to grow colder.

"He couldn’t even be bothered to show up at the gala," Justin continues, his voice cracking with anger. "But the moment he thinks I’ve crossed some invisible line, he sends his dogs after me. And you think that’s about you? No. It’s about me. About proving he’s one step ahead, always in control."

"You’re wrong," you say, your voice trembling.

"Am I?" he counters, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you. "Think about it, Y/N. Think about the way he treats you. The way he treats everyone. You’re just a piece on his board, another way for him to win."

You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. "You don’t know that."

"I know him better than you ever could," Justin growls, stepping closer. "I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. Every move he makes, every decision—it’s all calculated. And this? Sending men after me? That wasn’t about protecting you. That was about humiliating me."

You bite your lip, refusing to let his words burrow deeper. "And what about you, Justin? Are you any better? You’ve tied me to this chair, dragged me into this mess, and you’re standing here acting like you’re doing me some kind of favour."

"I’m trying to show you the truth," he snaps, his tone raw.

"No," you say firmly, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and fury. "You’re trying to one-up Jaeyun. This isn’t about me, and it never was. You’re just as obsessed with beating him as you claim he is with controlling you."

His expression falters for a moment, a flicker of guilt passing through his eyes. But then he clenches his jaw, his resolve hardening. "I’m not like him," he insists, though his voice lacks its earlier conviction.

"Then prove it," you say, meeting his gaze head-on. "Let me go."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might actually listen. But then he shakes his head, turning away from you.

"Not yet," he murmurs, almost to himself. "Not until I’ve made my point."

You swallow hard, your chest tightening as the reality of the situation sinks in. Justin isn’t going to let you go—not until he’s done whatever it is he’s convinced himself he needs to do.

His fingers move swiftly over your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his face. "I’ll show you exactly how little you mean to him. When he comes, he won’t even bat an eye at you. It’ll all be about him—his pride, his control, his need to be the one in charge."

Your stomach twists, and you tug at the restraints on your wrists, panic building in your chest. "Justin, stop this."

He ignores your protests, holding the phone up so you can see the screen. He snaps a picture of you—bound to the chair, your face pale with fear—and then types out a message.

You: You want her back? Come and get her.

You watch helplessly as he hits send, the message shooting off to Jaeyun.

"You’re insane," you hiss, struggling against the bindings. "This won’t prove anything."

"It’ll prove everything," Justin says, his smirk widening. "You’ll see. When he shows up, it won’t be about you. It’ll be about him. About showing me up. About proving he’s the better man."

"You don’t know that," you snap, though your voice wavers.

"I know him better than you think," Justin says, his tone calm and measured. "He won’t even look at you properly. He won’t ask if you’re okay. He’ll only care about putting me in my place."

Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to believe. The man in front of you is unhinged, but his words strike a chord of doubt you can’t entirely ignore.

Justin steps back, his confidence radiating as he pockets his phone. "You’ll see soon enough," he says simply. "And when he comes, when he proves me right, you’ll finally understand who Jaeyun really is."

You glare at him, your heart pounding as you pull against the bindings. "You’re delusional," you spit.

"Am I?" he asks, his smirk unwavering.

The room falls into a tense silence, the weight of his words hanging over you like a dark cloud. You can only pray that he’s wrong, that Jaeyun will come—not because of pride or rivalry, but because somewhere, buried deep within his frozen heart, there’s a small warmth that still holds you in it.

But as the minutes tick by, the doubt Justin planted in your mind begins to grow.

The memories swirl in your mind, colliding with Justin’s words like pieces of a puzzle you wish didn’t fit. You’ve always told yourself that Jaeyun’s indifference was a defence mechanism, a way to protect himself from something deeper. But what if it wasn’t? What if Justin is right, and everything you’ve clung to was just wishful thinking?

"You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?" Justin’s voice cuts through your thoughts, smug and sharp. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a knowing look. "Wondering if I’m right. Wondering if he’ll even come."

"Shut up," you snap, though your voice lacks its usual strength.

"I don’t blame you," he says, shrugging. "He’s made you doubt yourself. Doubt him. That’s what he does, Y/N. He keeps you just close enough to keep you hoping, but not close enough to let you in. And when he does come, it’s never for you. It’s for himself."

You shake your head, refusing to let him poison your mind any further. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don’t I?" he counters, raising an eyebrow. "Then why are you here, Y/N? Why aren’t you at home with a husband who loves and protects you? Why are you the one who always has to wonder if you even matter to him?"

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let him see you break. "You’re only saying this because of your hatred for him. You don’t care about me. You’re just as bad as him."

Justin’s smirk fades, his jaw tightening. "Maybe I am," he admits. "But at least I’m honest about it. Can you say the same for him?"

The sound of your phone buzzing on the table snaps both of you to attention. Justin picks it up, glancing at the screen with a satisfied grin.

"Looks like he got my message," he says, holding up the phone so you can see Jaeyun’s reply:

Jaeyun: Where is she?

Jaeyun: Fucking bastard, I swear if you so lay a single finger on her I’m going to kill you.

Justin tosses the phone back onto the table and crosses the room to face you. "This is it," he says, his voice dripping with confidence. "When he gets here, you’ll see exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as the weight of the situation sinks in. The doubt, the fear, the flicker of hope you can’t quite extinguish—it all swirls together as you wait for the man you’ve spent years trying to understand to finally show his hand.

The silence in the warehouse is shattered by the sharp screech of tyres outside, the deafening sound of a car coming to an abrupt halt. Justin’s smirk falters slightly, though he quickly masks it, his eyes darting to the door.

Moments later, it bursts open with a crash, and Jaeyun strides in, his suit dishevelled, his tie loosened as if he’d rushed to get here. His eyes immediately scan the room, landing on you—bound, frightened, but alive. His expression hardens, the sharpness in his gaze like a blade cutting through the tension.

“Let her go,” Jaeyun growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Justin steps forward, placing himself between you and Jaeyun, his smirk widening again as if to taunt him. “So predictable,” Justin sneers. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? I knew you’d come running.”

“I’m warning you, Justin,” Jaeyun snaps, his fists clenched at his sides. “Let her go.”

Justin chuckles, shaking his head. “You think this is about her? It’s always been about us. About showing you that you’re not invincible, that you’re not always in control.”

“Is that what this is?” Jaeyun spits, his voice rising. “A desperate attempt to prove something to yourself? You’re pathetic.”

Justin’s expression darkens, and he steps closer to Jaeyun, his movements quick and aggressive. “Pathetic? You’re the one who couldn’t even be bothered to care about her until now! Don’t act like you’re some hero. You don’t even love her.”

“You have no idea what I feel for her.” Jaeyun bites back, his voice trembling with restrained fury.

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, Justin seems taken aback. But then he scoffs, his confidence returning. “Words, Sim. Just words. But actions always speak louder.”

Before you can process what’s happening, Justin lunges, his fist aimed directly at Jaeyun. The sound of the impact is sickening, Jaeyun stumbling back as blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. But he doesn’t back down.

“You think this will prove anything?” Jaeyun snaps, his voice filled with fire as he ducks under Justin’s next swing. “You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind your jealousy!”

Justin lets out a roar of frustration, his movements becoming more erratic as Jaeyun deflects blow after blow. It’s brutal. You scream, your voice echoing as you plead for them to stop, but neither man listens.

The room is a whirlwind of chaos, with fists flying and grunts of effort and pain filling the air. Justin’s confidence is beginning to waver as Jaeyun fights back with an intensity that you’ve never seen before. But the tide turns when Justin grabs a metal pipe from the corner of the warehouse, his face twisted with rage.

“Stay back!” Jaeyun growls, shielding you as Justin brandishes the weapon.

Justin’s laugh is bitter, almost maniacal. “Stay back? You think you can protect her, Jaeyun? You can’t even protect yourself.”

Before you can register what’s happening, Justin’s attention shifts to you. His gaze sharpens, his grip on the pipe tightening as he steps forward.

“Maybe she’s the problem,” Justin sneers, his voice low and menacing. “Maybe I need to remind you what’s really at stake.”

Your heart stops as Justin raises the pipe, his body coiling to strike. Panic floods your veins, your voice breaking as you scream, “Justin, no!”

But the blow never lands.

In an instant, Jaeyun moves, throwing himself in front of you just as Justin swings the pipe downward. The sickening sound of metal meeting flesh reverberates through the warehouse, and Jaeyun staggers, a sharp cry escaping his lips.

“Jaeyun!” you scream, your voice raw with terror as he crumples to one knee, his arm instinctively clutching his side where the pipe struck. You struggle against the bindings, the rough material sinking deeper into your skin the more you tug on it.

You’re helpless, watching the man you love cradle in pain at your feet.

Justin stumbles back, momentarily stunned by what just happened. The pipe slips from his grasp, clattering to the floor with a metallic clang. “Why would you—?” Justin begins, his voice faltering.

Jaeyun doesn’t waste another second. Summoning the last of his strength, he lunges forward, delivering a final, powerful punch that sends Justin sprawling to the floor.

The room falls silent except for the sound of Jaeyun’s laboured breathing. He stumbles towards you, his movements unsteady but determined. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse as he kneels to untie the ropes, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury.

Tears blur your vision as you nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “You’re hurt,” you whisper, your hands trembling as you reach for him.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the wince that follows says otherwise.

Justin groans from the floor, trying to push himself up. “This doesn’t change anything,” he sneers weakly. “You don’t care about her. This was about beating me, as always.”

Jaeyun doesn’t even glance his way. Instead, he cups your face gently, his eyes searching yours. “Are you hurt?” he asks softly, his voice trembling with something you can’t quite place.

“N-No,” you stammer, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

“Good,” he breathes a sigh of relief, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Justin’s laugh is bitter and broken. “Still pretending to be the noble husband, I see. How long can you keep up the act, Jaeyun?”

Jaeyun turns to him, his expression cold and unyielding. “This isn’t about you, Justin. It never was. You wanted to prove I don’t care about her, but you’re wrong. She’s the only thing I care about.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, your breath catching as the weight of them sinks in.

Justin stares at Jaeyun, his confidence finally cracking as the realisation dawns. He’s lost—not just the fight, but the twisted narrative he tried to build.

Jaeyun helps you to your feet, his arm wrapping around your waist as he steadies you. “We’re leaving,” he says firmly, leading you towards the door without sparing Justin another glance.

As the warehouse disappears behind you, the cold night air hits your face, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you can breathe again.

“Jaeyun…” you begin, your voice trembling as he helps you into the car.

“I’ll explain everything,” he says, his tone soft but resolute. “But first, let’s get you home.”

And as the car pulls away, you realise that for once, you believe him.

The drive home is silent, except for the hum of the engine and the shallow breaths Jaeyun tries to control. You steal glances at him from the passenger seat, your heart twisting at the sight of him wincing with every turn of the wheel. His shirt is stained with blood, his knuckles bruised and swollen, but his grip on the wheel is steady, determined.

“Jaeyun,” you whisper, your voice cutting through the tension.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but his jaw tightens slightly. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” you argue softly, your hands wringing in your lap. “You need to see a doctor. Your ribs—”

“We’ll deal with it later,” he interrupts, his tone firm but not unkind. “Right now, I just need to get you somewhere safe.”

The word safe settles heavily in your chest, and you’re not sure if it means the house you share or simply being by his side.

As you pull into the driveway, the reality of the night crashes over you. The headlights flick off, leaving you both sitting in the dark, the faint sound of crickets filling the air. You hesitate, unsure of what to say or how to move forward.

Jaeyun breaks the silence first. “Let’s get inside,” he says, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

You follow him to the door, his movements slower and more careful than usual. Once inside, he collapses onto the couch with a heavy sigh, leaning back and closing his eyes as if the weight of the world has finally caught up with him.

“Let me clean you up,” you say, your voice trembling as you move towards the kitchen to grab the first aid kit.

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs, but the exhaustion in his voice tells you he won’t fight it.

When you return, kneeling beside him, he opens his eyes and watches you silently. You avoid his gaze as you press a damp cloth to the cut above his eyebrow, your hands trembling slightly.

The room is quiet now, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the soft rustling of your movements as you clean Jaeyun’s wounds. His eyes remain fixed on you, studying every flicker of emotion across your face. He winces slightly as you dab a cut on his temple, but he doesn’t pull away.

You break the silence first, your voice trembling but resolute. “Why did you really come tonight, Jaeyun?”

He exhales deeply, the tension in his shoulders visible as he leans back against the couch. “You know why,” he says softly.

“No, I don’t,” you reply, setting the cloth down. “I don’t know why, I never know why. So, please, talk to me.” Your voice falters, the weight of the night catching up with you.

“I couldn’t let him hurt you,” Jaeyun replies simply, his eyes fixed on you. “It wasn’t even a question.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your throat tighten. You pause, your hand hovering over the cloth as you finally meet his gaze. “Why?” you whisper. “Why now? After everything? You’ve spent so much time pushing me away, avoiding me like I’m some kind of plague. And then tonight…”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away, his expression unreadable. “I’ve been avoiding you because it’s the only way I could keep you safe.”

Your brow furrows, confusion mixing with frustration. “Safe? Safe from what?”

“From me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “From my life. From the kind of man I am.”

You freeze, the confession hanging heavy in the air. “What are you talking about?”

Jaeyun leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasps his hands together. “I’m not a good person, Y/N. I never have been. In business, in life, I do what needs to be done. I act with consequences in mind, and I don’t regret it. But that means I’ve made enemies—people like Justin, who would do anything to see me fail.”

You stare at him, your chest tightening as the pieces begin to fall into place.

“Justin isn’t the first person who’s tried to get to me through someone I care about,” he continues, his voice steady but filled with a quiet anguish. “He won’t be the last. And the thought of you being dragged into that—being hurt because of me—is something I couldn’t, and still can’t handle. So I distanced myself. I thought it would protect you.”

You shake your head, your voice rising with disbelief. “So you thought ignoring me, shutting me out, was the answer? Do you have any idea how that made me feel? How lonely it’s been, living in this house with someone who acts like I don’t even exist?”

His eyes snap to yours, and you see a crack in his armour. “I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I know I hurt you. And I hated myself for it every single day. But I didn’t know what else to do. Loving you—it feels like giving you a loaded gun and hoping you don’t get hurt because of it.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless. “Loving me?” you echo, your voice trembling.

Jaeyun nods, his gaze unwavering. “Yes,” he says firmly. “Loving you, Y/N. Keeping my distance was the only way I know that I’m capable of loving you. Because I know you deserve better than me—better than the life your parents and I have dragged you into.”

His words hit you like a blow to the chest, the rawness of his confession cutting through every wall you’ve built. You stare at him, your breath catching as the weight of his emotions settles over you.

The cold distance, the avoidance, the rare moments of tenderness—it all makes sense now, in the most heartbreaking way.

“You think loving me means pushing me away?” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “Don’t you think I should get to decide what I deserve?”

He looks at you, his expression filled with regret and longing. “I didn’t want to be selfish,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want to keep you in a life where you’d always be a target, always be second to the chaos I bring. But tonight—” His voice breaks, and he takes a shaky breath. “seeing you like that, knowing Justin had you—I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Not like that. Not ever.”

Jaeyun looks down, his hands clenching into fists on his knees. He’s crying now—fully, uncontrollably crying. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “But I didn’t know how to keep you safe without hurting you either…”

You stay quiet, mostly because you don’t even know what to say. Part of you understands Jaeyun did what he thought was right, that he truly believed he was protecting you. But another part of you is just so angry—angry at the thought that he didn’t trust you enough to make decisions for yourself, angry that he acted as though he alone could determine what was best for you.

But as you look at him now, shoulders hunched, tears streaming down his face, and barely able to catch his breath as he speaks, you falter. You see the pain etched into every line of his face, the raw anguish in his voice, and you know it hurt him as much as—maybe even more than—it hurt you.

When you don’t respond for a long moment, Jaeyun exhales deeply, his breath shaky and uneven. “I wanted you to leave me on your own,” he admits, his voice breaking, “because I knew I could never leave you. But you were so stubborn. You stayed. Even after everything, you stayed.”

His words hit you like a blow to the chest, striking a nerve you didn’t even know was exposed. The trembling vulnerability in his voice, the quiet admission of his fears, cuts through your anger and replaces it with something else—something raw, aching, and painfully bittersweet.

“You stayed,” he repeats, his voice barely a whisper, as though he still can’t quite believe it. “Even when I gave you every reason to walk away. Even when I hurt you. And I couldn’t understand why.”

“Do you want to know why I stayed?” you ask, your own voice trembling now as you search his face for the answers he’s yet to give.

He nods, his tear-filled eyes meeting yours, wide and filled with uncertainty.

“Honestly, I’ve been running away from this feeling, from this truth that I was never ready to face,” you begin, your voice wavering but steady enough to push through. “And that is, despite everything—despite every bone, every nerve in my body telling me to stop doing this to myself—I hoped. I hoped that you’d prove me wrong one day. I hoped that if I stayed long enough, maybe you’d stop pushing me away and let me in.”

Jaeyun flinches, his expression crumpling under the weight of your words. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice cracking as fresh tears spill over.

The silence that follows is heavy, thick with tension, the air between you charged with everything unsaid. His hands twitch at his sides, as though he wants to reach for you but can’t quite bring himself to do it. The hesitation in his movements is almost palpable.

“I thought if you hated me,” he says finally, his voice low and pained, “it would be easier for you to walk away. But you didn’t hate me. You never gave up. And that scared me more than anything.”

Your voice trembles as you stare at him, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your chest. “I do hate you,” you admit, the words falling like stones between you. “So much.”

Jaeyun flinches as though you’ve struck him, his breath hitching, and for a moment, he looks like he’s bracing himself for more. But you’re not finished.

“But loving you…” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky breath, blinking away the tears that blur your vision. “Loving you hurts more than hating you.”

His head snaps up, his wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto yours. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrors your own, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“I’ve tried,” you continue, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “I’ve tried to hate you, to tell myself that it’s easier, that it’s what I should feel after everything. But it isn’t. Because no matter how much you’ve hurt me, no matter how much I’ve wanted to walk away, I can’t stop loving you. And that… that’s what hurts the most.”

Jaeyun’s breath shudders, and for a moment, he doesn’t move. You can see the hesitation in his movements, the way his hands twitch at his sides as if he’s fighting the urge to reach for you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice trembling. “For all of it. For every time I hurt you, every time I pushed you away when all you ever did was stay.”

Your heart clenches at the rawness in his tone, the vulnerability he’s finally letting you see. You take a small step forward, the distance between you shrinking, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his carefully constructed walls crumble entirely.

“You don’t have to apologise anymore,” you say softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “Just… don’t make me regret staying.”

Then, as if something inside him snaps, he steps closer, his trembling hands reaching out to cup your face. “I won’t,,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I never give you a reason to hate me again.”

Before you can say anything else, Jaeyun closes the remaining distance between you. His arms wrap around you, tentative at first, as though he’s afraid you’ll push him away. But when you don’t, when you melt into his embrace, his hold tightens. Even with the searing pain in his ribs, he presses his body against yours as though he’s terrified of letting you go.

The warmth of his touch is overwhelming, and you bury your face in his chest, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. His heartbeat is erratic against your cheek, mirroring the rapid pounding of your own.

You tilt your head up to look at him, your breath catching as you see the intensity in his gaze. His eyes are filled with something you’ve longed to see—love, raw and unguarded. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Maybe not,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m still here.”

He leans in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you don’t. You meet him halfway, your lips pressing against his in a kiss that is as tentative as it is electrifying.

The world seems to fall away as his lips move against yours, soft and searching, as though he’s pouring every unspoken word, every buried emotion, into this one moment. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, a mixture of desperation and relief in the way he holds you.

When you finally pull away, breathless and overwhelmed, his forehead rests against yours. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the emotion trembling beneath it.

The words hang in the air, soft but weighty, like a promise long overdue.

You nod, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you smile softly. Hearing those three words from him is something you never thought would happen, something you’d almost given up hoping for.

They settle in your chest, filling the void that had been carved out by years of distance and pain. And yet, they don’t feel fleeting or uncertain. They feel real.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, the confession spilling from your lips without hesitation.

His arms tighten around you, as though anchoring himself to you, and in that moment, the weight of the past begins to fall away. It doesn’t erase the hurt, the scars, or the battles you’ve fought, but it lays the foundation for something new.

Something worth hoping for, worth holding onto.

The morning sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. The faint chirping of birds filters through the open window, blending with the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. You stir beneath the covers, blinking against the golden light, and instinctively reach out.

Your hand brushes against Jaeyun’s, and his fingers wrap around yours reflexively. A soft smile spreads across your face as you realise he’s already awake, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, carrying a hint of amusement as if he’s caught you in a rare, unguarded moment.

You smile, the simple greeting filling the room with a kind of light you hadn’t felt in years. “Good morning,” you reply, your fingers brushing against the wedding ring that now sits firmly on your finger—a symbol that, finally, feels like it truly means something.

Jaeyun leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You looked peaceful,” he says, his fingers brushing your cheek. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

You laugh softly, resting your hand on his chest. “You can’t just watch me sleep, Jaeyun. That’s… mildly creepy.”

His laugh rumbles in his chest, a sound you’ve come to treasure. “Fair point,” he admits, his eyes sparkling.

“Do you have any plans today?” he asks, shifting closer, his arm slipping around your waist as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You shake your head, laughing softly. “Not unless you count breakfast.”

He grins, the boyish charm you rarely saw before now shining through. “I was hoping we could spend the day doing nothing. Just… being here. Together.”

You nod, the simplicity of the suggestion warming you. “I’d like that.”

The morning unfolds with quiet moments that feel extraordinary in their ordinariness—Jaeyun making coffee, you teasing him about burning the toast, laughter filling the kitchen as you both try to perfect pancakes. It’s these moments, you realise, that make a life worth living. Not grand gestures or elaborate plans, but the small, quiet ways you choose each other every day.

As the day stretches on, you find yourselves curled up on the sofa, your head resting on his shoulder while his fingers absentmindedly trace patterns along your arm. The television hums in the background, forgotten as you both bask in the peace you fought so hard to find.

The man beside you now isn’t the distant, closed-off Jaeyun you once knew. He’s present, attentive, and more open than you ever thought possible. It wasn’t an overnight change, that’s for sure. But somewhere along the way, you both chose to stop running—from yourselves, from each other, and from the future you could build together.

What you have now feels special, priceless. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You’ve learned, through pain and healing, that happiness doesn’t come from wealth or success. True happiness comes from love.

The kind of love that makes you giddy inside.

The kind of love you once believed only existed in fairy tales.

The kind of love that everyone seeks but few find.

The kind of love you’ve found with him.

They say if he’s not calling, it’s because you’re not on his mind. Once, you believed that. You let it eat away at you, let it shape your every thought, every quiet moment when his absence felt louder than words. You told yourself his silence was a choice, that his excuses were just another way to say you didn’t matter enough.

But now, sitting beside him as the evening light filters through the curtains, his hand resting over yours, you realise how wrong you were—not about the hurt, not about the cracks that formed between you, but about what lay beneath them. He wasn’t running because you didn’t matter. He was running because you mattered too much. And it took breaking everything apart for you both to understand how to rebuild it.

Your gaze falls to the tattoo on your ring finger, a faint mark that once felt like a brand tethering you to emptiness. It’s still there, as permanent as the scars this marriage once bore. But now, it’s different. It’s not a reminder of disappointment or neglect, not a mark of the silence that stretched between you. It’s a symbol of endurance, of a love that’s messy and flawed but undeniably real.

But you’ve learned that love isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, about facing the hard truths and still choosing to stay.

“Busy” may have once been his excuse. But now, “always” is his answer.

Always.

2K notes · View notes

106alibi · 2 months ago

Text

good graces ; lee jeno

pairing: boxer!jeno x magazine-editor!reader

synopsis: y/n knows she's petty. so when she found out her (secret) celebrity boyfriend of a year had been cheating on her, through a news article to make things worse, she decided to cook up an action plan to get back at him, and what better way to take revenge than to get together with his all-time favourite athlete?

or, in which y/n involves an unsuspecting lee jeno into her little revenge scheme on her now ex-boyfriend.

ib: good graces, sabrina carpenter

featuring: haewon of nmixx, kazuha of lesserafim, ningning of aespa, 00z of nct dream, (side chars.) natty of kiss of life, jake of enhypen

genre: humour, fluff, angst (maybe)

disclaimers: fem pronouns for y/n, will give disclaimers for individual chapters if I see fit!, mentions of cheating, profanities, kms/kys jokes, inappropriate themes and jokes

notes: need to preface and say I love jake i love jake i love jake i love natty i love natty i love natty

status: ongoing (061124)

updates: every wednesday

taglist: open~ drop a reply or ask to be added!

a/n: letting this marinate before i start it from mid to end november! i have high hopes for this one and i hope you give jeno lots of love because there is a serious jeno smau drought on this app 💔💔 if you want me to tag you when the profiles/prologue drops just send a reply or an ask too! love you all 💜💜

profiles 24/7 on the bowl | protected by jeno squad

chapters

chapter 00. prologue

chapter 01. LIKE P IN THE V??

chapter 02. umm uhh O.K!

chapter 03. clout chaser

chapter 04. rookie mistake

chapter 05. I think she's flirting

chapter 06. a girl can't smile in 2024 without flirting?

chapter 07. Awkward!

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fics-lovebot · 5 months ago

Text

enhypen fic recs

main masterlist

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

i´ll be constantly updating this list so make sure to check it out often for new recs

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

LAST UPDATED: 21/12/2024 ( the ones with the ** are the last ones added!)

poly / ot7

**brought the heat back - ( @neos127 ) toxic!enha, listen,,,,SÑDFLHSÑDJFH the sunghoon one had me giggling at my laptop like a gremlin omg

their s/o falls asleep waiting for them - ( @heeliopheelia ) fluffFFYY

you take your engagement ring off during an argument - ( @heeliopheelia ) angst, love it

come back to me..please - ( @thinemoonshine ) text, angst, they want you back after they messed up but you´re over it. I read this when i want a lil angsty angst bc there´s a lot of begging and shi

leche of the sirens - ( @thinemoonshine ) dark romance, mature themes, revharem, obssesive and possesive behaviour, corrupt nobles!enha, siren!reader. GRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (insert that one pic of a werewolf ripping his shirt) THIS IS THE BEST THING I´VE READ IN A HOT MINUTEEEEEE!!!!! omg I literally DEVOURED this

you´re short - ( @nikrangdan ) fluff, crack, love itttttt

when you block them from your spam acc - ( @heeslomll ) text, fluff, crack, THIS IS SO FUCKFIJR FUNNY LMAO

"i wanna break up" prank hyung ver , maknes ver- ( @luvrseung ) text, crack, JAY IS MY KIND OF MANNNN, and riki LMAOOOO why is he like that.

makeup voiceovers - ( @kairoot ) fluff, crack, this is so creative omg, I love itttttttt

possessive - ( @kairoot ) text, fluff, crack, DKJSADKJHKASD so fun to read

dear husband - ( @atrirose ) fluff, you doing that one tiktoktrend where you call them husband outta nowhere, so cuteee

pretty boy - ( @atrirose ) fluff, tiktok trend where you call them "pretty boy"

exe.enhaboy_stopped_working.exe - ( @star-sim ) fluff, making them flustered. the Jay and Ni-ki ones are my favsss

is your girlfriend single? maknea line, hyung line - ( @star-sim ) fluff, crack, youtuber! non-idol bf! enhypen. when your youtuber bf finally shows you for the first time to his audience and the chat starts simping. PLSSSSSSSSSSSS READ IT, ITS SO GOOODDDD

"i want to break up" prank - ( @enha-stars ) text, crack. "wanna hear it in spanish? NOH" LDSJHFSJFDH WHY WOULD HE-

"we´d make a cute couple" - ( @sainns ) text, fluff, crack. NOT jay asking at what time u had a thought last night so he can be prepared lmao

“If you were walking past a strawberry field and you were very hungry, would you eat a strawberry?” - ( @luvrseung ) text, fluff, crack, heesung aint even know wtf he did lmao

hands - ( @cypherchii ) text, crack, enha legal line. "aint nobody looking at that", the sunghoon one .... no bc author is so real for that

another man paying for your nails - ( @joysbaereal ) text, fluff, crack, JAYYYYYY once again being the standard

a little less scandalous - ( @bywons ) fluff, suggestive, bad boy!enha

"i miss being single" prank hyung line - ( @joysbaereal ) text, fluff, very suggestive, sunghoon needs to chill out LMAO.

for their doll - ( @dioll ) fluff, enha hyung line. items the´d have in their car just for you, soooo cuteeeeee :(((((

i´ll be your bf - ( @chaconnenha ) fluff, angst, jealousy & possessiveness, minor suggestive, "you're not his girlfriend, and he's not your boyfriend, but.." I LIKE THIS

the other man?? - ( @thinemoonshine ) text, jealousy, crack, they are NOT about to let their girlfriend be in the same vicinity or presence of another man—especially, not one-on-one.

brought the heat back - ( @neos127 ) toxic!enha, highschool au, the sunghoon one was sexy ngl LFJSDFKJSH

sending them dirty texts while being surrounded by family - ( @heejake-hoon ) hyung line, VVERY suggestive. SDLFKJLDKJFH STOPPP I HAD TO PUT MY PHONE ASIDE WITH THE JAY AND SUNGHOON ONES,,"Be careful what you wish for, baby girl… you know damn well this dick doesn’t play fair." HAD ME TEARING UPPP

charmed by her - ( @xoamiiren ) noona!reader, younger bf!enha, BC WHY DID HEESUGN AND JAY HAD ME GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET

give you the world (when you pout) - ( @okwonyo ) fluff, e.r NAURRR, NOT JAY CALLING HER "MY HEART" i lit threw my phone across my room, and sunghoon omg :(((( so fluffy

experienced vs inexperienced - ( @p4ranormaluv ) "which enha member wants someone inexperienced and which want someone experienced?" i 100% agree with this take and gawddd i have a thing for swtich!jake

blinded by your lethal face card - ( @blairbliss ) fluff, KSHKDFJHSKH stoooop this had me blushing n shii

**dress to impress? - ( @mlyscha ) crack, fluff, ASKJHS I LOVE THISSSSS, it´s so fun, JAY WAS SO OUTTA POCKET LMAO HAD ME LAUGHING OUT LOUD, thank god i was alone in my room or else

**did i rizz you up? - ( @wonryllis ) fluff, lowkey suggestive, STOPPPP THIS IS SO SDFLJKHLSH omg the niki one had me blushing idk idk AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON JUNGWONNN, that´s a man fr

**randomly giving them a rose on the street - ( @wonryllis ) fluff, omg???? i need a whole series based on this, so good

**tempting them during no nut november - ( @wonryllis ) smut, hyung line only, the sunghoon one is my favvvv

**when on your period - ( @fatalhoon ) bf!enha, fluff :((, PLEASEE YOUR HONOR I´M IN LOVE WITH 7 MEN! this is so amazing

**accidentally confessed - ( @sungbeams ) text, fluff, crack, this is so FUNNY !!! kjsfhksjfhd i loved it sm

heesung

ex-bf! heesung texts - ( @fakeuwus ) crack, fluff, he´s SIMPIIINNGG

down bad - ( @boyfhee ) texts, crack, loser!hee, ITS SO FUNNY BC HE´S WEIRF AF UNPROVOKED SDFJS

hopeless - ( @star-sim ) FLUFF, emo!heesung, horrendously down bad! heeseung, cute sweet!reader. absolutely no one would have expected the dark, brooding, and rough heeseung lee to be hopelessly head over heels in love with the sweet, oblivious you. AAAAA THIS IS SO CUTEEEEEE

who r u? - ( @jlheon ) fluff, you and heesung are in situationship but none of the members knew your knew, so they make up all these plans to lowkey figure it out. this was soooo entertaining lmao, i loved it

jay

random texts with bf!jay - ( @enha-stars )

too sweet - ( @star-sim ) fluff, suggestive, badboy!jake, nerdy!reader, downbad!jake. Jay is scared he will hurt you in the future so he tries to break things off but at the end of the day he´s whipped LMAOOO, I LOVE ITTTTTT

say it back! - ( @star-sim ) FLUFF, non-idol! bf! jay, clingy cute!reader, whipped!jake, like fr, UGHHHHHHHH SO CUTE AND DOMESTIC

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!jay

pictures of bf!jay enha send you - ( @ddksoo ) text, fluff

justice and mercy - ( @thoughtsofmetaphor ) god!jay park x virgin!reader, NAHHHH the potential rev harem this had is insaneee, i love it

please be real - (@ja3yun ) ex!jay x fem!reader, OMG???? THIS IS THE BEST FUCKING ANGST I´VE READ IN A MINUTEEEEE, bREAK UP ANGST????? SING ME TF IN, plsssssss i was bAWLING my eyes out at 5AM!!

eat the rich - ( @enhypencores )chaebol!jay x fem!reader, wheeeewww, i love this sfdlsdjfljkshd he´s so manly and possessive

jake

fuck buddy jake - ( @heeseungsbm ) smut, lowkey fluff bc he´s got a fat crush

texts with ex-bf!jake - ( @bywons ) fluff, CRACK, he´s down bad fr

pictures of bf!jake enha send you - ( @ddksoo ) text, fluff

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!jake

brought the heat back - ( @jayniks ) smut, idol!jake, giving him a bj while he´s on weverse live sdlkjlsd WHEWW

hello kitty meets batman - ( @star-sim ) fluff, angst, lowkey smut, dark horror creator youtuber!jake, downbad!jake, beauty vlogger youtuber!reader. fans had no idea their fav youtubers were in a long-term secret relationship. THIS IS SO GOOOOOODDDDDDDD plsss, i wish i could read it again for the first time

things we never said - ( @hoonigiris ) very angsty. it’s heeseung’s wedding, jake’s had too much to drink, and really, he just misses you. perhaps what happens after are the things he should never say. This is realllyy well written, i loved it

clingy bf jake - ( @onyourmarkks ) PLSSS i want him so bad :((((((( he´s so bf

taste of heaven - ( @moonstruck-muses ) vamp au, smut, fluff, angst, vamp!jake, human!reader. he´s keeping his true nature a secret. THIS HAS IT ALLLLL and the smut is so gewd too, pls i would love the see another part of this

grwm to break up with my bf prank - ( @jaeyunwon ) fluff, LSDJFLSKJ JAKE WAS HEATED, so cute

**waiting on calls - ( @miumura ) fluff, angst, exes to lovers, second chance romance, ex bf!jake, non idol au, I LOVE THISSSSSSS, its so different and well written

**ouch my head - ( @jakesangel ) smau, crack, fluff, "when y/n almost gets hit by a random hot basketball player who happens to have a huge crush on he" this is an on going series, so so so entertaining and fun to read lmao

**cigarrettes - ( @hoonvrs ) smau, university student!jake, golden retrives x black cat trope, I ENJOYED THIS SERIES SMMMMM, had me laughing out loud and all

sunghoon

texting bf!sunghoon - ( @heeslomll ) text, fluff, crack, HE´S SO UNHINGED LMAO

texting bf!sunghoon - ( @heeslomll )text, THEY ARE HORNY AFFFFFF

**long distance bf text - ( @cupidhoons ) FLUFF, long distance relationship, idol!hoon, UUUHHHHHGGGGGG THIS IS SO !!!!!!!! :( pls when is it my turn to be happy

**unblock me! - ( @okwonyo ) smau, ex bf!hoon, THIS IS SO FUNNY PLSSSSS, i love me some desperte simp hoon

texts with ex-bf!sunghoon - ( @saursoob ) text, crack

sunghoon as your downbad bf - ( @jaeyunwrld ) text, crack, fluff

random ass texts - ( ( @saursoob ) fluff, crack, downbad!hoon

freaky bf!hoon texts - ( @enha-stars ) fluff, crack, very suggestive, downbad!hoon, mentions of pee kink,,,IKYFL

pictures of bf!sunghoon enha sends you - ( @enha-stars ) text, fluff

emergency contact - ( @hoonatic ) ANGSTYYYYYYYYY, fluff, exes to lovers. weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. i love it SO fucking MUCH plssss

the pussy eating competition - ( @karinasbaby ) smut, HELLO???? THIS WHOLE CONCEPT IS CRAAZZZYYYYYYYYY, bc WDYM there´s a competition of how many times a guy can make a girl squirt under 5 minutes??????? IM- it´s good yall

crush - ( @star-sim ) fluff, crack, non-idol! bf! sunghoon, sleepy!hoon, dumb!hoon. AAAAAAAAA i love it :( so domestic and fun and cute and :((((((

without words - ( @slytherinshua ) fluff, PLEASEE I NEED HIMMMMMMM :(((((((((( they´re so in love

**sidewalk theory - ( @mlyscha ) FLUff, bf!sunghoon,, wowww ahaha so WHAT IF KMS RN AND CHANGED THE TRAJECTORY OF EVERYONES LIFE?????? THIS IS SO LDKFJHSKDFHLKSJHDLKGSHJGHL :((( miss girl this made me want to ugly cry and scream bc why is it so fucking cute :(((((((((((

sunoo

espresso - ( @star-sim ) dark academia au, downbad!sunoo, loser!sunoo nerd!sunoo, popular!reader, lots of sexual frustration. I LOVE ITTTTTTTTTT SMMM

please come back - ( @alvojake ) angst, fem!reader, car accident, death themes, this is perfect for one of those days you want to feel pAIN

jungwon

july jewels and music notes - ( @atrirose ) text, fluff, crack simp!jungwon. LOVE THIS, it makes me cackle

too much, baby? - ( @onlygarden ) smut, dom!jungwon, noona!reader, lowkey size kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT IS THISSSSFHDFHSKDJ

xo (only if you say yes ) - ( @rinanextdoor ) fluff, popular!jungwoon, secret admirer!reader, PLSSSS i need to read the next parts, it´s so good. I can only IMAGINE to fluff

act a fool - ( @thoughtsofmetaphor ) street racer!won x member's little sister!reader. nahhhh this needs a whole kdrama, reader is so cool

not for sale - ( @thoughtsofmetaphor ) droid!yang jungwon, parts shop owner!reader, THIS IS CRAZZZZYYYYYYY, the way he switched up one reader after she was done fixing him i-

ni-ki

disclaimer: he may be 18+ but I don´t feel comfortable reading any smut about him, so there won´t be any listed in here

**tsundere boyfriend - ( @cupidhoons ) text au, FLUFF, bf!riki, i WHOLEHEARTEDLY BELIEVE HE´S LIKE THIS i wanna die :(

sweater - ( @star-sim )fluff, angst, hurt-comfort, non idol bf!riki, happy ending, he gets insecure bc he doesnt recgonaize the sweater you´re wearing,

boys night - ( @star-sim )fluff, crack, non idol!riki, where his six friends tries to help him text his school crush. I LOVE THISSS, such a fun read

random texts with bf!riki - ( @sainns ) fluff, CRACK, "if u were my ex i wouldnt get over u, i would start tweaking like austin mcbroom" LMAOOOO he´s so real for tar

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!riki

gamer!bf riki - ( @alvojake ) FLUFF, IM GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET RN SDKFSLHSJDFH this was so CUTE

necklace - ( @rikiislvr ) fluff, idol!riki, i WISH this would happen to me but i´m too broke to be frequenting the same stores as him alsjfha, need a part two asap plss

2K notes · View notes

renjunphile · 27 days ago

Text

way back home ❆ park sunghoon

⋆⁺₊❅. WORD COUNT: 22.4k ⋆⁺₊❅. PAIRING: enhypen's park sunghoon x female!reader ⋆⁺₊❅. TAGS & WARNINGS: figure skating!au, skater!sunghoon, skater!reader, enemies to lovers!au, ex bsf!au, kind of second chance romance!au, a lot of fluff, a little smidge of angst, a dash of fake dating blink and you'll miss, you used to stake for korea (more abt nationality than ethnicity), some inner conflict, burnout themes, tbz eric as a plot device oops, some heated making out

⋆⁺₊❅. SYNOPSIS: at the age of 5, you thought that you had made a life-long friend in park sunghoon. at the age of 16, you found out that life-long meant 11 years before you decided he was going to be your life-long enemy. but at 21, you're confronted with your past together as your figure skating coach decides to move back home to where you used to skate together after almost 6 years away abroad.

⋆⁺₊❅. NOTES: i've been attempting to write a hoonie ice skating fic for years and years since ice skating has been one of my big interests (watching, not doing) even before enha debuted- that contributed to the fact that hoon was my first bias. it's finally come to fruition and the wc just kept getting longer and longer- hope it's not too boring! i just wanted to write some mostly cute fluffy skater hoon!!

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

At the age of 5, you thought that you had made a life-long friend in Park Sunghoon. At the age of 16, you found out that life-long meant 11 years before you decided he was going to be your life-long enemy. You meant it this time, you had told yourself in the mirror of the rink's female bathroom while your hands were gripping the sides of the sink so hard that your knuckles were turning white.

Since that moment that led you to stomping out of the rink while still wearing your skates (thankfully with the guards on) all the way home, you've seen Park Sunghoon a total of 3 times. You're 21 now, but every time you think back to that moment of your falling out, the dull ache lingering in your heart still explodes into a fireball and you have to remind yourself that you'll never let him hurt you the same again.

Your body is set aflame as the president of the ISU gestures with his arms in front of a sold-out crowd for you to skate towards him for the photographers to grab a shot. You're no stranger to pictures with President Kim, but he's also beckoning over the newly crowned 2023-2024 Grand Prix Final Men's champion in Park Sunghoon.

"Aw, my two favourites," Mr. Kim coos as he wraps an arm around each of your shoulders' and grins to the camera, "I always knew it was only a matter of time before I would have two Korean skaters at the top again."

You groan internally at the consequences of being in the same frame as Park Sunghoon. Ever since one of your former classmates anonymously shared to a huge figure skating fan account that you and Sunghoon used to be best friends, you've been receiving demands to share stories about each other, not knowing your current relationship. Well, they must know from the fact that you two don't even follow each other on Instagram. On the flip side, you've also amassed unfathomable hate from his crazy, obsessed fans to stay away. There's always those people.

You paid no mind to them anyway, since being near Park Sunghoon voluntarily was the last thing on your wish list.

Sunghoon keeps the fake smile plastered on his face but snarks out through his teeth, "She doesn't skate for our country anymore. She hasn't in 5 years."

Mr. Kim chortles as if he believed Sunghoon's words to just be banter, "Don't be so unwelcoming, Sunghoon. Y/N is still part of our family."

You held back a scoff, letting out a sigh instead when the photographer finally turned his attention away from the three of you, "Mr President, don't you think you should root for all countries? You're no longer just the president of the Korean Skating Union."

He laughs obliviously, "I know, I know. I guess I should. I love my country of course, but I'll always cheer for you too Y/N. You broke all of our hearts when you switched nationalities."

You refuse to turn your head to your former acquaintance who makes a sound crossed between a scoff and a pained laugh, "Yeah, she sure did. Goodbye, Mr. Kim." Sunghoon bows his body completely at a right angle, pressing the bouquet of flowers he was holding for his win up to his chest before skating away without another glance at you.

Mr. Kim looks at you sheepishly, "You guys are still not on good terms?"

"I don't think we ever will be," you subtly roll your eyes at the hostility from Sunghoon, "I'm sorry he's like that."

"It wasn't all that long ago that you would race each other around the rink at junior nationals after the gala would end," he reminisces fondly, "It would be such a shame for you to have to look back on your friendship with regret."

"The damage is done, Sir," you tap your blade repeatedly on the ice to distract yourself from the pain you felt every time you thought about your friendship, "I hope to see you here again next year."

"Congratulations on your win, my dear," he smiles graciously and lets you skate away after bowing goodbye.

While you were ecstatic about winning your second Grand Prix Final gold medal in a row, you were also happy to share the podium with two friends that you have gotten close and closer to as you spent more time on the circuit. You glided back towards them as they took selfies with their flowers and their medals, trying to ignore the burning feeling on your back as if someone was looking at you from afar.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You liked to limit your interaction with Park Sunghoon to seeing him from afar once a year at the exhibition gala of the grand prix final or world's. It's only been two years that he's made the final, but you enjoyed another two without his villainous aura before that. Whatever deity you believed in had blessed you for the past 5 years; you hadn't been seeded to a single assignment with him through the seasons. There was definitely a force trying to keep you apart for the greater good of peace. You definitely took it as a sign that he wasn't meant to be back in your life anyway.

You thought that you had filled your quota this year with that little interaction with the president. You thought that you were finally in the clear for another year and you could move on with your life again without this god-awful memory weighing down on your chest every time you were in the same vicinity as him.

But Park Sunghoon stands before you, or more like crouches, as he tries to get a cola lollipop from the machine in the arcade of the hotel. It's not even been 24 hours since you last saw him.

When you spot him on the floor, you immediately turn on your heel to flee without being noticed. He has other plans, it seems.

"Did you know that you stomp like an elephant? For a figure skater, you're not very elegant on normal floors," Sunghoon doesn't take his eyes off the machine, watching as the conveyor belt trying to capture a lollipop turned and turned.

"Eat my ass, Park," you snipe back.

An amused smirk forms on his face as he turns his chin towards you, "Who knew you'd grow up so vulgar? That's quite unbecoming of you, Y/N."

"Don't say my name," you grunt, looking around for someone you know so you could exit this interaction, "In fact, don't even talk to me."

"As if you're the one who should be hurt. You moved continents and changed nationalities without a word," he scoffs, standing up and unwrapping the cola lollipop he had finally acquired, "Moving training locations, fine. But changing nationalities and not even warning your friends?"

If cartoon effects were real, there would be smoke coming out of your ears. You ball your fists tight and keep them glued to your side, "You were the one who broke my heart."

Sunghoon furrows his thick eyebrows together, halting the way he was moving the sweet between his lips. He takes it out and lets out an exasperated sound, "You never let me explai-"

You raise a hand to his face, "Save the bullshit, Park."

As much as a part of you wants to hear what he has to say, it still feels like the wound he inflected 5 years ago opens up anytime you hear his voice. All you could think about was that moment on the ice and the words he said that were sharper than his blades enough to cut deep into your heart. Honestly, you've tried to forgive him, or at least forget, but meeting his eyes now- you want to just run.

There's no longer any amusement in his expression, just frustration. You're satisfied with this, lunging forward to grab an unwrapped orange lollipop from his hand and walking away before he could register what you said or did.

You're breathing heavy; you hadn't let him affect you this way in years, but the anger is rising and the pain is overflowing out of the tiny box you kept it in and stored in the back of your heart. You sort of wish he'd run after you, grab your wrist and call your name, but you know that if you turn around right now, he'd still be in the same position.

It's been 5 years since you spoke to him, nearly 1 since you last saw him at the exhibition gala at the last World's. You don't intend to make a habit of Park Sunghoon again.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Your best friend Chaehyun twizzles around you in what you think is the shape of a heart. She's been trying out fun tricks to go along with the new go-pro that her coach bought for monitoring her training. It flies above the two of you with a prominent buzz that you've learned to tune out. You're standing in the middle of the rink, looking up and visualising the crowd you'll face tomorrow when you start the competition.

"Excited? Nervous?" Chaehyun's voice is naturally sing-songy but it vibrates as she moves at lightning speed around you.

"The same," your breath condenses into a cloud in front of you, "Just getting bored, a bit."

"Yeah, must be boring winning gold every single year for the past 4 years," Chaehyun snides, but not unkindly, "Do me a favour and fall on your axel tomorrow? I wouldn't mind having a world's medal."

"I would, but," you trail off and follow her with your eyes, "I want to go out with a bang."

Chaehyun immediately comes to a stop and rushes over to you, "What? What did you say?"

"I don't know if I should retire at the end of this season," you admit gingerly, gnawing on your bottom lip, "I'm just kind of exhausted."

Chaehyun gives you a weary look, "This doesn't have anything to do with seeing Sunghoon again in Beijing right?"

Your eyes widen at the mention of his name, "Chae, what? No! Why would it be?"

"Well, you cried all night after seeing him in the hotel," she reminded you, "And your coach wants to move back to Korea again."

"She does and I don't want to have to switch coaches. She's been with me since I was a junior, but I really can't move back to Seoul again," you tell her, "It's partly because of Sunghoon; all the memories would just hurt me over and over again the second I step foot in the country. Other than that, I've built a life on this side of the world."

Chaehyun scoffs at you, "Built a life? Your family is still in Korea and me, your best friend, is too. Your parents are getting older and you make them fly out to you every occasion. You shouldn't let Sunghoon dictate your life like this. You literally told me that you want an Olympic gold."

Your memories flash back to August, when you were vacationing with your best friend and drinking margaritas by the seaside, "2026 is really far away."

She gives you a strong side eye, "We can talk about this over dinner. You're literally the best female skater right now; you can't just retire at 21!"

"Alysa Liu retired at 16," you mumble.

Chaehyun smirks vindictively, "And Alysa Liu just announced her return at 19. Look, take a break, do what you need, but please don't give up on your dream so early."

Before you could say another word, a voice echoes in the arena, "Hey, it's our turn to practice."

Both of your heads whip around to the tunnel, where a few tall figures came into the light. Your head moves to the sudden movement of your coach, beckoning you to come off the ice after the end of the senior women's practice. You had wondered why there was no one kicking you off after your slot had finished.

"Heeseung," you grin at the sight of the cherry-haired boy, skating over to him and ignoring the presence of one ex-best friend beside him, "I haven't seen you in forever."

You clasp the boards tightly, swinging the gate open and sliding the guards over your skates. Heeseung is 3, 2, 1 step away from you and he takes you into a warm hug.

"I know," he coos into your hair, "It's a shame that Sunoo got injured and had to withdraw, but here I am in his place!"

You had known Heeseung nearly as long as you knew the boy beside him. When you and Sunghoon joined your skating club, Heeseung had been there for a year already. Through the years, he grew into a sort of older brother figure for the both of you and you never lost contact with him. The past season, he had been struggling with an injury and took off time to heal, but he recovered in time for nationals and placed 4th. Sunghoon had won the gold, Sunoo the silver and Jungwon the bronze. As Sunoo fell victim to an injury in practice in between nationals and World's, Heeseung had been invited to fill the country's berth at the championships.

In the middle of your conversation with Heeseung, you notice Sunghoon stalk away behind you to step onto the rink. You hear him greet Chaehyun happily as he passed by.

"I heard you might be moving back to Korea," Heeseung mumbles lowly under his breath.

"How do you know that?" you furrow your eyebrows at him. Had he overheard you? Did Sunghoon overhear too?

Heeseung shakes his head, his bangs falling into his eyes, "Our coaches used to be partners, remember?"

You flick your gaze to your coach, who was happily catching up with her ex-pairs skating partner of nearly 2 decades. They used to coach at the same rink, but when your coach fancied a change of scenery and was offered a role she couldn't turn down, you followed her across the world. Of course she couldn't keep a secret from her very best friend despite you begging her not to tell anyone yet.

"Does Sunghoon know?" Thankfully, Sunghoon's coach was different and not very close to your coach as Heeseung's coach is.

Heeseung denies this again, "I wanted to talk to you first. What's up with that?"

"Taeyeon's missing home and she feels like she's learned all she could have from head coach," you sigh, "I miss home too, but I don't really want to move. I also think I might take a break for a season instead; I'm feeling burnt out."

5 years ago, your coach was offered to be mentored by the most successful coach in the world of figure skating. While you trusted her already with your life, you both agreed that being under a 2x Olympic winning coach would be beneficial, so you didn't hesitate packing your bags despite the distance it put between your home and your family.

Heeseung looks at you with sincere empathy, wrapping you up again in his arms, "I'm sorry you're feeling that way. Have you spoken to your coach about it?"

"Kind-of. She's going to take on more students when she moves back home so she won't suffer in that regard and she said if I do follow her, I can help coach and maybe get a certificate," you nod, plonking your face straight into his chest, "I don't know what to do, Heeseung."

"I'm not very good at giving pep talks or advice, but I trust you'll make the decision that's best for you," Heeseung murmurs, "Just follow your heart, I guess. Wherever your heart is being pulled to, there must be a reason."

"Hey! You're wasting time!" a sharp, deep voice resonates behind you, causing you to turn your head to watch Sunghoon glaring at the two of you like you just sabotaged Heeseung's career keeping him at the sideline.

"I'll be there in a sec, Hoon," Heeseung remains calm, knowing that his best friend always gets in a mood whenever you're around or you're mentioned near him. He turns back to you, "Are you busy? Do you want to watch us practise?"

To the side of you, Chaehyun is hunching over an iPad with her coach, deep in monitoring. Your coach waves your own device at you when you catch her eye.

"I guess we can monitor here," you tell him reluctantly, to which he smiles, "But if he says anything, let me know so I can leave. I don't want to deal with him right now."

Heeseung squeezes your shoulders and moves past you to reach the gate. Still unsure if you were making the right decision by staying when Sunghoon was under the same room, you make your way gingerly to your coach.

"What a lovely reunion," Taeyeon exhales happily, "Kibum's pretending he's not overjoyed I'm moving back to Seoul."

Kibum is standing shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the rink with Junho, Sunghoon's coach, and they chat animatedly while the boys warm up.

"That's nice," you mumble, fiddling with the iPad to get up your practice run.

Taeyeon continues beside you, "I think you should make up with Sunghoon if you're going to move back home. It'll just be a better atmosphere in the rink."

"I don't know if I will go back," you remind her, "And what's wrong with the atmosphere? We're not affecting anyone."

Your coach lets out the most dramatic scoff you think has ever been produced, "Y/N, sweetheart. The freaking glare that Sunghoon was giving you and Heeseung when you were talking and hugging could have evaporated all the ice in this building. I was scared and he wasn't even looking at me!"

Your eyes dart to him on the ice, slowly speeding up his camel spin. You get that he didn't like you, but what reason did he have for glaring at you when you weren't even looking his way? Unprofessional, you thought to yourself.

"That's his problem, not mine," you jeer, "Can we review?"

Taeyeon giggles at your attitude, "Okay, feisty. Look, all I'm saying is that I watched the two of you grow up together. You had such a special bond and yeah, 5 years is a long time to not be friends from your point right now, but when you're older, that's not gonna be anything if you make up now."

"It's not my choice, Taeyeon," you tap your fingers against the glass screen, "I really hate talking about this."

"One day I'll get it out of you what happened when you fell out," Taeyeon hums off-handedly, "Okay, monitoring. Your spins were great, but you were a bit wobbly on the-"

Despite being the one to encourage focus, you begin to tune her out when you notice in the corner of your eye that Sunghoon was warming up his jumps. You watch him breathe deeply and the way he keeps his eyes up and on the ice to visualise the jump he was going to do. You can't take your eyes off him as he takes off and you hold your breath watching him rotate so quickly in the air. The breath only escapes when his blade collides with the ice and he lands the quad lutz perfectly.

It takes you back to when you were 16 and he was struggling so hard to land this exact jump- one that even Heeseung was yet to master. You remember him falling over and over and over again, training it into the late hours of the evening when you were supposed to be at home and resting. You remember him kicking up ice with his blades in frustration, on the verge of giving up. You remember cooing a pep talk into his ear until he was motivated enough to try again for the last time and finally land it in your presence.

"Y/N," Taeyeon snaps in your ear, "You're actually a walking oxymoron."

"I may dislike him, but I never said he's a bad skater. If there's a good jump about to happen in front of me, I wouldn't ignore it," you fight back, "Okay, sorry, sorry. Focus."

"I'm getting dinner tonight with Kibum and Junho," she tells you suddenly, "Do you want me to not talk about moving back? In case Junho says anything to Sunghoon?"

You let your eyes flutter close as your head spins with all the decisions you had to make soon. Sometimes, you have no idea where you were going next or what event you're training for. It's times like those that you're desperate for the world to freeze at your command.

"I just need some time to think before I make any decisions."

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You don't know where it all went wrong, to be honest. It probably started with the gold medal hanging around your neck and the hundreds of pairs of eyes peering up at you with their hands typing at the speed of lightning on their computers.

The journalist chosen to ask the next question has these sharp, inquisitive eyes.

"Your former nation, the Korean Skating Union has just published their congratulations on your gold medal and celebrating the return of coach Lee Taeyeon to Taereung National Training Center."

Your world stops and even the flashes don't affect your eyes anymore. You'll probably see these photos of you from the press conference all over figure skating twitter in a few minutes. Peripherally, you see Taeyeon's face contort into true horror as she scrambles to the mic.

"How is this going to affect your training? Are you relocating back to Korea with your coach?" the journalist finished up with a smile, as if she didn't just drop the biggest bomb with no warning. You guess it's not her fault; the KSU had spoiled the news too early.

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter much. Skaters move locations and change coaches frequently; you'd done it once already. The only problem is you haven't told your family just yet... or Sunghoon, who still trained at Taereung with Heeseung and Chaehyun.

"We don't have any comments on that question as of now," Taeyeon pressed her lips together in a tense half-smile and motions for them to choose the next question.

You haven't moved since the question was asked, palms gripping the gold medal around your neck tightly. You don't remember answering many more questions actually and the next thing you know, you're sitting at the end of your hotel bed still in your national team tracksuit.

A rapid knocking begins at your door.

It takes you a few seconds to compose yourself and trudge over, but you sigh in relief when you see it's Chaehyun through the peephole.

"Chae, I'm so glad you're here," you exhale as you unlock the latches and open the door.

She gives you the most painful puppy dog eyes you've ever seen, "I'm so sorry."

"About what?"

Your heart stops again when Park Sunghoon steps into view from where he was hidden from the peephole. Immediately, your instinct is to close the door on both of them, but Sunghoon is quick to wedge his foot where the door is about to slam.

"Shit, shit, that hurts. I fucking have free skate tomorrow," Sunghoon curses under his breath with a hiss.

"I'm sorry, he's really convincing," Chaehyun tries to plead as you give her menacing looks.

Sunghoon crosses his arm and scoffs, still keeping his foot between the door and the frame, "All I asked was where her room was and you came up with the plan of pretending it was just you."

Chaehyun flushes pale and she pinches his arm, "Shut up! You said you wouldn't say!"

"Whatever this is-" you interrupt them harshly, "I don't care for it. So please leave."

Sunghoon rolls his brown eyes, finally using all of his muscle to push on the door and then on your shoulder to move you out of the way. He walks into your hotel room like it's his and gives you a smug look as he stands in the middle.

"Look, I think you two should talk," Chaehyun huffs finally, grabbing on the door handle from her side and pulling it shut, "Sorry, forgive me!"

The electronic door handle plays a quiet jingle as it locks and you're left in the room with your former best friend.

"I don't know what delusion is going through your head to make you think I'm going to stay in this room with you," you sneer, hurriedly budging past him to grab your phone, a hat and a jacket.

"Y/N-"

"Sunghoon, please," you yelp as his fingers clasp around your wrist, "What do you want from me?"

"I just want to talk," his voice is shaky, unsure, hesitant, but his grip is firm and his eyes search yours desperately.

"You want to talk? After 5 years of radio silence you want to talk?" you're frustrated as you snatch your arm back and shove him lightly on his shoulder, "I could have forgiven you if it was six months- a year, even. But 5? We're nothing more than strangers, Park Sunghoon."

Sunghoon winces visibly at your words, shutting his eyes for a second before giving you a pitiful expression, "Are you really moving back to Korea?"

You throw your hands up in the air and laugh dryly, "Are you being serious? You only care about me and want to be friends if I'm close by? As if you have no use for me if I'm somewhere else?"

"Y/N, don't put words in my mouth," Sunghoon begs. Every time he tries to step closer to you, you take a leap back. At this point, you're nearly pressed against the hotel room door, "I've always cared about you-"

"That's bullshit," you spit at him, "How can you say you've always cared about me when you're snappy at best whenever we see each other? How can you say you've always cared about me when you never called, not once, in 5 years?"

You can see his usual ice-cold, nonchalant front cracking in front of you, "I wanted to."

Hot tears sweltered on your water line, just a second away from escaping. They start streaming down your face when you begin to shove at him repeatedly, "You wanted to? Then why didn't you? Why didn't you fucking call, Sunghoon?"

Sunghoon's resolve shatters as he halts your wrist with his own and crushes you in a tight embrace that you try to fight your way out of, "I was angry, okay? I was angry that my first love practically left without warning before I could even tell her what she meant to me. I was angry that you only told me the day before you were leaving. I was angry that there was nothing I could do or say to make you stay. I was angry at the fact that you were going to be thousands of miles away from me, in a different time zone when I'd never known what life was like without you and suddenly I felt like I was being abandoned. I was angry because in all of my conscious memory up until then, you and skating were the only constant things in my life that made me happy. I didn't know what to do with myself without you."

You stop squirming against his body nearly immediately at the revelation, listening to his speech in near medical shock.

"W- what?" your voice is muffled into the material of his Team Korea fleece.

"That's all I wanted to say all these years," Sunghoon exhales like a weight is lifted off his shoulder, "I didn't know how to tell you."

"And if I don't move back to Korea, what are you going to do?" you're still crying, but you regain enough strength to pull away from his warm grip and look into his eyes that begin to flood identically, "How do you think that's going to fix anything?"

You're less than metre away from Sunghoon, but to him, you couldn't be any further apart with a rift in between you. He looks at you and you almost look exactly the same as five years ago. He knows that you're a much different person after the way he hurt you.

"I want to make it up to you, Y/N," he whispers unsurely, "I just-"

"Why did it take you 5 years and me potentially moving home to realise that?"

"I overheard Heeseung and Chaehyun talking about how you were considering retirement or a break," Sunghoon admits guiltily, "I didn't want to ruin anything for you trying to come back into your life when it all seemed so great in America. You've won nearly every medal there is to win. But I had no idea you've been struggling and it's killing me that I wasn't by your side and was adding to your hurt instead."

You make a mental note to bang your two friends' heads together the next time you see them.

"And what makes you think I want you to be by my side?" Sunghoon is the one squirming now, probably not expecting you to be relentless in your grilling. You're a different person than you were 5 years ago; you learned not to give in so easily when even those closest to you had the potential to hurt you.

"Just give me a chance to make it up to you," Sunghoon looks down at you with eyes full of sorrow. His lips are pulled downwards, and in another time, you would have been tugging on his hand to take him to the arcade, or the rink, or the park, or the river- to anywhere that would make him forget whatever was causing him woe, "Whether you're home or not."

You cross your arms and tilt your head to look away from him. You catch sight of the clock on your wall and see that it's nearing 11pm.

You manoeuvre around Sunghoon and begin to push him in the direction of the door, "You have your free skate tomorrow. This conversation isn't going to be the reason you lose; please go back to your hotel room and get some rest. Junho would kill me if he found out you were here this late."

Sunghoon is more than willing to comply with you now, "You're not gonna give me an answer tonight?"

"I can't, Sunghoon," you tell him honestly, "I need to think about this; I need to think about so many things. It feels like my head's not even screwed on the right way right now."

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he turns the handle and opens the door wide, "Good night, Y/N. Thanks for listening to me even though I didn't give you a choice and congratulations on the gold."

Sunghoon makes it three steps away before you call out his name softly.

"Hm?" he turns around to see you half hidden by the door, chewing on your lip as you decide whether to spew out what you were going to say.

"You were my first love too. Anyway, good luck tomorrow."

The door handle jingles and Sunghoon is left alone in the hallway of the hotel, feeling as if his life had just turned around again. At the centre of it, there was always you.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

"You should go home and rest first," Taeyeon pretends to scold you as she reverses into the parking space. She's been giving the same spiel over and over again since she picked you up from the airport, but you knew she didn't mean it from the way she was still driving you to your desired destination.

"I got plenty of rest on the plane and my parents aren't back from work until later," you retort again and then smile, "The KSU gave you a big raise, huh?"

Taeyeon laughs airily and the grin doesn't fade from her face, "I want only the best for my favourite skater."

You nudge her softly when she puts the car into park, "Thank you for paying for my flight. You really didn't have to."

"I get it, you're richer than me," she rolls her eyes, "Let a coach do a nice thing for her student, okay?"

Technically, you're not Taeyeon's student right now, but as her very first and most successful one, you'll always be her favourite. In reality, the fact that the two of you lived alone together and took care of each other in America made you more like family. She was a cross between a mother and an older sister to you and Taeyeon doted on you so that you never felt alone in America. Well, mostly.

She beckons you out of the car and you take the elevator up to the ground floor from the underground car park. There's a bunch of checks that you have to pass upstairs and it feels foreign to you to have a lanyard with the words 'GUEST' printed on them repeatedly. Once upon a time, you ruled this place.

"They're gonna come back from lunch soon. I made Kibum tell them all to come for an announcement after lunch," Taeyeon giggles to herself as she explains her own conspiring.

You chuckle along with her, "You're more of a sucker for this kind of stuff than I am! Telling me to go home and rest when you've been working behind the scenes without me..."

Taeyeon slides her arm around your waist and squeezes you against her side. You pass the double doors into the rink that takes your breath away.

"I'm just glad you're home, Y/N."

Strangely, it looks pretty much exactly the same as when you last saw it. Sure, the seats are getting a little worn and the floors have new scratches from dropped skates or dragging equipment, but the ice is as pristine as ever. It's sparkling white and perfectly surfaced- though you note that's probably due to ahjussi and his zamboni that you see disappearing into the tunnel on the other side of the rink. Chaehyun updates you that your favourite caretaker who's been working at Taereung since you joined is still there and you hope it's him. It would be nice to say hello in person again after nearly 6 years of occasional hello's when you video call your best friend at her training.

Kibum spots you first and jogs around to give you a big hug, "Welcome back to Korea, Y/N. I'm so happy you're here."

"Thanks Kibum," you smile sincerely at him. Since all the coaches at Taereung were so close, having been partners or friends since their own professional days, their students naturally got to know the other coaches too. While Taeyeon excelled at guiding you on techniques, spins and jumps, Kibum used to help fill out and polish your program with flair, charisma and poise. There was a reason that Heeseung always had some of the highest grade of execution scores in every competition. You had definitely missed his input while you were away.

"They should be here soon. I think I can hear Chaehyun," Kibum points to the direction you came in from, "Are you gonna hide or-"

"Shut up. Shut up!"

You spin to see your best friend frozen at the entrance of the rink, her hands over her gaping mouth, "I think it's too late for that."

"Y/N!" Chaehyun breaks out into a sprint and throws her arms around you, knocking you nearly off balance and having to take a few steps back, "What are you doing here?"

"Surprise?" you laugh weakly into her hair, "Aren't you happy I'm here?"

"I'm so happy! How long are you staying? There's so much to do now!" she pulls away from you excitedly and looks at the two coaches, "Where's coach? Do you think she'll let me take a week off?"

"Chae," you stop her bouncing by pressing down on her shoulders, "Relax. I'm moving here. Until the end of this upcoming season, at least."

Chaehyun gasps in delight and embraces you again, "Oh my God, this is the best news ever!"

"We're here too, by the way," Heeseung coughs behind Chaehyun, "We're also happy to see her, so can you share?"

Chaehyun spins and sticks her tongue out at Heeseung, but moves anyway. His hair is black again and longer than the last time you saw him. Despite that, his hug is familiar and you're always comfortable in his presence.

"I knew you'd come sooner than later after Taeyeon came back," Heeseung teases you, "I'm happy to have you around again, sweets."

"Sweets was my nickname for her," Sunghoon's deep voice called out behind the two of you. He's standing kind of awkwardly- leaning against the side of the stands as to act casual.

You remember when you started getting pocket money from your parents. Instead of saving it to buy a new plush or makeup from the mall, you would instead use it to smuggle vending machine sweets to practice. You would secretly slip some to your best friend here and there, and you were always getting scolded by your coach for your incessant sweet tooth despite needing to keep fit and healthy as an athlete.

"Hi Sunghoon," you greet him simply, a soft half-smile pulling on your lips. You immediately notice the change in his appearance, "Love the blonde."

He's a few metres away from you and you can feel all your audience's eyes on you. His own eyes widen slightly at the compliment and he shyly runs his fingers through the platinum locks, "Thanks, Y/N. I'm glad that you're back."

Chaehyun seals her hand over her mouth, but you can still hear the, "aw!" that escaped through the cracks. You spin your head so fast to glare at her that it nearly gives you whiplash.

"Coach, can we at least have the rest of the day off and catch up with Y/N?" Heeseung turns to face Kibum and then at you, "You're not busy, right?"

"You can finish practice now, but Y/N literally just got off the plane, so let her rest if she's tired," Kibum warns the three skaters, "And tomorrow, business as usual, unfortunately."

Chaehyun claps her hands together and drags you with her, calling over her shoulder that she was going to change and they should too. The locker room is still as sterile as you remember it to be- your old locker now devoid of the stickers you used to plaster all over the front.

"So?" Chaehyun quirks an eyebrow expectantly at you as she removed all of her training gear.

"So what, Chaehyun?" you roll your eyes at the girl, tapping at your cheek with your chin in your hand.

"Please, you saw the way Sunghoon was looking at you," Chaehyun laughs in glee, "Oh, I've been waiting for this moment forever."

You ignore the blush creeping up your cheeks, "This is moving too fast. I can't be hating him the last time I saw him to now being buddy-buddy. We talked a bit, yeah, but he still hurt me a lot and we're not in the clear yet. Of course, our relationship will probably never be the same."

"It's been 4 months since World's," Chaehyun notes, "You haven't thought about what you want to happen since then?"

You cock your head and hum in thought, "A little, but I've been distracting myself with the ice shows and every time I think about the situation, it just hurts, so I prefer not to."

"Hoon seems more repentant these days, to be honest. He's kinda sulky every time he sees Taeyeon and you're not by her side. He keeps asking her if you're going to come too," she stifles a laugh in remembrance of his antics.

"Taeyeon never told me that," you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

Chaehyun zips up her training bag as she finishes changing into more summer-appropriate clothes, "All I can tell you is that I'm sure Sunghoon wants to reconcile."

You ponder on it thoughtfully, trying to consider the implications of making up and how you were to go about doing that. It's never as simple as saying sorry and hugging it out; you've been living with the hurt and resentment for 5 years now. It was more second nature to ache whenever you thought of him than to smile. Undoing that is never going to be easy, no matter how much you want to forget the past in an instant and move forward.

"Come on, let's go get drinks," Chaehyun interrupts your thoughts by locking her arm with yours and tugging to exit the locker room.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

When the news came out that you were going to take a break in the next figure skating season, it was safe to say that the whole industry was shocked. You just finished the best run of your career and showed no signs of slowing down. You hadn't even had to withdraw from any events for injury in 2 seasons!

Everyone was asking why- were you injured? Were you depressed? Were you pregnant? That one made you kick your fellow countryman Eric's heel from behind.

The press conference wasn't easy- how were you supposed to just say that you were exhausted and needed a break? Every skater was exhausted, right? There was even more speculation that you were going to switch nationalities again as your coach moved back to Korea and this break was just to hide the fact that you were riding out ISU's one year waiting period. You were glad to quickly shut that down.

For the past four months, you occupied yourself by participating in every ice show and tour imaginable; you loved skating just for the fans and their entertainment when there wasn't judges critiquing every inch of your movement. It took you a long, long time to make up your mind on what to do during your break. While it was so tempting to just stay in America and ignore everything waiting for you on this side of the world, your best friends and family were able to convince you that 5 years was a long time to be away from home. Another option was to just keep pushing on with a different coach at your rink, but you couldn't bring yourself to trust anyone else other than Taeyeon and the team you had already built and just thinking about facing the next season alone left a bad taste in your mouth.

You never informed Chaehyun of your final decision because you knew seeing her reaction in person would be worth it.

Chaehyun had been there to pick up all the pieces after your fallout with Sunghoon. The two of you had known each other for a while since you both skated at the National Training Center since you were juniors, but she was the only one from the rink that reached out after you moved. When you felt isolated in the US after you first moved, Chaehyun had been the one to call you every day despite the time difference to make sure you didn't feel so alone. While you were friends before, Chaehyun became a sister to you thereafter.

It's weird to see all the people you considered best friends or once best friends all around you at the same table.

"Where are you staying?" Heeseung sips on his iced tea casually. He's sitting in front of you, with Sunghoon next to him.

You shrug, "Probably with my parents. It's easier and free."

Chaehyun pouts, "I wish I had a spare room for you!" and then she looks at Heeseung and Sunghoon, "If you two sleep together in the same bed, Y/N can take the other room!"

Heeseung reaches over to flick Chaehyun's forehead, "Why don't you give up your bed then? Plus Hoon snores."

"And you sleep talk," Sunghoon scoffs at his house mate. It's the first words he's said since he sat down at the table.

"You should get an apartment in our building, Y/N," Chaehyun suggests.

"I don't know what I'm going to be doing tomorrow, let alone a year's time, so getting tied down to a lease sounds irresponsible," you admit, "Realistically, I need to go back to America to train cause I don't think the KSU would be very happy about me training at their risk for national team members."

"Oh come on, you know the KSU still loves you!" Heeseung counters.

"That's all fine for appearances, but I don't make them any money so using their facilities is a different ball game," you say, "There's other rinks, of course. I just don't know what to do yet."

"There's no rush," Sunghoon offers hesitantly, "You're on your break to relax, so don't worry about what comes next just yet."

You're taken aback by his contribution; his words are much more comforting than you thought they would be considering where your relationship stood. A few months ago, you and Sunghoon were on opposite sides of a plate with a rift between you that you thought was getting larger and pulling apart as the years went by. Now, it feels like you're both hanging in the air in limbo, waiting for the next move to determine what comes next.

"Thanks Sunghoon," you nod simply, taking a sip of your drink. You don't fail to notice the unsure look that Chaehyun and Heeseung give each other before Chaehyun scrambles to change the topic of conversation.

"Y/N, you haven't seen your parents right? Can I come with you when you go home?" Chaehyun coughs, "It's been a while since I saw them too and I miss your mom's cooking."

Despite Chaehyun's greatest effort to tread into a more neutral conversation, Sunghoon's stomach turns in longing. He too misses your mom's cooking. He misses you too.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You thought that being Taeyeon's assistant coach-in-training was going to be light work. After all, you'd been on the receiving end of it for many years, so being on the other side should be a breeze, right?

You were terribly, terribly mistaken. And you think that you should give Taeyeon an even bigger raise once the season after this one starts again.

Look, you've always known how hard your coach works. You genuinely do owe your entire career to her and you can't imagine where you would have ended up if it wasn't for her. You just didn't know how much she did behind the scenes in addition to everything she did for you on the ice.

The two of you are sitting in her office at Taereung, crowded around two computer screens side by side. Her office is narrow and small- just a desk, a chair and a few cabinets to keep papers, but the window stretching from the ceiling to the floor overlooking the mountains and hills of Seoul makes it feel much bigger. A few of her medals from her professional career are framed and hung on the wall opposite the desk, and there's picture frames of the two of you, as well as of her and Key when they won their first World's of many, interspersed with her medals.

"What's wrong with her form in this one?" Taeyeon quizzes you, tapping her pen on the freeze frame blown up on one of the screens. It's a still of her oldest student Boeun in the air. At 16 years old, Boeun's already achieved many great things for her country. The upcoming season was around the corner and it was Boeun's first year competing in the senior division, so her training was getting even more intense.

"Her arms aren't tucked in enough," you note slowly, "That's gonna creat resistance and slow her spin, so she might land wobbly or under-rotate."

"Good," Taeyeon nods in satisfaction. The two of you have been at this for hours and you're barely halfway through her free skate. Taeyeon's mostly been explaining to you her own thought processes, but whenever she senses you zoning out or getting bored, she's quick to fire questions at you, "Okay, you can go now."

You do a double take at your coach, "Huh, what? An I really bothering you that much? We're only halfway through the program!"

Taeyeon chuckles dismissively, "You're amazing, Y/N. It's just that it's 3pm and you should be enjoying your season off. I know that you want to gain experience coaching, but it's only the start of the year and we have a long time."

You pout at her request, but end up nodding hesitantly, "Okay, if you say so."

Spinning casually in her chair, Taeyeon murmurs off handedly, "You should catch Sunghoon downstairs; he finishes around this time. Maybe ask him to get some coffee."

Narrowing your eyes at her, you packed up your things, "Is this you meddling?"

"Maybe," she smirked, drumming her pen on the table, "It's not my fault I know the skaters' schedules."

"Stop rewatching Our Beloved Summer. Not every one gets a second chance," she'd been talking your ear off all week about the K-drama she watches every time summer rolled around despite knowing the plot line by heart.

A ghost of a smile flutters on her face, "Maybe, but I think you do. There must be a reason you ended up back in Seoul all this time."

You quirk your eyebrow at her, "And the reason is you moving back here. Whatever, I guess I can see if I can find him, but if he left already, it's not my issue."

You say goodbye to your coach, tugging on your jacket and slipping out of the door. You completely miss the way she scrambled to her phone to text one particular Lee Junho.

Racing down the stairs, you prepare yourself to face Sunghoon alone for the first time since he came to your hotel room. You're somewhat glad that he didn't pester you all these months, instead choosing to use your mutual friends to keep up on you. On the other hand, there's a selfish part of you that wished he would keep chasing.

There's a gaggle of juniors that are on the youngest side all propped up on the boards and watching Sunghoon finish some jump training when you walk into the rink. They're all peering up at him with wide, sparkly, awe-filled eyes as he traverses through the air with a grace you know that's only reserved by him. You used to look at your seniors the same way too; you and Sunghoon would come in early for your shared conditioning training and just perch on the stands watching whoever was on the ice. It was a way to learn, but it was mostly just a way you kept your love for skating alive among all the hardships.

There was never anything better than watching someone you aspired to be, knowing one day, you'll be the one inspiring the next generation. As long as you worked hard, of course.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" a tiny girl with her hair slicked back into a neat bun catches sight of you, gasping in amazement.

Sunghoon pauses on the ice, head snapping around to find you. You give him a small wave and a subtle smile, motioning for him to carry on as you addressed the kids that were one by one realising who you were.

"Hi, how's it going?" you smile genuinely, "What are you guys doing here?"

"We're working in the gym, but we're on a break right now. Coach said that Sunghoon-oppa was on the ice, so we came to watch," the three girls giggle with each other, but there's a soft smile resting on the two boys's flushed cheeks. The one that noticed you steps up against the rest, "I'm a really big fan of you. Coach said that you used to train here and came back, so I've been waiting to meet you. Do you think I could get an autograph?"

She's playing with the hem of her pastel pink training top, but you can tell that she's trying to keep her voice stable. The kids aren't carrying anything themselves, so you take out a notebook and pen from the front pocket of your bag.

"What's your name?" they're all a bit shorter than you, so you bend at the knees to meet her gaze. She grins at you with her brace-adorned teeth and tells you her name.

You sign quickly, leaving an encouraging message of well-wishes, tearing off the paper and handing it to her. The other kids have formed a queue behind her and are looking at you expectantly and so shyly that your heart bursts with happiness. You didn't have many juniors around at your old rink and certainly not ones who truly knew who you were and where you came from.

"I'll be around all season," you tell them as you sign the last piece of paper, "Don't be shy to talk to me, okay? It's my job after all to make sure you guys all become the best skaters you can be. No one knows this life better than your seniors, so make use of us."

Their grins are splitting their faces as they nod excitedly and run off to wherever their coach had appeared from. She gives you a grateful nod for entertaining them and by this time, you notice Sunghoon walking over to you, skates already off.

"You sure have a fanclub here," Sunghoon muses lightly.

"Ha, I didn't mean to conduct my very own meet and greet, but they're all so adorable," you say fondly.

Sunghoon mirrors your expression as nostalgia clouds his eyes, "Remember when we saw Jaejoong-sunbae in our first week here and snuck out of lesson to find him in the building?"

You clap your hands together at the forgotten memory being pulled to the forefront of your brain, "Oh my gosh and our coaches scolded us so much when they hunted us down and found us making him sign our skates and our bags!"

"Junho was just salty that Jaejoong was the face of figure skating at their time and not him," Sunghoon watches his coach disappear into a tunnel on the other side of the rink, "I bet they did that to their seniors whenever they came to Taereung!"

"Yeah," you agree, "Have they already got your signature?"

His eyes twinkle, "Yeah, the girls always watch whenever they're here."

"Sounds like they have a crush," you fold your arms and chuckle, "Let them down gently, yeah?"

"Ah, don't want a reputation as a heart breaker around here now, do I?" Sunghoon laughs easily, but then he realises the words that slip out and he slaps a hand to his mouth, "Wait. Um."

"It's cool," you giggle, "Taeyeon told me you were about to finish training for the day. I thought that maybe we could get a drink somewhere?"

Sunghoon's eyes widen in surprise, "Really?" you nod, "Oh yeah, of course. Wait here; I'll grab my stuff from the locker room and we can go."

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Something you never really thought about much was the fact that you and Sunghoon fell apart as teenagers. It was silly to say, but you had never considered the fact that now you're adults, your lives were very different.

Sunghoon was cruising down the highway with one hand on the wheel and the other propped up onto the door. His car is modern and shiny and his side profile from your view is exquisite- wait, what?

"When did you learn to drive?" you ask quietly, trying to keep your eyes on the road in front. There wasn't that much to do around the training centre, so Sunghoon suggested to go into the city and find a nice café in Hongdae to explore.

"It's been a couple of years. It was kind of necessary to get to Taereung when I moved out of the dorms," Sunghoon hums, "Do you know how to drive in the US?"

"I got my license, but I never really drove. Taeyeon and I lived together, so she would just drive the two of us everywhere," you recount, "She made me get my license cause it's easy over there. I'm not sure how well my skills will translate over here."

Sunghoon runs his free fingers through the platinum strands of his hair, "Let me know if you wanna go for a drive to learn. I can help you."

Trying to ignore the flush in your cheeks, you scoff playfully, "You would trust me with your nice car?"

Sunghoon meets your eyes and it burns through you so intensely that you immediately look away. Internally, you're beating yourself up for acting so pathetic around him.

He lets out a sound that's a cross between a laugh and an exhale, "I used to trust you with my life."

Dumbstruck, you keep quiet and chew on your bottom lip. Sunghoon doesn't press any further and the two of you just listen to the smooth r&b playing on the radio. Until you get to the parking space, it's silent, but you don't know what else to say to act casual around him. You stopped being casual with him 5 years ago.

By the time that you wrestle your seatbelt off and collect your bags from the floor of his car, Sunghoon has jumped out and raced around to open the door for you. It takes everything in you to not crumble.

"Thanks," you smile slightly. Sunghoon's stare remains intense and piercing.

He directs you into the café and the two of you awe and marvel at the array of cakes and pastries all decorated to look like animals or objects. He doesn't fight you when you breach the topic of paying for your own drink and confectionary, but he does carry the tray with both of your items over to a table by a window.

"Thanks for coming to see me and inviting me out," Sunghoon purses his lips hesitantly, not knowing whether to dive so deep so quickly.

You jam a fork into the chocolate cake dressed up as a bear, "I've made you wait long enough since World's. And I think nearly 6 years is a long enough time of enduring all this angst."

"You're right," Sunghoon utters, sighing deeply, "I just- I just don't even know where to start."

"The very start, I guess," you say sheepishly, "I never meant to wait until the day before to tell you I was leaving. The whole time that Taeyeon was convincing me to go with her, I was completely in denial about leaving. I think that I didn't want to tell you, because if I did, it would seem real that I was leaving you. You were the hardest thing I was leaving behind."

"Wonder what your parents would say to that," Sunghoon tried to joke, but he sounds more sad than anything as you delve back into the past, "I heard rumours about it, but I didn't want to confront you about leaving either. I just thought that there was really no way that we could ever be apart. I mean, our coaches had to schedule all of our training back to back because we were just so attached at the hip."

When you were young, everywhere you went, Sunghoon would be right beside you. School, the rink, the mall, the playground, the gym, the cafeteria- everywhere. You were like each other's lifeline.

"I was going to ask you to call, to keep in touch-"

Sunghoon's eyelids flutter close in regret, "And then I called you selfish before you could even say that. And I said so many words that I definitely did not mean. I'm sorry for that, Y/N. Please know that I really am."

Your eyes brim with stinging tears, so you crane your neck down and sip at your milkshake to calm down.

The hardest thing through the years was whenever you were left alone with your thoughts. Somehow, everything always led back to the boy that was now sitting in front of you. But for years, you couldn't escape the heartbreaking feeling every time you remembered the look of betrayal on his face when you told him you were leaving, and then the anger that seeped into his features.

"We were just kids," you bite your lip and swipe at your lash-line, "I wish I could go back in time and say goodbye properly."

Sunghoon pushed a piece of his cake around with his fork on the plate, "I was angry that you were leaving because I was going to confess to you that week."

Your gaze snaps up to his, "Really?"

"Mhm, I had been planning it and trying to work up the courage for so long at that point," he chuckles bitterly, "The fairground was opening up for the summer that week, if I remember correctly. I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go and I was gonna try and confess then. You leaving so abruptly just broke my heart. I know it's not your fault though."

Your own heart cracks at the revelation, "I'm sorry, Hoon."

"And then I found out through Chaehyun that you were switching nationalities and it felt like we were two worlds apart," Sunghoon admits reluctantly.

You think back to when you were 17, being lured in by the country you held dual citizenship for and knowing that the deadline to choose a nationality was looming close, "There was so much depth in the Korean senior women's field. Taeyeon encouraged me to switch to increase the likelihood of winning national titles and getting spots at the Olympics. And they were willing to pump so much money into my training and paying Taeyeon that I couldn't say no."

"I know," Hoon nods affirmatively, "You don't have to explain yourself for that. You made the right choice and you're an Olympic silver medalist for it."

You smile weakly.

He continues, "The training centre felt so empty without you. For the first time, I actually had to make an effort to talk to the other athletes and none of them could measure up to you."

"I was really lonely in America," you confess in a small voice, "There were so many days that I almost called even though we left on such bad terms. I just wanted to hear your voice sometimes."

Sunghoon's eyes soften and his eyebrows pull together in regret, "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I missed you so much and I'm willing to do anything and everything to fix this- to fix us."

"And if I have to leave after this season?"

Sunghoon reaches over suddenly and wipes his thumb at the corner of your mouth. His finger ghosts over your lips for a second and your heart skips a beat and then begins to race.

"Sorry, you had some cake there," Sunghoon murmurs, "If you end up on the moon next season, I'll personally build a rocket to get to you."

Unconsciously, you let out a full laugh that causes a smile to invade his face. You bat at his arm, "Now, come on. That's too cheesy."

Sunghoon waits for you to stop laughing when he connects your eyes together, "But I mean it, Y/N. I need you in my life."

The steady, but quick thrum of your heartbeat pulses against your chest wall. All you can focus on is the adoring look that Park Sunghoon is directing at you. It feels like that's all you need.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

For someone who spent their whole life on frozen water, you certainly didn't spend much time with it... unfrozen. But Seoul in the peak of summer is something akin to hell on earth- you couldn't walk more than a few blocks without having to duck into a convenience store or any shop that had air conditioning. As much as you wanted to wear as little as possible to avoid soaked fabrics sticking to your skin, you recognised that you weren't in America anymore and the looks you'd get from the sweaty grannies was frankly guilt-tripping. Even hanging around the rink on those hottest days wasn't any fun- the ice was more temperamental than usual and the shock you felt the second you step outside after spending time somewhere relatively cool just intensifies.

On your day off, Chaehyun magically appears at your familial home, giving you a mischievous smile.

"Heeseung has a friend of a friend of a friend-"

You give her a pointed look, "You want us to crash a stranger's house party just so we can use their pool?"

Chaehyun humphs, "No! We're invited. Heeseung and Sunghoon are already on their way there, so get your ass in a bikini so we can go!"

"Sunghoon's coming?" your heart began to race a little faster at the thought, but Chaehyun throws a pillow at you before you can even collect yourself.

"You lovesick loser."

You catapult the pillow back, "Am not! I don't like him like that anymore."

"Tell that to the heart eyes you get anytime he's around. Since the two of you made up, you've both been insufferable dancing around each other," Chaehyun's voice takes on a mocking tone as she mimics you, "'Oh Chae, his triple axel is so pretty today!' or 'oh Chae his training top fits him so well! or 'oh Chae, he brought me coffee today!'"

You ignore the giggling girl behind you in favour of packing some towels and a change of clothes into your bag. Over the past few weeks since you resolved things with Sunghoon in the café, he's made it a mission to make your life hell- well, he doesn't know that.

You thought that there was no way you could ever like-like him again after all the hurt that you grew to associate with him, but recently, your head and your heart have been all over the place. It's been hard to see each other super often since your schedules didn't overlap much, but he went out of his way to do nice things for you, such as getting you drinks after he finished training and you were still working or dropping by little snacks with encouraging notes to the office for you to encounter once you came in.

There was also the glaringly obvious change in your dynamics in the fact that he grew up hot. Sunghoon had always been handsome even when you were kids (it's one of the reasons you developed a raging crush on him), but it's different now that you're adults. Your brain worked differently now and his appearance and the way he commanded the ice all while making training gear look like designer had you feeling some kind of way.

"Hurry up," your best friend whined from your bed. You humph noisily and speed up shoving random items that you think you'll need into the bag until she has enough and starts tugging on your arm. I mean, it's her fault she only gave you a few minute's notice from when she turned up at your door.

Chaehyun drives like a mad-man all the way to this elusive friend of a friend of a friend's house that you start thinking you might need to get your own car to get you to places in this city. But then you remember how pretty Sunghoon's profile looked from the passenger seat-

"Why are you smiling like that?" Chaehyun laughs, "You look like an idiot."

You roll your eyes, "I'm just happy to be going to a pool party."

"You're happy to go to a pool party so you can see Sunghoon shirtless-" you reach over and she yelps, "Yah! Don't hit the driver! I'm gonna drive us off this cliff!"

You retract your arm away from her, "Don't say stupid shit, Chaehyun."

"I better not see you staring later then," she murmurs under her breath as she pulls into a parking space near the house. You text Heeseung to come and get the two of you outside because you didn't want to walk straight into this guy's garden without the ones who invited you.

He meets you promptly, a cup of something in hand and sunglasses hanging on the tip of his nose, "Urgh, finally. Hoon and I were waiting until you two got here so we could swim. It's so hot!"

You've only been outside of the car for a couple of minutes, but there's sweat forming in beads on your hairline already. You follow Heeseung through the side gate towards the direction of blaring music and the smell of barbecue. It truly was a party, because you couldn't even locate Sunghoon once you stepped into the clearing.

There were people crowded on loungers and people hovering by the barbecue and even more surrounding a ping pong table that was being used for beer pong. The pool wasn't super crowded, mainly for the fact that this guy lived in a mansion and his pool was practically Olympic sized.

"Jay!" Heeseung calls over a tall man with slick back hair and a sharp jawline, who smiles kindly to the two of you, "These are my friends Y/N and Chaehyun. Guys, this is Jay's house."

"You have an amazing house," Chaehyun gawks, "What do you do?

"He's a model," Heeseung answers for him hurriedly, "Y/N, Sunghoon's over there, go get him."

Heeseung points to the opposite corner of the garden where you could make out a group of people sat on outdoor couches around an unlit fire-pit. You squint and try to focus, seeing Sunghoon conversing with a girl that was leaning her whole body into him.

You pull a sour face, "I think he's busy."

"Get him," Chaehyun nudges you encouragingly, "He doesn't even look happy to be there."

You huff loudly, already sensing their meddling from a million miles away. What could you do though? It was basically law that best friends would tease two ex friends who had feelings for each other in the past to get together.

Quickly muttering a goodbye to the host, who flashes you a charming grin, you stalk all the way over to fire-pit. As you get closer, you begin to hear their conversation.

"Your arms are really big," this girl runs the tips of her fingers along his arm that was stretched out on the couch behind this girl, but Sunghoon visibly recoils from her touch, "Aw, am I making you shy?"

You nearly puke at her sugar sweet tone and halt your steps instead to watch how Sunghoon would react. You didn't want to cock-block the guy if he was actually interested and you were reading the situation wrong.

"Um, thanks?" his voice is awkward and he takes a swig of the liquid in his cup.

"What are you doing tomorrow? My friends and I are hosting a party at my house if you wanna come," she continues on, "It'll be really fun!"

"Ah, I'm not really into parties."

The girl pouts her glossy lips, "Really? How about we hangout alone then?"

"I told you that I-"

Annoyed at the thought of having to hear any more of this conversation, you clear your throat, causing Sunghoon's head to fly in the direction of the sound. He does a quick double take, but his face lights up all the way to his crinkled eyes once he realises it's you. You don't think you've ever seen a man stand up so quickly and this girl jumps back on the couch, clearly offended.

"Y/N, baby, you're here!" your eyes bulge out of socket when Sunghoon wraps his defined arms around your waist, making contact with the skin exposed by your cropped shirt. He nuzzles his head into your neck and leans up to whisper into your ear, "Play along, please?"

The girl on the couch scoffs at Sunghoon, "I thought you were just trying to brush me off when you said you had a girlfriend."

You narrow your eyes at her as Hoon settles beside you, keeping one hand squeezing your waist, "Then why didn't you get the hint? Do you wanna be a homewrecker?"

The girl stands up and rolls her eyes at you, "Whatever," she stomps away, stopping at a group of girls that are all staring at you menacingly.

"What was that?" you mumble to Sunghoon, who is smiling at you sheepishly and taking his arm off you.

He scratches the back of his neck, "Ah, sorry Y/N. She wouldn't leave me alone so I said I had a girlfriend."

"That didn't seem to work anyway," you retort in amusement, "And you were letting her get awfully close and touchy for someone who had a so-called girlfriend."

Sunghoon opens his mouth to apologise again, but a glimmer appears in his eyes that causes him to hold back and smirk, "Ah, why- were you jealous, Y/N?"

You grit your teeth and smack his chest, "In your dreams, Park. Let's go in the pool- it's so hot."

Mercifully, Sunghoon decides not to say anything else as he watches you put down your bag on the couch he was occupying and tug at your clothes.

"Look away," you murmur, causing Sunghoon's cheeks to redden. Thankfully, he could use the alcohol he was sipping on as an excuse as to why his face was so flushed as he turns around and pulls his own shirt over his head. He hears you unzip your skirt and drop it onto the couch, and then the pitter patter of your flip flops towards the pool, "Come on!"

Sunghoon only turns in time to see you slide into the pool off the side, so he quickly ducks down and follows. The heat is absolutely battering your skin, so you briefly plunge your entire body and resurface to find him smiling goofily at you.

"What?" you interrogate curiously.

Sunghoon shakes his head and splashes water up to his face, "Nothing, nothing. Aren't you glad that you came?"

"Well, I was forced to," you grin, splashing cheekily at him.

Sumghoon pouts and splashes back at you, "Are we playing this game?"

Cocking your head to the side in fake innocence, you peer up at him, "What game?" you scoop with your cupped palms and flick the amassed water over his body.

A mischievous look creeps up on his features and he smirks at you, "You don't know what you're getting into, Y/N."

You turn as quickly as you can in the water, launching off in a random direction in a pathetic paddle/waddle considering the fact you're not a great swimmer. His laugh echoes in the air as he dives and chases after you, and before you realise, his arms snake around your exposed waist and he drags and dunks you under the water. Thrashing, you kick against him, but Sunghoon's hold is too strong on your body even after you surface. You splutter the water out and rub at your eyes to get the chlorine water and your sticking hair away.

When you open your eyes, you realise that your bodies are pressed up against each other, him clinging to you, with your faces just mere centimetres apart. You're breathing heavy from your underwater struggle, lips parted and exhaling. Intently, you watch as Sunghoon's eyes peer into yours and then flash down to your lips before he cracks a grin.

"I guess I win?"

You grunt, pushing him away, "You have 5 seconds to run, Park."

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Summer ceases for another year in the blink of an eye and autumn creeps in slowly, and then all at once. The leaves on the trees surrounding Taereung have long changed colours, now making their home on the ground in piles of yellows, oranges and reds. You're both eagerly anticipating and dreading the snow, mindful of the fact you haven't lived through a Korean winter in a long, long time.

You try to appreciate the chilly breeze with clear skies, but it's hard when you had gotten used to the same mild or scorching temperature year around.

Sunghoon sighs as he steps in front of you, watching you tug your gloved hands on the neck of your jacket, "You've forgotten all about our autumn and winter, haven't you?" He unwraps the wool scarf that was adorning his neck and places it around your own. You hope that he'll put down the flush on your cheeks to the weather.

"Hoon, it's fine. We're not even going to be walking far," you insist, moving to take it off, but he places a hand over yours and gives you a sharp look that has you backing down.

He takes the handle of the suitcase away from your grip and walks in front of you. You huff and chase after him, "Seriously, Sunghoon. What if you get sick? I'm not the one competing."

He flashes you a prince-like smile, "Then you'll just have to take care of me- ow!" he flinches as you swat at him, "It's fine, Y/N. This weather is nothing to me and I mainly brought it for you. I knew you wouldn't be prepared."

You quieten down and ponder on his words. You shouldn't be surprised- even when you were young, Sunghoon was always attentive to your needs. Not much had changed since and you feel like you've fallen into the routine of your old friendship again, with a hint of flirtatious remarks from him then and now.

It's a nice feeling to be getting along with him again. It's filled up and healed a crack in your heart that appeared when you left and was never mended until now. Even though it was hard at first to be open with him, he's doing a diligent job breaking down your walls and occupying the space beside you like he once did.

The walk from the airport drop-off to the entrance is decently long, but Sunghoon rolls the two carry-on suitcases beside him, while you just haul your handbag. You're meeting the rest of Team Korea seeded to this competition at the airport, which makes you nervous. There's one other women's skater and a pair of ice dancers travelling to America with their coaches and staff and they're so young that you don't know them from your junior days. As much as Sunghoon, your friends and your coach try to convince you otherwise, you're not a part of their country's staff and a lot of them are likely reluctant to talk to you about strategy and programs- especially the skater that you would compete against on the circuit.

Lee Yunah fakes a smile at you when the two of you join the team at the check in desk. She grins over at your companion and tells him that they're sitting next to each other in business class. You're preparing yourself for a near 13 hour flight in economy next to Junho, Sunghoon's coach. It was definitely nice of Team Korea to fly out their skaters in business class on the way to competitions- something you were also used to with your federation.

You don't really know why Lee Yunah isn't fond of you. Of course, she's never mean or outwardly vicious, but you get the feeling through her pointed looks and tight-lipped smiles that you weren't her favourite person. Most girls you know in the circuit are so sweet- they always congratulate you and make conversation whenever they see you, but you've never had a full on chat with her despite sharing a language. You know that she's a couple years younger than you, but only came to Taereung 2 years ago after training someplace abroad.

You're heading to Skate America with the team because you figured you could watch and then travel to your home to get some things you left behind and check on your apartment. It was currently left half-empty after Taeyeon moved all of her things out, but your belongings were still there. You had a cleaner come every month to make sure the apartment was still standing and wasn't being infested while you were gone, but you thought it wouldn't hurt to come and see it for yourself and maybe see a few friends.

You and Sunghoon mostly just sit in silence at the gate after you pass security, texting your families your whereabouts and telling anyone relevant that you were going to be off your phones for the duration of the flight. You queue up your playlist and try to search online the movies available on the flight to save some time picking on the plane.

At one point, he excuses himself to the bathroom and returns with your favourite drink in his hand.

"Saw it in the vending machine by the toilets," he shrugs casually, to which you thank him profusely. You're a big fan of airplane food, much to everyone's chagrin, but you absolutely loathe the small selection of drinks they have to offer. The iced tea will definitely carry you through the flight.

When you finally get onto the aircraft, you're delighted to find that only you and Junho are in the row of 4 seats, so he shuffles to the other end to give the two of you space in the middle. While it's not the window seat where you could rest your head on the side, you and Junho can definitely take turns stretching out across the unoccupied seats and having a better sleep. It's a night flight, so you're definitely going to be exhausted in a few hours.

Before you turn your phone to airplane mode, Sunghoon texts you a selfie from his seat, looking sad with an exaggerated pout despite the fact that he's in a lie-flat seat with a screen twice the size of yours. You send him multiple eye roll emojis before telling him to get some good rest on the flight.

It takes around 40 minutes for the plane to taxi, take off and climb before the seatbelt sign turns off and the plane reaches a constant altitude. The plot of the movie you chose is dragging on a bit, causing your eyes to droop already, when a figure appears from Junho's side and leans down next to him. You watch curiously as Junho stands up from his seat into the aisle and as Sunghoon crosses two other seats to plop down next to you.

"Hi," he breathes out.

"What are you doing here?" you pause the movie and quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Yunah wouldn't stop talking my ear off!" he grumbles, settling into the seat, "Even when I put the partition up, she put it down after 5 minutes."

"So what?" you muse, "Are you giving up your lavish life in business class to be uncomfortable in economy?"

"I don't wanna sit next to her," Sunghoon whines, "Her crush on me is suffocating. I thought she would have moved on by now."

Ah, there it was. It was pretty obvious to anyone that had eyes that Yunah had a big, fat crush on your friend. You also knew that Sunghoon was pretty oblivious when it came to things like this- or he was when you were younger. That's why it came as a surprise that he already knew.

"She confessed?"

Sunghoon lets his eyes flutter closed, his long lashes kissing the tip of his cheeks, "Mhm, maybe a couple weeks before you came to Seoul? I rejected her then, but she hasn't given up, it seems."

You tear your eyes away from him, afraid you'll do something stupid like brush the fallen lash that sits on his cheekbone with your thumb, "Why did you reject her? She seems like a nice enough girl to you."

"She's not who I want," Sunghoon murmurs without missing a beat. He doesn't even let you ponder on his words before he opens his eyes and turns to his coach, poking him with his finger, "Hyung, can you take my seat? I wanna lie down here."

Junho gives him a funny look and they exchange a few words that you tune out as you think about what Sunghoon means. Does that mean there's someone in his head that he's decided on? Someone he's crushing on?

As Junho happily waddles out of economy to occupy his newly upgraded seat, Sunghoon stretches out across the seats. You notice that his feet ever so slightly dangle to the side into the footwell, so you grab a pillow and place it on your lap.

"Sunghoon, put your head here," you pat the squishy fabric.

He looks up at you with big, shiny eyes that had the ice in your heart melting, "Are you sure?"

You give him an affirmative nod and watch as he shuffles his head up to your lap and nuzzles to get comfortable. There's a light, resting smile on his lips and you softly brush the hair out of his eyes.

"Goodnigh, Y/N. Wake me up when you wanna swap," he breathes out, eyes already squeezed shut.

"Goodnight, Hoonie."

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The gold medal hanging around Sunghoon's neck compliments the beam on his face as he poses for photos on the podium. Your heart squeezes in pride; you've been noticing how he's getting more and more consistent with his wins over the past two seasons and it's starting to look like he's going to dominate the male field single handedly. This was all you ever dreamed of when you were young and aspiring; winning and winning some more and being by each other's side. There were some bumps on the road with that, such as Sunghoon's run in with a bad form early on of his senior career, while you were experiencing the opposite. You sigh contently at the universe's plan to move everything around you as everything fell into place.

"Gold looks good on you, Park," Sunghoon is grinning at you as he walks over to you after the press conference, a while later.

"Do you ever get tired of it?" Sungjoon holds up the medal hanging around his neck delicately like it's a baby and the most precious thing he's laid his eyes on.

You nudge his arm with your elbow, "Don't act like this is your first; you're not that far behind me."

While you exploded on the scene as soon as you made your transition to seniors, Sunghoon's growth was gradual and more sustainable. He worked hard and steadily over the years, waiting patiently to reap his rewards. Now, he was decorated with nearly every medal in quick succession.

"Nah, you're miles ahead, sweets," he drops the term so casually you almost don't react, but by the time you realise, Junho is telling him it's almost time to warm up and run through his exhibition gala routine.

Sunghoon turns to you as he pulls the medal off his body and drops it around your shoulders, "Can you keep this safe for me? I'll see you after the gala, yeah?" his left eye drops into a wink before he takes off on a jog back into the direction of the rink.

You're stood there dumbfounded, fingers clasping the fabric of the medal. Junho stifles a laugh at you, making a note in his head to tell Taeyeon how your relationship has progressed in just a short time from the airport to now.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

"Welcome to my home sweet home," you breathe out as you step foot in your apartment for the first time in months.

It's a little chilly and the air is a bit stagnant, but otherwise, the apartment has been maintained well by your caretaker. You quickly turn on the heating and A/C to circulate the air while Sunghoon rolls his small suitcase in and takes off his shoes by the door. It's the first time you've seen shoes that weren't Taeyeon's next to yours in this apartment and it endears you to see it's Sunghoon's beat up shoes from when you were younger.

"You need new shoes, Hoon," you mumble pointedly at the raggedy pair.

He pouts cutely, "They're my favourite! They're perfectly moulded to my feet and we bought them together at the department store on my 16th birthday, remember?"

"And you are 21 now, Park Sunghoon," you crinkle your nose at him, "I think you can afford to part ways with them."

"It's not about affording, it's about our emotional bond!" he protests while he taps his sock-covered feet on the leather that was about to peel.

"Whatever. That is Taeyeon's old room. Put your stuff in there and I'll find some bed sheets," you point at the door on one side of the living room. You cross the shared area to reach your own bedroom and the linen closet.

By the time that you managed to pair up two sets of everything to adorn your stripped beds, you find Sunghoon in the kitchen, snooping through your cupboards. You doubt that he would find anything; fresh food hasn't crossed the threshold since you left and you did a freezer clear-out of most things too.

"Are you hungry? There's not gonna be any food, so we can order in," you pass by behind him as you go to drop the sheets in the room.

The two of you had breakfast in the hotel buffet in the morning with the rest of Team Korea, but after that, you were busy packing your bags and stressing about making it to the airport in time to eat between Texas and your home. It's creeping up on dinner time, so as athletes, you were starving.

"Can we order Korean food?" Sunghoon's tone has a cheeky lilt to it, which you don't understand until he turns around and you find green bottles in his grasp.

You gasp, "I left soju here? I thought I drank them all when I had a goodbye get together with my friends. What a nice surprise, but should we be drinking?"

Sunghoon shrugs and places three bottles on the dining room table, "Why not? I just won Skate America so we can celebrate, I guess. And we don't have any schedules or training for the next few days."

You always planned to visit your apartment after the competition even if it required a short plane ride to a different state. What you hadn't initially decided was whether you would invite Sunghoon or not. In your head, it was going to be a bit awkward inviting Sunghoon to a trip just alone straight off the bat without any of your friends first, but Chaehyun convinced you that there was nothing wrong inviting your friend. At one point, you considered each other best friends and you wouldn't have hesitated in the past, even when you did have a crush on him.

Convincing Heeseung and Chaehyun to fly to the States and make it a group treat came to no avail as they were both going to Skate Canada just a few days after Skate America and therefore would need to be using this time intensely training. You considered taking a trip over to Halifax and watching your other best friends too, and then trying to convince them to come back with you, but going coast to coast back and forth was tiring and time-wasting. You don't think that Taeyeon would appreciate you skipping out on more days of work back in Korea just because you couldn't stomach the thought of being alone with Sunghoon in a private place.

In the months you've been in Korea, you've definitely been alone with Sunghoon- you eat together often, you work out together often, you walk around shopping districts and café hunt together often, but you haven't been alone with him with nowhere to run to yet. This is your apartment after all.

After you order the food, you convince Sunghoon to go and set up the bed and unpack his belongings a little, while you did the same in your room. Apart from the stripped bed, the room seemed largely untouched and a little empty. Still, you left behind some memorabilia such as some of your competition gifts (all the medals and trophies were in the living room, as they were celebrating both you and your coach), pictures with your friends and team on this side of the world and a heap of plushies that you couldn't justify hauling with you all the way to Korea.

You took most of your clothes to Korea, but you left behind your competition dresses that were displayed on a rail. Fondly, you inspected each of them and let the warmth of the memory fill your heart. While you were missing competing already, you know in your heart that this break is what you need so you don't burn out too fast; you want to be with the sport for as long as possible, even if you did foolishly contemplate retiring at first.

After intense and thought-provoking conversations with your coach and your best friends, you came to the decision that taking a break was a much easier and less-permanent step than announcing you were retiring off the bat. You know you made the right decision when the thought of coming back on the ice made you feel excited, instead of dread.

Your door was ajar, but you still get shocked when Sunghoon knocks on the wood to let you know of his presence, "The food came, Y/N."

"Oh, really? Sorry, I didn't hear it but thanks for getting it," you furrow your eyebrows at how you spaced out.

Sunghoon steps further into your bedroom, which has you training your eyes on him carefully as he perches on the end of your bed, "It's weird not knowing what your bedroom looks like now, when I used to have them all memorised."

Your heart clenches at the thought. When you still lived at home with your parents, Sunghoon lived nearby and was always around for play dates in your room or house. As you grew up, the two of you would study together on your large desk side by side with the chair that he stole out of your parents' office. When you both moved into the dorms briefly, you would find ways to sneak him into your room even when boys weren't allowed in the girls' dormitory. He spent a lot of time in your dorm room napping while you did online school before the two of you would head over to the rinks for training.

You hang your costume from the last Olympics back onto the white rail, "Well, now you know."

Sunghoon takes this as an invitation to inspect more purposefully. There's a printed picture of you, Chaehyun and Heeseung on the pin board above your desk. From Heeseung's hair colour, Sunghoon could tell it was from a couple of years ago. There's a few newspaper clippings up about your victories and a few childhood photos of you on the ice. When he finds that there's nothing to indicate his previous presence in your life, he feels a little guilt, even though he expected it.

He was such a big part of your life once- and you to his- but misunderstandings had forced the two of you apart, mainly due to his own angst. If he wasn't so stupid and young, maybe his face would appear on your pinboard too to signify his importance.

"I can feel you thinking over there," you chuckle and sit next to him, "What's up?"

Sunghoon's eyebrows are knitted together in some kind of frustration, "I missed so much of your life because I was so up my own ass. You achieved all the things we talked and dreamed about for so long and I couldn't even celebrate with you or tell you how proud I am of you. I'm sorry, Y/N."

His words take you aback and you instinctively lean into his body, "Stop saying sorry, Hoon. We agreed to move past it, remember?"

He kisses his teeth, "I know, but I'm still so angry at myself for doing that to us and pushing us apart when it was the exact opposite of what I really wanted."

Your heart begins to race as it so often does when you're faced with Park Sunghoon. You turn your head towards him to find him already looking at you with parted lips. You fight with your might to keep your eyes up as your fingers grasp the bedsheets.

His words nearly echo what he said on the plane about Yunah not being the one he wants.

"What did you really want?" your voice drops to a whisper, reluctant to ask in fear of having to face his answer.

There's a moment when his eyes scan down your face and land somewhere lower, but he's meeting your gaze again quickly as a knowing smile stretches across his lips, "Are you sure you wanna hear it?"

There's a churning in your stomach as you examine his expression. It's so unreadable and unfamiliar to you that something inside you snaps and you jump up, "The food is gonna go cold. And the soju's gonna go warm," you speed walk out of the room and leave behind a chuckling Sunghoon.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Spending your teen years in America where you just barely became legal to drink meant that you didn't get a chance to build up your alcohol tolerance the same way Korean teens did. While you vehemently do not condone drinking if Taeyeon asks, you still know that in Korea's heavy-drinking culture, teens were able to access alcohol much earlier and easier and drank a lot more than you and your same-aged friends you made in America. At the same time, you didn't go to a physical college to be able to engage in questionable behaviours like underage drinking at parties or with college friends since most of your friends were fellow athletes who had it drilled in them to take care of their bodies. While in Korea, it was practically a rite of passage to sneak in alcohol for special occasions and not so special occasions to the dormitories once the lights went out and the adults went to sleep.

You're a testament of that cultural and social gap as your head lulls heavily in the air, while Sunghoon watches you in half amusement, half concern. You seemed okay for a while, matching his pace with shots as you talked casually and ate the takeout and then suddenly it seemed to hit you all at once and you were slurring and giggling at nothing and dropping your head. Although you protested, he managed to cut off your alcohol and even poured down the remaining liquid down the sink so there was no chance of you getting any further gone.

Sunghoon was definitely buzzed too, to the point that risky decisions seemed appealing to him now, but his concern for you overtook any feeling.

"We should get you to bed now, Y/N-ie," Sunghoon hums as he pats your head flopped on the table, "Let's get up."

"No!" you bang your fist on the table softly, "I don't wanna. I wanna spend time with you!"

Sunghoon's heart leaps out of his chest hearing those words, "We have all day tomorrow and the day after and then we have the whole ride back to Korea. Plus, we practically work together."

You murmur something incoherent into the table and Sunghoon has to urge you to lift your head up.

"I said that we barely see each other at the rink," you mumble again, peering up at him adorably.

Since the season kicked off, your schedules were busier, but it endears Sunghoon to know that you were thinking about him, "I'll make more of an effort to see you more often then. But we should get your drunk ass to bed now."

"I'm not drunk," you hiccup cutely as your face scrunches up and then relaxes as you examine his features, "Has anyone ever told you that your moles are really pretty?"

Sunghoon is struck silent by you so suddenly and he thinks he's forgotten how to breathe when your hands reach up to cup his face. Your expression is so soft yet determined as your fingers ghost over the placement of the marks- over his nose, under his eyes and then the pad of your thumb presses gently into his skin just a few centimetres away from the corner of his lips.

Your touch on him is kickstarting his heart into gear and his heart is beating out of his chest. It's almost like all at once, you've completely undone all his resolve when this whole time, he's been trying to push his feelings away in order to restore and rekindle his previous friendship with you.

But let's face it, Sunghoon doesn't want to be your friend.

Or at least he doesn't want to be just your friend anymore.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" his own hands find their way up to cup your hands, which makes your fingers press deeper into his skin.

"You're so handsome, Hoonie. You grew up so well," your voice is so dreamy that Sunghoon becomes hyper aware that you might not say these things when you're sober. He tries to pull your hands off him, but you just bat away at his grasp, "So, so pretty. Makes me want you all to myself."

Your table is abnormally narrow, or so it feels like. With the way that you're leaning up to him, he only needs to move a little to meet you and maybe press his lips into yours-

Sunghoon shakes away his tipsy thoughts as he forcefully removes himself from your caress and walks around the table to hoist you up, "Let's get you to bed, Y/N. Seriously."

The walk to your room is precarious. Sunghoon feels like he's getting more drunk with every step he takes trying to manoeuvre your unwilling body. You're clinging onto him for life, groaning and complaining about not wanting the night to end, but he tunes you out to prioritise taking care of you. You both got changed into pyjamas after your second shot, foreseeing the night to end a bit tipsy and therefore likely disinhibited from normal tasks. All Sunghoon has to do is peel back the covers and coax you into lying down.

He brushes the hair out of your shining eyes once he gets you to settle on the bed, "I'm gonna get you some water, okay? Stay here."

Your hands clutch at his bicep, not even going all the way around, "Hoonie, I missed you."

He smiles fondly at you, "I missed you too, Y/N. I really did."

When you let your heavy eyelids fall, you also let a smile grace your face. Sunghoon captures this moment in his mind to store in the part of his brain that you've made home in and he decides that no matter what and if it is up to him, he'll never leave your side again.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

"Sunghoon, this is Eric," you gesture between the blonde haired guy beside you and the pink haired one in front of you, "Have you guys met before?"

"In passing when I would give him dirty looks on behalf of you," Eric snorts, "And we've met a few times on the podium, right?"

Sunghoon nods stiffly, "Yeah, a few."

Eric quirks his eyebrow, "Well, anyway, it's good to finally meet the elusive Park Sunghoon. I've heard lots about you, not good things as you imagine."

You reach over to smack Eric's arm with a scalding expression, "Eric, behave."

He lets out a boisterous laugh that has introverted Sunghoon squirming in his seat, "Relax, i'm just playing. Really. I'm glad that you two are on good terms again. Y/N-ie always talked about you and while it was out of anger mostly, I could tell that behind it all, she missed you."

"This is not behaving either," you mutter with a glare at your friend.

Eric was a fellow skater at your club. He joined the year after you came from a different club in the city to work with your coach's mentor. The two of you became fast friends despite him being a couple years older than you and he was one of the friends you were missing since moving back home.

Over the years, you grew more comfortable in confiding in Eric about your friends back home and specifically about Sunghoon after he witnessed a little spat between you a few World's ago.

Sunghoon has always been the shy and quiet type, which is one of the reasons why he struggled so much without you- you were practically his only friend then. Eric, on the other hand, is too extroverted and talkative for his own good. You like to think you're a happy medium in between them both. However, you know that this meeting won't go off without a hitch.

"Y/N-ie, do you know yet if you're gonna come back next season?" Eric takes a sip out of his cocktail. The three of you are sitting on a shaded table on the porch of a brunch spot, basking in the slight warmth of the October sun. It's a stark contrast to what you'll come home to, "We all miss you so much over here."

You feel Sunghoon stiffen up beside you and you cast a quick glance at him. He's trying to play it cool by mixing around the mojito he ordered with the straw.

"I'm not sure yet. It feels like I just got to Korea, to be honest," you skirt around the question to avoid making Sunghoon uncomfortable. In all honesty, it was the truth. You wanted to focus on enjoying your time there without worrying too much about the future. Then again, you had to make sure that your team was ready for you wherever you were going to end up in the world. While Taeyeon was arguably the most important part of the team, there were so many more people behind the scenes that shaped your career.

"We really love having Y/N around," Sunghoon adds on nonchalantly. You can tell that he's trying to avoid voicing out his real opinion in favour of supporting whatever decision you'll come to make.

"So do we," Eric grins, "I miss having my partner in crime around."

Sunghoon resists the urge to roll his eyes out of his head. You were his partner in crime first. Plus, you never even mention Eric much around him. How close were the two of you really?

"The staff are probably so happy that we're separated," you giggle in acknowledgement, "Who are you stealing the Zamboni with now?"

A memory flashes through the forefront of Sunghoon's mind when you first broke into the Zamboni cupboard and stole the keys. You two were practically punished for days when you were caught lapping the rink in circles at the age of 14 and subsequently ruining the work of the driver. Thankfully, you did learn over the years at your new rink how to operate the machine, so stealing it with Eric was mostly just for the thrill.

If emotions could manifest in real life, Sunghoon was green with envy. He would never accuse you of replacing him when the fall out was his fault anyway, but the thought that you did things with Eric that you used to do with him made him feel so sick.

The way that Eric addressed you with soft nicknames and a teasing tone had Sunghoon's stomach churning. He practically sat through the brunch seething in silence, only speaking when you addressed him and asked him a question.

What was even worse was that you hadn't talked about the events of the previous night at all. By the time that Sunghoon returned to your room after fetching your glass of water and trying to calm himself down in the kitchen, you were already fast asleep in dreamland. In the other room, Sunghoon seemingly couldn't sleep a wink until the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by you frantically telling him to get up as you were gonna be late to meeting Eric.

So here you all were, nursing your hangovers with even more alcohol and a whole lot of carbs.

Eventually, Eric had to run for his final fitting for his costume that he was debuting at the Grand Prix de France in a few weeks, leaving you and Sunghoon to stroll along the streets lined with brunch spots and themed cafés.

"How'd you find Eric? I know he's kind of a lot at first..." you chuckled awkwardly, sensing only halfway through the meeting that it was probably not a good idea to have them meet just yet.

"I'm just glad that you had some friends over here," Sunghoon said sincerely.

"It was hard at first, but once Eric came, he dragged many people into our little group of friends," you agree quietly. Sunghoon is walking tensely beside you, fingers clasped behind his back instead of swinging by your side like usual.

"Mhm."

"You're not jealous, are you?" you ask hesitantly, looking straight ahead at the strip in front of you.

"A little," his confession takes you by surprise. You halt your step and catch his arm.

"Eric is flirty but he doesn't actually mean anything by it."

Sunghoon lets out a deep sigh and gestures for the two of you to sit on a nearby bench. It's a weekday morning, so there's not that many people hanging around the streets. People were mainly just walking past with a purpose to reach a certain shop instead of walking casually like the two of you were.

"After last night, I don't know where we stand," Sunghoon gnaws at his lip nervously. As much as he'd love to pretend nothing was changing between the two of you to preserve the good terms you were on, he feels like he can't carry on any longer.

The memories of the previous night come rushing back to you, not having been able to think about it beforehand due to your rush to meet Eric. You fold into yourself in embarrassment and move away from Sunghoon. You're not even internalising the meaning to his words, too preoccupied with cringing internally at your actions- there was a reason why you didn't drink much.

"Y/N," Sunghoon scoots closer to you, "Did you hear what I said?"

You peak at him through your hands covering your face in shame, "Hm?"

Sunghoon laughs softly at you as he moves your hands away from your face gently, "I said I don't know where we stand."

You cock your head at him, "Are you asking me what are we?"

Sunghoon's face heats up, "I'm just as nervous and embarrassed as you are about this, Y/N. Just give me a straight answer."

His candour inspires a bout of bravery in you as you give him a confident smile, "As I said last night, I want you all to myself."

You can practically see the moment a glimmer of hope sparkles in his eyes as he shuffles even closer to you. Your thighs are touching at this point, body twisted towards one another.

"Really? In what way?" he presses on.

You try to look away, intending to evade the conversation and point out something irrelevant, but Sunghoon reaches up to your cheeks and keeps your face straight at him. His expression tells you everything you need to know.

He's been waiting for your answer for practically 6 years.

"In the way that I'm in love with you," you confess.

When you spent countless nights pondering on what exactly your feelings were for Park Sunghoon, you always imagined that telling him would be hard. When you were young teens, confessing to your best friend was something that had you panicked and flustered, not even once entertaining the idea in fear of ruining your friendship over a crush.

But looking up at him now with that pleading and hopeful look on his face had the words falling out of your mouth.

It felt so natural to tell him, the same way that breathing came easy to any human. You used to always tell each other that you loved each other, but telling him you're in love with him? It was as automatic as your heart beating.

"Okay, good," Sunghoon is completely drowning in you, but is trying to keep his composure, "Cause I definitely want you all to myself in the way that I've been in love with you for years and years and I don't intend in sharing."

You chuckle at him, "We're going to have to work on that, I think."

Sunghoon scoffs and suddenly lunges forward on the bench. His nose bumps against yours, "You're mine, Y/N. And I'm yours too."

His breath fans over your lips and you're so desperate to push your face forward and connect your mouths together, but he places a teasing thumb between your lips.

"Sunghoon," you grumble.

"Yes, sweets?"

"Can you just kiss me now?"

A smirk envelops his facade as he moves his thumb out of the way, "My pleasure."

Your lips slot together so naturally that you don't know how you've gone this long without connecting the other piece of the puzzle. You're thankful that the street is deserted as Sunghoon presses his lips on yours gently at first, but then more purposeful and deeper as you reciprocate and move your lips against his.

Kissing Sunghoon feels like fireworks exploding, butterflies in your stomach and the comforting feeling of home all at once. One hand is caressing his cheeks, moving over the mole just under his eye on top of his cheek bone and the other is running through his hair. Sunghoon's hands are clasping your cheeks like he's afraid you're going to run or disappear as he deepens the kiss and slides his tongue into your mouth.

You whimper into his hold and let him take the lead. Everything has been leading up to this moment. You knew that time when you took him to a café to talk that this was going to be inevitable. Your heart was always going to be pulled to Sunghoon's and there was no use fighting it.

The famous saying that there's a very fine line between love and hate was all too true. The changes in your relationship over the years were always just sides on the same coin. At the end of the day, you completed each other.

"I love you, Y/N. You don't know how long I've been wanting to tell you that," Sunghoon mutters against your lips.

"Likewise, Hoonie," you press a soft and fleeting kiss on his swollen lips before you pull away properly, "But we should go somewhere more private."

Sunghoon coughs in surprise and begins to splutter, "O-oh? Damn, take me out on a date first!"

You rise to your feet and give him a disgusted expression, "Shit, Hoon. Not like that! Urgh, I'm taking it back."

Sunghoon chases after you in glee as you stomp away, "Wait, Y/N! Come back! You still haven't answered- what are we?"

"Back to enemies," you turn your upper body to glare at him, flipping him off with your middle fingers, "Boyfriend privileges revoked before they even started!"

You're practically sprinting away from him at this point and Sunghoon has never been happier running after someone as he feels his heart leaping out from his chest, "Boyfriend? Y/N, come back!"

"No!"

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You watch from the stands as Sunghoon finishes up another run through of his free program after a small tweak to one of his elements. As he hits the final pose, you explode into claps and cheers.

"That was so clean," you praise beside Junho who was nodding approvingly.

Sunghoon skates over to the gate and sighs contently. Junho claps him on the back, "You're all done for the day, then. Good job, Sunghoon."

"Thanks, hyung," Sunghoon grins, "Is there anyone using the rink after me?"

"Hm, I don't think so? Usually it'd be Heeseung but they're not back yet from Canada," Junho ponders the question, "Are you gonna keep practising? Don't overwork yourself."

"No, I just thought I'd drag Y/N onto the ice today," he looks over at you, your expression turning into surprise, "You have your blades on you?"

Junho bids the two of you goodbye, reminding Sunghoon that he had some schedule tomorrow with a sponsor. You eye Sunghoon nervously, "Why do you wanna skate together?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, "It's been a while since we've properly shared the ice. I thought it'd be fun."

You leave him skating laps around the oval as you fetch your shoes from the locker room. Since you arrived in Seoul all those months ago, you've barely been skating- maybe twice a week when helping some of the younger girls you've been coaching. You're definitely out of practice, but you figure that you still have a little time left before you had to start getting used to skating all day, every day again ahead of the new season.

The shoes are a second skin to you and it will never feel foreign slipping them on no matter how long it's been. Your first steps on the ice are still confident - you haven't lost touch at all.

"Do you think we could have been a good pairs team?" you ask Sunghoon in amusement as he reached out a hand to you skating towards him. You crash into his body with a big 'oof!' as he envelops you into a warm hug. Thankfully, you're pretty appropriately dressed for the ice today.

"We probably could've been the best," Sunghoon nods along, "We trusted each other so much."

His past tense has your face falling in a frown that he quickly catches, "And I still trust you with my life. I'm working to make sure you will trust me again too."

Sunghoon's voice is soft as he releases you, but slides his fingers in between yours. He starts pulling you along side him slowly, just gliding beside each other.

"I love you, Sunghoon," you tell him suddenly, feeling so overjoyed at being by his side again on the ice at the second rink you called home together, "Thank you for trying with me again."

"No, thank you for letting me come back into your life," Sunghoon bounces back, sending you into a spin and then capturing your grip again, "Being with you makes me want to be better every day for you."

You feel so warm inside despite the temperature of the indoor arena as you move together in tandem. If you close your eyes, you can picture your 15 year old selves holding hands and leisurely skating around like couples at pop-up Christmas-time ice skating rinks. Instead, you were just two kids with the weight of the figure skating world's expectations on you, holding onto each other for support.

"I don't think I want to leave at the end of this season," you admit quietly to him, "Everyone I love is here and I don't have any reasons to go back. I'll do my best to convince my federation and team, but I'm sure Taeyeon will find a rink for me in Seoul or lobby to have me here if there's space."

Sunghoon squeezes your hands assuringly, "Whatever decision that you make, I'll support you. If you're not allowed or it will take another season to sort everything, don't stress or worry about it. I'll be by your side."

You give him an appreciative look and nuzzle your head into his neck. Sunghoon twists to drop a searing kiss on your temple.

Time passes quickly as the two of you skate- at one point, you were playing a game of tag chasing each other all around the rink and pulling out your best tricks. Sunghoon was then curious on trying to pull off some pairs skating stunts, which you indulged for a bit like that couple's yoga challenge, but quickly had to shut down when he was getting too ambitious. Maybe you'll ask Taeyeon and Kibum to show you guys a few tricks one day.

As you were also done for the day, Sunghoon convinces you to come over to his apartment to watch a movie and have some dinner. Heeseung and Chaehyun were coming back later in the evening from Canada, so he proposed that you would tell your two best friends then the new update in your relationship. It's been a week since you got back from the states, but you had just missed your other best friends going to their own competition and they were far too preoccupied to talk.

"If you're gonna stay in Seoul, do you think you'll want to move out?" Sunghoon asks you as he prepares the food on the stove. Apparently, Sunghoon has been attempting to learn how to cook, but you'll be the judge of that since he used to be wary of going near the kitchen after a tragic ramen fire.

You're sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, watching him work from the side. You volunteered to help, but Sunghoon was determined to cook for you himself, "Maybe Chae and I could move in together if her lease is up soon. We've always talked about doing that one day."

Your childhood home wasn't horrifically far, but anything closer to the rink and to your friends would always be more convenient. You've enjoyed spending time with your family again after all that lost time, but you think that it wouldn't hurt to move out again if you were going to stay in the city. It was just something you had to discuss with Taeyeon once you thought about it some more.

"Mhm, you two could move into a 2 bed in the building if there's one available," Sunghoon agrees, "Or maybe the 4 of us could get a house somewhere or something."

You raise an eyebrow at him, "Woah, take me out on a date first!"

Sunghoon groans at your teasing tone as he stirs the stew on the pot, "Speaking of, will you let me finally take you out this weekend?"

After you got back from the States, the two of you had been swarmed with work and haven't been able to fully explore the relationship that blossomed between you while you were away. You saw each other daily at Taereung, but you hadn't had time to go out together on an official date.

"Looking forward to it, Park," you chirp, "Is it gonna be a surprise?"

He nods knowingly and turns around to bring the pot of kimchi-jjigae over to the pot holder in front of you. The smell is inviting, warm and comforting, perfect for a chilly evening as it was outside. It smells like home and watching Sunghoon buzz around the kitchen collecting the cutlery and bowls feels all the more domestic. You could definitely get used to this.

"I really hope it tastes good," Sunghoon exhales as he takes the bar stool beside you and scoops out a portion of soup and rice for you, "Eat up, my Y/N."

You take the first scoop tentatively, still a bit unsure of how good his cooking will actually be, but when the flavours melt in your mouth and tingle your tastebuds, you squeeze your eyes shut in glee, "Urgh, Hoon, it's good. I'm surprised."

Sunghoon claps joyfully and begins to portion out his food too, "I can't wait for you to see all the tricks I have up my sleeve. I've had to learn a few things about life."

You watch him eat fondly, thinking about how exciting it is to learn about each other again and how you grew as people in the time apart. Knowing everything about a person isn't as exciting as the adventure of slowly discovering new things about each other that makes the person who they are now. The fall out isn't something you'd ever wish for again, but it's time to consider the positives instead of dwelling in sorrow.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" Sunghoon presents casually as he slurps some broth.

His question has you choking on a piece of kimchi. Sunghoon simply laughs at you and pats your back almost teasingly. When you were in America, you maintained your boundaries in separate rooms as you didn't want to rush into anything, but you must've told Sunghoon that you had a late start the following morning and so did he.

You used to hold sleepovers as kids all the time until you hit puberty and your parents had to pull back on that. When you were in the dorms, you were spending so much time with each other anyway that it didn't feel necessary to have sleep overs. Why cram in one room when Sunghoon could just sneak back a few minutes to his own bed whenever you finished what you were doing?

"Nevermind," Sunghoon giggles melodiously as you eye him.

"No, no- I do. It's just that I've never stayed around a guy's place before," you're likely blushing as Sunghoon squeezes your cheeks.

"You're so cute, Y/N-ah," he coos at you, "But this is the kind of stuff we do while dating, right?"

"Us dating still seems so foreign," you wrinkle your face tight, "It makes me happy, but it's so strange."

Thankfully, Sunghoon doesn't take offence, "I know what you mean; it's definitely going to be a transition, but it's all I ever wanted so we're just gonna have to fight the awkwardness. We can start by overcoming cuddling tonight."

The way he phrases his words has you chortling along with him and he just rolls his eyes and urges you to eat up so you could get ready for the evening ahead. Once you finished your bowl, packed up the leftovers in the fridge for Heeseung and washed the dishes while he dried, Sunghoon was rummaging through his room to find spares of everything to lend you since you were unprepared.

He had better skincare than you, so that wasn't a problem and his scents in his toiletries weren't so musky and masculine that it hurt your nose when you used them in the shower. Sunghoon was glad to remember that he bought his toothbrush in a pack previously, so you brushed your teeth together bumping hips and competing with each other to see who would spit first. He picked out a baggy shirt for you and some joggers that had a drawstring so you could be comfortable.

Eventually, you found yourselves with your legs tangled together on the couch after he dragged his duvet out to the living room. They had one of those modular couches that was L-shaped in the day, but could be moved around to create a sort-of bed situation that was perfect for movie nights. He had put on the latest Spider-Man film, remembering how you used to watch Andrew Garfield's franchise back when you were younger and you used to think he was so cute.

"Do you still think he's the best Spider-Man?" Sunghoon hums as he appears on the screen in what was once one of the exciting appearances in cinema.

"Yeah, but Tom Holland has played his version in so many movies now and he's really good," you reply after some thought, turning to find him incredibly close to your face, "Woah."

Sunghoon's arms were wrapped around your middle, but he pulled you closer to snuggle tighter, "You're so cold, baby."

You hide your face into his chest and muffle your voice against his shirt, "You're making me shy."

His body begins to vibrate as he breaks out in fits of giggles, "Trust me, I feel shy around you too. You honestly make my heart do crazy things without even trying."

You pound your fist against him, "Hoon, stop!"

"What?" he whines defensively, moving his hand up to your chin to guide you out of hiding, "Look at me."

Your cheeks are permanently red around your best friend as he gazes down at you with all the fondness in the world in his eyes, "Stop it or I'll leave!"

Sunghoon rolls his gleaming eyes playfully and nudges his nose against yours- something you quickly learned he loved to do before kissing you, "Nah, you love me too much to leave."

Instead of answering him, you just connect your lips together again, letting his natural warmth spread to your cold body. His arms tighten around you, pressing you up against him as he pressed rougher. He tasted like the sharp mint from your toothpaste, combined with his cherry lip balm that he had applied after, but there was also his own very distinct taste that you were growing more addicted to.

You feel him smile into the kiss before he squeezes at your waist and moves so that he was more hovering over you instead of beside you. Your heartbeat was thudding rapidly in your chest as he pulled away but then immediately attached his lips onto your neck in a spot that had you breathing out his name like it was sacred.

You must have been so preoccupied in Sunghoon that both of you missed the beeping of the keypad and the sound of the handle turning.

"Oh shit," Heeseung gasps as the front door swings open to give him a perfect view of the two of you.

You and Sunghoon let out a yelp that was more surprised from you but frustrated from him. He shoots the fellow skater a menacing glare, "Do you know how to knock?"

Heeseung scoffs at the two of you, "Well, yes. Except that you're in the living room and this is also my apartment. So happy you guys made up but can you keep making out in your room, please?"

At this point, you've shuffled so far away from Sunghoon and are hiding your face in the comforter in embarrassment. You wanted to tell them you were together, but that didn't mean you wanted Heeseung to catch you two.

"Who's making out?" you hear a familiar voice fade in behind Heeseung, "You left your passport with me, Heeseung-"

Chaehyun stops in her tracks when her eyes land on you on the couch, looking all bashful with Sunghoon emitting an annoyed aura. She presses Heeseung's passport into his chest without breaking eye contact with you as she approaches you menacingly.

"Y/N, Sunghoon. Do you have something to tell us?"

"Yes, but Hee walked in before we could get a warning that you were back," you sheepishly say.

"I actually texted the groupchat when we pulled up to the parking garage," Heeseung interjects, but Sunghoon just flips him off.

"This-" she points between you and Sunghoon, "Must have happened in America, right?"

"Yeah, we just wanted to wait until you two got back," Sunghoon shrugs, "Speaking of which, congrats on bringing home two golds guys."

Your eyes widen in remembrance as you leap up to crush your best friend in a hug, "Oh my God, yeah! I'm so happy for you Chae. And you, Hee."

Chaehyun rubs your back and nuzzles herself into you, "I guess there's much to celebrate tonight. Do you guys wanna drink? I'm really happy for the two of you as well."

You pull back from Chaehyun and direct your sparkling eyes over to your boyfriend, "Yeah, me too."

Your eyes dart over to Heeseung as well, who was on a sudden mission to find any and all alcoholic beverages he had in the apartment. Sunghoon springs up from his position, already scolding his elder for the mess he was making in the cupboards trying to investigate. Chaehyun is beaming at you and you feel the sincerity in her expression. Having seen you at the lowest points in your life, it's a happy departure to where you are now.

She can feel you start to get emotional and reminiscent, so Chaehyun simply pulls you back into a warm embrace. The happiness you feel is so new, just like your relationship with Sunghoon, but you would never trade it for the whole world.

The road to this moment was rocky and it felt never-ending at times. There were so many moments you felt so lost on your place in the world, but as Sunghoon returns to you and pulls you into his body, your heartbeats syncing together slowly, you feel that your way back home was worth it.

a/n: thank you millions for reading. find my masterlist here & all likes, comments, reblogs and feedback are so, so appreciated <3

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maximura · 4 months ago

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#i really loved this concept theme for the group bc they style everyone equally well #ni-ki #enhypen #nishimura riki #featuring #lee heeseung #heeseung's always at the crime scene for ni-ki shots

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kuuniki · 2 years ago

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ok i need to get this ball rolling

#i love themes and i love enhypen so... here i am

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allforhee · 4 months ago

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— 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐒! (ONESHOT) | LEE HEESEUNG

୨୧ pairing — secretary-general!lee heeseung x delegate!fem!reader

synopsis: decelis high's academic weapon, future valedictorian, model un prodigy especially in the crisis council, and top-notch secretary-general of the mun club, lee heeseung has it all. from earning constant "best delegate-s" left and right, no one dared to go against his stances in any debate. until a student like you transfers into decelis high. as a soon graduating senior, you were a newbie to press. but with your endless love for writing, you'd managed to steal the hearts of your peers. it was your first mun, and you didn't expect much. but when heeseung finds out about an article you've wrote about his arrogant performance in a recent committee session, he is set to strike you down.

୨୧ genre — kinda angsty but with happy ending, high school au, secgen/crisis delegate!heeseung x press delegate!reader, academic rivals to lovers, dumbasses in denial, a brief moment of rivals in public but lovers in secret, one sided rivalry

୨୧ warnings — a lot of model un terms (hope you guys can understand), cursing, hurt no comfort, heeseung highkey hates reader, reader is a bit feisty and could care less but she lowkey has parental issues, featuring all the other enhypen members, aespa's winter aka minjeong, txt's yeonjun and beomgyu, stray kids’ i.n, gidle's shuhua, and ive's wonyoung, one bed trope, forced proximity

୨୧ word count — 13.3k (not proofread, but will slowly edit/make changes to tiny minor mistakes found)

୨୧ author's note — dear readers, i'm back from a long overdue hiatus with a new layout and theme! this fic is long as HELL i didn't expect it to reach this long omg. i also changed up a couple details so it will be quite different from the teaser! i’m so sorry for the long overdue wait, senior year of high school has been so hectic, and i’ve been finally able to finish this so enjoy :) omg holy shit y’all are finally reading my full length fic i’ve been harboring since what? february?

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 had it all.

the walls of his room were littered with delegate lanyards from conferences across the globe, "best delegate" certificates framed all over his house (and a couple crumpled up inside his desk to fit the space), and a collection of trophies stood in every nook and cranny.

no one at decelis high dared to go against his stance. whenever it was, whether it was a moderated caucus or unmoderated, he'd always have his country or character's placard raised high, ready to speak, or leading whatever bloc was being formed.

there was no doubt that no one had ever beat him. it was no doubt that he was decelis high's mun club's secretary-general, and those who chose to go against him either got crushed in fear or knew when to step back.

even with his "best delegate" status, he wouldn't have gone far without his best mates, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon.

park jongseong or jay, most known for his cold stares in the debate room, ready to make a delegate tremble, would always chair crisis. he was decelis high's deputy secretary-general alongside heeseung. and although being heeseung's best mate, he never favored him when it came to awarding. it's just that he was naturally talented.

sim jaeyun, known for his popular slogan around the school; "jake it till you make it!", was the strongest when it came to knowing what a country or character believed in. his research skills were like a pirate on the hunt for lost treasure, he had all the facts, the data, and the proof to back up any stance. whatever heeseung needed to know, jake already had his back.

and park sunghoon. even though he was the quiet one of the bunch, his position papers never ceased to appeal to any chair. even if he wasn't as strong in speaking out during committee sessions, his fingers were his weapon. the guys would always ask him why'd he chair press and not join in the heat with them, he'd always answer with "my words are stronger than my actions." where jay would always respond with "isn't that the other way around bud?"

the four were unstoppable when it came to model un. lee heeseung was unstoppable. he was. until you came along.

you were quiet at first. everyone just saw you as the new girl who transferred for her senior year. nobody cared. until decelis high's annual mun conference, which happened to take place a couple weeks after the first day of school.

students from all over the country gathered at decelis high once a year to join in on the fun. various councils were presented at decelis mun, from heeseung's favorite council, crisis, and multiple others like unhrc, who, unsc, disec, unicef, and your favorite, press.

without a doubt, you registered yourself for press, opting that you didn't have the guts to join any other council. you feared you'd tremble listening to another delegate question your stances and ideologies.

your parents would always encourage your writing. as a child, you loved to write little imaginary stories about your life as a princess. writing stories about the love you've seen in your parents, you were set to write a book. but when your mom passed away a few weeks before your senior year of high school, and your dad constantly traveling for work, you had resorted yourself to watching the news all summer long, spiking your interest in being a journalist, where all you had to do was report whatever was going on, spit out what had to be said, and done. you didn't need to think long and hard on what your character was supposed to do next to support the storyline, no opinions, no biases.

as you stepped into your assigned council's room, you felt a gush of wind. the nervousness had gotten to you more, seeing all the socially bright journalists with their laptops open and chatting amongst each other happily.

"hi! you're a new face! oh and you're cnn! me and you will be best buddies! bbc here!" a girl squeals, she has a bright smile and a oh-so friendly demeanor. no doubt a popular trait amongst the press council.

"minjeong! don't scare her off. we're so sorry, she sometimes comes off a bit too much to new people. i'm wonyoung, the co-chair for press." she introduces herself.

"oh, hello. i'm y/n. i just transferred to decelis this year. it's my first time at press." you smile. you lost all your socialite cheerfulness over the summer, but meeting minjeong and wonyoung felt like you've been recharged. "oh and i'm the journalist for cnn?"

the girls take a glance at your nametag, examining you, before wonyoung cuts, "first time? don't worry sweetheart, we'll tell you all about it! right hoonie?"

a tall figure walks up to the three of you, no doubt a intimidating face. "y/n right? i'm sunghoon, the chair for press." he asks.

"yes yes this is her! oh we've got to tell her all about press! first timer alert!" wonyoung beams, before entangling her hand with sunghoon's. there was no doubt that the two were a couple.

"ugh, okay you two cut it off! we're journalists, we gotta be professional!" minjeong argues, playfully slapping wonyoung's arm, causing her to let go of sunghoon's.

at first, you had no idea what you were stepping into. but when chair sunghoon welcomed you to press with his icy-blue eyes and quiet demeanor, the other journalists supporting each other when it came to writing their articles, you felt right at home.

it didn't feel like it, but two days of endless debates went on, countries arguing left and right, and articles written on the current hot topic. the tension was surely rising, and your fingers were tired.

you were glad it was all over.

at every post-conference social, before awards were handed out, the articles the journalists from press wrote would be released to the conference for the other delegates to read. besides their usual gossip box, the articles the press wrote were always the fuel to the fire.

one article stuck up to heeseung. it read; "secretary-general heeseung's love for crisis interferes chair jongseong's chairing process, now who's really chairing crisis?"

heeseung swore to himself that he's never seen a girl like you. so quiet yet so powerful in her writing. hearing rumors that you've only just recently transferred to decelis high. even sunghoon himself was surprised to meet a talented journalist like you, a first-timer at press.

"it was her first time?" heeseung protested, "i mean- she's so quiet and reserved, if she had been doing press for years, i wouldn't be surprised. but this is her first time?!"

"what do you mean she's quiet? look at hoon, he never says a word in comses, but look at him chairing press. and i would never mind you tagging along in crisis, you always give out good insights." jay interrupts his thoughts.

heeseung complains, "i understand that, but her innocent face says nothing to what she wrote about me!"

"her articles were critical. they were precise and to the point. there was never a single weak spot in her articles. i think she's gonna make a run for my position." sunghoon defends.

"it's just one article hee, it won't affect your entire track record anyways." jake compliments, giving him a pat on the back.

heeseung believed what jake said was true. he did have an outstanding track record. "best delegate"s here and there, one silly little article wouldn't ruin his entire reputation.

as the clock strikes seven, social night was slowly coming to a close. decelis high's third annual mun was coming to an end. all that was left was to hand out the awards.

heeseung made his secretary-general speech as usual, a couple thank you-s here and there, before he handed it over to the chairs to announce the awards.

as he was walking down the stage, he felt a couple stares from mostly the press council linger. fixing his tie, he shook it off before taking a seat in the front row.

awards were handed, from best position papers, verbal commendations, honorable mentions, most outstanding delegates, and of course, best delegates.

the press council was saved for last. sunghoon asked heeseung if he could be given more time to rethink his options for the awards, and as his best mate, he let him. in reality, sunghoon didn't need time to rethink his options. he and wonyoung knew who was going to win best journalist. sunghoon just wanted to save the best for last.

when heeseung hears sunghoon's announcement for best journalist, it clicks.

"and the press council's best journalist award goes to none other than... l/n y/n!"

cheers could be heard from across the conference room. minjeong practically jumping on you when they heard your name mentioned. you rushed to the stage with a red face and a still shocked reaction, receiving the certificate along with the medal. wonyoung gave you the biggest bear hug known to man, whilst sunghoon gave you a firm handshake.

you felt the cameras flashing at you, taking pictures from what felt like every single angle. unbeknownst to you, heeseung was glaring at you from the front row.

best journalist. best journalist? his mind was running all over the place. how could he? how could sunghoon, his best friend, let such a writer like you, who wrote a devious article about him, win best delegate?

a single glance at the other delegates of the press council only angered him more. amongst them were laughs and snickers. he swore he heard a journalist say; "looks like mister secgen is upseeet!" but decelis mun only happened once a year. he wouldn't have the need to care about you every other day.

or so he thought.

heeseung felt like you were everywhere. at every lunch break, you were always sitting across his and the boys' table, laughing at nonsense with yunjin and wonyoung. during free periods, you'd be at the library, hunched over your laptop or head deep in a book. and at mun club, you just had to be there.

he hated that you were gifted like him. he hated that his friends favored you. he hated that sunghoon would always send you to their rival school's muns to participate in their press councils. he hated that you always won. he hated that you were clouding his mind every single day.

you hadn't but uttered a single "thank you," to lee heeseung. as decelis high's secretary-general, you didn't think he'd care about you. you were just a writer. you had no strength in the debate field, no reason for lee heeseung to care. but why was he being so cold?

it started when you applied for the harvard model congress. you were ecstatic to find out you'd be attending the conference. obviously, you told minjeong and wonyoung all about it. even striking up small talk with sunghoon.

"that's amazing y/n. i mean, harvard model congress? that's big!" his tooth-rotting smile bringing a cheerful mood.

"you went from winning best journalist in schools across the state to varsity level in just a few months!" minjeong squeals, as she hugs you. you were really lucky to have such caring best friends.

laughing along in the mun club room, you could feel heeseung's glare from his desk. headphones on and focused onto his laptop screen, you felt a strange feeling resonating off of him.

heeseung was fuming. the entire club applied for harvard model congress. heeseung got in. his mates did. and of course, you also did.

it was supposed to be a three day long weekend with his mates full of debate, laughter, awards, and getting drunk on social nights. but no. you and your friends would be there too.

heeseung didn't understand why everyone was so trusting of you so easily.

even jay, was friendly with you. "well y/n, i think you're going to make a run for hee's job!"

wonyoung rolls her eyes at jay. "he should be scared. you've rose up through the ranks like jake's receeding hairline."

"hey! my hair is perfectly fine, thank you!" jake cuts, huffing at the ridiculous comment about his hair.

"yo hee! we gotta work out the letter to the school so we can get a few days off. come over here, you look like you're burning holes into your laptop!" jay chuckles, receiving a smack on the arm from jake.

a quick but surprising slam! from heeseung's laptop emitted a low echo throughout the room. followed by a ruffling of him throwing his decelis almameter over his shoulder, and another loud slam! of the mun club room's door. lee heeseung just stormed out.

"oof, what's got into him?" minjeong asks, her face contorting into an anxious look.

"i don't fucking know, he's been at it since decelis' annual mun. throwing temper tantrums left and right." jay sighs, concerned for his best friend.

"well i guess that temper is living up to my article." you suggest, letting out a huff and a subtle eyeroll.

sunghoon takes a deep breath before realization hits. "now that i think of it, he's been at it since you've joined our core team." while he points at you.

"what does that have to do with me? i didn't do shit. all i do is sit, join muns, write, and win awards for us. would he rather i'd be getting verbal commendations instead?" you sigh. you've done nothing but bring pride to decelis high's reputation.

wonyoung laughs, patting you on the back. "it's not about winning verbcom or bestdel, it's about heeseung finally finding his match."

"exactly! he's gone on and on about constantly winning at every mun. he's always complained about needing more of a challenge. and no shit he's been jealous of your achievements." minjeong pipes in.

"that's ridiculous. i don't understand crisis as much as he does, i'm just a journalist on the press council! he's basically just being an ass to me, that's all." you confessed, you and heeseung were basically on different levels. he was secgen and lover of crisis councils, whilst you were just one of the head journalists and co-editors of the press division.

"maybe he likes you? i don't know!" jake squeals, lifting his shoulders in question. jay and sunghoon gives him a slap on the shoulder each, a glaring stare between the three.

"no no, lee heeseung is a cold-hearted son of a bitch with an ego to feed every other day, there's no way he can feel shit." minjeong debates, a hint of anger in her voice.

"woah girl, what's got you mad? i get you two grew up together but that's a lot to say about heeseung." wonyoung asks her.

"i know it's a long story, but y/n deserves to know. right?" minjeong asks, waiting for you to nod to continue. "every single day of my life, i was my parents' star girl. i love my parents for supporting me. but ever since heeseung moved in next door, i was demoted from best girl in the neighborhood to second best to heeseung. ever since we were eight, heeseung didn't like to lose. to a boy he'd be a good sport. but when he lost to me in a mere storytelling competition, he'd throw a tantrum. that's heeseung to me. he's nothing but an egotistical ass who has to win everything."

you sigh, hearing minjeong’s words. "and you know what y/n?" she continues, "he's never lost it since we were 13. and you, y/n, have officially made him lose his mind. again."

this year's harvard model congress was held at seoul national university, the dream university of many korean students. the seven of you stayed at a hotel nearby, settling in.

sunghoon picks up the keycards at the check-in counter, "okay so there's three rooms in total, the girls are sharing, me and jake are in one room, which leaves heeseung and jay—"

"i'm sorry sir," the hotel staff interrupts him, "but the rooms are already divided by the hotel and cannot be changed. it says here, room 745 is for miss kim and miss yang, room 746 is for mister park, mister sim, and the other mister park— mister jongseong, and room 777 is for—"

"great. thank you. alright, let's settle in and get ready for opening night." heeseung sighs, grabbing his suitcase and your shared room's keycards before heading to the elevators. you gave the rest of the group a shaky smile before following heeseung.

the moment you two entered the lift, and as heeseung tapped the keycard and pressing the button for the seventh floor, you could feel the tension.

as the lift begins to move upwards, heeseung lets out a sigh. "look, l/n. we're sharing a room by casuality, so don't make it a big deal."

you huff shakily, "a big deal? you're the one who's been avoiding me all year! i barely disturb you and all i do is win awards for decelis. what else do you want from me?" your voice slowly getting angrier.

as heeseung opens his mouth to answer, the lift comes to a halt as its doors open, signaling that they've reached the seventh floor.

heeseung holds the lift doors open, so you can exit it with ease. you were surprised with this gesture. coming from him who could care less about your presence, you were baffled.

as you both reach at your hotel room, heeseung gave you one of the three keycards given before tapping his at the hotel room's door.

and as if your romance stories came to life, you spotted an oh-so familiar trope sitting in the middle of your hotel room. there was only one king-sized bed.

"shut the front door." you sighed, looking at the clear situation in front of you.

heeseung entered behind you, "i clearly have, what are you talking abou—"

"no dumbass, it was a metaphor. i'm talking about this." you exclaimed, pointing your finger at the bed.

"great. i'll call up room service and get this sorted—"

"no it's fine, it'll be too much of a hassle and social night is in two hours. besides, we're civil adults, and we're here for only two nights. we can bear 72 hours living through this stupid one bed trope."

"fine. just so you know i'm taking the left side."

heeseung dropped his bag near his side, as he was trying his best to keep his composure. sharing a room with you was bad enough (that's what he keeps telling himself), but a bed as well? he'd rather win verbal commendation than share a bed with you.

you were unpacking your necessities before you decided to break the ice. "heeseung just so you know—"

but before you could finish, heeseung was already out the door. before the door closed, you could hear a mere; "i'll go down for social night. you do you." and a click! of the door.

you scanned the room that was once filled with such tension, spotting your room keycard on the bedside table.

you took off your sweater and switched to something a bit classier for social night, changing to a blood red dress you had packed to match harvard's colors. minjeong and wonyoung had helped you choose it a couple days prior, the conversation reappearing in your mind.

"harvard's got nothing on you with that dress! watch out best journalist!" minjeong hypes you up as you're trying it on in the changing room.

"are you sure it's not a bit too much?" you questioned, feeling insecure in the dress.

"too much? my guess is heeseung would drop dead seeing you in that dress. after all, he is in love with you." wonyoung giggles, which earns her a slap on her arm from winter.

"just own it y/n. maybe layer it with a leather jacket if you get cold?" minjeong suggests. you look at yourself in the mirror once more. maybe this would be the turning point between you and heeseung's rivalry. maybe he'd look at you and decide that he no longer hated you and instead loved y— no. enough of those thoughts.

as you touched up your makeup from earlier this morning, you headed out to find wonyoung and minjeong waiting at the lobby.

"there you are— oh that dress looks, damn!" minjeong exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand to hide the utter shock.

"i just know heeseung's going to gape at that dre—" before wonyoung could finish her sentence, she earns a smack on her arm from minjeong. "ow minie! i don't want my arm to be black and blue at social night! which starts in... thirty minutes. we should get to campus and fill in our registrations so we're set."

opening night was a blast. harvard model congress knew how to throw a goddamn banger of a opening night.

there were so many things to see. a karaoke booth, a photobooth station, a merch station, even a snack booth filled to the brim with various snacks and drinks.

after receiving your lanyards and a couple papers where you'd find your assigned councils for the next day, you, wonyoung, and minjeong, were set to let lose one last time before you were head deep into your laptops, writing articles for the next three days.

entering the room littered with decorations and other delegates, you and the girls entered the ballroom hand in hand, in awe with the decor.

wonyoung spotted the boys immediately, already saving a table for the seven of you. the three of you walked to the table, which had name plates for all your names. wonyoung next to sunghoon, jay next to jake, minjeong on your right next to you, and heeseung on your left.

sitting at the assigned seats and listening to the opening remarks by harvard model congress' secretary-general, the food was served and you all dug in.

although this was only the first of two social nights, you and the girls had to make the best of it. from abusing the “free photobooths!” booth, and filling the room with echoes of musical ballads, your first night at harvard model congress was deemed memorable.

before you knew it, you were dragged to the back of the room, as wonyoung pulled out a small paper bag—which turns out to hold a couple bottles of liquor, you grabbed your glasses and started pouring.

you could see out of the corner of your eye—the girls downing shots of tequila (in secret, cause you didn't want to get caught), and the guys coming along to take a shot or two. but heeseung looked, tense.

jake slapped him on the back, giggling, “come on man, loosen up a bit! mun isn’t all about the awards and the roles, it’s about the memories!”

“and the friends we make along the way, am i right?” jay chimed in, with a teasing tone.

before you knew it, heeseung grabbed an entire bottle and downed what was equivalent to maybe 4 shots, wonyoung squealed, arguing the fact that it was a very expensive bottle of liquor.

“dude! that’s from my dad’s cabinet, it’s at least 500.000 won!” she argued, grabbing the bottle out of his hands.

as you tried to ignore his gaze, minjeong gave you your first shot—which you downed immediately, but it only made you feel like heeseung’s gaze was burning holes into you more.

heeseung sighed, “give me another one.” holding his hand out for someone to pour him a shot. “come on, i don’t got all day.” before sunghoon poured him another shot—which he downed immediately.

you hated the feeling of his stare. it felt, uncomfortable, but you liked it? the more he stared, the more you downed more shots. before you knew it, opening night came to a close, and you were stumbling your way down the hallway with wonyoung and minjeong, before finally finding your room. and in your drunken state, you passed out.

burning pain. your eyes couldn’t handle the bright light emitting from what seemed to be all around you. as you open your eyes, head spinning, you flopped back down onto your bed, exhausted, and with the hotel room ac, you felt frozen.

but as you get comfortable onto the bed once more, you feel a sense of warmth engulf your body. it felt welcoming. comfortable. maybe a bit too comfortable for your sake. but the warmth was soothing. it was, moving?

you shot back out of the bed, trying to rub your eyes to focus back onto the warmth, but that warmth pulled you back into its embrace. as if it needed you to survive.

as you try to recollect the events of last night, your usual 7am alarm rung. what a great way to ruin the moment.

a groan echoed from that warmth you once clung to, a familiar sound, a familiar… voice?

“l/n, what time is it?” it asked.

fuck.

"chill y/n, you'll be fine." you whisper to yourself, walking to your assigned council's room. from the rest of the journalists in your gang, you had been assigned to report on different councils. while wonyoung and winter were assigned to report on the ASEAN council, sunghoon to report on the UNHRC council, you were unfortunately assigned to the crisis council. just to your luck. your mind was still stuck in what happened this morning. you met your chairs, shuhua and beomgyu, role call was held, and your first committee session began.

while you were typing away a starting paragraph for an article, a bright face comes to greet you. "oh hello, l/n y/n right? i'm jungwon, the journalist for KBS! i sit right next to you in our council room."

"oh hello! i'm y/n, reporting for the new york times, it's nice to meet you." you smile, offering a hand out for him to shake, which he accepts.

"so, you got assigned to crisis too huh?" jungwon asks as you nod, "honestly it's one of the worse councils to report on because everything is moving... too fast." he sighs.

"i don't mind the speed, it gives me inspiration to write. but everyone has their capacities right?" you try to reason, whilst jungwon gives an agreeing nod.

not long after some small talk before you could enter crisis' council room, another boy tags along. his bright smile clearly infectious as you and jungwon couldn't help but smile at his bright appearance.

"annyeong! nice to meet you i'm sunoo!" he smiles, his blonde hair reflecting the lights in the room.

you shake his hand as a boy with blonde hair and black streaks tags along behind him before slapping the blonde’s arm, "i'm nishimura riki, you can call me riki. can’t believe i flew all the way from tokyo for this."

“yah! your writing is fine riki, your good shots will steal the show.” sunoo assures him, before looking back at you, and smiling.

riki sighs, before turning on his camera “i wanna get the redhead over there, heard he’s super good at mun or something..”

you blink as you realize riki was talking about none other than—heeseung.

"oh him? yeah he's my secgen." you tell him, the sentence floating out of your mouth. jungwon and sunoo turn to you with gaping mouths.

"wait- what? he's YOUR secgen? THE lee heeseung?" jungwon exclaims.

you furrow your eyebrows, "um, yeah? what's the big deal about him?"

sunoo's face lights up, as he prepares his words. "girl, he's the most highest ranking student in the high school mun circuit! his countless awards and times he's chaired makes him a legend. he's a literal model un weapon, even delegates with the veto powers are scared of him." he explains.

as you open your mouth to respond to his comment about heeseung, one of the chairs of the crisis council exits the room to greet you.

"ah hello journalists, you're here. i'm yeonjun, the head chair for crisis. we currently have unmod going on right now so you're just in time. we'll give you guys a couple opportunities to interview the delegates, but please be mindful." he explains.

you and the three boys smile back at him, before he opens the council room door and lets you in.

"delegates! i'd like to introduce to you all the journalists from the international press institute council, who will be observing our committee session. we have yang jungwon from KBS, kim sunoo from associated press, nishimura riki from NHK, and y/n l/n from the new york times. please treat them with the upmost respect.

a couple delegates say their greetings, and even explaining the current debate going on, as the four of you smile back at them. the crisis council was a popular council, and you can tell that from the amount of delegates in the room.

as you return your laptop back into your messenger bag and pulling out a notepad, a pen, and some sticky notes, you look back up only to lock eyes with heeseung. his gaze was deadly. you give him a slight smile, which he responds with an eyeroll.

the only thing you hated about being a journalist was the interviews. you needed to research, but having to interact with people you don't know? you'd rather kill yourself. it just happened that heeseung's stance was interesting enough for you to pass a post-it note to him, which he threw away.

so you were surprised to see him walk towards you during break, as you had thought he had rejected your interview offer.

"l/n, you wanted to interview me?" he'd asked you, no bad tone in his voice.

you looked at him surprised, kinda shocked, "umm, yeah? are you okay with that."

"i'm good. just, make it quick."

you open your notes to find your question you wanted to ask him, "um, do you mind if i record?" you asked, which he nodded. "okay, so as the delegate of colombia, what steps would you take to face the ongoing drug trade happening in your country? as a journalist, we have not seen you speak up much lately, so i'd like to know your thoughts."

"um, thank you for the interesting question, well i think—"

it was unlike him to treat you like this. unlikely for him to keep his cool. as you try to remember the words he was saying as you hold out your phone to record him, nothing was catching on. it was as if words went in one ear and out the other.

he was so professional. the way he walks, and the way he talks—the way his lips move when he talks, the way he explains his stance—the way he’s saying the words—the way his lips move to pronounce it, oh and the way he-

“l/n? are you done? i’m wasting my precious break time here.” heeseung asks you, breaking you out of that trance.

you compose yourself, hitting the stop button on the voice recorder app, “oh yeah, sorry, i was thinking of another question to ask you—got carried away…”

heeseung rolls his eyes at you, before thanking you and scurrying away.

what had gotten into you? you’ve never seen heeseung in that way before. he’s always been just a secretary-general to you. who also happens to hate you. you think.

but as the unmoderated caucus comes to a close, you return back to your council room, ready to write an article on heeseung’s stance. after all, you still had a day’s left worth of committee sessions, as well as a press conference held at the crisis council.

the press council room was chiming with the clicks and clacks of keyboards, journalists writing articles left and right. you were in the middle of writing once again another filler article, as you had no idea what to write for your mandatory article. as you look through your gallery, observing pictures you took earlier for your articles, you can't help but notice heeseung in his element.

as you're typing a possible title for your mandatory article, you hear from beside you, "hey, what's going on with you and heeseung?" sunoo asks, as you turn to him in shock, as you were in the middle of writing an article.

you laughed nervously, "what? nothing's going on between us. he practically hates me." you sigh.

jungwon pulls his chair over to you, placing his laptop on your table in the process, "i don't think so. not from what i saw last night."

you gasped at what he said, "and what i saw this morning! i could practically feel the tension emitting off the two of you as you were interviewing him. i've never seen a man so intrigued before." riki chimes in.

"this morning? nothing happened, i was interviewing him on his stances and whatsoever for a possible article! that's all to it!" you defend yourself, trying to get back into your article.

"y/nie, sweetie, i've seen way too many kdramas to tell that the way he's looking at you, is a look of love~" sunoo teases, smiling as if he knew something more.

jungwon and riki laughes at your expression, which seemed to resemble a disgusting look, but underneath that, you felt a sting in your heart. not a bad sting, a good sting.

"but hey you two seemed pretty cozy last night, i wonder what that was for?" jungwon asked.

riki gasps, "hey i took a picture! wait let me find it..." as he pulled out his camera, going through the camera roll. "here! you guys were dancing together a lot, and he basically was carrying you back to your room. what, did you guys get drunk or something?"

you choked on your water, as the events of last night start piecing together. "i remember taking a couple shots, he did too, but all i remember after that is falling asleep on my bed... i assumed my friends helped me to get back but now that i think of it... they were pretty drunk too."

taking another closer look at the pictures riki happened to capture, you saw two beaming smiles, and from the looks of it, it looked like you two were having fun. you've never seen him smile this much, let alone around you. the other picture resembled like a married couple. it was as if heeseung was trying to pick you up, but by the looks of your drunken states, it wasn't really working.

"wouldn't it be really funny if you guys accidentally fucked or something? that would explain the tension!" jungwon jokes.

you shake your head, before putting your face in your hands, "no way, not in a million years. our tension is, well, our tension! it's what happens normally!" you try to defend.

"no you're right won, they totally fucked. i mean the floor you guys are on? most of the rooms have king or queen sized beds. what would you guys be doing other than that? snuggling into each other till the sunrise?" riki assumes, scoffing afterwards.

your eyes widened in shock, as if jungwon cut your brain opened and took out the events of what happened this morning. you put your head in your hands once more before beginning to cry.

riki saw your reaction, "hey i didn't mean it that way! i mean it's- um... great? if you fucked? but if not then that's like, totally okay! i mean sex isn't for everyone—"

sunoo cut him off, shooing him away, "stop making it worse, ki-yah! y/nie? will you tell us what happened?"

you sniffed, not knowing why you suddenly burst into tears, maybe it was the frustration? you grabbed a tissue to compose yourself, "i don't know... all i remember is i woke up this morning, in his arms, and i just jumped out and got ready. we didn't even talk about it. all of a sudden he's back to his old self and he's being mean to me again."

you take a deep breath, sunoo rubbing you on the back, trying to calm you down. "he's been like this ever since i transferred. i was just the new girl who was a press prodigy, that's what they called me back at decelis, and i don't know, he's hated me every since. no reason whatsoever. i've tried to win his attention by winning muns and stuff but, it doesn't matter. he looks at me as if i disappoint him."

jungwon and riki both comfort you as well, before jungwon has a strike of realization. "you know, it's not that i wanna stir up delusion in your mind, but it's quite common for guys to hate someone because they like them. what if he has a crush on you?"

riki realizes as well, "yeah what if? what if all this time he's been trying so hard to hate you because he actually likes you?"

hearing the words likes you come out of their mouths makes you shudder in fear. no way he likes you. right?

before you knew it, your chair returns to announce that press conferences are due to start soon. and up first? was the crisis council.

stepping foot into the crisis room, with the information in mind, you start to notice the tiny little characteristics that match with the fact. the fact that the lee heeseung might as well have a crush on you. as you, sunoo, and two other journalists were guided to the front of the room, your chair explaining to the crisis delegates how the press conference was going to work, before giving the floor to the journalists.

you keep your head hung, distracting yourself by re-reading the questions you’ve written on your notepad, peeking through your hair, trying to take a glimpse of heeseung.

heeseung was in his element as always, head deep in his laptop, a couple volunteers passing by to give him a post-it note, filled with scribbles of other delegates wishing to be on his side. but as per usual, his critical self crumples the notes and puts it aside to his pile of other crumpled notes.

sunoo, on your left, nudges you in the arm, trying to snap you out of it. the moment you lift your head to look at the delegates and compose yourself, you catch heeseung looking at you.

with your bloodshot eyes, your usual smile fading, heeseung can’t help but notice what happened. you were fine last break. your eyes which used to be sparkling with curiosity had been traded for puffy eyes and a fake smile.

he wanted to come up to you, wanted to ask what’s wrong. but as your chair introduced the journalists, he’d wonder if it was just an impulsive thought.

each journalist had to share 10 minutes worth of press conference time to ask questions, a tight amount of time. as the journalist on your far left begins, the clock begins to tick. being the last journalist to ask, you begin to feel worried.

but as the mic is passed to you, and mere two minutes left on the clock, you scramble to compose yourself and your questions. “this journalist would like to open the question to the floor, with the excessive drug trade impacting the economy of your countries, what is an effective solution you’d have to decrease the drug circulation, but at the same time, would not damage your economy?”

placards were raised, and amongst them, were heeseung’s. you could see the colombian flag on his placard raised high, but as the journalist of the new york times, your work came first. therefore, you chose someone else. “yes, delegate of the united states?”

the delegate of the united states stood up, and you finally saw the name on his nametag. yang jeongin. he smirked at you, sending a wink. “thank you madam journalist for the intriguing question, as the drug trade across our country begins to increase…”

as you held your hand forward holding your phone out to record his answer, continuing to talk for the next minute. it felt like a lifetime. but in the corner of your eye, you could feel his gaze burning holes. heeseung held his placard high, glaring dead straight at jeongin even if he was still speaking. but as you thank jeongin for his answer, you open the question once more to the floor.

you hear a screech of the chair as heeseung, the only one holding his placard up, stands up to answer. but you don’t discern anything he says. you just stare at him. before you knew it, the clock rang, signaling that time was up.

sunoo nudged your arm once more, trying to snap you out of it. “you okay?” he asked, worry written all over his face. you nodded to tell him you were okay.

as you were escorted out of the room to head to the hotel restaurant for lunch break, you couldn't help but feel the same feeling of heeseung's gaze at the back of your head. you ignored him, walking out with sunoo by your side.

but you were stopped briefly by someone, none other than the delegate of the united states. "hey, that was a very interesting question you asked earlier at press conference. i was wondering if you need my insight on anything? given as i'm usa and you're the new york times." jeongin suggests, his usual smirk returning from before. sunoo winked at you, before leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.

you blink at him, "oh! yeah, i was thinking about gaining insight from, well our country's side of the story. so what can you tell me?"

your notepad flips open along the click of your pen, ready to jot down his words, before out of the corner of your eye, that sharp gaze returns. the burning stare heeseung emitted was back. you gulped and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "hey, um jeongin? could we find somewhere a bit more quiet so i can record the interview? i need to make sure everything is clear because i need to submit the questions to my chairs."

jeongin smiled, "of course sweetheart, i know just the place." before he took your hand and led you away. unbeknownst to you, heeseung was fuming.

as the two of you walked away, heeseung couldn't help but wonder. what's so great about yang jeongin anyways? compared to himself, his track record was not all that. yeah he may have won most outstanding or honorable mention a couple times, but never best delegate. consecutively.

heeseung felt a tap on his shoulder, before briefly turning around. jay was standing there with a cup of coffee. he grabbed it out of his hands before immediately drinking out of it.

"that's! hot coffee..." jay protested. but to heeseung, his rage burned hotter. "what's got your panties in a twist?" jay asked, sipping his own cup of coffee.

"nothing, just pissed at a delegate. per usual." heeseung lied. as the two begun to make their way to restaurant to eat lunch.

jay chuckled, seeing his pissed face, "dude, i've known you for over eight years, you don't get pissed at a delegate for no reason. this is harvard model congress for god's sake, everyone here? they're basically professionals. mun legends. i wouldn't have afford this shit if i wasn't good at it. the awards and prizes helped fund this hobby."

heeseung sighed, "it's not just a delegate. it's someone else."

"it's y/n, isn't it?" heeseung snapped his head to glare at jay, as if he grew three heads. "chill dude, i can tell. you're painfully in love with her."

"no no no, you don't get it, she's a menace to my track record. do you remember back at decelis mun before she transferred? her article basically ruined my record the next five muns? i basically had to avoid chairing so the rumors wouldn't be deemed true." heeseung argued, reminiscing the times.

"but you'd argue she's a damn good writer, isn't she?" jay defended, "i mean no one from decelis has won consecutively aside from you. and she comes in to make the decelis name proud. aren't you glad? you're secgen after all. you're just in denial."

heeseung sighed, looking at his cup of coffee, once full, now empty. "i'm not in denial! i'm just stressed with a couple delegates in committee session, unmoderated caucus was, stressful."

entering the restaurant, their eyes landed to the corner booth, where you sat face to face with jeongin. jay turned his head to look at heeseung staring deadset at the two. "well, whatever floats your boat man, i'm gonna get some lunch. unsc might as well go to crisis next comses." jay pats him on the back, joining sunghoon, jake, wonyoung, and minjeong.

heeseung stood still. he couldn't help but wonder. is this what love feels like?

"so, yang jeongin, what can you tell me about the united states' stance on the current illegal drug trade? i assume that the country is fully aware of it happening?" you ask, pressing record on your voicenotes app.

jeongin looked around, before reaching over and pressing the stop recording button on your phone. before you could protest, "okay cut the crap, what's going on between you and lee heeseung?"

you looked at him strangely, not expecting the sudden confrontation. "well, nothing? i don't know what you want me to say, this isn't part of the interview."

jeongin dug into his food, "screw that shit, i wanna know why your secgen is all on my ass. i mean i looked at you once at comses earlier, and he looked at me like i lit an orphanage on fire."

you almost choked on your pasta, "what the hell, dude. he's just like that. he hates my guts so much he has to make me feel uncomfortable everywhere i go. i literally bring home decelis as many awards as he has in the past two years. i don't get him."

"nah, i don't think that's hate. he looked at me as if he was clyde and i was trying to steal away his bonnie. that's a look of love."

you sighed, "the thing is jeongin, he doesn't care. i've done everything to pique his attention, best journalist awards left and right, i was supposed to run for deputy secgen but he didn't let me. he said i wasn't a true decelis muner yet. i mean 8 muns in the span of a couple months? and i've never lost a single one? he probably hates me because i chose the lamest council."

jeongin swallows his food before he comes to realization, "hey weren't you the journalist who wrote on heeseung back at decelis' mun? i remember felix-hyung, my friend, that he went feral over it. he was chairing unicef, and in the chairs' room, he overheard heeseung talking about your article. how it was going to ruin his track record, or something."

"i mean, i do remember briefly. wonyoung, my chair, said i was allowed to write about the chairs or staff, even if they were filler articles. i wrote about heeseung and jay out of interest, i didn't know their history." you confessed, feeling quite bad about the outcome. "i didn't want my article to end up being gossip or shit talk, i just wrote what i wanted to."

"freedom of the press, am i right?" jeongin laughed, "speaking of the devil." signaling heeseung heading towards your table.

heeseung stood at your table. "yang. l/n." before scooting next to jeongin's side of the booth. you couldn't help but move your eyes between the two. after what sunoo and the boys told you earlier, and jeongin's confirmation that basically people could tell, you sit there in silence.

heeseung clears his throat, "well i'm not seeing much interviewing going on, delegates."

you scoffed at him, "it's none of your business heeseung. we're all delegates, it's lunch break. you don't have to boss around all the time."

"our decelis guidebook strictly confers to not confide in the enemy. and here you are, with the enemy. you know if you spill precious information regarding us we'd be dead?" he scolded you.

a laugh escaped your throat, "the enemy? jeongin is far from the enemy to me. matter of fact, heeseung, you've been more of an enemy to me rather than a secgen."

jeongin whispered, "keep it down y/n, it's okay."

you stood up in anger, "no it's not okay! i've been trying my hardest to do everything i can, i've won consecutively since my first mun at decelis, i've done everything you ask for. i've done nothing but make the decelis name proud, but i just can't happen to make you proud. what do i have to do next? i do everything and all i do is fall at second best. if you hate me so much then kick me off the goddamn team! wouldn't want me tarnishing your precious track record by having a traitor on the team, would you? all this over a stupid article i wrote months ago." you walk away from the table, returning to your room.

heeseung was speechless, the rest of the room was in awe, normally delegates would be able to stay professional. even if there was a break up or something. even wonyoung and minjeong looked at heeseung in anger, meanwhile jake, jay, and sunghoon looked at him in disappointment. jeongin stood up and left the booth, avoiding any more anger out of heeseung. "if i were you, i'd apologize. that girl has done nothing but try to please you and make you proud. start there." jeongin added before leaving.

out of habit, heeseung hung his head low in embarrassment. this was worse than the time you wrote that article about him. as he stood up to confide in the boys for advice, he spots a small leather notepad in the corner of the booth. it was yours. he'd have to find you, face you and give it back. it wouldn't hurt to read a bit of what's inside, right?

running back to your room, you couldn't dare return till next comses. the fact that an entire room full of delegates and chairs had heard you scream at heeseung's face. and returning back to the bed you woke up from this morning, limbs tangled with heeseung, didn't really help.

hiding your face in your bedsheets, tears flowing freely, you couldn't help but smell the familiar cologne he had left behind. the smell stung your nose, and made your eyes water more. the scent that once plagued you, now had lulled you to sleep.

a blurry facade appeared, the sound of heavy noise music remained muffled. your feet were cold on the hotel floor, destination? room 777. you were swaying side to side, but thankfully you were able to hold on to a pillar, which was moving with you.

"we shouldn't have drunk this much, right l/n? i'm not even sure i'm prepped for comses tomorrow morning." the pillar said.

"you have it easy, lee. you don't have to write 4 pieces worth of mandatory articles and observe other council's committee sessions." you replied, a clear slur in your voice.

it, who turned out to be heeseung, laughed, and it was like music to your ears. "i thought you journalists just copy-pasted shit off google or something, didn't get why you'd have to sit in the back of council rooms."

you scoffed at him, "well, as secretary-general, you should've known better. if only you noticed what i've been doing all this time to get your attention, maybe you would've understood."

"you think i haven't been paying attention? i've had my eyes on you ever since you wrote that silly article about me back at decelis mun. 'who's really chairing crisis?' you do know me and jay have been friends since primary, right?" he argued.

"that i know know, lee. the fact that you caused all the fuss over an article that was purely for mun, and had no ill intention is just stupid. i just wanted to be able to express myself." you confessed, feeling underestimated.

he sighed, pressing the up button on the lift, "it's not that i fussed over an article, it's that you wrote about me. i don't see many people brave enough to write about a secretary-general." before he could continue, the doors to the lift dinged and opened, allowing the two of you to walk in.

"i mean," he stuttered, clicking the number seven on the lift's buttons, "you amazed me. i've never met a person who could express themselves so much through their writing. no one paid attention to me enough to write such a critical piece about me."

you smiled at him, "so i'm special? i was the first to write about you, right?" he chuckled at your cheeky comment, "yes you're a first. i wouldn't mind if you kept writing about me."

"but why'd you hate me? i've done so much for decelis to make you proud, but you still have a way to butcher me. i just wanted to impress you." you'd sighed into his chest, the world beginning to spin.

luckily, heeseung had caught you before you fell, right on time as the lift reached the seventh floor. he basically carried you out, trying not to drop you.

"if i hated you so much, i wouldn't be helping you get back to our room, nor would i be making sure you get back safely." he assured you, holding you in his arms.

you groaned in protest, "but you do, don't you? i'm never enough for you, after everything i've done. all the things i did—"

you were shut up by his lips on yours. out of the blue, with no warning signs, he had kissed you. out of habit you kissed him back, lips molding against each other as if you had been waiting for years, as if you couldn't live without each other. all hatred you held against him dissipated. your arms crawling towards the back of his neck to pull him closer, his own pulling on your waist.

he pulled away to take a breath, but you couldn't breathe. he was your oxygen. you connected the two of you together, chasing his lips, his touch, his presence. it was the sweetness, the flavor of love and lust hanging. you’ve been craving his attention, hell, even his touch for months.

but your lungs craved oxygen, forcing you to pull away, hiding your face in his chest. as you were taking in the moment, he chuckled, "i wouldn't have done that if i hated you, would i?"

waking up with a jolt, the memories of last night came rushing in. you thanked yourself that the two of you hadn't fucked, but the idea of kissing him and liking it gave yourself insight. you wondered if heeseung remembered too.

opening your phone and seeing the time, you rushed out of your room as you were late to your next editorial meeting. it being the last committee session of the day, all you had to do was submit your mandatory articles of the day, and you'd be done. running back to your council room, knocking slightly on the door, you rushed back to your seat.

"journalist, you're late. why is that?" shuhua asked, beomgyu beside her, taking notes.

you sat down and composed yourself, "i'm sorry chairs, i slept in during break. it won't happen again."

the chairs nodded at you, letting it pass. the room discussed about how press conferences was, reminding the journalists of the upcoming deadline, but your mind was in the gutter.

you touch your lips, and you feel the lingering taste on your tongue. you were shocked out of your trance with the knocks of the chairs' gavel hitting the sound block. with only an hour left to finish your mandatory article, you begin to type.

social night was an mun tradition. after a full day of committee sessions, all councils, no matter what their council was, it gave a chance for all the delegates to mingle amongst each other.

free from the deadline of your first mandatory article, you had the whole night to party it out before tomorrow, where you had to finish your final mandatory article.

social nights usually had themes, and tonight, harvard model congress' was inspired by bridgerton, along with masquerade masks were in array. you had packed a a black dress, which belonged to your mother. she’d always tell you to save it for a special occasion, a moment you wouldn’t want to forget. and for tonight, as you miss your mom's touch, you wear your dress with pride.

walking to the venue, and right before you could even enter, you’re immediately greeted by wonyoung and minjeong. "oh my god sweets are you okay?" wonyoung asked, holding your face, clear worry in her eyes. "we heard and saw what happened at lunch, good for you to finally confront the bitch." minjeong commented, which earned her, once again, another slap on the arm by wonyoung.

you nodded at the two, holding their hands, "i'm fine, don't worry. i just needed to get it out of my system, that's all."

"to think of it, i haven't seen him since. normally when you pass by the crisis room, you'd hear his voice bouncing off the walls..." wonyoung confessed, "that's very unlike of him."

minjeong scoffs at her comment, "who cares? he's been downplaying y/n's achievements for the past couple months, i wouldn't be able to stay quiet if i were you."

you sighed at the two bickering in front of you, "guys, i just want tonight to be about us. this is harvard model congress for god's sake, i want to make the best out of it. so can we stop the heeseung talk and have some fun? please?"

the two nodded at your request, not pestering you any further. you all walk into the venue, being handed masquerade masks. the venue was decorated to the nines, and it felt like a ball straight out of bridgerton. the three of you were guided to your delegation table, which seated you, the girls, jake, and sunghoon. but heeseung? he was no where to be found.

"where's heeseung? it's not like him to miss out on social night." jake asked you.

you sat down on your assigned seat, and the seat on your right, which was supposed to occupy heeseung, was cold and empty. "why are you asking me? he hates me, remember?"

jake shrugged, "i don't know, i just reckoned that since the two of you are sharing a room, you'd know where he is."

minjeong scoffs, "who cares? y/n got ready at me and wony's room anyways, so no, we don't know where he is."

"jay said earlier today that he's been looking for him. wonder where he went. and if he found him..." sunghoon tells the table, sipping on his glass of water.

stuck in your trance, you were snapped out of it by a screeching of a chair, one, being jay, and the other was right next to you. heeseung. he was in his usual suit and tie, a couple buttons on the top were unbuttoned. you glanced at his tired eyes, hidden underneath the masquerade mask.

"dude? where've you been?" jake asked jay, slapping him on the shoulder.

jay sighed and drank a gulp of his water, "looking for this asshole over here." while pointing at heeseung, "took me a while to find him literally on the rooftop. i swear seoul uni has the most crazy hideouts. i'm not even sure i can even find my way back."

"how'd you find your way there anyways?" sunghoon asked heeseung.

he sighed, "don't know. just, found it." his demeanor slipping away as you begin to see the raw brokenness. you didn't hurt his ego that much, right?

as the clock struck seven, waiters all around the room began laying out the meals. you took a glimpse of the dinner courses in front of you, not really having an appetite for anything. but you still tried to eat, tried not to waste your food, tried to seem okay in front of him.

heeseung, on the other hand, was trying his best not to combust. sitting next to you was hard enough, but the fact you were wearing such a beautiful dress had him awestruck. he also lost his appetite. he couldn't help but stare at you.

after dinner, your friends stood up and ran over to the dance floor, and you were unfortunately dragged along. a remix of many famous hits were played, before you sang your hearts out to iris, by the goo goo dolls. you felt someone tap you on your shoulder, which to your surprise you see jeongin.

"could i have this dance?" he asked, hand out for you to grab, iris still playing in the background.

you nodded and grabbed his hand before you two danced foolishly to iris, heels discarded, his suit as well, just dancing your hearts out. but you had your limits, you were tired and excused yourself to grab some water. before you felt a nudge on your right, as heeseung leaned towards your ear. "can we talk later? don't say no just yet, just follow the green post its."

he walks away, as you look at him in confusion. feeling bad for what you said at lunch, you decide to meet him and see what he has to say.

following the pins of green post-its he left behind, you find yourself at the hidden rooftop jay was talking about at dinner. you open the door to be shocked at the view. the stars twinkling in the night sky. and stood there near the edge, was heeseung.

you broke the silence, clearing your throat, "you wanted to speak to me?"

heeseung looked at you and your dress, his mind going places. "yeah. i did. i'm not expecting an apology. i deserve it."

"but why'd you hate me so much, heeseung?" you whined at him, sick of his jokes.

"the thing is l/n, i don't!" he shouts, walking towards you, "it's not that i hate you, it's that i hate the way you make me feel. i hate the way you're so good at writing, i hate the way you win everything to make me proud, i hate the way you know my weaknesses, i hate the way you never gave up. you're on my mind every fucking day."

you walk up towards him, pulling his suit to pull him down, and him not expecting anything, you slap him across his face.

heeseung immediately pulled back, "ow! what was that for?"

"that was for not telling me about how you felt. you didn't have to bottle it up, you know?" you scoffed.

"and you didn't have to either!" he protested back, pulling out a familiar journal. your journal.

you grabbed it from his hands, "how'd you find this? i didn't even realize it was missing..."

heeseung sighed, "you know for a smart writer like you, you're very forgetful." a smile beginning to emerge.

"what did you read, heeseung? tell me." you asked, afraid that your secrets would spill out.

heeseung walked towards you, "enough to know that you're too stubborn to even tell me the truth. if you'd been feeling this way for months then you should have told me."

you gasped at him, "i would have told you about it if you weren't such a dick all the time? and then you kissing me last night just added more fuel to the fire." not realizing what you said, heeseung cupped your face, which was full of confusion.

"you remember last night?"

you blinked. "everything."

he laughed, "then you'd know i wouldn't hate you as much if i was doing this, would i?"

the familiar taste of his lips returned as he kissed you. you held onto his hands as he caressed your face. the oxygen you once craved had been fulfilled. you strung your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for dear life. you could feel the burst of sparks just surrounding the two of you, a moment you both craved.

the wavering facade between the two finally faded, unleashing the raw desire the two of you had, rushing through your veins.

you pulled away, heeseung leaning his forehead onto yours, before he gave you his best smile. you blushed out of nervousness and proximity the two of you held, not used to this view.

"you still hate me now?" you joked, smiling at him. his eyes softened, before he laughed, and kissing you once more, not wanting to let go. and as the stars glimmered under the night sky, you forgot time ever existed. forget the committee sessions due tomorrow, it was the two of you against the world.

surely, waking up on the final day of the conference would give you a sense of peace, right? wrong. you had spent so much time last night making out and talking with heeseung that you forgot your final mandatory article was due soon. waking up from the bed the two shared, limbs tangled once more, this time, you weren't ashamed.

you kissed heeseung's forehead to wake him up, and despite heeseung's wishes to stay in and make out some more, you declined and got ready.

"can't you just stay? a bit late to the first comses of the day won't hurt your awards." heeseung groaned, asking you to return.

"i was late at yesterday's comses post-lunch, so i think i'm going to be a good girl and come early to this one." you replied, fixing your tie.

heeseung basically stood up and tried to pull you back to bed, "come on, just be my good girl. i promise you will be awarded with all of my kisses in the world."

you shook your head, "missing out on a couple kisses won't be the death of me. come on, you need to prep for comses too."

heeseung moaned in complaint, "no, i'd break my streak for you, i don't care. i just want to stay in with you, away from everybody."

you were able to crawl your way out of his touch, "nope! i'm not letting you lose your streak just over me. come on, get ready. i'm going down for breakfast."

"can i at least have a goodbye kiss before you go?" he pouted, and the way his eyes resembled bambi, you gave in.

you tried to just give him a quick peck, but his touch was so fragile and welcoming, that if you didn't stand your ground, you'd probably be pinned down till the rest of the day. but you didn't want that, so you let go of his touch, assuring him that you'd spend more time with him after the conference.

now, here you were, back in your conference room with a giddy look on your face. you couldn't help but dream of last night. even sunoo, riki, jungwon, along with wonyoung, minjeong, and sunghoon, were even surprised to see you better all of a sudden.

"okay is this some weird process girls do the cope with sadness, cause if so how do we fix her?" sunoo asked, concerned.

wonyoung was staring at you like you were beaming, "it looks like pregnancy glow."

riki basically spit out his coffee, "wait so they actually fucked?"

minjeong snapped at riki, "who fucked?"

"we had speculation that, y/n and heeseung fucked the first night, hence why she was out of it the next day..." jungwon explained to the rest.

sunghoon, the only person out of the group who happened to know heeseung the best, commented that; "no there's no way he fucked her. if they fucked, they wouldn't have been here."

"could you stop speculating that me and heeseung fucked?" you snapped at the group. not out of anger, but annoyed that you couldn't concentrate.

"sorry, but did you?" riki enquired, earning him a riki! from the group around him. "what? i just wanna know."

you sighed, standing up and packing a couple things, "who cares if we fucked or not? just leave us alone." as you head out of the council room, heading to the crisis room for some final details.

contrary to how you first felt when you walked into the room, your heart felt full of hope. that this time, heeseung wouldn't be staring at you with hatred, instead of love. you hoped you wouldn't distract him.

as you walked into the council room, you nodded at chair yeonjun, before taking a seat at the prepared seats for the journalists. you sit down, open your laptop as you're typing your final mandatory article. you tried to glimpse towards heeseung, but you were returned with the same feeling as yesterday. the sharp gaze was back. maybe it's because he's in is element? mun is important to him... you thought, and busied yourself to writing your article. since it was your final committee session, you just had to submit your article and return for the closing editorial meeting. quickly clicking submit, and the chairs deeming the final committee session over, you wanted to sneak a quick kiss before returning for your meeting.

you stood up from your seat and walked towards heeseung. he stood up and saw you, walking your way. instead of being greeted by a hug or a kiss, he brushed past you to talk to his fellow delegates. you felt a pang in your chest, the way heeseung ignored you like that. you thought everything was okay. the kisses you shared, the conversations you had. you looked back at heeseung only to see him busy talking with the other delegates, barely sparing you a glance. you left the room quickly, not looking back.

unbeknownst to you, heeseung saw you leaving, his heart barely surviving after treating you like that. you deserved better than him. he couldn't have it all.

the final editorial meeting of press councils should be a joy to you. no more deadlines, no more press conferences. but you were stuck in your head. repeating the interaction over and over in your head, you didn't understand a single thing.

after the comments and input from both the chairs and the journalists, chair shuhua decided to pull out the gossip box. you'd been informed prior about the gossip box filling at social night, but since you ran off with heeseung to make out the night away, you didn't have time to fill it in.

as shuhua and beomgyu begin to read the entries, earning laughter all around the room, a certain entry snaps you out of your trance.

"oh this is a good one! new york times from press and colombia from crisis actually fit really good together! hope the enemies finally turn into lovers! wait is this about y/n and heeseung?" chair shuhua asks, causing the whole room to look at you.

you looked at everyone strangely, "what? there's nothing."

chair beomgyu shook his head, "no no no, i don't think there's nothing. come on spill the tea, something must've happened the past three days."

everybody was waiting on your response. waiting for you to tell everyone what happened. you just wanted them to shut up. "okay well. we kissed."

the group of six who were pestering you earlier, gasped loudly. earning you a rumble of no shit's, wait actually's, and a loud jinjja?!

you couldn't help but sink back into your seat, still upset about the way he treated you earlier. "yeah, but he's treating me like shit again today, so. that's that."

the entire room aww'ed in disappointment, before the chairs read out a couple more entries, and adjourns the final editorial. you stand up to clean your table, taking out a pen to begin signing each others' placards. signing everybody else's, photo sessions were in array, and after you were finally allowed to have some free time before awarding ceremony.

awarding ceremony was one of those moments where you have hope, but at the same time you don't. you start rethinking choices you made during the conference, wondering if you made the right option. you headed your way to where the press council was sat at, where you met a couple other delegates, even bumping into jeongin, wishing each other a good luck!

you sit down between wonyoung and minjeong, which earned you an endearing hug from the two, assuring your problems with heeseung didn't matter. stuck in your head, you didn't notice the boys' absence in the room. and awarding had begun. the secretary-general of harvard model congress came up and made their speech, thanking all the delegates for participating and giving their best. chairs from other councils begin to come up to give their awards.

meanwhile, outside of the room, was heeseung cornered by jay, jake, and sunghoon.

heeseung, not caught up with the situation, looked at the three with confusion. "what did i do?"

jay scoffed, "what did you do? you managed to fuck it up again? what did i tell you?!" shaking the life out of him.

heeseung shook his head in confusion, not knowing what to do, when sunghoon came up to him, "look man, your little feud with y/n has to stop. i don't get you anymore. i thought you'd be good at this after helping me and wonyoung get together..."

"nah dude you're in denial. what do you mean you two basically confessed to not hating each other and then made out a bunch of times, only for you to leave her and ignore her like so? that's crazy." jake protested. that was the truth.

"i don't know what to tell you, but me and jake have got to get back for unsc awarding, but please think about it? i know you feel scared of this whole love thing, but i assure you, it's okay to feel this way." jay says, leaving with jake, which left sunghoon with heeseung alone.

heeseung didn't know what to do. for the first time in his life, everything was out of his control. he craved you and needed you, but he felt like he didn't deserve you. it was as if a crisis was happening in his own mind.

as he hears the cheers of the room with every award that is given out, his heart races. he hears the announcement where jay and jake both won best delegates, which they had been double delegating in.

sunghoon kept trying to comfort heeseung, not knowing what to say to him. "look, i may not understand the way your mind works, but i assure you that you deserve her. you've put yourself through it all for decelis, and the track record that we have wouldn't have been what it is now if it wasn't for you. i don't know what plan you're cooking up, but whatever it is, win her back." heeseung looks at sunghoon with sheer nervousness in his eyes. "press and crisis are left, so whatever you want to do? do it now. before its too late."

leaving heeseung alone outside the room, sunghoon walks back in, returning to where the press journalists sat. he saw you picking on your nails out of habit, nervous for the next awards. as your chairs walk up to the podium, sunghoon just hopes heeseung would do something.

as names begin getting called out, sunoo winning best pre-conference video, then riki and jungwon winning verbal commendations, wonyoung and minjeong winning honorable mentions, you held on tight to the tiny string of hope left. it was probably between you and sunghoon left. as you look around the room, heeseung is still nowhere to be found. you had hoped that maybe with this win, you'd make him proud once and for all.

"the final two journalists were a tight match. these two shown impeccable talent in their articles and presence the past three days." shuhua announces. "it is with our great pleasure that the most outstanding journalist goes to, park sunghoon!"

wonyoung, who was on the stage prior, basically screams in joy. you high five sunghoon before he winks at you, knowing you'd win best journalist. but a part of you still thinks you won't.

beomgyu gives sunghoon his award, before adjusting his mic. "this final journalist has pure talent in her writing, and have awestruck the both of us with her work. without further ado, we would like to present that the best journalist award goes to none other than... l/n y/n!"

relief. that's all what washes towards you. yes you've heard your name and the words best journalist go along too often, but every time it happens, it always feels euphoric. as you walk up the stage to receive your award, earning smiles from the other awardees, you couldn't help but look to the crowd.

you see jay and jake basically jumping up and down in joy, but heeseung was still nowhere to be found. a pang of disappointment burns in your chest as you walk down the podium with your certificate in hand. an array of congratulations! are heard, as you sit back down for the final awarding. crisis.

zoning out, after feeling the euphoria of your win, your mind drifts off to heeseung. how would he feel? was he proud?

as chair yeonjun announces the awardees, you are cut out of your trance with every round of applause. you see jeongin win most outstanding, and you cheer for him.

as yeonjun clears his throat for the final award, he begins his speech. "this final award goes to a delegate who really deserves it all. although this mun may have not been his best run, he deserves so much more than the title: prodigy. i'd like to present this best delegate award to none other than... you know what? lee heeseung get up here, get your award, and get your girl!"

with pure shock, you watch as heeseung bursts through the doors, run up to the podium, quickly shake his chairs' hands, grabs his certificate, and runs down. and he's running to you.

he drops his certificate on the floor, before engulfing you in the biggest hug he's ever given in his life. spinning you around, you squeal in excitement. he whispers in your ear an array of i'm so proud of you's, before putting you down, and kissing you in front of everyone.

you cling onto him, parting your lips allowing him to kiss you deeper and deeper, and the feeling of sparks flying around you made it feel like it would last forever. your ears muffle all the cheers surrounding you, only focusing on heeseung, and heeseung only.

he puts you down and rests his forehead on yours, exactly like how he did on the rooftop the night before. "how'd you pull this off?" you ask him, still on cloud nine.

"eh, had some help from chair yeonjun. didn't expect the bestdel though." heeseung laughs, holding you by the waist, tighter, and tighter.

you held his face closer, wanting to feel his touch, "why'd you do that? why'd you run?"

"y/n. i love you. i never knew how to say it all this time, because it's a feeling unlike any other. to the point it made me feel as if my life was in crisis. but that's when i realized i never had it all. not until i found you."

taglist; @riekiss @sesameoil721 @desistay @capri-cuntz @beomluvrr @shawnyle @tya0 @heexoolio @sunghoonsgff @spiderhanzzz (crossed out = i can't tag you)

back to my masterlist?

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction.

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