#I know this is a fictional world but it makes me think sometimes

[lottins-only]

CROSS THE LINE II | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line. what happens next?

A/N: happy holidays yall 🥳 lmk what you guys think!! <3

warnings: infidelity (once again, i don't condone it. 🫣), non explicit smut

PART ONE

before all of this, you’d always imagined an affair as something out of a movie: clandestine meetings, tensions running high, stolen moments, secret rendezvous. but in reality, it’s messier, quieter. it’s second guessing yourself every step of the way, staring at your reflection and admitting you’re a horrible person time and time again, and then doing it anyway. 

it doesn’t start with a bang, no dramatic explosion of passion. after the night at the cinema, things unfold slowly. you text every single day for weeks, conversations ranging from the mundane to the deep. you learn about each other, piece by piece. and jude, you realize, is like quicksand. the more you discover, the deeper you sink. he’s too funny, too kind, too good. unfairly handsome, and somehow better for it.

he has an uncanny way of making you unravel. of making you open up so easily that sometimes you don't notice it's happening. you, usually reserved and guarded, find yourself sharing without hesitation. you suppose its the way there's no judgement from him, no disinterest or impatience.

and then there’s the way he lets you in. with every detail he shares, every message, he pulls you in like a magnet you can’t resist. he tells you about the running joke he’s had with his best friend for years, humor inexplicable to anyone but the two of them. the trivial argument he had with his brother that was inconsequential but still annoying enough to stick in his mind. his new favorite song, sent with a note about how it makes him feel. formative memories he’ll never forget, now shared with you. it’s as though he’s placing his heart on a silver platter, daring you: know me. know me and want me.  

and you do. want him, that is.

that’s the exact reason why you find yourself in his bed one afternoon. 

his room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn against the waning sun. you sit on the edge of the bed, your hands twisting in your lap, nerves running high. jude sits beside you, eyes locked on yours, searching for the final hint of hesitation. a sign that you might leave. but you don’t move. you can’t.

when he leans in, his fingers brushing against your cheek, it feels inevitable. of course you’re here, with him. where else would you be? his touch is warm, grounding, and when his lips finally meet yours, it feels like everything that’s ever happened in the world has led to this moment.

his hands find your waist, sliding under your shirt as the kiss deepens. his touch is firm and warm, yet capable of sending shivers down your spine. you don’t stop him when he pulls your shirt over your head or when his lips trail down your neck, leaving your skin tingling.

 “what are we doing?” you murmur almost to yourself as he bites on a sensitive spot. 

jude pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and full of desire, but there’s something else there too: something deeper, more vulnerable. 

“whatever you want” he says, his voice low, his hand grazing your cheek tenderly. “i want this. i want you”

you nod wordlessly, and the rest happens in a blur. his weight presses you into the mattress, his skin warm under your fingertips as you trace the muscles of his back. he kisses you like he can’t help himself, and you kiss him back just as desperately. plush lips and calloused hands taking their liberties, roaming all over your body, eliciting sounds and sensations you’ve never experienced with anyone else. you don’t hold back either, not when his golden brown skin is all yours to explore, to kiss, to bite. to revel in. 

he moves against you, his hands gripping your hips as you arch into him. there’s nothing slow or tentative about it now. his movements are purposeful and you meet him with equal attention . when he finally pushes inside you, you let out a rush of breath, almost like a sigh of relief. it’s overwhelming, the way he fits perfectly inside of you, the way it feels familiar and routine, like he’s done this a hundred times before. 

the room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the creak of the mattress as he rhythmically thrusts into you, his low murmurs against your skin that range from curses to your name to soft groans. your nails dig into his back, and he doesn’t flinch, only moves harder, deeper, his focus entirely on you. “you feel so perfect, so good” he whispers, like its a confession he’s been waiting to make for the longest time. 

you don’t think about the guilt or the consequences. there’s only jude, the way he feels, the way he moves. for now, that’s all that matters.

afterwards, you lie in bed, your head on his chest, his hand softly grazing your now frizzy curls. his heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a comforting sound. 

“so,” you say, breaking the silence as you trace his chiseled chest with your finger. “you won’t believe what happened at work today. this guy left his mic on during a teams meeting and got caught badmouthing our boss.”

jude’s chest vibrates beneath you as he laughs silently. “no way. what did he say?”

you tell the story, and he listens intently, chuckling softly. you think two things: first, never in your life did you imagine having pillow talk with jude bellingham. and second, the knowledge that you made him laugh gives you such a rush of serotonin you want do it over and over again.

seasons change, your situation doesn’t. months go by and jude and you are sneaking around. no one knows, not even your closest friend or your mother– people who know you better than anyone, people who love and accept the parts of you that you consider deeply embarrassing and shameful. you don’t share this, because it’s different. this secret is well and truly a condemnation of your character. but that doesn’t mean you want to stop.  

you find yourself at a real madrid christmas party one evening. you’re there with your boyfriend, of course. the man who feels more and more like a stranger as the days go by. the man in whose phone, just last night, you’d found incriminating dms with an instagram model. it hadn’t fazed you. after all, you were doing the same.

you sip on a glass of champagne, watching jude from across the room. he’s in his element, charming everyone from the staff to the players to the wags. his laugh carries over to where you’re standing, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering at the sound. 

and yet, despite all the mingling, he hasn’t approached you.

you hate yourself for keeping track, but you’ve noticed. he’s made his rounds, talking to everyone, making small talk that leaves people grinning. but you? not a glance, not a word. it’s like you’re invisible.

you can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as you watch a group of wags giggling at something he says, leaning in closer as if trying to soak up his presence. your nails dig into the stem of your glass, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“you okay?” your boyfriend asks, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. you must be having a very visible reaction for even him to notice.

“fine” you lie, forcing a smile. don’t touch me, is what you really want to say.

you’re not fine though. not as you steal another glance at jude, who’s now leaning against the bar, talking to vini. he looks relaxed, like he hasn’t a care in the world, like he doesn’t feel the tension that’s suffocating you.

you tell yourself it’s better this way. no one is gonna suspect anything if he avoids you. but still, it stings.

and then, as if he senses your eyes on him, he finally looks your way. the moment is brief, a flicker of recognition  before he looks away quickly, returning his attention to vini like nothing happened.

the champagne in your glass suddenly feels too heavy, and you set it down on the nearest table before excusing yourself to the restroom.

Inside the rest room, you splash cold water on your face, hoping it will calm the heat in your chest, the ache in your gut. but it doesn’t.

the sound of the restroom door opening makes you freeze. you glance up and flinch when you see jude.he steps inside, shutting the door quietly behind him, his eyes locking on yours immediately.

you watch silently as he leans back against the door, his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit pants. he looks calm but his jaw is visibly clenched. 

“you’ve been avoiding me” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“i had to” he replies, his voice low. “you know why”

you do know why. but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“you talked to everyone in that room except me” you continue, voice sharper than you expect. “it’s like i don’t even exist to you”

“you think i wanted to ignore you? do you know how hard it is to be in the same room as you and pretend like–” he cuts himself off, hands rubbing the back of his neck.

“pretend like what?” 

“like i don’t want you,” he says, the words coming out in a rush. “like i don’t think about you all the time. like i’m not going crazy knowing you’re here with him”

“then why avoid me?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“because if i talked to you” he says, stepping even closer. “if i got too close, i don’t know if i could stop myself”

your lips meet just then, as if drawn together like magnets. you kiss fiercely, desperately. his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him. you can taste the sweet champagne on his lips, can feel the heat from his warm hands. when you pull away, you’re breathless, but you feel renewed. like touching him made up for the fact that you had to put up with your boyfriend for the whole evening. 

“i’m breaking up with him tonight” you blurt. “I found out he’s been cheating”

“what an asshole” jude says without skipping a beat.

you laugh bitterly as you adjust the top of his turtleneck. “i’m doing the same thing”

jude smirks. “yeah, bit hypocritical isn’t it?” he says, and you both burst out laughing, the sound echoing loudly in the bathroom. 

you sit with it for a bit, the weight of your actions settling in between you two, both of you knowing what an awful thing you’re doing. you, to someone who’s been a partner of yours for some time. him, to his teammate who he doesn’t particularly like, but still owes some loyalty to, some obligation of decency.

“i don’t regret it” he says quietly, as if reading your thoughts. he grabs your hand and enterwines your fingers.  “i don’t regret any of it”

“me too” you murmur. and you mean it. 

that night, you keep your word and dump your boyfriend. it's an anti climactic ending, both of you mentally checked out of the relationship in the end to even care. still, you feel the weight lifting off your shoulder. good riddance.

that's how an affair with your boyfriend’s teammate unfolds and then ends. if you’re wondering how a relationship with your ex’s teammate begins, here it is: first, you scrub any trace of your previous relationship off the internet (you were always pretty private anyway). then, you gaslight everyone who knows all three of you into believing the relationship was never that serious, so what's the harm if you're seeing the other guy now? stranger things have happened. thankfully said ex-boyfriend conveniently leaves the team and the country at the end of the season, so it makes things easier for you. third step is to keep a careful distance from your new man in public for several months to maintain the illusion that there was no overlap with your past... relationship? situationship? or was it friendship? we’ll never know. finally, hard launch on a sunny afternoon at one of your favorite cafes in madrid, on a random wednesday in late summer. that’s how you do it.

so here you are, seated across from each other. you sip on a latte; jude’s having tea. he’s just come back from an adidas shoot, and he’s exhausted, you can tell by the tired smile on his face and by the way his body is slouched slightly in his chair. the only expression of affection he can muster is the soft brush of his leg against yours under the table. 

you chat about the book you’re currently reading, how the price of pastries in the cafe are atrociously high. yet again, you marvel at how easy it is with him. talking, laughing, slipping into comfortable silences. its like you’ve known him for years. 

“someone’s taking a pic” he nods towards someone behind you. you don’t look back, just smile softly. “going according to plan” he murmurs, taking a sip of his tea. 

you’re silent, thinking about how luckly you are, to have him, to be with him. you continue to chat, and now you’re on the topic of the show you’re watching. jude confesses he watched an episode without you on the plane back from an away game, and you gasp indignantly, kicking his leg under the table. 

“ow” he mutters. “i couldn’t sleep!”

“you couldn't watch anything else?” you say, dabbing at a coffee stain that had tainted the sleeve of your shirt. When you look up, jude’s looking at you with such a tender look on his face that you want to look away. 

“what?” you say, half self consciously. 

“nothing” he grins. “its just that you’re so beautiful. everytime i look at you it gets better”

your stomach is immediately filled with butterflies, and all you can do is grin back at him shyly, cheeks heating up from his words. sometimes being with him feels like you’re on a rollercoaster ride, in a good way. except the rush you get is from basking in his warmth, in his love, in his presence. 

needless to say it was all worth it in the end. thank god for late night cinema trips. 

[rachamemories]

I hope it doesn't sound offensive because I really do not mean harm. I have looked through your account with books you read and I have been wondering how do you manage reading such heavy topics, especially with mental health issues?

I'm asking because I'm also struggling with mental health and for me sometimes even reading fluffy fiction can be upsetting. I was wondering if you have some coping mechanisms or maybe just a different outlook on the subject

Reading about history, war, antisemitism and darker topics doesn't hurt me because I view it as understanding mindsets that directly impact how people view/treat me in the world. It's a comfort for me to know where the thought processes come from, the sources of lies and the whole unhinged body of text they're attached to, and how old they are. How irrational and flawed humans are, myself included.

It makes me feel better mentally to understand that there's things I can't personally fix. There's people I can't have "done things a better way" with. Me doing my best to be kind doesn't cancel out someone who lives in a different reality where my kindness is a manipulation to them on the basis that I'm inherently evil.

I view it as a way for me to protect myself. It gives me confidence to call things like antisemitism what they are when I experience them because I know what it is and exactly where each part of it comes from. It doesn't make the events feel any better, but it helps. I also view learning about the past of my culture as my personal way of paying respect to those who came before me, I think we all have different personal and beautiful ways of doing that ❤️

[vaguely-concerned]

Origins is of course the DA game most closely in conversation with and playing around with Tolkien (right down to the walking talking poetree haha) -- and even more so than most works in the larger western fantasy tradition derived from Tolkien's work that DA:O also hails from and owes a lot of its Stuff to, what makes the game so great to me is that it's doing so very deliberately, and is subverting and deconstructing those tropes and entrenched ideas in some very interesting ways without at all denigrating what it's commenting on. (it doesn't have the almost disdainful undertones of the vein of fantasy that seeks to make the world more 'realistic' ala the more tedious reactions to G.R.R.Martin's work, for example, despite having the darker fantasy bent to it.) among other elements it adopts, what I find the most fascinating is the choice to use the same literary device/conceit Tolkien did in ostensibly only having in-universe biased sources and works to deliver the world through (which I feel is an underappreciated thing about his approach but is part of what makes his world so enduringly compelling and real-feeling -- the feeling of real scholarship devoted/applied to a made-up world. the grounding effect of a good diegetic footnote about source criticism, truly).

many things to be said there, and I'm glad each following game has taken on different perspectives and lenses and traditions to view the world of Thedas through because if you stick with that one too closely for too long I fear we could teeter precariously close to Pratchett's famous and bitingly accurate accusation of most modern fantasy of that era just being about rearranging the furniture in Tolkien's attic lol. and while you could accuse DA2 (my perfect wife who has never done anything wrong in her life to be clear) of many things, that's not one of them, they are pulling on some completely different strings for that one and both the game and DA overall is better for it, to my mind. as so many things in this series: worth staying with and exploring for an installment even if it might get stale if all of it was like this! people are understandably sad about the elements from previous games that they liked which were lost along the way, but that capacity for reinvention is to my mind a huge strength of dragon age as a whole.

(I think Veilguard is coming in as a close second in Tolkien conversation-ness if only in outlining/revealing the worldbuilding that indeed may have been planned since DA:O around the animosity that SHOULD by all rights exist between dwarves and elves in this universe (as per Tolkienesque tradition standards). but doesn't really because you see: politics and the many pitfalls of conservation of knowledge over the ages. our ancestral enmity got semi-intentionally lost between the floorboards of history and you know what. maybe for the best. the humans are already up to so much shit you gotta keep your eyes on them at all times you can't be brawling with each other in the deep roads while they're still around getting up to their nonsense or they'll just pile up even more of it)

[bitchy-peachy]

I really wish that antis stopped using real life sa victims in their shit especially since they tell real life sa victims that we deserved our assaults cos we all handle our trauma differently.

[waterfallofspace]

I have finished The M/entalist, a tv show that ended 10 years ago, a show that I'm sure no one else cares about, but that I am about to make my whole personality for at least 2 weeks as I have hyperfixated on it so hard I can barely breathe

so uhhhhhhhh anyways if anyone knows this show take this as an open invitation, or if not then consider this a formal warning that i may be reblogging things and screaming "P/ATRICK J/ANE" in the tags <3

[soapysudz]

(Just a quick note, I both enjoy character analyses and will read and possibly enjoy pretty much any type of gen fic no matter how ooc. All of this is just my thoughts/opinion)

I think that Batman and Jason have such fundamentally different ideas of justice that Jason will never be able to get what he wants/needs from batman.

Something that I think about a lot is if you take the real world (specifically the US as that's where Gotham is (when I was little i thought it was in England for some reason?? That was a fever dream) anyways) if you take the real world into account, the justice systems here were created from way back in the day when anyone who wasn't a rich white man wasn't really considered human, smart, or worthy of rights. There have been changes but the people in charge have consistently been rich white men who ensure policies and loopholes exist so that they are the ones who primarily benefit them. It is hard for people who aren't rich white men/rich people to get justice, often because you can't afford a lawyer, the people in charge don't care to listen to what you have to say, and many other factors. Many rich people don't get justice per se either, they can just pay their way through (especially if they're the one who committed a crime) . The system isn't broken, its working exactly as it was meant to and benefiting who it was meant to benefit. Which is pretty ducking depressing imo.

For the people who are supposed to enforce the rules, aka the cops, all you have to do is look at the news. If you call the cops for help there's a huge chance they just show up after you're dead (where I used to live they straight up said they wouldn't show up unless someone was dead) or they show up and whoops! You're dead now. How I grew up and how most of my friends and family grew up is that you don't call the cops if you actually need help. You have your community, your neighbors, your cousins, and you call them for help because they're the ones who will help you because the "justice" system sure isn't.

So here you have a billionaire white man who is essentially upholding a justice system that was created to benefit and work for people in his demographic. Knowing about the pitfalls of the justice system and growing up seeing how this system can and will fail and destroy your neighborhood, your friends, your family, are very different experiences.

And this can be said for many superheroes; I think that batman is upholding an idealized version of the justice system that doesn't really exist for most people. Ideally yes, it would actually help people who need it and provide protection and closure for victims and the families of victims. But it doesn't. And Jason recognizes this. He tells Batman that he thought he would be the jokers last victim. He knows the system isn't going to stop the joker from hurting more people and he thought that batman would recognize that and put an end to him.

Tldr Ofc jason isn't going to have faith in the "justice" of this country or the idealized justice of batman.

I think something that annoys me the most about quite a few Joker Dies/Jason Comes Home fics is that they think that as soon as the Joker is dead, Jason will stop killing. Like, doesn't matter if he's the one to kill the Joker or not, as long as the Clown dies, that's it, problem solved, Jason can go home with no issue because obviously he has no more reason to kill!

and it always has me ???????????????? the Joker is not the reason Jason kills? the Joker dying takes out a massive threat to the citizens of Gotham and I don't doubt it would make Jason personally feel better just in general, but there are still horrible, horrible people around and doing things that Jason believes means they don't deserve to keep living? Just because the Clown's dead doesn't mean all the other issues Jason deals with as the Red Hood are going to disappear wtf

Anon, I’m so sorry it too me forever to answer this ask!! Tumblr disappeared it from my inbox after I read it initially, and then it just reappeared this morning! I hope you’re still around to see this.

That narrative has me going ???????? right along with you. I don’t understand it. I’ve thought about it a lot and the best I can come up with is that sometimes authors are more interested in telling a story about Jason reintegrating with the family than they are in being true to Jason’s character. Because when you think about everything Jason’s been through, his motivations and perspective, the choices he’s made, it’s actually really hard to make him play happy house with the bats and keep his character authentic. If you’re out there in the void reading this and feel differently, reblog or leave a comment with your thoughts, I’d really like to hear them.

As I see it, here are two pieces to your ask: 1) Joker dying. 2) Jason killing.

First, Joker. Honestly, imo, focusing on the Joker dying completely misses the point. Canonically, if Jason really wanted Joker dead above all else, he could have killed him in Lost Days. He could have shot him in the face the first time he saw him in UtRH. It’s not about Joker. It’s about Bruce. Bruce’s choices, Bruce’s actions, Bruce’s feelings (or lack thereof). Taking it one step further, I actually think that deep down there’s a part of Jason that doesn’t want the Joker dead. Because once he is, that’s it. The possibility of Bruce making things right (right in Jason’s eyes, at least) is gone forever.

Second, Jason killing. I think Jason kills because, at his core, his priority is victims. He’s willing to take that final step because he sees it as necessary for existing victims and to prevent future victims in the making. I think it’s possible to put Jay in a scenario where he chooses not to kill for other reasons. But it’s not something he’s ever going to repent for, it’s not a ‘suddenly seeing the light’ sort of situation. I think these two panels from Detective Comics #975 are a good example of that. Although I take issue with the ‘I still have enough respect for this place’ line.

So, yeah, those are some of my thoughts on Jason, the Joker, and the Red Hood’s lethality. I’m still getting the hang of these meta rambles. Hopefully that was coherent enough, lol.

Thanks so much for the ask, anon! I really enjoyed thinking this through! 💙

[lurking-latinist]

🐈

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent sky photos 

[valeriehalla]

I am so utterly fascinated by “Saki”, the 18-year-running mahjong manga in which you, the reader, become gradually, frog-boilingly aware (over the course of nearly two decades’ worth of mahjong tournaments) that none of these girls are wearing underwear and most of their boobs are slowly expanding.

I need you to understand that I have, like, an anthropological level fascination with this comic. From the perspective of someone who is also a comic artist and writer, two things delight me about it:

the fact that I understand completely how an artist gets from “the fans can have a little hint of skirted asscheek” to “the pussy is completely out on center page” over the course of 18 years; and

the way in which the pussy being out is treated by the characters and diegesis as being utterly unremarkable.

Okay. Point 1. The frog-boiling.

Let me put this in perspective for you. There was already a meme about how the characters in “Saki” don’t wear underwear when I was in middle school. I am thirty now. Okay? And it’s still going.

In the time since, this has stopped being a joke. It is now indisputable canon. This is not because anyone outright says it at any point. It’s because the underwear ran out of places to hide. I’m obsessed with this thought: somewhere in the over 20 volumes of “Saki”, there is a panel in which underwear was objectively deconfirmed. And it would be so hard to figure out where that panel actually is. Maybe the artist didn’t even realize it when she drew it! The frog? Boiling!!

And of course there is also the breast expansion. I don’t know how to put a spin on this. They are just expanding. Like, this happens a lot with artists: you define a character as being, in your mind, “the one with the big boobs”, and over the years you emphasize that trait further and further so that the signal doesn’t get lost in the noise. It’s just that normally—in like a wildly popular manga series about mahjong published by literally Square Enix, for example—normally there would be a point at which the boobs stopped getting bigger. Like, an editor would step in or something. Or you would get to the point where you cannot draw the character in the same panel as her mahjong tiles without her breasts spilling over the tiles, and you’d go, “Well, this is now untenable.”

That did not happen. There is no ceiling. The frog is soup.

Point 2. The complete and utter mundanity of all of this.

It’s like this, okay: there’s no shortage of trashy ecchi manga out there. There’s a million other comics doing wildly bawdier things with wildly more improbable bishoujos.

The vibe with “Saki” is different.

It’s hard to explain this, but it feels like the world of the comic is fundamentally uninterested in the fanservice happening on the page. I cannot describe it as “leering”, because I cannot conceive of a person in the story from whose point of view one would leer. I think the artist is probably into it—I can’t imagine anyone is making her do this—but “Saki” the comic has no opinion on the matter.

There are essentially no male characters in “Saki”. Like, there was one guy? Kind of? At the very beginning? But he is gone now. They put him back in the toybox. He does not exist. It appears to be some level of canonical that in the world of “Saki”, almost all humans are women. Those women are sometimes romantically into each other. According to comments the artist has made on Twitter (which I cannot source), they have lesbian baby technology, so it’s no problem. It’s so much not a problem that the story is about mahjong, instead of any of that.

So, like, the fiction here appears to be this: this is the, like, meta-narrative of the fanservice of “Saki”, right: it’s just normal that they don’t wear underwear and their boobs are arbitrarily big. It’s been normal. It was normal before the story of the manga began. It’s just how things are. Nobody bats an eye about it, and if they do, it’s in sort of a lesbian kind of way so like what’s the problem, we love lesbians here. This is literally normal for girls.

The fanservice simply diffuses into this all-encompassing aura of disembodied, ambient sluttiness. The framing of the panels demands you acknowledge it, and the story demands you already be over it, because it’s mahjong time now, and we’re playing mahjong.

Do you get??? why I’m so fascinated??? Are you not a little enraptured???

Anyway, I have no idea how to end this weird post. I guess the conclusion is that women stay winning????

[xhda1449x]

ok apparently 30 tags is the limit on tumblr and I'm putting it here because I couldn't put it in the tags

for my own curiosity, because my tragedy enjoying boggles the minds of a bunch of my irl social circle.

[musical-chick-13]

Having OCD is like, "I have to do exposure exercises for things I actively enjoy so I don't permanently ruin them for myself via Doing Compulsions."

[some-random-fandom-chick]

.

[tyrannuspitch]

sometimes it really does feel like i'm undergoing some kind of second-hand queerplatonic experience simply by trying to engage with fandom while centring and prioritising a platonic relationship. i mean, no-one's actually being hostile to me or anything, but there is honestly a kind of pervasive feeling that i just Don't Fit. in my fandom, there are communities for romantic relationships, and there are communities for individual characters, but how do i find *my* people? if there ever was a way, it's long since died out, but honestly i suspect there wasn't. i think we've always been scattered. most ppl who engage are just dabbling, or vastly prefer one character over the other. this relationship is at least peripheral to the entire fandom's experience but ppl for whom it's actually the centre are. somehow. few and far between

[tossawary]

One of my personal nitpicks for historical fantasy is a lack of servants, staff, subordinates, and... idk... subjects? Like, their absence is not... a total dealbreaker for me, depending on the situations the characters are in and whether or not I can just assume that other people are there in the background... but so many of the protagonists in historical fantasy stuff are higher-ranking (very often royalty), and/or have busy jobs, and/or have enormous houses that would necessitate having at least part-time staff.

Like, girl, you should have a maid! WHERE is your chaperone?! WHO is driving this carriage?! Where are your footmen? Are you trying to imply that a WEALTHY DUCHESS is taking a CAB?! You know that you probably have tenants, right? Where is your steward?! Where is your lawyer? Your accountant?! (Like, yeah, you're not going to have your lawyer living in your house, but you HAVE one, right???)

Or, man, you're supposed to be a military commander and you don't even have a single secretary?! Where is your SQUIRE?! (In the spirit of historical fiction, I am jumping wildly across time periods with every sentence here.) Man, I know you aren't looking after your own boots. Where are your GUARDS?! Who set up this tent for you?! Who is looking after your horse?! Who is making and carrying the incredibly valuable maps people are recklessly stabbing daggers into?!

SOMEONE has to be scrubbing these floors and delivering the mail and cooking the meals and doing laundry, and they're probably all DIFFERENT people! My dentist has at least three different receptionists and we can't even get ONE for our court wizard here? A sorcerer's apprentice to take notes? Someone like Sherlock Holmes could get away with just having a housekeeper and taking taxis, sure, but your character is supposed to be a KING?! Why is he answering his own front door? He's going to get assassinated. His SERVANTS should have SERVANTS.

Like, yes, I understand that a lot of servants in certain places at certain times were supposed to make their labor invisible, but there have always been servants who still had to interact directly with the masters of the house?! Yeah, there are potentially really messy ethics here, class divisions are bullshit, but I don't think that completely ignoring the reality that humans have ALWAYS been doing work for other humans is better than just including some well-paid and well-treated servants and employees? Because a complete absence of them, especially where logically for the worldbuilding there MUST be servants (and probably exploited servants, or worse, for some particular worldbuilds to work), often makes me think that your main characters just don't care enough to notice the "lower class" people or know their names.

Also, even Frodo Baggins had a gardener and Samwise Gamgee might be the best damn character in the story?! Sam saved the world?! Servants are PEOPLE. Servants are often the funniest and most interesting characters, tbh, with the most to say about a society and its workings (yes, Discworld is a very good book series, highly recommend), and also the joke of some romantic scene being carefully orchestrated by a stage crew of servants frantically diving into bushes to stay out of sight never gets old to me. Teamwork makes the dream work!

I don't want to gatekeep historical fiction, especially not historical fantasy, because the worlds don't necessarily have to conform to our own and may have magic and characters are often in very unique circumstances, but... sometimes I pick up a story and it's like... "Author, please tell me that you know there is a difference between a butler and a valet?!"

[foldingfittedsheets]

A friend I had briefly in my teens years was this girl in Arizona. She was a junior when I was a freshman, and as I was socially awkward and very lonely she kind’ve pulled me under her wing for a while. I don’t remember how we met, but I remember riding in her car and meeting her cute miniature Doberman.

But the thing I remember most about this girl was that she loved lying to me. And I had a massive but I acknowledged crush on her so I adored being lied to. Her natural charisma and storytelling was hypnotic.

It’s not what it sounds like because it wasn’t malicious but she came up with this in depth lore to tell me about this fake job she had. I know autistic people are meant to be credulous but I truly never believed her stories, I just adored her storytelling and was very ready to listen to whatever tale she spun that day. Another of her friends chided her once for teasing me but I genuinely never minded.

In her lore she moonlighted as a Professional Liar. People would hire her to get close to a target they wanted rattled. She’d make friends, develop a strong relationship, foster a dependency on her, then disappear. Then when they were confused and missing her sometime when the employer needed their target rattled she’d show back up as a glimpse to knock them off balance. Often it was implied she’d faked her death in the interim.

That itself was fine, it was an okay story. But in order to support that lie she’d make up tons of supporting details that were way more fun. She had this fake boyfriend who got high as balls on a mission and ended up seeing a sheep in a field and carrying it to a farmhouse to try to buy it because he wanted a puppy. I liked that one but suspected she didn’t know how big sheep were.

She’d IM chat with me as this made up boyfriend sometimes; once she had him ask me if I noticed her limping and he told me she’d just lost a toe but was covering for it like a champ. That one was fun.

She told me about something she called “purple charge” which was a way to get instant night vision. I did try looking that one up on the off chance, but was sadly disappointed there.

She said that Professional Liars had such high stakes jobs that they needed a week of insane time where they just partied so hard it was like a Dionysus rave and her IM boyfriend persona implied she’d killed someone during one of those stints.

I had such a fun time with her elaborate fiction that I’d often ask follow up questions and she had to do a lot of world building to keep up with my fascination. We’d get to class and I’d have three or four new questions which I think is why her friend thought her teasing was too far. They genuinely thought I believed her but I was just loving the fiction.

If any of this sounds malicious I’ll also add that when I got harassed on a roleplaying board she went out guns blazing to go after the guy who’d been harassing me. She genuinely enjoyed my company.

I find myself looking back on our friendship very fondly. I can’t remember her last name or have any way of looking her up, but she really was a professional liar to me. The only downside is that I’m completely faceblind so if she ever wanted to pop unexpectedly into my life I’d have no idea it was her.

[saythenametotheworld]

Backburner | k.mg (18+)

There is a rule of thumb for casual relationships: do not fall in love with the other. Yet with Mingyu, it felt easier to watch the world burn than to stop yourself from falling for him.

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: friends with benefits, smut Pairing: Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader Warnings: angst, explicit content (18+) Notes: 21k words. Part 2 of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Backburner by NIKI. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Backburner by NIKI, Say Don't Go by Taylor Swift, Another You (Another Way) by Against the Current Taglist: @scoupsjin @iarayara @gaslysainz @silvermist002 @ssmebody @katfaceu

It was midnight, and what was usually a quiet evening was shattered by the persistent ringing of your phone—tucked inside the drawer of your nightstand. You shifted from your comfortable position on the bed, laying on your back to stare at the ceiling, your ringtone still playing and making the nightstand buzz faintly.

“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered, groaning as you moved to grab your phone. The backlight made your eyes sting. Squinting at the words on the screen, you recognized the unique caller ID: ‘R18+++’ 

One week of nothing and here he comes, calling you in the middle of the night. The audacity.

You shouldn't pick up. You were mad at him after all. But what if he had something important to say? Even if he didn't, would it really hurt if you pick up?

Not you trying to justify the desire to talk to him.

“Hello?” you answered, against your better judgment (or not).

“Hi…” said Mingyu from the other line, his voice more dragged out than usual. Deeper. Lonelier. “Did I wake you?”

He did. “No. Not at all.”

He hummed on the other side. “Can't sleep? What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing important,” you sighed, sinking deeper into your soft pillow. “What’s up with you?”

“Me? I was just working on this paper,” he replied. You could hear him groaning as if he was stretching his limbs. “This course is kicking my ass.”

“Professor Jung?” you asked, remembering how he often complained about the same professor.

“Yeah. He’s the worst,” he chuckled but there was no humor in it. “I’ve been staring at this screen all night, trying to make sense of it. You know when you read the same line over and over, and it still doesn’t click?”

You hummed in acknowledgment, shifting on your bed. “Sounds like every assignment I’ve ever done.”

He let out another laugh, soft and hollow. “Right? This one’s on some theoretical nonsense. I keep typing, hoping something’s gonna make sense eventually, but it’s like... whatever. I’ll probably just wing it.”

You could hear the faint tapping of keys on his end as if he was still half-distracted by the work in front of him. But something felt off, and somehow, you knew exactly what it was. He didn’t really want to talk about the homework, he was just stalling. The words were just filler—something to pass the time, to keep the conversation going.

“Maybe I’ll just email the professor and tell him the universe swallowed my homework. Think he’d buy that?” Mingyu joked and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Probably not,” you replied with a soft smile of your own, but your mind was elsewhere now, sensing the unspoken heaviness behind his casual complaints.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he chuckled followed by a soft groan and the sound of him falling back on his bed.

Another pause settled between you, and this time you didn’t wait for him to fill it with more empty chatter. “Wanna come over?” you asked instead, and he was quiet for a moment.

“Well… yeah, I’d love to. I mean…” he paused and then chuckled. “If it’s alright.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, it’s alright. You'd always taken it in stride when he ghosted you and returned like nothing happened. Sometimes you wonder if he was genuinely oblivious or pretending not to know. “Sure. You know where I’ll be.”

After hanging up, you let the phone slip from your hand, staring at the ceiling. You weren’t supposed to do this. Mingyu was someone you should’ve been keeping at arm’s length, a complication you couldn’t afford. The smart thing would’ve been to ignore his call. But you didn’t. No matter how much you tried to keep your distance, you would always find yourself waltzing back towards him. 

You thought about how easy it would be to send a quick message, tell him not to come, maybe even block his number if you really wanted to make a clean break. You should. A single text, a few words, and it would all be over. Your fingers hovered over the screen, but you didn’t type anything.

Then the knock came, gentle but firm, and you abandoned all protests, tossing them aside as easily as you tossed your phone back into the drawer. You didn’t hesitate as you crossed the room, your hand already reaching for the doorknob.

When you opened the door, there he was—tall, tousled hair, a lopsided smile, as if he wasn’t entirely sure you’d actually let him in.

“Hey,” Mingyu said softly, standing in the doorway like he’d been there dozens of times before—he had.

“Hi,” you replied, your heartbeat picking up pace, louder now that he was here, standing in front of you.

Without another word, he stepped inside, scooping you up by the waist like it was a habit, crashing his lips into yours. For a split second, your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrayed you. 

You kissed him back, letting yourself sink into the feeling. His hands moved to your back, pulling you even closer, and any remaining hesitation crumbled as the tension between you both sparked to life.

He was completely unaware, lost in the moment, and you let him be—because pretending felt easier than confronting the truth. It felt easier to let him kiss you like this, to let him believe everything between you was simple—as if you weren’t standing on the edge of something much heavier.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a grin. “Is Mina here?” His voice was teasing and light.

“You wouldn’t be here if she is,” you replied, breathless, your words barely forming as you watched him tug his sweater off, the urgency in his movements sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

For a moment, you stood there, watching as his sweater hit the floor, your heart racing against your better judgment. Here you go, again. You could stop it right here—send him home, tell him you don’t want to see him again even if that was a lie. Again, you didn’t. You reached for him, pulling him back toward you, his lips meeting yours with a kind of hunger that made you forget everything else.

The door clicked shut behind him, and with it, any resolve you thought you had.

“Wait, hold up. Let me just—” You made a rolling gesture with your fingers, trying to gather your thoughts. “—roll it back a bit. I think I went straight to the intense part.”

Seungcheol’s calm demeanor didn’t budge. He leaned back. “Didn’t feel intense to me.”

“Yeah, well…” You shifted in your seat. “I should’ve started by telling you how we met, right? Or how we even ended up in… this kind of arrangement.”

He nodded. “Context would help.”

You paused, sipping your water. “Okay, so… I first met Mingyu in freshman year. Second semester, to be exact. We had one class together—gen-ed history. I was late the first day.” You smirked, remembering how rushed you’d been, shoes squeaking against the floor as you slipped into the back row, heart pounding from running across campus.

The only available seat was next to Mingyu. You didn't notice him at first because the room's quietness was the first to catch your attention.

You tugged his sleeve. “Hey, sorry to bother you.” You told him your name. “I just came in. Did I miss anything important? I feel like I did.”

He glanced at you, brows slightly raised. He looked half amused, half confused. “I'm Kim Mingyu. And… yeah, you missed a bit. Professor gave us five minutes to pray for the diagnostic test.”

“Pray?” you’d repeated, your disbelief clear, eyes wide as you stifled a laugh. “How hard could a gen-ed diagnostic exam be?”

Very hard. 

You cringed at the memory of that test and how you didn’t know the answers for most of it. Mingyu was grinning beside you, walking in easy strides. “Still think you didn’t need those five minutes to pray?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite to it. “Alright, fine. I’m humbled. But you don’t have to be so smug about it.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’m just teasing. Anyway, don’t worry about it. The test won’t affect your grades or anything.”

Before you could respond, another classmate who overheard had stopped to join your conversation. “Actually, it does count. It goes straight into your record.”

Mingyu snorted, clearly doubting it. “No way. It’s just a pre-assessment.”

“The professor said so herself. You probably didn’t hear because you left too soon.” She looked at you with a sympathetic smile. “But hey, I bombed it too, so… you’re not alone.”

You felt a strange sense of closeness with her, but mostly, you were trying to process what that meant for your grades. “Great,” you muttered, but you weren’t sure if you were saying it sarcastically or just in defeat.

“I'm Mina,” she said, offering her hand for a shake.

“Nice to meet you,” you chimed, shaking her hand and telling her your name.

“I know. See you around!”

When Mina walked away, you expected Mingyu to say something mocking, but instead, he just laughed lightly. “Guess I should’ve prayed too.”

Over the next few weeks, Mingyu became someone you interacted with mostly during class. You’d sit near each other by default—mainly because the two of you are often the last ones to arrive, you being late most of the time. You exchanged quiet jokes when the professor wasn’t looking and sometimes teamed up when group discussions were required. But outside that lecture hall, you led entirely separate lives.

In the hallways, you'd pass by each other every now and then. He’d nod or smile—never stopping, never lingering. Just a brief acknowledgment as you walked in opposite directions. Sometimes, you’d give him a quick wave, or he’d send you a lazy salute with his fingers.

During class breaks, when the professor let everyone stretch their legs for a few minutes, you’d talk. Mingyu liked to complain about how boring the lectures were, though his grumbling always seemed exaggerated, more for humor than actual frustration.

“Think I might pass out,” he’d groan, letting his head drop to the desk dramatically. “I don’t know how anyone stays awake for this.”

“You’d stay awake if you actually took notes,” you’d tease back, scribbling in your notebook as you spoke.

“Ah, but see, that’s what friends are for,” he’d reply, flashing you a playful grin. “You can lend me yours later.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” you’d retort, shaking your head with a smile.

But that was it. When class ended, he went his way, and you went yours. He wasn’t someone who crossed your mind outside of that classroom, and you suspected it was the same for him. Mingyu wasn’t a constant presence in your life, just a classmate who made lectures slightly more tolerable.

There was a comfort in that distance. He was easy to talk to, someone you didn’t have to think too hard about. No expectations, no complications. Just small moments of shared boredom, passed with lazy smiles and half-hearted complaints.

For a while, that was all he was—someone who filled the pauses between lectures. That is until the night of your first off-campus party for the semester.

The music pulsed around you, louder than it needed to be, vibrating through the floor and into your chest. You were seated at the edge of the crowded party, a half-empty cup of something strong in your hand, watching as your ex-boyfriend paraded his new girlfriend around like she was a shiny new toy. Every touch between them felt like a jab. You couldn’t care less about him, not really. But watching him be all giggly and touchy with her after he’d cheated on you with her, no less—yeah, that was annoying.

You took another sip from your drink, trying to keep your irritation in check. It didn’t help that they were standing close enough that you could hear snippets of their conversation—his low, stupid laugh and her breathy giggles.

“Someone’s pissed.”

The voice came from beside you, startling you out of your thoughts. You turned, finding Mingyu standing there with a half-smile, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets as he glanced over at your ex and his new girlfriend.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, though your sarcasm was clear.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, amused. “Come on. I’ve seen you shoot daggers at them from across the room.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and staring into your cup. “I’m not pissed. Just... annoyed.”

His eyes flicked over to the couple again, then back to you. “I get it. Ex-boyfriend?”

You hesitated but nodded. “Yeah. Not that it matters. We broke up ages ago.” You bit your lip before adding, “But he cheated on me with her. So, you know... watching them be all gross together isn’t exactly fun.”

Mingyu winced in sympathy. “That’s rough. Sounds like he’s not worth the headspace, though.”

“He’s not,” you said quickly, and you meant it. “But it’s still annoying.”

He snorted. “I don’t blame you. If it makes you feel any better, they look like a bad reality show couple.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, they kinda do.”

Mingyu shrugged, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping. “If it’s bugging you that much, want me to help you take your mind off it? We can head somewhere else, or... just stay here and make fun of them quietly. Your call.”

You hesitated, glancing at your ex one more time, then back at Mingyu. The idea of staying here, stewing in the background while they flaunted their new relationship, made your stomach turn. Maybe leaving was the better option.

“Actually,” you said, standing up and finishing the last of your drink, “let’s get out of here. This party’s boring anyway.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised but pleased. “Alright. Lead the way.”

The two of you slipped out of the crowded party and into the cooler, quieter night. The noise faded behind you as you stepped outside, the crisp air was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the party. You hadn’t really thought about where you were going, just that you needed to leave.

“Any place in mind?” Mingyu asked, falling into step beside you, hands still casually tucked into his pockets.

You scoffed. “I don’t know. This was your idea.”

He shrugged, glancing at the sky briefly before turning back to you. “We could walk a bit. Sober up.”

“I barely drank.”

Mingyu nodded. “Okay, fair. If you want, I’ve got some soju and beer at my place. Not much, but it’s better than whatever was in that cup you were drinking.”

You glanced at him. There was no pressure in his tone, no hidden motive—just a suggestion. Still, something about the idea of going to his place made your heart beat a little faster.

“Exactly how many ulterior motives do you have right now?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him in mock suspicion.

A grin spread across his face. “For now, zero,” he replied, showing a zero with his fingers.

“For now?” You rolled your eyes. “Better keep it at zero.”

Mingyu winced with a mock-hurt expression. “Do I have to make promises too? Man, this is a lot of work.”

“Kim Mingyu!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, raising his hands. “Come on. It’s this way.”

The walk to Mingyu’s apartment wasn’t long, but the conversation between you was comfortable. He was funny, as always. By the time you reached his door, your cheeks were red and slightly hurting with how much you were laughing.

His place was a studio, small and cozy with a few mismatched pieces of furniture. It was tidy, except for the couch, which was covered in a pile of unfolded laundry.

“Oh, crap,” he muttered, laughing awkwardly. “I forgot about that. Let me just—”

“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t mind at all,” you said, waving your hand dismissively.

“Nah, there’s nowhere else to sit,” he insisted, kicking off his shoes and quickly tidying the couch.

While he put his clothes into a basket, you took a moment to look around. The tidiness of his home was unexpected. You rarely judge people’s living spaces but it was surprising for a man to be this clean. Then again, that was just the stereotype speaking.

Mingyu grabbed two beers from the fridge, tossing you one as you settled onto the now-cleared couch.

You raised an eyebrow, inspecting the can. “You promised me soju.”

He chuckled, opening his own drink. “Well, you told me to keep my motives in check, so soju is out of the table.”

“You’re no fun.”

As you sipped your drinks, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about class, made fun of the test you’d failed, and joked about the people at the party. But somewhere between the laughter and the quiet moments, the atmosphere began to shift. The space between you felt a little smaller, the eye contact a little longer. It wasn’t forced, just... there.

At some point, Mingyu’s arm stretched across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. You didn’t move away. Instead, you leaned into him slightly, the warmth of his presence comforting.

“I think you should go,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Wow, okay. There’s no need to shoo me away. I’ll go,” you scoffed, offended. You stood up instantly, reaching for your jacket but he grabbed your wrist.

“No, I don’t mean—” he paused, sighing as he looked at your annoyed expression. “I’m sorry. Come sit. Don’t go.”

You didn’t answer, instead, swatted his hand away and put on your jacket. Mingyu stood up, taking your hand and squeezing it.

“Please,” he sighed, holding your gaze.

You were exasperated. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting so confusing all of a sudden?”

There was a glint of hesitation on his face. “Can I be honest?”

You retracted your hand and crossed your arms over your chest. Then you raised an eyebrow, urging him to speak.

Mingyu leaned back slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I have at least six ulterior motives.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Six? What are they?”

“Are you sure you want to find out?” he asked back, but it didn’t seem like a question to know how curious you were. Somehow, it sounded as if he was asking for permission.

You held his gaze, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the air around you charged with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. Time seemed to slow as you considered his question.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice steady but low. “Yes.”

Before you could think about what came next, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. There was no hesitation this time, no second thoughts. The tension that had been building all night finally found its release as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss.

You kissed him back, slowly at first, as if testing the waters, but it didn’t take long before the hesitation melted away. You know where this was going—but whether it was just the alcohol, the moment, or something more that drove you to do this, you didn't know. But for now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way Mingyu’s lips felt against yours, the quiet hum of desire building between you as you let yourself get lost in the moment.

Your fingers drummed rhythmically on the table, eyeing Seungcheol as if trying to gouge out his thoughts. His head was tilted slightly, thinking about your question: ‘What do you think happened next?’

“You became friends with benefits,” he said with certainty.

Your fingers stopped abruptly. “Really? You didn’t think we’d started dating after that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Did you?”

“No,” you replied sheepishly. “But you seemed so sure that we were gonna be friends with benefits.”

“I had a hunch. It didn’t seem like your connection was building up to a romantic relationship just yet.”

You scowled, confused. “What do you mean? You didn’t think our connection was romantic?”

“Not at all. You were just friends. There was nothing that hinted any romance until the night you went to his flat.”

“Ah, I see what you mean.”

Seungcheol nodded, not smiling but he seemed pleased with himself. “So, what happened next?”

What happened next? You and Mingyu became friends with benefits, that’s what happened. Despite that arrangement, Mingyu was thoughtful in ways that made it hard to draw a clear line between what was casual and what wasn’t.

At university, nothing changed. You were still just classmates—maybe not even that close. You’d smile at each other in passing, maybe sit near each other in a lecture like usual, but that was it. To anyone else, you were barely acquaintances. But behind closed doors, it was different—passionate, fervent, and surreally euphoric.

Soon after that first night, you moved your rendezvous to your place. Your apartment was bigger than Mingyu’s tiny studio, with enough space for both of you to comfortably exist, though most of the time you didn’t bother with space. Whenever he came over, it didn’t take long for his hands to find you or for you to pull him in. There was something magnetic between you, like a spark that kept reigniting no matter how many times you tried to cool it down.

The passion was always there, and you were always eager to touch each other. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even make it to the bed—his lips on yours, your hands tugging at his shirt, and before you knew it, you’d be tangled in each other, the sheets forgotten. Other times, when the heat had subsided, you’d lay there talking, conversations flowing easily about anything and everything.

It was odd, in a way—how effortless it felt when you were alone together. You could laugh, joke, and even sit in silence without any discomfort. Yet, in public, it was like nothing existed between you. Mingyu never brought it up, and neither did you. It was easier that way. You weren’t together, after all—just two people who couldn’t get enough of each other when no one was watching.

Sometimes, the heat was so consuming, that it blurred the lines between passion and affection. And yet, after the fire died down, there was always this: Mingyu, showing up with bread that you loved, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re here already?” you asked, surprised to see Mingyu standing in your living room, browsing your bookshelf like he had all the time in the world.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted, flashing a smile as he carefully returned a small ceramic bear to its place.

“How did you get here so fast? You texted me like ten minutes ago,” you said, dropping your bag on the sofa as you walked toward him. 

“I was nearby,” he said with a casual shrug, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, the familiar spark flickering between you. When he pulled away, he said, “I picked up some bread on my way here.”

“No way, is it the same ones you brought last time?” You couldn’t hide your excitement as you reached for the bakery bag he’d left on the coffee table.

He nodded, looking pleased with himself. “Yep, that’s the one.”

You sat in the living room that afternoon, talking over warm cups of chocolate and bread. You barely paid attention to the football game on the TV, giggling and pawing at each other, feeling cozy despite the cold weather outside.

At some point, Mingyu’s hands moved to your shoulders, and you sighed in contentment. “Thanks, I needed this,” you murmured, closing your eyes as his skilled fingers worked through the tension. It was one of Mingyu’s many skills, massages.

He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “We should take this inside.”

You opened one eye, pretending not to understand. “Take what inside?”

Mingyu chuckled, his lips curving against your skin. “Well, if you want to do it here, that’s fine too but we should probably turn off the TV. I don’t feel comfortable having my idols watch,” he replied, making you turn to face him.

“Your idols?”

Mingyu shrugged and then nodded towards the TV where the football game was still on. Scoffing, you grabbed a throw pillow and hit him with it. You both laughed about it for a while, but eventually decided to lock yourselves in your bedroom.

Later that night, you stirred, the quiet glow of a laptop screen pulling you from sleep. Blinking, you realized Mingyu was no longer beside you. He was sitting on the floor, his back resting against the bed, fingers tapping rapidly on the keys.

Reaching out, you squeezed his shoulder. “What are you doing?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

Mingyu paused, turning slightly to kiss your knuckles. “Go back to sleep, baby. I just need to finish this.”

“Can’t it wait till morning?” you mumbled, burying your face in the pillow.

He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around you. With a soft shush, he ran his fingers through your hair. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll be done soon. Just sleep.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed your forehead. At that moment, it seemed so normal, so typical of him. But you didn’t realize at the time—it was a sign that Mingyu had trouble sleeping through the night.

Mingyu had a quiet way of making you feel seen. It wasn’t grand gestures or romantic proclamations, but in the little things he did—thoughtful acts that slipped under the radar until you realized just how much attention he paid. One time during class, he came over holding a tiny ceramic bear, almost shy as he handed it to you.

“What’s this?” you asked, turning the figurine over in your hands.

“I noticed that your bear family didn’t have a dad, so,” he said with a small grin, watching as your eyes lit up in recognition. 

It was such a simple thing, but the fact that he remembered your collection, that he’d thought of you—it left you feeling touched.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmured, smiling. “But thanks.”

“It’s a grizzly, not a polar bear. Is that okay?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s perfect,” you giggled. “He’ll have to take up the responsibility of taking care of kids who aren’t his though.”

Mingyu shrugged, though there was a quiet satisfaction in his expression. “He’ll be a good stepdad to them. I can vouch.”

“You barely know the guy,” you laughed, playing along.

It wasn’t just gifts. Mingyu had a habit of taking care of the little things in your life without even asking. Like the time the lightbulb in your bathroom had gone out. You didn’t mention it to him, but the next time he came over, he had a replacement bulb in his bag. 

“Didn’t realize you were an electrician now,” you joked as he stood on a chair, screwing in the new bulb.

He laughed. “Just figured you’d forget to buy one.”

“I wasn’t going to forget,” you protested, even though he was right. “But… thanks.”

It was like that often with him—effortless, natural.

“Alright, let’s see,” he said, stepping down from the chair and reaching for the switch to test if it worked. When it did, he let out a satisfied hum. “There you go. Good as new.”

“How much for your labor, good sir?” you quipped, wiping away the tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

The grin Mingyu gave you was menacing, shamelessly checking you out in your tank top and shorts. “I’ll have you know I do not accept monetary fees.”

You knew what he meant and he made it especially clear when he casually pressed his palm on your left boob. You just scoffed and swatted his hand away. “I see you work pro bono. Thanks a lot.”

With a teasing grin, you walked away. In the kitchen, he cooked dinner while you sat on the counter, munching on an apple. You found it amusing that the wok he used was something he had brought from his own flat. It's been in your kitchen for a while now. Today, he brought his own kitchen knife.

“You might as well move in at this rate,” you teased after he warned you to be careful with his sharp knife. “What’s next? A drawer for your clothes?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll consider it.”

“You might as well do since you’re here almost every day,” you jeered. “You should bring your own toothbrush too.”

“Ah, that reminds me.” He moved toward you, placing a kiss on your cheek as he rummaged through the paper bag resting on your lap. From there, he fished out two toothbrushes, holding them up like a peace offering. “Look. They came in pairs.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I use an electric toothbrush, you know.”

“Then keep it as a backup,” he shrugged, still grinning. “Or don't. It’s not a big deal.”

You’d joked at first, but eventually, you started using the toothbrush he brought. It felt like a small connection, something that tied him a little more closely to you, even if neither of you talked about it.

And he remembered everything. When you ordered food, he always knew exactly what you wanted without asking. “Chicken katsu with extra sauce,” he’d say, already placing the order. He’d put on music that matched your mood perfectly, like the playlists you loved but never had to mention. Even the book you had been reading—he remembered the title, asked if you’d finished it yet.

Those little moments kept piling up, making it harder to separate the physical nature of your relationship from the real deal. Every time he remembered, every time he took care of something small, you wondered if maybe this wasn’t just friends with benefits after all.

But then there were moments of uncertainty that made you question how much you really knew about him. Sometimes, in quiet moments, he would zone out, lost in thought. You vividly remember one evening when you were curled up together on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. You had been laughing at the antics on-screen, leaning into him, when you glanced over and found him staring blankly at the flickering light of the television.

When he slept over, you’d sometimes wake up to find him staring at the ceiling. His face was relaxed, but there was a tension in the way his jaw was set, a hint of a furrow in his brow. You reached out to touch his face, hoping to draw him back into the intimacy you cherished.

“Mingyu?” you whispered, your voice thick with sleep.  He’d blinked, as if waking from a dream, and he turned to you then. For a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes before he masked it with a smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just… thinking,” he replied, his voice trailing off. You could see it in his eyes—something was weighing heavily on him, a thought he was wrestling with that he didn’t want to share.

“About what?” you prodded, trying to gouge out something—anything that he’s willing to share. He shifted slightly as if the question made him uncomfortable.

“Just stuff. Don’t worry about it,” he said, a noncommittal answer that only left you more curious. He pulled you closer in a warm embrace. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

The way he shrugged it off felt like a wall going up between you, and for a moment, the warmth of his embrace dissipated. You didn’t push further; you never wanted to pressure him. Instead, you closed your eyes, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

You wanted to know, to understand what made him so distant at times, but every time you tried to get closer, he would slip away like sand through your fingers. You had asked about it in passing, and while he always deflected your inquiries with a joke or a change of subject, it left you wondering if there was more to his silence. You didn’t want to overthink it; after all, it didn’t happen often. Or so you told yourself, hoping that with time, he would open up.

But instead of that, Mingyu disappeared, leaving behind an emptiness that echoed in the spaces where he once filled your days with warmth and laughter.

“Are you keeping up?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at Seungcheol who seemed to be quite slow at processing what you’d just told him.

“Yeah, of course. Though, I’m not gonna lie. I’m a little lost,” he admitted, arms crossed and holding his chin. “If you don’t mind, can I ask why he disappeared?”

You smirked, standing up at once. “I’m gonna need a drink for this.”

Seungcheol’s understood. “By all means.”

Mingyu’s disappearance wasn’t sudden or unexpected; there were signs you hadn’t recognized until he was gone. It began with him replying late to your messages, then not replying at all. You’d see him in class, and when you approached, he didn’t avoid you outright but dodged your questions and made excuses to avoid conversation. Eventually, he started sitting on the opposite side of the lecture hall, far from you and even missed a handful of classes.

You were upset, not just because he chose to stop seeing you but because he didn’t give you any warning. You had been easing into it, getting used to the idea of something more. But when he left so abruptly, you felt foolish.

Still, you had to come to terms with the fact that there was no commitment between you—what you shared was temporary, and he was free to walk away just as you were. It didn’t change the fact that his action was a total jerk move.

“It’s okay. We were just fooling around anyway,” you told yourself after almost two weeks of silence. You forced a smile at your reflection in the mirror. “That’s right. You’ll be fine.”

You tried to push Mingyu out of your mind, diving into a busy social life—going out with friends and meeting new people. At one party, you were in the midst of flirting with a cute guy when you spotted Mingyu across the room. A wave of warmth washed over you at the sight of him, but you played it cool, pretending to be engrossed in your conversation. 

“So, are you always at Jinwoo’s party?” you asked, trying to sound charming but feeling more like a dork.

“Only when there’s free food,” he replied, a little too eagerly.

You forced a laugh, trying to play along. “Well, they do have snacks... and drinks.”

He leaned in closer. “You know, I��m really into snacks. Like, I could talk about snacks all night.”

Your stomach turned slightly at the sudden wave of ick. You couldn’t tell if he was serious, or just saying it to be funny. What the hell does that even mean?

You caught a glimpse of Mingyu from the corner of your eye, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the exchange with an amused expression. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you realized how embarrassing this was—Mingyu was listening, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him hearing you flounder like this.

“Right, snacks. That’s... cool.” You shot him a tight smile, glancing around the room in a bid to escape. “Speaking of snacks, I’m gonna go get me some more. Excuse me,” you smiled and slipped away from the guy, the weight of Mingyu’s gaze following you as you headed outside.

“Wow, that was awful,” Mingyu said, appearing beside you just as you stepped into the cool air.

“You,” you spat, glaring at him.

“Hello to you too,” he replied, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “What’s your opinion on people eavesdropping on other’s conversations instead of minding their own business?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he teased, though the grin on his face suggested otherwise. “I can’t help it if you guys were loud enough for me to hear, can I?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s none of your business,” you replied smartly, looking away with a frown.

Mingyu’s laugh was deep, the kind that made your stomach twist in a way that was all too familiar. “Alright. I’m sorry. How about hanging out with me so you need not deal with all those lame guys?”

“Pretty sure you’re much much lamer,” you scoffed. 

He called your name softly, a teasing smile playing on his lips but his eyes were more serious than before. You failed to ignore the way your heart began to race. “Lighten up. I missed you, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you now?”

“I did.” Mingyu’s gaze flickered to your lips for a split second before he grinned again. “I missed you so much, I thought I’d go nuts.”

The confession caught you off guard but your annoyance was stronger. You scoffed, struggling to hold back and trying not to just go ahead and smack him. “Then you shouldn’t have ghosted me like that.”

His smile faltered slightly. The air between you shifted again, the playful banter fading into something heavier. Mingyu didn’t respond right away, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward—just filled with something unspoken.

After a long pause, he finally nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry about that.”

You smirked, looking away and fixing your gaze into nothing. He should be sorry, it’s only right to be. But the fact remained: you were not in the kind of relationship where you could hold him hostage for something he was allowed to do. Yet here you were, feeling more hurt than you were allowed to be.

You let the silence hang between you, thick with unspoken tension. It went on for a while before it was broken by the sound of people clambering out of the main door, their drunken laughter echoing in the cool night air.

“Wanna get out of here?” Mingyu finally asked, breaking the spell.

“Took you long enough to ask,” you replied, striding toward the street with him following closely behind.

As you were passing by the parking lot filled with cars, Mingyu suddenly grabbed your hand. “We’re not walking to your apartment. That’s like a mile-long hike.”

“What?” you asked, confused but still allowing him to lead you toward a black SUV.

He opened the passenger door and gestured for you to get in. While he rounded the car to the driver’s side, you glanced around the unfamiliar interior, a fleeting thought crossing your mind that maybe this wasn’t his car. But as soon as he slid into the seat and turned the key in the ignition, you relaxed a little.

“Please tell me this is yours and you didn’t just steal it.”

Mingyu chuckled, his smile easing some of your lingering unease. “Why would you think that?”

“Because last time I checked, you didn’t have a car,” you replied, watching him navigate the vehicle out of the parking lot.

“Oh, this is my dad’s. He’s letting me borrow it while I’m staying with them.”

You blinked, surprised. That was the first time Mingyu had mentioned his family or anything about his life outside of university. Naturally, curiosity sparked in you.

“You moved back to your family’s house?” you asked, hoping to finally get some insight into where he’d disappeared to.

“Yeah, had to,” he said casually, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“Why?”

He hesitated, fingers tightening on the steering wheel for just a second before he shrugged. “Just some stuff came up. Nothing major.”

There was something vague about his response, and you could sense the conversation wasn’t going to go any deeper. He’d always been good at deflecting when it came to his personal life.

You nodded, accepting the explanation without pressing further, even though the curiosity still lingered in the back of your mind. It was frustrating, but at the same time, you’d gotten used to the fact that Mingyu shared only what he wanted, and nothing more. Maybe it was just his way of keeping distance—emotional distance, that is.

When you arrived at your apartment, you barely had time to take a breath before Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him. It was like being caged, but in a way that made you feel safe, wanted. You couldn’t explain how much you had missed this—missed him. His warmth, his touch, the way his presence alone seemed to fill the space around you.

As you moved together from the living room to the bedroom, it felt inevitable, like gravity pulling you into his orbit once again. You knew you were letting yourself fall, diving headfirst into the abyss of passion and euphoria that was Kim Mingyu. And yet, even knowing that, you didn’t stop yourself.

You couldn’t.

“You missed me, didn’t you?” he whispered as he took your breast in his mouth.

Yes, you wanted to scream out, but all that ever left your mouth was a lewd moan. And when he heard that, he slid a hand under your dress, moving down to your hips and slipping inside your lace panties to put pressure there. He caressed your sex slowly, and then urgently in circling motions while his kisses trailed up from your breast to your neck, nipping at the supple skin before they found your lips.

Your hands had a mind of their own, greedily removing his jacket, and then running your fingers on the firm muscles and warm skin underneath. As the pleasure grew, it clouded your brain and you clung your arms around his neck in fear that your trembling legs would collapse under you.

“Lie down, baby,” he rasped in your ear, pushing you gently towards the bed.

You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing slightly. You watched as he undid his belt and kicked off his jeans before moving to undress you out of your dress. You saw how he ogled your body with those beautiful lustful eyes before he hovered over you and traced the outline of your face with his fingers.

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” he whispered. He slid a finger into your mouth and you sucked it, making him exhale sharply and dive in to kiss you feverishly.

You were almost breathless with desire, your skin prickling with anticipation of what was about to happen—of what Mingyu was about to do. You could feel him against your thigh, hot and hard, so you spread your legs open, welcoming him.

And then with one push, he was filling you—stretching you in the most exquisite way possible. His body pressed against you as he thrust in and out in a rhythm that sent ripples of pleasure through every single nerve in your body.

And all of a sudden, he stopped, leaving you momentarily confused. He stood up and said, “Come here.” 

Without a word, you obliged, walking toward him in a haste. He then spinned you around so you were facing the full-length mirror in the corner of your room. “Take a good look at yourself.”

You saw yourself in the mirror; messy hair, flushed cheeks, and your lips swollen from kissing. You could see him in your reflection, standing behind you with fire in his eyes. You watched as he reached for your breast, while his other hand cupped your sex, collecting the slick in his hand before bringing it to his tongue.

You gasped at how hot he looked, and seeing your reaction made Mingyu grin. Without warning, he pushed you back on the bed, lifted you by the waist so your ass was sticking out. Then he pressed your face on the mattress before you felt a sharp, delightful pain on your buttcheek where he smacked you with his palm.

“Oh, Mingyu!” you cried out.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “That’s not loud enough, baby.”

“Mingyu, please!” you begged, needing nothing but to be filled again.

Once again, he pushed his cock inside you, making you whimper in the most obscene manner.

“Fuck,” he grunted. His fingers dug hard into your hips as he thrust deeply and vigorously. Your hand held onto the sheets, pleasure so intense that you couldn’t think anymore—you couldn’t even see your own naked, sweaty self in the mirror in front of you. But you could hear the sound of bodies slamming into each other again and again and a breathless moan that must have been coming from your own throat.

When the ecstatic high engulfed the two of you, he loosened his hold of your waist and your legs felt so weak you could barely hold yourself up. So you collapsed on the bed, followed by Mingyu, panting beside you with a satisfied look on his face. 

“How was that?” he said smugly, knowing damn well how wonderful he made you feel.

You just laughed, snuggling into him as you put off washing up for a few more minutes.

The heated passion gave way to a quiet intimacy as you both settled into bed. The sound of rain tapping against the window filled the silence, soothing and rhythmic.

You chatted lazily about random things—music, classes, friends—until you finally gathered the courage to ask, “What happened to you? Where’ve you been?”

“I’m really sorry. I got busy with school and stuff at home,” Mingyu replied, his tone casual. But you could sense something unspoken beneath his words, as always. “Did you miss me?” he added, trying to keep it light.

You had missed him. A lot. But you weren’t about to admit that. “Barely. Didn’t even notice you were gone.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly not buying it. “Is that why you were out there flirting with every cute guy you meet?”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You seem to know an awful lot about me. One might think you’re interested or something.”

He laughed softly, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flutter. “You’ll find that I am, in fact, very interested,” he said with a quiet conviction. And suddenly, the air between you shifted again, filled with tension—desire mingling with uncertainty.

“Say,” Mingyu began, his voice lowering as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to be exclusive?”

Your heart raced at the word. “Exclusive…? Like—”

“Like not sleeping with other people,” he clarified, though that wasn’t quite the question you were about to ask.

You were about to ask if he meant dating. Thank God you didn’t.

“Oh…” you trailed off, unsure how to respond. “Why?”

Mingyu shrugged, his tone still casual. “No reason. It’s okay if you don’t want to. You’re free to do whatever you want. But… it’d be nice, don’t you think?”

There was no reason to say no. The truth was, you’d stopped considering other guys long ago, the moment this thing with Mingyu began. Still, his offer made your heart race—both giddy and nervous. But there was no way you’d let him see that.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like a fair deal,” you quipped, hiding behind banter.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at you, curious. “Wait, what does that mean?”

You shrugged again, refusing to elaborate, though it didn’t really mean anything.

“Hold on—what?” He sat up, feigning shock, and flexed his arms dramatically. “You don’t think this is a fair deal?”

“Where?” you teased, squinting at his muscles like you couldn’t see them.

Mingyu grinned and started flexing even harder, pointing out specific muscles like they were on display. “You seriously don’t see this? Look closely and tell me this isn’t a fair deal.”

You giggled, reaching for him with your toes. Grinning, he grabbed your foot and pulled you toward him. The sudden tug made you squeal.

“Come on, baby, take it back.” He leaned down, hovering over you, eyes soft. “Take it back while I’m still being nice.”

“I didn’t ask you to be nice,” you taunted, your coy smile daring him.

Mingyu chuckled low in his throat. “You’re extra beautiful when you’re naughty, did you know that?”

“No idea,” you replied, grinning as he leaned in, capturing your lips again. When his hand cupped your boob, you pulled away from the kiss and pushed him off. “No.”

“Aw, fine,” he sighed in defeat, falling next to you on the bed. Quietly, he settled behind you, wrapping an arm around your torso and sliding his other arm under your head. “Get some rest.”

He didn't say much after that, but there was a warmth in the way he pulled you closer, an unconscious act of intimacy that made your chest tighten.

It hit you then—how much you’d come to crave moments like this, not just the passion, but the feeling of being with him, of having him there with you in the silence. You’d never felt this way before, not even with past relationships, and the realization made your heart race. You were falling for him, had already fallen. It wasn’t the way he teased you or the way he kissed you, but the quiet moments in between, where you felt like he saw you, really saw you.

It had been a long week. Between schoolwork, dealing with your chaotic schedule, and pretending like everything with Mingyu was still as casual as it used to be, you were exhausted. The tension gnawed at you—this thing between you two was starting to feel like more than it should. It wasn’t something you were ready to acknowledge yet, but it lingered in the back of your mind.

You walked into your apartment after a particularly grueling day, half-expecting the silence to greet you. When you walked into the kitchen for water, you found a small plastic bag filled with food on the table. Next to it was a tiny ceramic panda bear, about half the size of your palm.

You blinked, trying to process it. It wasn’t there this morning. Mingyu must’ve stopped by.

You walked over to the counter, looking at the items. Inside the bag were a couple of your favorite snacks—nothing big, just the kind of things you liked to nibble on when you were too tired to cook. There was no note, but the panda felt like something only he would give you. It was cute in an oddly sentimental way, like he knew you’d smile at it.

You heard a knock at the door and quickly set the bear back on the counter, hurrying to open it. Mingyu stood there, casual as ever.

“Hey,” he said, flashing you that familiar, easygoing grin.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling back. “Did you stop by earlier? Or do I have a creepy psychopathic stalker who’s obsessed with me and thinks it’s romantic to leave food for me at home while I’m away?”

Mingyu laughed heartily. “What are you gonna do if the creepy psychopathic stalker was me?”

“I’m calling the police,” you told him, closing the door to his face. He didn’t stop you, nor did he knock for about thirty seconds after you closed the door so you opened it again. “Come on in, then.”

“I was in the area so I thought I’d drop by and surprise you but you weren’t home,” he explained, kicking his shoes off at the foyer.

“Snacks and a panda?” you asked, raising an eyebrow but smiling. “That’s quite a combination.”

Mingyu shrugged, a soft laugh escaping him. “I saw it in this shop near campus. And I figured if it was you, you wouldn’t leave it alone in that shop.”

“I don’t go around adopting every bear figurine I see, Mingyu,” you snorted, picking up the panda again.

“Maybe, but since he’s already here, you should have it up there with your little bear family,” he beamed, taking the panda from your hand and placing it up on the shelf with the rest of your bear collections. “She can be their Chinese aunt.”

“Because she’s from China?” you asked and saw him nod his head. You both laughed. “I’m sure they appreciate you making their family bigger.”

“Thanks for saying that,” he smiled, not the mischievous kind of smile that he usually sported, but a sincere one—as if he was touched by your statement. “I’m glad I could make them happy,” he added, staring at the bear family.

You stared at him for a moment, something warm and unfamiliar swelling in your chest. This wasn’t just some casual fling anymore, was it? You tried to play it cool, but the way he just knew—the way he quietly showed up in your life, making you feel special in small but wonderful ways—made it harder to keep pretending you didn’t care. You could only hope he’d open up to you and let you into his world. That way, you could love him properly.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning his gaze back at you. “You’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart skipped a beat. “Shut up.”

Mingyu chuckled, leaning against the wall, watching you with an unreadable expression. It was like he wanted to say something but was holding back. You were holding back too, both of you toeing the line of something you could not bring up.

“I’ll make you dinner,” you offered, trying to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to,” Mingyu replied, but you were already walking toward the kitchen, grateful for the distraction.

The rest of the evening was spent with each other’s company, sitting together on the sofa with your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly stroked your hair. The silence wasn’t awkward or strained; if anything, it was soothing, the kind of peace that made you feel safe and whole.

It is in moments like this that you realize you need not fill every moment with words. Being with him like this was comfortable and nice.

Mingyu shifted slightly, one hand holding your shoulder as he reached for his phone on the coffee table. You glanced up at him, watching as the light from the screen cast soft shadows across his face. You’d memorized every detail of how he looked by now—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, that playful smirk he always wore. But tonight, something about him felt different. His dark hair, slightly disheveled, framed his forehead just the right way, and you couldn’t help but think of how soft it looked—how soft it felt the mornings you ran your fingers through it when he was half-asleep. He always looked good, like some kind of casual perfection, but right now, with his face relaxed in the glow of the phone, he looked almost unreal.

You’d thought he was handsome the day you met him—he’d always had that charm that caught you off guard—but now, now that you’d spent nights tracing every inch of him, mornings laughing at how messy his hair could get, and afternoons like this where he seemed so unaware of how much space he took up in your thoughts... it hit you all over again. He wasn’t just good-looking. He was beautiful in a way that made you ache a little, like your mind couldn’t fully comprehend that someone like him was sitting here with you.

His voice broke through your reverie, a gentle reminder that this wasn’t some dream you’d conjured up. He really was here. “Ah, I almost forgot. Exams start tomorrow. Are you ready?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, suddenly reminded of the real world. “I’ve gone through all my notes, but I’m not sure,” you muttered, the conversation feeling trivial compared to what was really on your mind. You weren’t thinking about exams. You were thinking about how, with him beside you like this, nothing else seemed to matter.

“We could pray,” he snickered. “For our grades.”

You rolled your eyes. “As if you have to. You’re gonna ace everything and graduate with flying colors.”

Mingyu chuckled. “We’re freshmen—ages away from graduation.”

“Yes, but if you continue at your current pace, you’d really graduate with distinction.”

He hummed, kissing your forehead. “You think too highly of me. I like it more when you used to call me a himbo. Less pressure.”

Without thinking, you let out a soft sigh, turning to look at him. Really look at him. His focus had shifted back to his phone, his long fingers casually scrolling through whatever app he was on, but there was a subtle tension in his jaw, like maybe he was thinking about something too.

“Let’s go to bed. I’m tired,” you said, nuzzling into his shirt.

Mingyu sighed, pulling you closer as he placed his phone down. “Sorry. I have to be home tonight.”

“Oh.” You didn’t mean for it to sound so disappointed, but it slipped out anyway.

Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck, clearly sensing the shift. “I just have to help out at home tonight. My parents…” He trailed off, leaving the explanation half-formed, and you didn’t press him for more.

“Right. Of course,” you said, forcing a small smile. “You don’t have to explain.”

There was an awkward pause before he kissed the top of your head again, his voice soft. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” You sat up as he rose from the couch, the warm space he left behind feeling a little colder already.

Mingyu grabbed his jacket from the chair, glancing at you with a small, apologetic smile. “I’ll text you.”

You nodded, watching as he left, and once the door clicked shut behind him, the silence of the room felt a little too loud.

“He’s just busy with exams,” you told yourself, sitting in your living room with your elbows propped on your knees, chin in your hands. You stared at the bears on the bookshelf, speaking to them as though they could somehow offer an answer. “Or maybe he had stuff to take care of at home.”

It had been four days, and you hadn’t heard from Mingyu. He texted after he left your apartment like he said he would, but after that—nothing. The last thing he mentioned was that he was spending time with his father. But then, radio silence.

“He should at least check in on me, right?” you muttered, leaning back into the sofa. “It’s been four days.”

Just as you were spiraling further into your thoughts, your phone buzzed in your hand, making you sit back up with a jolt. Your heart raced at the thought of Mingyu finally texting you, but your excitement died down as quickly as it came. It was just Mina.

Mina: otw to pick u up. U ready?

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, bolting upright. You scrambled to your bedroom, throwing on the first outfit you could find that was semi-decent for a party.

You spent the next five minutes getting ready, knowing Mina lived nearby and would be here in less than ten minutes. By the time you heard the knock on your door, you were almost done with your makeup, except for the lipstick that you decided you’d do in the car.

“Coming!” you called out, rushing to slip on your shoes as you headed for the door. But when you flung the door open, it wasn’t Mina standing outside.

Mingyu stood there, his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, wearing the faintest of smiles. “Hi.”

“Mingyu!” you exclaimed, gripping the doorknob to resist the urge to leap into his arms. “What are you doing here?” 

 “I thought I’d drop by. Is now a bad time?”

“No! I mean, yes—kinda! I’m going to Hoshi’s party,” you rambled.

Mingyu nodded, a flicker of realization crossing his face. “Ah! I was supposed to go there too. Should we go together?”

“My friends are already on their way to pick me up,” you said quickly, wincing. “Come inside for a bit.”

You pulled him in by the sleeve, shutting the door before Mina could catch you in this whirlwind of confusion. Mingyu was here—after four days of nothing—and suddenly, all those unspoken thoughts came rushing back. Why hadn’t he reached out? What was going on?

“You said you’re supposed to go to the party?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yeah,” he answered, walking closer and resting his forehead on your shoulder. His sigh was long, deep, and heavy. Much heavier than you expected.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, placing a gentle hand on his back.

“Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been exhausted these days,” he confessed, sighing again. He wrapped his arms around your waist. “Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

And you did. You let him stay there, gently stroking his back in hopes that it would bring him comfort from whatever it was that was bothering him. It was as if you could sense the weight of his worries pressing down on him.

In that silence, your mind raced. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but something in his demeanor urged you to hold back. Instead, you focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He needed this comfort, and for now, it felt like enough to be there for him. You didn’t move, not even when you heard the first series of knocks on your door. You just stood there, giving Mingyu the warmest hug you could offer.

When the second knocks came, followed by Mina’s voice calling your name, Mingyu pulled away. “Is that your ride?”

“Yeah,” you replied softly, almost in a whisper.

He smiled at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, lingering for a moment—thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. “I’ll see you there, then.” 

“Alright,” you whispered, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I’ll go first, okay? You can stay for as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” he said, kissing your lips softly.

In the car with your friends, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Mingyu. Is he okay? What happened? Why did he seem upset and sad? Where was he these past few days?

“Where’s Mingyu these days?” Mina asked, tugging on your elbow to get your attention. “You guys are close, right?”

“Huh?” you asked, surprised by the question. What you have with Mingyu wasn’t a secret, but you didn’t openly tell other people about it. Whenever someone noticed that you seemed close, you always told them that you were friends. And in a way, you were.

Mina tilted her head slightly, confused. “Was I wrong? I thought you two got along.”

“Oh, yeah. We’re friends.”

Mina said, “I haven’t seen him around campus in a while. Is he okay?”

“I think he’s fine, yes. Why’d you ask?” you replied.

“Well, something happened a few days ago,” Mina said, hesitating. She turned to Jill, your other friend who’s driving. “Jill, tell her what happened.”

You met Jill’s gaze in the mirror briefly. “Lea and I saw him getting slapped outside the campus.”

Your heart ached. “When was it? Who hit him?”

“It was probably his mom,” said Lea, glancing at you from the shotgun seat. “She looked like it and Mingyu got in her car after. Luckily there weren’t many people there and I think only a few noticed. But he seemed really depressed at the time.”

You leaned on the backrest of your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you wondered about Mingyu. Is he having problems at home? Is that why he was upset?

“You’re worried. You must be close,” Mina said, probing for answers about your relationship with him.

“He’s my friend. Of course I’m worried.”

When you reached the party, you were stuck with your friends for a while, playing a round of drinking games with other people. When that was over, and you’d managed to slip away unnoticed, you searched the crowd for Mingyu.

You leaned against the wall, holding a half-full cup of punch, scanning the crowd. You spotted him nearby, talking to a group of friends, his usual easy smile lighting up his face. You smiled too, watching him. It was almost effortless with him, how he could make everyone around him feel comfortable. You’d noticed it before—Mingyu was always the life of the party wherever he went. 

But then you remembered what your friends told you, and the smile faltered from your lips. How much pain was he hiding behind those sweet smiles? Were they fake the whole time? Or were they real and was he only able to smile this much outside his home? What was going on with his life? With him? At this point, the most fitting question would be, ‘Who is he really?’

You were about to join him when you noticed someone approach him—some girl you hadn’t seen before. She was tall, pretty, with perfectly styled hair and an outfit that screamed confidence. She touched Mingyu’s arm lightly, leaning in to say something that made him chuckle. It was a small, polite laugh, the kind he gave when he didn’t want to be rude, but that didn’t stop the knot from forming in your chest.

You tried to ignore it, reminding yourself that it didn’t mean anything. But when she took another step closer to him, her fingers lingering on his arm, you felt a strange tightness, a familiar sensation that crawled under your skin. 

Jealousy.

Jealousy was a strange thing. You had never felt it before—not like this. The idea of losing him, even though you weren’t “together,” made your stomach flip. 

Mingyu’s eyes flicked over the room, and then they landed on you. For a split second, you thought about looking away, playing it cool. But the look in his eyes, the way his face softened when he saw you, stopped you in your tracks. He smiled—his real smile, the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners—and the knot in your chest loosened a little.

Without a word, Mingyu took a small step back from the girl and made his way over to you. You tried to act casual, leaning against the wall as if your heart wasn’t racing.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. He stood close, the heat of his presence drawing you in.

“Hey,” you replied, trying not to let the relief show on your face.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, leaning in slightly so you could hear him over the music.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you said, shrugging. “You seem popular tonight.” You couldn’t help the slight edge in your voice, even though you tried to play it off as a joke.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tone. “You mean her?” he asked, tilting his head toward the girl who was now talking to someone else. “She’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly, huh?” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. “Looked like she was being a little too friendly.”

Mingyu laughed softly, stepping even closer. His hand brushed against your arm, sending a familiar warmth through you. “Did you know I like my women territorial?” he teased, but his tone was gentle.

You scoffed, trying to hide the sudden rush of embarrassment. “Go find yourself someone territorial then,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his when you pushed past him.

Mingyu chuckled, turning to grab your wrist and stop you from leaving. “I don’t need to find one.” He tugged you towards him, hugging you from behind and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “I have my territorial girl right here.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered. “Get off me. Why are you doing this in public?” you chided, shaking him off but not putting in any strength to actually get away from him.

“Oh, is this not allowed?” he asked and you were about to fire a retort when you caught your friends’ gazes from across the room. You felt your cheeks flare, looking away to avoid Mina’s teasing grin.

“Get off.” You pushed him away and straightened your clothes.

Mingyu chuckled heartily, tugging your shoulder so you’d face him. He was smiling softly, a softness that made you feel seen in a way that was more intimate than anything else. “Don’t worry. I’m yours exclusively.”

You stared at him, trying to read what was on his mind. You wish you could, but it was impossible. 

The words hit you harder than you expected. Exclusively? He must be talking about the fact that you were exclusive fuck buddies. You wished he wasn’t, but you’d rather not have false expectations. 

“I know,” you said, your voice quieter now.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension hung in the air between you, thick and unspoken. You didn’t need to say anything more. You both understood.

“Mingyu!” shouted someone from across the room. You both turned your heads in the direction of the voice and saw a guy waving for Mingyu. “Come on, man! It’s your turn!”

Mingyu chuckled, waving back. “You guys continue without me!” he shouted back. Then he took your hand, fingers lacing through yours, and gave it a small squeeze. “Wanna ditch?”

You shrugged.

“Come on. I know you want to leave and go for burgers right now.”

You felt a smile tug at your lips. “Did you just read my mind?” 

“No, but I have a manual in my head with your name on it, and that information is saved here,” he replied, pressing an index finger to his temple.

“You’re so obsessed with me. Aren’t you embarrassed?” you quipped, pushing off the wall and walking toward the door, feeling the familiar warmth of Mingyu’s presence right behind you.

The night ended in your apartment, as expected. In the heat of the moment, you set aside everything—your confusion, the questions, everything. There was only you and him in this moment of passion. Once more, you let yourself spiral into the momentary distraction of pleasure. And when the high slowly dissipated, you found yourself in the warm bathtub, with your back leaning on Mingyu’s chest.

“Are you staying?” you asked softly. “Over, I mean. Or do you need to go home?”

“I’d love to stay,” he replied. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” You closed your eyes, content with his answer. “I don’t even want you to leave,” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

Mingyu chuckled lightly. “I don’t want to leave either. I wish I could just stay here. Forever, if that’s even possible,” he said and it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Oh yeah? Then why do you—” You bit your lip, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. You weren’t used to confronting things like this. You looked up to meet his gaze, looking into his eyes. “Where will you disappear next time, Kim Mingyu?”

For a second, his expression shifted—just a flicker of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite read. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “Not unless you want me to.”

Your chest tightened. His words were simple, but the weight behind them hit you harder than you expected. How long had you been waiting to hear something like that? To know that, at least for now, he was yours, and he wasn’t going to slip away without warning like he had before.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice again. “No. I don’t want you to go.”

Mingyu smiled, that same easygoing grin that always seemed to make everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t. “Then stop worrying,” he said, his thumb still tracing those soft circles on your skin.

He didn’t make a promise, and maybe you should’ve asked for one. Because even though he stayed for a while, it didn’t stop him from fading away all over again.

You were at Mina’s apartment, sitting on the edge of her bed while she packed her things. Beside you, Jill was cradling a bag of chips, pointedly refusing to share.

“I still don’t get why you’re moving out,” Jill grumbled, slapping your hand when you reached for a chip. She shot you a glare and continued, “Can’t you just tell your parents you don’t want to live with them?”

“Asian parents,” Mina sighed, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Exactly! I don’t understand why they’d move to another state just to follow you here,” Jill said, incredulous. “That’s some next-level parenting!”

“They moved because they can’t stand being away from their daughter,” you chimed in, swiping a protein bar from Jill’s stash. “Also because they can.”

“Yeah, and that’s why it’s so confusing,” Jill scoffed, gesturing toward Mina. “My parents love me too, but they wouldn’t move out of their hometown just to keep me close. Are all Asian parents like hers? Do they really want their grown-ass kids living at home?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it happens more often than you’d think.” Your mind briefly wandered to Mingyu, remembering how he’d moved back in with his parents.

Before you could say more, music blared from outside the bedroom, cutting through the conversation. You looked up to see Lea entering the room, a towel draped over her shoulders like a makeshift cape. She carried a speaker in one hand, which she promptly set down on the nightstand.

“You say!” she belted, voice dramatic as she launched into the opening lines of a Hamilton song. “The price of my love is not a price that you’re willing to pay!”

The three of you groaned in unison.

Mina rolled her eyes, standing up to shove Lea out of the room. “Get out, nerd,” she said, feigning annoyance but unable to hide her smile.

“She’s sad. Let her grieve,” you teased, glancing toward the door where Lea continued knocking persistently.

Mina sighed and switched off the speaker, silencing the music. “She’s just overdramatic, that’s what she is. It’s not like we won’t see each other anymore.”

“Maybe you won’t,” you said, shrugging. “Who knows? Some people like to disappear and not say a word. Only to show up out of nowhere and act like nothing happened.”

Mina crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head slightly as she observed you with a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “Where is this coming from?”

You shrugged, glancing at Jill who was giving you the same look. The chuckle you let out was awkward and defensive. “Nowhere. I’m just yapping for no reason. You know me.”

“Yeah, we know you,” Jill said, grinning playfully. “We know you’re hiding someone up at your apartment.”

“WHAT?” you exclaimed, backing away and laughing incredulously. “No. When did I ever! You’re crazy," you denied, snorting.

“Uh-huh? Then why haven’t we been invited there in like, six months already?” Jill interrogated.

You looked away. “I didn’t know you guys were keeping count.”

“Who is it?” Mina pressed, a teasing smile on her lips.

“No one,” you said briskly. “We haven’t talked in like, a week.”

“Oh, is it over before we even found out who it was?” Mina asked, appalled.

Before you could respond, Lea’s voice rang out from outside the door, full of flair. “You’ll be back! Soon you’ll see! You’ll remember you belong to me!”

Yeah. Mingyu will be back. Like always.

You went on with your life, like always. You’d learned to adapt. Classes came and went, each lecture merging into the next. On the first few times that Mingyu would disappear, you used to be distracted. Now you just went on as usual. Each day passed in a blur of classes, late-night study sessions, and the occasional laugh with friends.

“You still haven’t told us who this mystery man is. He’s not a professor, is he?” Lea questioned while you were at a cafe one evening.

“No! What the heck?” you said briskly, shaking your head at the ridiculous accusation.

“Is it Mingyu? You guys seem... close,” Mina teased.

“No,” you lied, blatantly.

Mina nudged your elbow. “Then why won’t you tell us?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Jill asked, leaning in, her eyes glimmering with curiosity. “He ghosted you, right? You’re better off without him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you said, but the words felt heavy in your mouth. You could not bring yourself to tell them that he’d done this before, and that he’d be back. When he does, you’d take him back like you always did.

You didn’t want to tell them how much you craved his presence, even if it was a source of confusion and pain. The idea of him laughing and teasing you again, the thought of being held by him, being one with him in body and mind—it all felt like a drug you couldn’t resist. How could you tell your friends that? They’d kill you if they can’t kill Mingyu first.

Mina reached out, squeezing your hand. “You deserve someone who’s all in. Not someone who just pops in and out of your life.”

“I know,” you nodded, appreciating their concern. You know they were right, but you still wanted to wait for Mingyu.

Just as the ache began to dull into a familiar rhythm, you were in the library, buried under a pile of textbooks. The quiet hum of studying students surrounded you, but you were in your own world, focusing on an assignment.

“Hey, stranger,” said a familiar voice that made your heart race. You looked up to find Mingyu and your stomach flipped as you caught his eye. He looked goofy—exactly as you remembered. “Missed me?”

“More like I forgot what you looked like,” you retorted, trying to play it cool.

He laughed, that warm, infectious laugh that always made your heart flutter. “Oh, come on! You know you missed my face.”

“Not as much as I missed your annoying habit of interrupting my study sessions,” you shot back, though you couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto your face.

Mingyu grinned, leaning closer. “I can’t help it. What’s more interesting than me?”

Your heart swelled at his playful confidence, and for the first time in weeks, the tension in your chest eased a little. “A lot of things, actually,” you teased, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

“Lies,” he said pouting as he slid on the seat next to you, scooting so close that your shoulders were squeezed together. “So, any plans tonight?”

You rolled your eyes, but inside, you felt the warmth of his presence filling the void he had left.

Mingyu started to integrate himself back into your life seamlessly. He would swing by your apartment with snacks, distract you with silly anecdotes, and make you laugh until your sides hurt. You need not mention that most of these nights were spent with your limbs tangled underneath your sheets—half his weight pressing on you, your fingernails digging into his skin, as your moans blended with his soft grunts, creating a beautiful melody that made you lose your mind.

One afternoon, you found yourselves in the park, lounging on the grass under the fading sunlight. “So, what’s new with you?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you.

“Not much. Just the usual—classes, studying, hanging out with the same friends,” you replied, your gaze drifting to the clouds above.

He raised an eyebrow. “Just that? No wild adventures? No spontaneous trips?”

You laughed softly. “You’re my wild adventures, Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s expression shifted, his playful demeanor softening as he studied your face. “I’m sorry for disappearing like that. I just needed some time to take care of stuff,” he explained, playing with the ends of your hair. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

His words hung in the air, and your breath caught in your throat. The way he looked at you made you feel special again—loved even. You could feel the warmth spreading in your chest, a blend of relief and yearning.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you said softly, your heart swelling with hope.

“I know,” he replied with a teasing smirk, but his eyes were sincere. You stayed like that for a while, just staring at each other, not quite understanding what your eyes were trying to tell each other, but content nonetheless.

“I should go,” you said, sitting up. Mingyu followed, holding your hand and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Go where? I was hoping we could hang out again tonight. How does steak sound? I’ve gotten good at it recently.”

“I am tempted, but maybe next time. I made plans with the girls.”

“Can I sleep over tonight, then? I don’t wanna go home,” he pleaded.

You winced. “Mina’s sleeping over tonight.”

“Didn’t she sleep over the other day, though?”

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t have an apartment anymore. It’s a long story.”

Mingyu gasped playfully. “Is she moving in with you?”

“No, not really. But she’d be sleeping over sometimes.”

“Not your friend cockblocking me.”

You threw your head back laughing. “Dumbass. Go away.”

As the days turned into weeks, you settled back into the regular rhythm with him. Mingyu seemed lighter, more carefree. Every moment felt precious, as if you were both making up for lost time.

But behind the lighthearted moments, you could feel it—the underlying tension that often accompanied Mingyu’s presence. You pushed it aside, choosing to savor the time you had together instead of dwelling on what might come next.

Then, one chilly evening, it happened.

You’d heard somewhere before that one should expect disappointment. That way, the said disappointment would hurt less once it comes. They were only half-right.

“What’s your opinion so far?” you asked, watching Seungcheol lean back in his chair.

He shook his head slowly. “I’m not really in a position to comment.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. I’m the one asking.”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I think you’ve got yourself stuck in an impasse. And honestly, it’s a frustrating one, because you knew what was going on, you didn’t like it, and you knew exactly what you could do to get out of it.”

“And your point is?”

“My point is, you could have spared yourself the trouble. You could have chosen differently—confront him, walk away, tell him to leave if he’s just gonna keep doing what he’s doing,” he replied.

You shot him a teasing smile. “Notice how you’re listing all the things I could have done, instead of what Mingyu should have done?”

There was a flicker of realization on Seungcheol’s face, clearly caught off guard. “Oh…”

You chuckled softly. “Exactly. That’s because people generally don’t trust men to be capable of picking up after their messes.”

“That’s actually a good insight,” he admitted with a nod. “So what happened after that?”

“You know what happened. It’s where I started when I told you this story. He called me after a week of radio silence, complaining about his annoying professor. Then I invited him over, we had sex, and we fell back into the same cycle of pretending like nothing was wrong. With him. Or with us. Then he vanished again.”

Seungcheol nodded quietly as he refilled your empty glass. For some reason, the gesture felt like a pat on your shoulder. In your mind, you thought that maybe this was his way of comforting you. That is—if he cared at all.

“That was the first time we fought,” you added, smiling bitterly at the memory.

At that point, you’d recognize the cues. You’d had Mingyu memorized and knew exactly from the way he was beginning to get detached that he was about to disappear again—late replies, making excuses and avoiding you at the campus. The thought of being abandoned by him once more struck a chord in you. Before you know it, you were confronting him, demanding to be heard.

“You’re doing it again,” you said, just as he was reaching for the doorknob.

Mingyu stopped, looked back at you, and blinked, confused. “Doing what?”

You gestured at him at the door. “This. The avoiding, the excuses.” Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ve been busy—”

“Stop!” you interrupted. “Just stop it! Don’t lie to me, Mingyu. You think I don’t notice? You’re pulling away, and you always do this right before you disappear!”

Mingyu sighed, backing away from the door and facing you fully. He uttered your name—softly, pleadingly. “Come on, baby. Let’s not do this right now.”

“What? Am I supposed to just take it in stride while you disappear to God knows where without so much as a word? No. We’re doing this right now,” you demanded. The corner of your eyes began to sting with the tears threatening to fall. 

He reached to touch you but you recoiled, and he could only clench his fist then withdraw his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you have to say?” you asked, appalled.

“I don’t wanna make excuses.”

“Who said you have to?” you asked quietly,  your voice unsteady. “You just have to be honest.”

“It's easier said than done!” he snapped, exhaling sharply as he held your gaze. You could see the hesitation on his face before he looked away and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“What do you want from me, Mingyu?” you croaked out, trying to steady yourself on your feet. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” he said defensively, reaching out again but you backed away.

“But you do! And I feel like absolute shit because… because…” The words got stuck in your throat. How were you supposed to explain the constant tug-of-war inside you? The feeling of wanting more but being too scared to ask for it? “Am I just someone you use when it’s convenient? Someone you need when you’re lonely, then toss aside the moment you’re done?”

“No! Don’t say that!” Mingyu growled, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you into a tight hug. You tensed at first, but then you felt it—the way his arms wrapped around you, not in anger, but in desperation. “I care about you. I care a lot about you.”

The force of his hold spoke louder than anything he’d said. His grip tightened slightly, but it wasn’t suffocating. It felt… conflicted, as if he was holding onto you for dear life but didn’t know how to tell you why. You felt his breath, unsteady against your hair, like he was battling with words that refused to come out.

But it wasn’t enough.

You stiffened in his arms, resisting the urge to melt into his warmth like you always had before. “Mingyu,” you whispered, your voice barely holding together, “if you care about me, why won’t you just be honest?”

He didn’t let go, but his grip faltered, his fingers loosening just enough for you to feel the uncertainty. His silence stretched on, filling the air between you, but he still couldn’t say it. He couldn’t give you what you needed—a promise, a reason, something to hold onto.

“Go,” you said, your voice raw with pain.

Mingyu faltered, his arms falling to his sides, his eyes pleading as if you’d just said something he wasn’t ready to hear. “Please…” he whispered, reaching out again.

You turned your back on him. “Just go, Mingyu,” you repeated, voice cracking as you struggled to keep your tears at bay. “Go. I can’t do this right now.”

With your back turned you didn’t see him linger by the door, hand hesitating on the knob. You didn’t catch the sadness clouding his eyes, the way his fingers twitched as if to reach for you one last time. And you missed the way he looked at you—torn, broken—before he slipped out of your life once again.

And with Mingyu gone, he didn’t see your legs give out beneath you. You collapsed onto the living room floor, where the two of you had spent countless hours together, making memories that now felt like they belonged to a different time. Your sobs filled the silence of the empty room, the weight of everything crashing down on you, and for the first time, you let yourself break at the place where you had once felt whole.

You went on with your life, almost mechanical now with its repetition. Classes, study sessions, dinners with friends—it was all about keeping your head above water, distracting yourself from the void Mingyu had left behind. You had been through this before, so in some twisted way, you were used to it. He always came and went, and every time he left, it hurt less. The only difference was that this time, you weren’t sure if he’d ever come back. 

You missed him in the morning. Your eyes searched for him around campus all day. And your soul ached to be held by him at night. Your friends noticed your distracted state, and they had asked once but didn’t press on when you’d hinted that you didn’t want to talk about it. They figured that, eventually, you'd open up. In the meantime, you stuck to your routine, pretending everything was fine. And in a way, it was. Your tears eventually dried up and the restless nights decreased. The pain had dulled, and you were starting to accept that maybe this was for the best. 

But it seemed like fate wasn’t done toying with you yet. One evening, you were lounging on the couch with Jill, Lea, and Mina. You were halfway through a movie you’d been meaning to watch, a quiet evening like so many before when your friends had kept you company so you weren’t left to your sad thoughts.

Then your phone rang. At first, you thought it might have been a mistake, that you were hallucinating when you saw Mingyu’s nickname on your screen.

“R18 plus plus plus? Who’s that?” Mina teased, noticing the name flash on your phone. “A fling?”

“It’s no one,” you muttered, still staring at the screen.

“Aren’t you gonna pick it up? It’s kinda loud, love,” said Jill, motioning to the TV.

You stood up, heading to the kitchen to answer the call. You knew you shouldn’t, but a part of you—the part that still hoped, still craved his presence—wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice shaky.

“Hi.” The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, and they said your name uncertainly.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“This is Dan. Your number was on the phone so I called. Can you come to the bar downtown? It’s right across from 00 University. The owner of this phone had a little too much to drink. Can you come pick him up?”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. Mingyu? You hadn’t heard from him in weeks. “I… yeah, I’ll be there,” you managed, glancing at your friends. “Give me twenty minutes.”

You ended the call and stood, grabbing your coat. Mina raised an eyebrow, but you avoided her gaze. “I have to go,” you said quickly.

“Now, now. You’re not ditching us for Mr. R18 plus plus plus, are you?” Mina teased again, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes.

“R18? Is that a booty call?” Lea chuckled.

“It’s not what you think, guys.” You sighed, offering a quick, apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for their protests, you rushed out the door, your heart pounding. You were confused and surprised. Mingyu drunk and alone in a bar? This was so out of character for him. He’d never done anything like this before.

When you arrived at the bar, you spotted him immediately. Slumped against the counter, his head hanging low, he was a mess. His hair was tousled, his eyes half-closed, and his cheeks flushed with alcohol. The confident Mingyu you knew was gone, replaced by this hollow, drunken version. You approached him, appalled at the sight of him looking wasted.

“You must be her,” asked the bartender. 

You nodded, glancing at Mingyu. “How long has he been like this?”

Dan sighed. “A few hours. He was drinking alone, staring at your number. Said he wanted to call, but wasn’t sure if he should.”

Your heart twisted at that. He wanted to call? He was thinking about you? But then, why hadn’t he?

“How much did he drink?” you asked, eyeing about a dozen bottles of beer in front of him and hoping he didn’t drink all of those by himself.

Mingyu stirred at the sound of your voice, his head lifting slightly. He tried to focus on you, but his eyes were hazy. He mumbled your name. “...is that you?”

Dan gave you a sympathetic smile. “He’s all yours.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” You sighed, wrapping an arm around him, trying to lift him to his feet. He leaned heavily against you, his body sagging.

He whispered your name again, slurring the syllables, and for a moment, something inside you softened. But no. You couldn’t do this again. Not like this.

With a struggle, you managed to get him outside. “Kim Mingyu, you’re gonna have to pull it together, or I’ll leave you here.”

Mingyu groaned, trying to straighten up. “I missed you,” he mumbled, his words barely coherent. He stumbled, reaching for your face but missing, his hand landing on your shoulder instead. He rested his head on your shoulder, taking a deep breath. “Missed you so much.”

You winced at the words, unsure of what to feel. Did he mean it? Or was it the alcohol talking? “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

In the cab ride back to your apartment, he kept trying to pull you closer, his head resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. Every time he said your name, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he hurt you so easily, and yet make you feel so needed at the same time?

When you got him inside, your friends were still there, their faces full of questions. Jill stood first. “What’s going on?” she asked, though the answer was obvious.

“He’s drunk,” you said simply, guiding him to the couch. “I’m sorry. Can we call it a night? I promise I’ll explain later.”

They exchanged looks but didn’t argue. Lea gave you a quick hug before leaving, followed by Jill and Mina. “Text us if you need anything,” Mina said quietly, her eyes lingering on you as if she wanted to say more.

Once they were gone, you turned to Mingyu, who had collapsed onto the couch. He was mumbling your name again, his eyes barely open.

You knelt beside him, brushing the hair from his forehead. “You’re a mess, Mingyu.”

He smiled lazily, his hand reaching for your face. Then he chuckled. “Dan, you bastard, what did you put in my drink? Why am I seeing things?" he drawled out the words.

“You’re not seeing things,” you chided, albeit softly, as you pushed his hand away.

You sighed, pulling away from his touch. You started to help him out of his jacket, his body warm and damp with sweat. As you worked, he kept trying to pull you closer, his hands wandering over your body, his lips trying to find yours but clumsily landing on different spots in your face.

You swatted his hand each time, and pushed him away as much as you could. You stripped him down until he was left with only his boxers. Afterward, you gave him a blanket and were about to leave when he grabbed you by the waist.

“Stay,” he whispered.

Just like that, the tears you thought had dried up started welling your eyes again. You stood there, letting yourself get enveloped by his warmth again. If only he could stay like this—open, vulnerable, needing you. But deep down, you knew this wasn’t real. Tomorrow, he’d be gone again.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and gentle. You stirred awake, feeling a familiar ache settle deep in your chest. The first thing you did was rise out of bed and go to the living room. Mingyu was still asleep on the couch, his arm draped lazily over the edge, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.

Quietly, you walked over to the couch. You sat down on the floor next to him, folding your legs beneath you. Your eyes traced the familiar lines of his face, softened in sleep. He looked peaceful—vulnerable even, like he wasn’t the same man who’d disappeared for weeks without a word.

How many times have you told yourself not to expect more? That he wasn’t yours to keep. He was only yours in stolen moments—when the world outside didn’t exist, and it was just the two of you, tangled in each other. But those moments were fleeting, like a breath you couldn’t quite hold on to.

You sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his forehead. “Damn you, Kim Mingyu.”

What if this time was different? What if, just once, he stayed? Hope was a dangerous thing. Every time you thought you were free from him, he pulled you back in, sometimes with nothing more than a look, a word, or the weight of his presence. 

Mingyu stirred, his eyelids fluttering open slowly. His gaze found yours almost immediately, bleary but aware. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just looked at each other, the silence heavy with unsaid words, with everything you were too afraid to admit. The hurt. The longing. The quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

His eyes lingered on your face, as if he was trying to read your thoughts. You felt exposed under his gaze, like he could see through the walls you’d built to protect yourself from him.

Then, without a word, he reached for you. His hand, warm and tentative, cupped the side of your face, and you leaned into his touch instinctively, closing your eyes for a second as your breath caught in your throat. When you opened them again, his gaze was intense, searching.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and familiar. Then, his grip on you tightened, and you found yourself sinking into him. For a few moments, it felt like nothing else mattered. The pain, the confusion, the nights spent wondering where he was—none of it existed here.

You knew this wasn’t safe. Letting him back in, letting him hold you, kiss you—it was a cycle you couldn’t break. But you didn’t pull away.

He guided you to the bed, his hands sliding over your skin with tenderness, as though he was afraid you’d slip away from him. You weren’t sure who needed who more in this moment—whether he was seeking comfort from you, or whether you were the one hoping he would stay, if only for a little longer. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Your clothes fell away slowly, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between you. His touch was familiar, yet it felt different somehow—softer, more cautious. You shivered as his lips trailed across your collarbone, your breath hitching in your throat.

He then lay on his back, guiding you to straddle him. You’d miss everything about him these past few weeks, but you didn’t know how much you longed for him until he was deep inside you. It hurt a little, but you didn’t falter, you just stayed there for a second, adjusting to the stretch that you hadn’t felt in a while.

Mingyu sat up, his hands supporting your back as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You okay?” he asked, his lips ghosting over your skin. You nodded, moving ever so slightly. Mingyu kissed the side of your head. “Good girl.”

You didn’t reply, too caught in the moment to think beyond the feeling of his hands on you, and his manhood inside you. Soon you were breathless on top of him, grinding rhythmically, back arching with each motion. His hands were as strong as they had always been, gripping your hips as he guided your movements. You did not contain your moans, knowing Mingyu preferred hearing them—that he loved hearing you.

Just as you were nearing release, Mingyu shifted your positions, pinning you underneath him. He stared into your eyes for a moment, caressing your cheek before he kissed your open mouth. And once again, he thrust into you. The room was filled with soft sounds—quiet breaths, gentle whispers of each other's names. Everything felt slow, like time had stretched out just for you two, giving you space to exist in this fleeting moment.

There was no rush, no frantic urgency. Just two people, tangled together in a slow, deliberate, and passionate sex driven not solely by lust but by something more powerful. 

Love. You felt it in his every push, every kiss, and every touch. It was different this time. His hands lingered longer, his lips sought yours more often, and the way he whispered your name—it wasn’t just desire. It was more, and you felt it deep within your chest, like an ache that had finally found its release

And when it was over, you lay together, his arms wrapped around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. You traced lazy circles on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. His body was warm, his presence grounding you in a way that made you want to believe he could be yours.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but clear.

You froze, your hand still on his chest as the words hung in the air. You weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. Slowly, you lifted your head to look at him, your heart hammering in your chest. “What did you say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu’s eyes softened, a faint smile playing on his lips as he repeated the words that made your breath catch. “I said, I love you.”

Your heart swelled, but with it came a surge of doubt. Could you believe him? Could you trust these words from the same man who had vanished from your life without a second thought so many times before? It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, one step away from free-falling into something that could either break you or save you.

You wanted to say it back. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but they felt too heavy, weighed down by all the times you’d convinced yourself that this moment would never come. Instead, you settled for leaning up and kissing him, slow and soft, your lips lingering against his. Maybe this kiss could say what you couldn’t. Maybe it could be enough to bridge the gap between hope and reality.

When you pulled back, you looked at him again, the uncertainty gnawing at your chest. “Do you really mean that?” you asked, your voice smaller than you intended. “Or are you just saying it because… because of what just happened?”

Mingyu’s eyes darkened with something unreadable. He reached up, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I mean it,” he said, his voice rougher now, like the words were harder for him to say than he let on. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but there was something else there too—something softer, more vulnerable. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You both knew what this was, even if neither of you was ready to admit it.

You pressed another kiss on his lips, your hand cupping his face. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Seungcheol’s eyes stayed locked on you, you could see curiosity and concern written on his face. You just stared right back, keeping your lips tight.

“That’s it?” he asked, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

You nodded. “That’s it.”

He blinked slowly, clearly not satisfied with your answer. He’d been so engrossed in the story that neither of you had noticed how late it had gotten. 

“It can’t be,” he murmured. “What happened after?”

You let out a breath, shrugging as if it didn’t matter. “We talked. Well, fought, mostly. I asked him what he wanted—if he’d finally commit.  In the end, he didn’t pick me. After everything, I thought he would. You know confessing his love and all that. But… meh.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s how it went.”

Seungcheol leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “So you walked away?”

“I don’t wanna go into details anymore, but yes I walked away with my dignity intact. I mean,” you paused to laugh. “I couldn’t keep letting him do that to me, could I? I had to stop it. I was better than that, though it took a while for me to finally grasp that fact and walk away.”

Seungcheol nodded slowly, but there was something unsatisfied in his expression. “Well, good for you. You deserve that. You deserve better.”

“I know,” you chuckled, but the laugh felt forced. “It’s funny, looking back. I acted so stupid for him. But I’m just glad it’s over now, you know? That chapter is closed.”

He tilted his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “That’s good. Although I dare say, your storytelling is a bit, I don’t know… anticlimactic?”

“Is it?” you asked like it wasn’t something you already felt too. You forced a shrug. “Maybe. But that’s how it went. Things kept circling back to the same pattern and this part is basically the same. There’s only so many times you can replay the same argument, you know? I just skipped it,” you added with a forced smirk, hoping it would distract him from prying any further.

Seungcheol observed you for a minute, and you wondered if he could see right through you. Seems impossible. He didn’t really know you until today, and you were a pretty decent liar.

“Right,” he said, his tone softening, though the doubt hadn’t entirely left his face. “What’s next then?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean, who’s next?” he clarified, leaning back in his chair. “Kim Mingyu is not the only guy you’d ever dated, is he?”

You let out a short laugh, but it was strained. “No, there were others. But it’s late, Mr. Choi. The lady needs her sleep.”

He shot to his feet, his face immediately contrite. “Ah, of course! I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. If you want to hear more, you can ask the front desk for me. Tomorrow’s my day-off so I have time. We can also discuss the fee you promised,” you said, smiling and then narrowing your eyes at him. “That is, if you haven’t forgotten about it.”

“I remember.” He smiled. “Good night then.”

“Thanks for listening,” you said with a small wave as you turned to head toward your room.

As you made your way back to your quarters, thoughts of Mingyu swirled in your mind. You’d lied to Seungcheol. The ending between you and Mingyu wasn’t anticlimactic at all. It had been messy, filled with bottled-up anger and days wallowing in misery. But you’d never admit that to Seungcheol. Sharing a failed romance with a stranger was one thing; baring the ugly truth of just how miserable and pathetic you felt back then? That was something else entirely.

At the time, you thought he’d finally let you in. He did, for a moment. Mingyu had opened up about the weight of familial expectations, how it crushed him to follow a path that wasn’t his. He talked about the people and dreams he had to leave behind. And he confessed that the reason he couldn’t choose you, after all this time, was that same fear—that one day, he’d have to turn his back on you too.

“You don’t have to,” you said, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll be here. Wouldn’t it be easier if you had someone to rely on?”

He’d smiled at you then, a smile filled with gratitude and maybe something like love. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

And so, you stayed. And Mingyu? He stayed the same—thoughtful, goofy, always consistent. Sometimes, he’d come to you in low spirits, and you’d let him lean on you in silence, even though he never fully shared his feelings. You fell deeper in love with him, slowly realizing that everything felt emptier, harder without him. You barely noticed time fly by, but you did notice that Mingyu no longer disappeared. He no longer detached himself from you. He was there all the time, even on days when he didn’t feel like himself.

Freshman year passed and you went up with him at his family’s estate to spend the break. He lived in a big house but his parents weren’t home the whole time you were there. It was nice to get a glimpse of his life, of the place he grew up in and the person he was before you met him. You spent time hanging out, making love, and being each other’s support system.

But despite how wonderful it was, despite the burning passion, the cloud of uncertainty loomed over you while you were there. The happiness you felt was so overwhelming, it scared you. It felt too good to be true, like the calm before an inevitable storm.

This storm would come earlier than either of you expected. And it came in the mail.

“What is it?” you asked, wrapping your arms around Mingyu’s seated figure. You tried to peek into the letter, but he put it away.

“Nothing important,” he replied, holding your arm and rubbing it as he looked up at you. He smiled at you and then pressed a soft kiss on your lips. “Where were you?”

You pointed at your head, wrapped in a towel. “In the bath,” you said, straightening up and walking toward the bed to undo your hair.

“You were gone for an hour.”

“Yeah. I was actually waiting for you to join me,” you said, not hiding your disappointment.

He groaned. “Oh, man. You should’ve told me.”

You grimaced. “No, you should’ve looked for me when you noticed I was gone.”

He tucked the envelope in the drawer before jumping in the bed with you. He pinned you down, making you squeal. Then he started peppering you with kisses all over your face. When he caught a whiff of your neck, his expression immediately shifted from goofy to naughty.

“I’d love to do it in the tub, but the bed isn’t such a bad idea too,” he lilted, undoing the ribbon of your robe.

“The bed is the best place to do it, dumbass.”

Mingyu hummed in satisfaction. “I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he said, making you laugh. 

That afternoon was spent being one with each other too, like the previous ones. When you fell asleep, Mingyu was beside you, his head leaning on your chest while you play with his hair. But when you woke up, it was already dark and the spot where Mingyu laid was cold.

You pushed yourself upright, wrapping your robe around you as you padded across the room, calling out his name. “Mingyu?” The sound echoed back in the silence. You checked the bathroom, the living room—every corner of the house, each step feeling heavier than the last. No sign of him.

You tried his phone next, only to find it sitting on the nightstand. Thirty minutes passed, then an hour. Your calls for him became more frantic, though still unanswered. It was only when the housekeeper returned that she offered some explanation.

“He went out earlier, ma’am,” she said, smiling kindly. “He didn’t say where, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Mr. Mingyu would never leave you alone.”

Right, he wouldn’t. Yet that wasn’t reassuring at all. This housekeeper might have watched Mingyu grow up, even took care of him during those years, but she had no idea what Mingyu had put you through. Still, you wanted to believe in him.

The hours passed, and the next morning came. He hadn’t come home yet. You waited until the evening, and the following evening on the next day, and the next, and the next. Still no Mingyu. The house felt hollow without him, as though the walls themselves knew something was wrong.

It was on the fourth day, when your frustration turned to desperate curiosity, that you found the letter tucked away in the drawer of his desk. Your fingers trembled as you unfolded it—an acceptance letter to a university abroad.

He hadn’t mentioned this. Was he planning to leave? Had he already left?

You’d looked for him and asked everyone at his house for help but no one seemed to know where he went. They even had to contact his parents and you didn’t really expect them to know either, but it was frustrating to hear them say it.

“Have you checked his flat, ma’am?” the housekeeper asked.

You blinked. “I thought he moved out of his flat?”

The housekeeper shook his head. “No, ma’am. He’s been living here again, but that place in the city still belongs to him. Maybe he’s there?”

It wasn’t like him—not anymore. Ever since the two of you had gotten closer, you thought the days of him pulling away without warning were over. You had let yourself believe that, anyway. But now, you felt the creeping sense of something breaking, something final.

You commuted back to the city and went straight to his flat. You hated this feeling—the waiting, the uncertainty. It felt like standing on the edge of something crumbling beneath your feet.

And now here you were, in front of his door, heart pounding as you knocked. You didn’t expect him to answer. But, he did.

Mingyu stood there, looking disheveled, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. The sight of him was both a relief and a frustration, all the hurt and confusion swirling inside you.

“We need to talk,” you said, pushing past him into the apartment before he could say anything.

He closed the door behind you but didn’t move. “I know,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms. “What’s going on, Mingyu? You disappeared. Again. After everything we talked about. After you said you didn’t want to keep doing this.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m sorry,” he said, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Your voice cracked despite your efforts to keep it steady. 

Mingyu finally looked at you, his expression torn, like he didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words. “I don’t know… I needed time. I couldn’t—”

“You always need time, Mingyu,” you interrupted, your frustration boiling over. “You say you don’t want to do this alone, but then you push me away every chance you get. Do you even want me in your life?”

“I do! I’ve never wanted anything else! But I can’t… I—” he paused, running his fingers through his hair. “I can’t keep dragging you into this.”

“You’re not dragging me, Mingyu. I’m here to stay! But if we’re gonna keep having this… if you’re gonna keep doing this to me, then what’s the point?” you asked, the words heavy with your anger and frustration. “I’m sick of this, Mingyu. Aren’t you?”

His eyes widened, and you could see the conflict in him. But he didn’t answer. He didn’t say anything, and that silence hit you harder than anything else.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, taking a step closer to him. “If you don’t want me, just say it. Tell me to go, and I will. But if you want me to stay…” Your voice faltered as you searched his face, desperate for any sign. “Tell me to stay, Mingyu. Say it.”

For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your uneven breaths. You waited. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“Mingyu, please…” you pleaded, holding back your tears. “Just say ‘don’t go,’ and I won’t,” you added, shaking your head.

Mingyu reached for your face, staring at you with tears in his eyes. Then he pressed his forehead against yours as he sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart sank, the answer clear even though he never spoke the words. You took a shaky breath, nodding to yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, wiping away a tear that rolled down your cheek. “I get it.”

You backed away and then turned toward the door, your chest aching with every step you took. But before you could reach the handle, you stopped, glancing back one last time, hoping—praying—that he would say something, anything, to stop you.

But Mingyu stayed silent. And with that, you walked out with finality in your stride.

To say you were a mess after that was an understatement. You were a wreck—miserable and sad, wandering through the days like a ghost of your former self. You ran to your friends, crying in their arms for hours, the kind of raw, gut-wrenching sobs that left you breathless. You thought you’d only cry about it for a few days and get over it. But it went on for a whole month.

Some nights, after too many drinks, you’d find yourself dialing his number, the alcohol loosening the grip of reason in your mind. “Mingyuuuu,” you’d whine into the phone, your voice slurred and pathetic. “I love you so much! Take me back!”

The next morning, you’d wake up to the shame of your drunken confessions, staring at the ceiling with the weight of regret pressing down on you. You’d replay the conversations in your mind, cringing at how desperate you sounded, wondering how you let yourself fall apart so completely.

Your friends did their best to pull you out of the darkness, but every attempt felt futile. You’d join them for outings, but you were barely present, laughing too loudly at jokes that didn’t register or staring blankly at the world around you. One night, they dragged you to a party, insisting you needed to have fun. But there you were, clinging to your drink, watching everyone dance and laugh, while the memories of Mingyu spun in your mind. Once the reality set in that he was no longer there to ditch the party with you, you stumbled to the bathroom and locked yourself in, sobbing into your hands as the beat thudded through the walls.

Even the simplest tasks became challenges. Your studies slipped away; assignments piled up, and your grades plummeted. You’d sit in your lectures, staring at the board but absorbing nothing. Friends would express their concern, but you brushed it off with a half-hearted smile, not wanting to burden them any more than you already had. 

Eventually, you hit a breaking point. On one particularly dark day, you sat alone in your room, surrounded by empty cans and bottles and crumpled tissues. The realization hit you like a freight train: you couldn’t do this anymore. You weren’t just grieving—you were drowning.

In the haze of your despair, you made the impulsive decision to skip the semester and move back home with your family. The thought of facing another day in the city without Mingyu felt unbearable. Packing your things felt like burying a part of yourself, but it was your only option. Every corner of your apartment did nothing to help your move on anyway.

You took one last look of the place where you made the most memories with Mingyu. And as you closed the door, you hoped it would also close that chapter in your life.

Your parents welcomed you with open arms, concerned and confused by your sudden return. You pretended everything was fine, but they noticed the shadows under your eyes, the way you flinched at the slightest mention of your time at university.

In the quiet of your old room, you often found yourself staring at the ceramic bears on your nightstand, remembering the small joy of building a family for these inanimate decors. Your friends tried to reach out, but you brushed them aside, too ashamed to admit how far you had fallen. They understood, giving you the time and space that you needed, knowing you'd be back once things were all better.

And as the weeks passed, something began to shift. The sun shone a little brighter, and the weight of your grief slowly lightened. You spent time with your family, rediscovering old hobbies and connecting with friends who reminded you of who you were before Mingyu. Slowly, you started to feel like yourself again. You laughed more, shared stories, and realized that life still held moments of joy, even in the absence of him.

One day, while cleaning your room, your eyes caught your little bear family, focusing on the grizzly and panda Mingyu had gifted you. Their faces seemed more cheerful now and you felt a bittersweet pang in your chest. 

Where could Mingyu be right now? How is he? You had no idea, but you wished he was in a better place than before. Somehow, you wish you could at least extend a hand to comfort him, even as a distant friend.

Then an idea came. You picked up the grizzly and the panda, memories flooding back—of laughter, of warmth, of love. But you knew that holding onto them was holding you back. And right now, you didn’t really need them anymore.

You wrapped the figurines carefully in bubble wrap and wrote a short note:

“I’m sending these with a happy heart and I hope that instead of bitterness and sorrow, they will bring a smile to your face, just like they did when we first met them. Thank you for the memories. Know that I do not regret meeting you, and if I had to do it again, I would. Although, maybe I’d make better decisions then. You’ll always have a space in my heart, Gyu. I hope you’re in a better place—both in your heart and mind. Love, me <3”

As you dropped the package off at the post office, you felt lighter, liberated. The storm that had raged within you had dissipated, replaced by the gentle promise of new beginnings. You smiled to yourself, knowing that while the past would always be a part of you, it no longer defined you. You were ready to embrace whatever came next. You’re young, you have a whole life ahead of you.

And if you happen to run into Mingyu again in the future, you hope he will be in better circumstances. Whatever he was going through, you wished he’d get over it and be genuinely happy.

[fin]