#Sunghoon fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shy9-29 · 8 hours ago

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My Voice Stops Where You Begin | 박성훈

“she fell first, he fell harder.” - enhypen campus series

୨ৎ You fell first—loud, chaotic, hopelessly into Park Sunghoon. He barely spoke, barely looked your way… until he did. And when he fell, he didn’t just fall—he crashed. ✉️ wc. 19.7k - quiet 박성훈 x talkative yn | PT2 (coming soon…)

🏷️ @fancypeacepersona @k1ttyjwon @m1kkso @enjakey @motherscrustytoenailclippings @dearestdreamies @wonuziex @jendeuke-bae @haerni @koizekomi @mariegibeau @sheseung @httpenhoon @sievenderz @rikifever @skzenhalove @chvconn3 @wonzzziezzzz @blvengene @gvtdoll @a3r4-for3ver @sunghoon-cam @luvksnn @aaaaarmiiiiin @bloomiize

It was the first day of university, and you were already running late. The strap of your bag was digging into your shoulder, your coffee was lukewarm, and you were half-jogging across campus trying to figure out where “Hall B, Room 204” was. You burst into the lecture hall just as the professor was introducing himself, cheeks flushed, hair slightly out of place. A few heads turned. Some people smiled politely. One guy sitting in the back corner didn’t even glance up.

You didn’t notice him at first.

You were too busy trying to find an empty seat, preferably one not directly in the line of fire for first-day introductions. You settled in the middle row, somewhere between too eager and too aloof. You pulled out your notebook, took a sip of your now-offensively warm coffee, and let out a breath. That’s when your eyes wandered—just casually, no intention behind it. And that’s when you saw him.

Back row. Headphones in. Face like stone. Tall, pale, a little slouched like he was already tired of being here. He wasn’t paying attention to anything or anyone. Just staring ahead like the world around him didn’t concern him in the slightest. And somehow… that made you look again. There was something about him that didn’t match the rest of the room. Like he belonged somewhere else entirely. You didn’t even know his name yet, but for some reason, your stomach flipped.

Over the next few weeks, you saw him everywhere.

And you were everywhere too—because that’s who you were. Loud. Friendly. Constantly surrounded by people. You liked talking, liked filling up space, liked being known. But every time you were in the same room as him, something shifted. Your words dried up. Your laugh softened. You’d glance over at him and forget what you were even saying. It didn’t make sense. You had no reason to feel nervous—he wasn’t even looking at you. But still, you felt it. That slow, creeping kind of curiosity. That quiet pull.

Sunghoon was tired. Everywhere he went, there was a shadow. And not his—an annoying 5’3 one that followed him everywhere. You were always in his line of sight. Talking to someone, laughing too loud, waving your hands when you got excited about something. You were like color in an otherwise grayscale world. Yet she never spoke to him, not a single word. Just observed him from a distance. He noticed. He just didn’t show it.

You didn’t know it then, but that was when it started—when you first fell. You didn’t fall hard, not all at once. It was quiet. Subtle. The way your heart picked up a little when you spotted him in the dining hall. The way you slowed down just slightly when you passed him outside the library. The way you memorized his schedule without meaning to. You didn’t know him. But you wanted to.

And that want? It grew.

You started timing your days around him—not on purpose, at first. It was just that your 10 a.m. lecture happened to be one he was in, and you figured out pretty quickly that he always got there five minutes early, headphones in, hood up if it was cold. He always sat in the same seat: back row, second from the window. You always sat three rows down, a little to the left, just enough to keep him in your peripheral vision. You told yourself it wasn’t weird. People watched people. That’s what people did.

But you didn’t watch everyone.

You watched him.

Sometimes you’d catch little things. The way he tapped his pen when he was thinking, or the way his fingers curled around his water bottle like he was grounding himself. You noticed how he always had one earbud out during lectures, like he didn’t fully trust the silence. You wondered what he was listening to. You wondered what his voice sounded like when he wasn’t mumbling out answers or mumbling “here” during attendance.

You had about a dozen opportunities to talk to him. You were you, after all—there was always someone asking you something, pulling you into something. You weren’t shy. You never had been. But when it came to him, you just… couldn’t. You’d freeze. Smile too quickly. Look away. And he never made it easier—never looked at you long enough to give you a window, never gave you a reason to think he even knew you were there.

But he did.

Sunghoon knew.

He wasn’t stupid. You were loud. Impossible to miss. Like a radio that never turned off. Like summer in the middle of a dull winter. He noticed how you always seemed to sit near him, always looked like you were about to say something but never did. He told himself it was just coincidence. Just one of those things. But then it kept happening. Over and over. The same girl. The same smile. The same presence that made the air feel different.

And yeah—he was tired. All the time. Not from school, not from work. Just… life. People. Noise. But then there was you. This exhausting, glowing thing that wouldn’t leave him alone. You weren’t trying to, but you were there. In his classes. In his thoughts. In the parts of the day where he didn’t expect to feel anything.

And eventually, something cracked.

But not yet. Not then. Because you had already fallen. Quietly, completely, helplessly. And he hadn’t even started.

You flopped onto your bed with all the dramatic flair of someone who had just survived a war, limbs sprawled out, backpack tossed somewhere near your desk.

“Hes sooo fine,” you groaned into your pillow, voice muffled but full of conviction. “Like, actually unfair. How is someone allowed to look like that and not speak to a single soul?” From the other side of the room, Stella barely looked up from her laptop. “You mean Park Sunghoon?” she asked, already sounding unimpressed. “I don’t get it. It’s like being attracted to a white wall.”

You lifted your head, offended. “First of all, he’s not a white wall. He’s more like… a minimalist painting. You know, subtle. Mysterious. Expensive.” Stella snorted. “Girl, he blinked at you once and you’ve been writing fanfiction in your brain ever since.” You threw a pillow at her. “You don’t get it. There’s just something about him.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, catching the pillow and tossing it back. “Something emotionally unavailable.” You didn’t argue, mostly because she was right. But also because you’d already started thinking about what Sunghoon’s voice might sound like if he ever actually spoke to you. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling like it might hold the answers to your Sunghoon obsession. “Do you think he even knows I exist?”

Stella let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “You sit three rows in front of him. You laugh like a Disney side character. You’ve accidentally tripped twice walking past his seat. If he doesn’t know by now, he’s either legally blind or willfully ignoring you.” You groaned again, dragging a pillow over your face. “Kill me.”

“He’s cute, sure,” she continued, typing something on her laptop, “but he literally said ‘no thanks’ when a girl asked him if he wanted to join their study group. No thanks. Like he was declining an email subscription.” You laughed, muffled by the pillow. “He probably has a really soft voice. Like… barely audible. A whisper. Velvet.”

Stella gave you a look. “You need help.”

“I need him.”

She shut her laptop. “No, babe. You need to talk to him. Say something. Anything. Even just ‘hi.’ Break the curse.” You peeked out from under the pillow, heart already doing gymnastics at the thought. “But what if he looks at me?”

“That’s the whole point.”

You stared at her, horrified. “Absolutely not. I’d combust on the spot.”

“Then enjoy your silent crush from the shadows, weirdo.” You flopped again, dramatically. “Fine. But if I die from unspoken romantic tension, it’s on you.” She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Put it in your will, Romeo.”

The next morning, you woke up with a mission: to maybe say something to Sunghoon today. Nothing crazy. Not a full sentence or anything. Just a word. A syllable, even. A polite “hey” if the stars aligned and your voice didn’t betray you.

You spent an extra five minutes picking your outfit—something casual but not too casual. Like, “I didn’t try, but also I absolutely did.” Stella noticed, obviously. “You’re wearing the ‘Hot but I’m Not Trying’ outfit,” she said through a mouthful of cereal. “Is today The Day?” You shrugged, grabbing your bag and pretending you weren’t already sweating. “It might be.” Stella clapped slowly. “Godspeed, soldier.

By the time you got to class, your nerves were starting to spiral. Sunghoon was already there, sitting in his usual seat—hood down, headphones in, fingers tapping against the desk to whatever he was listening to. He looked unfairly good in a black hoodie and gray sweats, like someone had just pulled him out of a moody K-drama. His side profile was so sharp it should’ve been illegal.

You walked past him, fully prepared to say something, anything—He looked up. Briefly. Just for a second. Eye contact.

And then—back down. Like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just send your soul into orbit with a single glance.

You speed-walked to your seat and nearly collapsed into it, heart pounding like you’d just run a marathon. You turned around just enough to glance back at him. Still headphones in. Still unbothered. Still so fine.

You opened your phone under the desk and texted Stella:

Me: I made eye contact. I think I’m pregnant.

She responded instantly.

Stella: omg congrats on the baby!!! do u know if it’s a ghost or a shadow????

You had to bite your lip to stop from laughing out loud. You looked up one more time. Sunghoon hadn’t moved. Still in his own world. Still completely unreadable. But you swore—swore—the corner of his mouth twitched. Almost like a smile. Almost.

You spent the entire lecture pretending to take notes while your brain went into overdrive analyzing that one almost-smile like it was a sacred artifact. Had it really happened? Or were you just so far gone that you were starting to hallucinate expressions on his face that weren’t actually there? You tried to sneak another glance at him halfway through class, just to confirm—but he was fully zoned out again, one hand lazily spinning his pen, the other resting against his jaw, headphones still in. Unbothered. Untouchable. Beautiful in the way that made your brain short-circuit if you stared too long.

When the professor dismissed everyone, you packed up slower than usual, hoping—praying—that the universe would throw you a bone. Maybe he’d glance your way again. Maybe you’d make accidental eye contact and he’d hold it this time. Maybe he’d say something. Or you would. But, as always, Sunghoon stood up, slung his backpack over one shoulder, and walked straight past you like he hadn’t just been living rent-free in your brain for the last three months. You sighed so loudly, the girl next to you looked concerned.

The time you got back to your dorm, you threw the door open with unnecessary force. Stella looked up from her desk. “Well?” You dropped your bag and collapsed onto the floor like the tragic lead in a college rom-com. “He looked at me again.”

She blinked. “…And?”

“And I felt it in my knees, Stella.” She closed her laptop, looking both amused and vaguely concerned. “You’ve got it bad.”

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “I think I’m in love with someone I’ve never spoken to. Do you think they make support groups for this kind of thing?”

“I think it’s called delusion, girl.” You dramatically flung an arm over your forehead. “Well, I’m the president then.” She tossed a granola bar at you. “Eat something and touch grass.”

You caught it without looking, sighing. “I swear he almost smiled.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think that counts as a conversation.”

She snorted. “Yeah, and I think you need help.” You took a bite of the granola bar and chewed in silence, thinking about the half-second twitch of his lips.

It was barely anything. Almost nothing. But to you? It was everything.

Later that night, you were curled up in bed, halfway through rewatching a comfort show you’d seen a hundred times, when the ping of a new email lit up your phone screen. You glanced at it lazily, expecting another boring newsletter or some campus event you weren’t going to attend.

But then your eyes locked on the subject line:

Group Project – PSY214: Social Behavior & Perception

Your heart stuttered. That was the class. The class with Sunghoon.

You sat up so fast your blanket fell off your shoulders. Opening the email, you scanned the body of the message like your life depended on it. The professor had assigned a project to be completed in pairs—not groups, pairs—and said you could choose your own partner, but you had to submit the name by the end of the week.

The universe had officially spoken.

You practically flew off your bed and ran out into the common area where Stella was on the couch, face half-buried in a bowl of popcorn, watching some true crime documentary with the volume way too high.

“STELLA.” You skidded to a stop in front of her, completely out of breath. She jumped, a kernel of popcorn flying out of her bowl. “Jesus—what?” You gripped the back of the couch like your soul might detach from your body. “Group project. Pairs. In psych. With Sunghoon. This is it. This is the sign. I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask him.” She blinked at you. “Wait, you’re gonna speak to him?”

You nodded, eyes wide with some mix of fear and determination. “I have to. I’ve been given a golden opportunity by the universe. A gift. An invitation to break my curse of romantic cowardice. This is my moment. This is my origin story.”

Stella stared at you for a second. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“I know. But you know what else I am? A people person. I’ve never had trouble talking to anyone. It’s literally my specialty. I can charm strangers in line at Starbucks. I can talk my way out of a parking ticket. I can talk to Sunghoon.” She raised a brow. “Okay, but can you do that without short-circuiting and running away like a squirrel?”

You narrowed your eyes. “…I’m working on it.”

Stella smirked and popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Well, you better work fast. Because every other psych major with eyeballs is probably already plotting the same thing.” You dramatically flopped onto the couch beside her, clutching a throw pillow. “Ughhh. Why is he so fine and so quiet? It’s a dangerous combination.”

“Oh, speaking of dangerous,” Stella added casually, eyes still on the screen, “Did you hear Heeseung and his girlfriend got into a huge argument? Like it was full on hands on.” You blinked, thrown completely off track. “Wait—what? Are you serious?”

“Yep. My lab partner saw them holding hands outside the music building. She said it looked… not casual.” You groaned and buried your face in the pillow. “Okay, one emotionally unavailable man at a time, please.” Stella laughed. “You’re doomed.” You peeked over the pillow and mumbled, “Maybe. But at least I’ll go down trying.” She tossed a piece of popcorn at your forehead. “Godspeed, loser.”

And with that, your fate was sealed. Tomorrow, you were going to ask Park Sunghoon to be your partner. Or die trying.

The next morning, your alarm went off at an ungodly hour, and for once, you didn’t hit snooze. You shot out of bed like you had somewhere important to be. Like this was a mission. Because it was.

You had exactly one hour to mentally prepare yourself for what you were about to do: walk up to Park Sunghoon—aka human silence, aka your academic soulmate and secret crush—and ask him to be your partner. Easy. Simple. Nothing to be afraid of. You’ve talked to professors. You’ve hosted campus events. You’ve literally done improv in front of strangers. But now? Your hands were shaking because you might have to say five words to a man who barely speaks.

You stood in front of your mirror, practicing.

“Hey, wanna be partners?”

“No, that’s too blunt.”

“Hi! So I was wondering if—ew, no, too formal.”

“Yo.”

…Absolutely not.

From the other side of the room, Stella, still wrapped in her blanket like a burrito, cracked one eye open. “If you rehearse any longer, he’s gonna graduate before you speak.” You ignored her. “I’m manifesting smoothness, okay?”

“You’re manifesting cardiac arrest.”

By the time you got to class, your heart was already tap dancing in your chest. Sunghoon was in his usual seat—hood down, headphones in, all black hoodie, unreadable face. You stared at him for a full three seconds before you remembered you were standing in the middle of the aisle like a lost tourist. You snapped out of it and shuffled to your seat three rows down, pulse racing. You needed to catch him before class started. That way, if he rejected you, at least you could die quietly while the lecture played.

You kept glancing back at him, trying to time it right. He was scrolling through his phone now, completely detached from the world like he was on another plane of existence. Okay. This was it. You turned around. Took a breath. Stood up. Walked up the steps to his row like you weren’t having an internal breakdown. He looked up the moment you reached him. Direct eye contact. Your brain blanked for a full second.

“…Hey,” you said, voice not nearly as stable as you’d practiced.

He pulled one earbud out, eyebrows raised slightly. “Hi.”

HI. HE SPOKE.

“Um. I was just wondering if you wanted to be partners for the psych project?”

There was a pause. Not long, but enough to make your confidence start to wither.

Then he replied, voice low and quiet, “I already asked the professor if I could work alone.”

Oh.

Your brain short-circuited for a second. You hadn’t prepared for rejection. Especially not this calm, direct kind that somehow wasn’t even rude—it was just… final.

“Oh,” you said quickly, trying not to sound as mortified as you felt. “Cool! Yeah. That’s—totally fine.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just nodded once, almost politely, and put his earbud back in.

You turned around and walked back to your seat like someone had just unplugged your entire personality.

When you sat down, you stared at your notes without actually seeing anything. Your ears were hot. Your hands felt weird. You blinked a few times like maybe you could reset the whole moment.

You grabbed your phone and typed furiously.

Me: abort mission. i asked. he said no. he already asked to work ALONE. ALONE stella. like a damn lone wolf. i just got REJECTED by someone who doesn’t even TALK to people.

Three seconds later, the reply came:

Stella: …damn

Stella: okay but lowkey that’s so on brand for him

Stella: also that wasn’t even personal he probs would’ve said no if a supermodel asked

You slumped forward onto your desk.

If this was your origin story, then this was the flop arc.

And you were going to need emotional CPR before class even started.

Class ended with the usual rustle of backpacks and the scrape of chairs, but you sat frozen in your seat for an extra ten seconds, staring at the back of Sunghoon’s head like it had personally betrayed you. He was already standing up, slinging his bag over one shoulder, cool and quiet as ever. Like he hadn’t just shattered your plans and self-esteem into a thousand quiet little pieces.

But something in you snapped.

No.

You were done being shy. Done rehearsing conversations in your head and letting the moment pass you by. You were not letting Park Sunghoon disappear into the hallway without saying another word.

You jumped up, heart racing, and took a deep breath. “Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “We’re doing this. We’re not going to shrivel up and die from embarrassment this time.”

You rushed up the stairs after him, catching him just before he reached the door. “Sunghoon.”

He stopped, turning to look at you, that same unreadable expression on his face.

You inhaled. “You’re gonna work with me.”

His brows lifted, just slightly, caught somewhere between surprise and confusion. “I told you—I already asked the professor if I could work alone.”

You crossed your arms and raised your chin a little, tapping into your most extroverted, confident self—the version of you that could hold entire conversations with strangers and talk her way out of anything. “Then un-ask him.”

He blinked.

“I’m serious,” you continued, because if you stopped now you’d lose every ounce of courage. “You don’t even know me. What if I’m secretly a genius? What if we make the best team ever and win that bonus point thing he mentioned?”

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, still quiet. Still unreadable.

You pointed at him. “You don’t have to like group work. But you’re gonna work with me.”

For a long second, he just stared at you.

The faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile, not really. But something. He scoffed. Not in a dramatic, mean way. Just… soft. Dismissive. Like you were amusing. Or ridiculous. Or both. And then he turned and kept walking, like you hadn’t just declared war on his solo-project lifestyle. You blinked. Oh, hell no. You shoved your bag higher up your shoulder and stormed after him.

“Seriously?” you said, catching up to him in two strides. “You’re just gonna walk away after that?” He didn’t look at you. “Yeah.”

“You’re not even gonna consider it?”

“Nope.”

You huffed, falling into step beside him. “What is your deal with working alone? You allergic to people or something?” He side-eyed you. “You talk a lot.”

“Thank you,” you said flatly. “That’s literally the only reason I might save your grade.” He stopped walking. You stopped too, nearly crashing into him. He looked down at you—tall, pale, sharp-featured and quiet, like some sort of academic vampire who hated sunlight and group activities.

“Why are you so determined?” he asked finally, tone somewhere between annoyed and curious. You met his eyes, chin lifting. “Because I’ve never had someone ignore me this hard and still live in my brain rent-free. It’s annoying. So if I have to suffer through thinking about you all semester, you’re at least going to suffer with me. Equal pain.” His brows lifted just slightly.

“And,” you added quickly, “I don’t lose. So you’re working with me. End of story.”

Sunghoon stared at you for a beat longer. Like he couldn’t decide if you were insane or just persistent. Then he shook his head. And kept walking. But this time? He didn’t say no. You were halfway across campus the next day, trying to decide between skipping your next lecture or just emotionally disassociating through it, when you heard someone say your name.

Quietly. But definitely.

You turned around and almost tripped over your own feet when you saw him—Sunghoon. Hoodie, backpack, hands shoved in his pockets. Standing awkwardly like he wasn’t entirely sure he should’ve called out to you in the first place. Your heart did a full somersault. “Hi,” you said, maybe too brightly.

He blinked at you. “Hey.”

There was a weird beat of silence, filled with campus noise and your loud inner panic.

Then he shifted on his feet and muttered, “Can I get your number?”

Your brain exploded.

Was Park Sunghoon asking for your number? You stared at him, mouth slightly open, and he just stood there looking painfully neutral, like this was the last place he wanted to be.

“Are you—wait, are you asking me out?” you blurted, already regretting every second of your life.

His eyes widened just the slightest bit, like you’d accused him of a federal crime.

“No,” he said flatly. “For the project. So we can… communicate.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes going wide as the heat crept up your face. “Right. Duh. Obviously. Obviously.”

He looked vaguely uncomfortable, like he wanted to disappear into his hoodie. “…Yeah.”

You scrambled to pull out your phone, nearly dropping it in your panic. “Here—yeah—just put yours in. That’s easier. I’ll text you. So we can… project. Collaborate. Academic synergy.”

He didn’t reply. Just took your phone, typed in his number, and handed it back wordlessly.

You stared down at the contact:

Park Sunghoon

(no emoji. no extra letters. just cold, clinical formality.)

“…Cool,” you said, trying to recover some semblance of dignity.

“Okay,” he mumbled. Then turned to walk away.

You watched him go, mentally facepalming so hard your soul cracked a little.

Your phone buzzed a moment later.

Unknown Number: it’s sunghoon

Unknown Number: let me know when you want to start

You sighed and saved the contact with a little ice cube emoji, because it felt fitting.

Sunghoon Park: cold exterior, barely speaking… and you were so in over your head.

Later that night, you were laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, your phone balanced on your chest like it owed you something.

You had been so sure he was asking you out. So sure. For 0.3 seconds, you saw your entire future flash before your eyes: couple study dates, matching outfits, walking hand-in-hand through campus while he pretended not to hate the PDA. The works.

But nope.

Just… strictly professional group project business.

You groaned and rolled over, smothering your face into your pillow.

From the other side of the room, Stella looked up from her laptop. “What now?”

“He asked for my number.”

Her eyes lit up. “What? Shut up—did he really?”

You turned your head slightly, muffled. “For the project.”

She stared. “Oh. Ew. Okay.”

You rolled onto your back again, holding your phone up like it personally betrayed you. “I thought he was asking me out. I literally said, ‘Are you asking me out?’”

Stella burst out laughing, no remorse. “You didn’t.”

“I did. And the way he looked at me? Like I just offered to burn down the library. He was so uncomfortable.”

“To be fair,” she said through a cackle, “he always looks uncomfortable.”

You sighed dramatically and stared at his text again.

let me know when you want to start

Simple. Distant. No smiley face. No unnecessary words. He probably sat there thinking about whether three words was too many.

You started typing back:

Me: hey! free tomorrow after 2 if that works? also we could meet at the lib—

Then deleted the whole thing. Too friendly.

Me: hi. library tomorrow at 2?

No. Too dry. You looked like him.

You finally settled on:

Me: hey! are you free tomorrow after 2? we could meet in the library to go over the project?

And then hit send before you could overthink it again.

You dropped your phone beside you and groaned. “This is the most effort I’ve ever put into a man who literally doesn’t speak.”

Stella didn’t even look up. “Honestly, that’s kind of your type.”

You buried your face in your pillow again.

Somewhere, your phone buzzed.

Sunghoon: ok

Sunghoon: 2 is fine

Two words. No punctuation. Classic. And yet—your heart did a full stupid little flip anyway.

You were ten minutes late.

Not fashionably late. Not oh-no-the-bus-was-slow late. Panicked, sweaty, tripping-over-your-own-shoelaces late.

The worst part? You couldn’t even blame traffic. You had literally just stood in front of your closet for fifteen minutes debating what shirt said I’m smart enough to do a group project but also hot enough to be a distraction.

By the time you rushed into the library, breathless and clutching your tote bag like a life raft, you spotted him immediately—tucked into a table near the window, surrounded by neat little piles of notes, black zip-up hoodie, dark jeans, laptop open, posture perfect.

And glasses.

You froze.

You had never seen Park Sunghoon wear glasses before. They were thin-rimmed and kind of crooked on his nose and, for some infuriating reason, stupidly hot.

He glanced up the second he noticed you, gaze sharp behind the lenses. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but all that came out was a weird, out-of-breath sound that wasn’t even a real word.

“…Hi,” he said, tone flat, but not mean. Just very Sunghoon.

“Hi!” you replied too loudly, stumbling as you dropped your bag into the chair across from him. “Sorry—I—I swear I left on time, but I forgot my charger and then I spilled, like, half a smoothie on my notes, and then I couldn’t find the entrance for some reason even though I come here all the time. It was a mess. I’m a mess. But hi!”

He blinked slowly, adjusting his glasses. “You’re here now.”

You nodded quickly. “I am. Present. Mentally, emotionally, physically—kind of.”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with that same unreadable face, like he couldn’t decide if you were hilarious or exhausting.

You shifted in your chair, suddenly aware of how loud your breathing sounded. And your heartbeat. And how you had no idea what to do with your hands. Why did your fingers feel weird?

“So,” you said, pulling out your laptop and trying to act like your brain wasn’t short-circuiting over the glasses situation. “Psych project. Brainstorm time. Right.”

“Yeah.”

He was already back to typing something, eyes flicking over his screen, and you realized he didn’t even seem fazed. Like this was just… normal.

For you, it was a crisis.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. How did he look so composed? So chill? So academically intimidating with that stupid zip-up and those stupid glasses and his stupid, quiet, mysterious vibe?

“…Did you always wear glasses?” you blurted before your brain could stop you.

He paused. Looked at you.

“Only sometimes,” he said simply.

“Oh.” You looked back down at your screen. “Cool. They’re… you know. Fine. Cool. Very… smart.”

A long pause.

“Thanks.”

You wanted to sink into the floor.

It was going to be a long group project.

You had just started to feel semi-normal.

Sunghoon was being quiet—shock—but not cold. You were actually getting into the flow of outlining the project. He listened when you talked. Nodded. Occasionally gave input. It wasn’t comfortable exactly, but it wasn’t the awkward apocalypse you were expecting, either.

And for a brief, fragile second, you thought this might be the first chill moment you shared alone.

Naturally, the universe had other plans.

“Oooohhh, what do we have here?”

You looked up just in time to see three people you had never met stroll up to your table like they owned the entire library. One was tall, with dark eyes and a mischievous smile—Jay, though you didn’t know that yet. Next to him was a golden-haired guy with a killer grin, arm slung around girl. Jake. And Jake’s Girlfriend, apparently.

Jay gave you a once-over, then looked at Sunghoon like he’d just caught him in a crime. “We just thought we should come check out Sunghoon’s first date with a girl.”

Your eyes widened. You choked on air.

Sunghoon didn’t even flinch. “It’s not a date.”

Jake’s girlfriend snorted. “At least he’s honest about it not being a date. Unlike my first date.”

Jake groaned beside her, dragging a hand down his face. “How many times did I apologize for that?”

You blinked. “Wait—what happened on your first date?”

She smiled sweetly. “He made a bet with his friends that he could get with me. You know, classic teen rom-com behavior.”

“Oh my god.” Your jaw dropped.

Jake threw up his hands. “And I said I was sorry! I was reckless and stupid.”

“You’re still stupid,” she muttered, but leaned into his side anyway.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon just sat there, jaw clenched, radiating quiet murder.

Jay leaned closer, ignoring the tension. “Oh, but she definitely wants it to be a date,” he said, nodding at you with a teasing glint in his eye.

You choked again. “I—What—No?!”

Sunghoon shot him a warning glare. “Jay.”

Jay held up his hands, smirking. “Alright, alright. Just saying. She looks real invested in this collaboration.”

Before you could combust, another voice burst into the mix.

“GUYS.”

You turned in your seat just in time to see a boy with bleached blond hair, glowing skin, and a phone clutched in one hand come skidding to a stop at your table.

“Heeseung and his girlfriend are having another full-on screaming match outside the student center,” he announced like it was breaking news. “It’s getting dramatic. One of them might throw hands. Or a smoothie.”

He finally looked at you. “Oh, hi. Who’s this?”

“Sunoo,” Jake sighed, “this is… uh…”

“YN,” you supplied, feeling very out of place.

“She’s Sunghoon’s group partner,” Jay said, emphasis on partner, like it was code for something else.

Sunoo’s eyes lit up. “Ooooooohhhhhh.”

Sunghoon let out a sharp breath through his nose, practically vibrating with annoyance. “Why are you all here?”

“Checking up on you,” Jay said cheerfully. “You’re weird about new people. We had to make sure you weren’t malfunctioning.”

Jake nodded. “And to be fair, you are being weird.”

“I’m literally sitting,” Sunghoon snapped.

“Okay, yeah, but like. Sitting with a girl,” Sunoo said, raising his brows. “A cute girl. You see why that’s suspicious.”

You stared at your laptop, cheeks burning. The chaos was unreal.

Jake shook his head. “Anyway, back to the drama—how long are Heeseung and his girl gonna keep doing this?”

Jake’s girlfriend crossed her arms. “Maybe don’t make bets about girls and they won’t cuss you out on campus.”

“Babe,” Jake whined, “again, I said I was sorry. Let it gooo.”

Sunghoon stood up abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.

“Where are you going?” Jay asked.

“Anywhere that’s not here,” he muttered.

You jumped up after him, trying to gather your stuff. “Wait—Sunghoon!”

He didn’t slow down, and you had to basically jog to catch up, face still on fire. Behind you, Jay called, “Have fun on your not-date!”

And Sunoo added, “She’s cute! You better not screw it up!”

You didn’t dare look back.

You finally caught up to him halfway down the library stairs, breath short and hands still fumbling to shove your laptop into your bag.

“Sunghoon—wait,” you called, your voice echoing slightly in the stairwell.

He didn’t stop, but he did slow down just enough for you to trail beside him instead of behind like some kind of out-of-breath gremlin.

You walked in silence for a second. Just the two of you. The air was heavy, thick with secondhand embarrassment and the faint smell of old textbooks.

“…They’re your friends?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual. Not that anything about the last five minutes had been casual.

“Unfortunately,” he muttered.

You bit your lip, half-smiling. “They’re… a lot.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept walking, hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands and jaw tight like he was trying to bite back actual rage.

After a beat, you added, “I wasn’t expecting company. Or, you know, being accused of trying to date you in front of half your social circle.”

He stopped suddenly, turning toward you.

You skidded to a halt too, your breath catching a little—not just from the speed, but the way he was looking at you. Glasses slightly tilted, dark eyes unreadable, lips parted like he wanted to say something and hadn’t quite figured it out yet.

Then, very quietly, he said, “You didn’t… seem mad.”

You blinked. “Why would I be mad?”

His brows drew together. “At them. For saying all that. Teasing you.”

“Oh.” You shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I was dying internally. But it’s fine. You didn’t say it. You just… looked like you wanted to strangle all of them.”

“I did.”

A short silence.

And then—you laughed. Soft and sudden, the sound surprising even yourself. “Well, thanks for that.”

His gaze flicked to you, something small softening in his expression. “They weren’t supposed to show up. I didn’t… want to make you uncomfortable.”

You stared at him for a second. Because that? That was the most he’d said to you since the day you met. And also maybe the most thoughtful thing anyone had said to you all week.

“…You didn’t,” you said, voice quieter now. “Uncomfortable, I mean.”

His eyes searched yours for a second, like he didn’t quite believe you.

Then he looked away. “Good.”

You both stood there for a moment—just outside the building now, the cold air nipping at your cheeks, the sun sliding low behind campus buildings.

You finally broke the silence, tugging your bag higher on your shoulder. “So… should we try again? Like, library, take two? Maybe somewhere your friends won’t crash?”

He hesitated.

Then, finally—finally—he gave a small nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

You smiled. “Cool. I’ll bring snacks this time.”

He glanced sideways at you. “I don’t eat while I study.”

“Of course you don’t,” you said, sighing dramatically. “You probably highlight in perfect straight lines too.”

“…Sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes. “God. You’re such a nerd.”

But he didn’t say anything to that.

Just that same tiny twitch at the corner of his lips.

And for the first time since you met him, you didn’t feel like you were chasing him.

You felt like maybe—just maybe—he was meeting you halfway.

Sunghoon should’ve known they wouldn’t just leave.

He exhaled slowly as he stepped out into the cold, the library door thudding shut behind him—and there he was.

Sunoo. Leaning against a bike rack like he’d been waiting for him since the dawn of time. His bleach-blond hair glowed under the dying sun, and his jacket was entirely too thin for the temperature, but he looked completely unbothered. Smug, even.

The second he spotted Sunghoon, his whole face lit up. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

Sunghoon gave him a flat look. “Why are you still here?”

“Because Jay and Jake went to get smoothies, and I wasn’t about to sit through their disgusting couple energy. Plus,” Sunoo grinned, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Sunghoon didn’t stop walking. “No.”

“You didn’t even hear what it was!”

“I already know it’s something annoying.”

Sunoo skipped a few steps ahead to block his path, walking backwards now, eyes wide and suspiciously innocent. “So… who’s the girl?”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Group project partner.”

Sunoo squinted at him. “Right. And I’m totally just here to study Heeseung and his girlfriend’s dysfunction like a science experiment.”

“She’s not my type,” Sunghoon muttered, looking away.

“You don’t even have a type.”

“Exactly.”

Sunoo hummed like he didn’t buy that for a second. “She’s cute.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything.

“And funny. And a little chaotic. But in a fun, like, ‘I talk to my plants and lose my keys twice a day’ kind of way.”

Still, no response.

Sunoo leaned in closer, eyes glittering. “Do you like her?”

Sunghoon stopped walking. Just stared at him, unreadable.

Sunoo smirked. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone.” He started to turn, then glanced back. “Actually—wait. Can I have her number?”

Sunghoon blinked. “What?”

“Just to be friends! Gosh. You think you’re the only one allowed to befriend hot, unbothered chaos girls?”

“You met her for like two minutes.”

Sunoo grinned. “And that’s all I needed. I have a sense for people. And she’s my kind of people.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened.

“She’s part of our circle now,” Sunoo added, sing-song. “You brought her in. There’s no going back.”

“I didn’t bring her in,” he muttered.

“You literally let her follow you out of the library like a lost puppy.”

“I did not.”

“You didn’t stop her.”

Sunghoon looked away.

Sunoo smiled, victorious. “So? Her number?”

Sunghoon glared at him. “Ask her yourself.”

Sunoo squealed dramatically, spinning around on his heel. “Oh my god, I will. I’ll text her right after I follow her on Insta. This is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Behind him, Sunghoon muttered under his breath.

“…What was that?” Sunoo called over his shoulder.

“Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing.

Because for some reason, the idea of Sunoo texting you made something uncomfortable twist in his chest.

And he didn’t want to think too hard about why.

You sat on your bed that night, still in your jeans and hoodie, your bag half-unpacked on the floor, laptop open but untouched, and brain moving at 300 miles per hour.

Your phone buzzed.

Stella:

Did you die or did Sunghoon kiss you or did you die because Sunghoon kissed you. I need updates.

You groaned, flopping onto your back and lifting your phone above your face.

Me:

None of the above. His friends ambushed us mid-study session and fully acted like I was his girlfriend. In public.

Stella:

WAIT. Which friends. Are they hot. I need names and Instas.

You sighed dramatically.

Me:

Jay. Jake (with his girlfriend). And some guy named Sunoo who said Heeseung and his girl were screaming again.

Also I think Sunoo might be my new best friend. He glows. Like??? How.

Stella:

JAY? As in soccer boy Jay?? Jake the business major? THEY WERE ALL THERE? NOOO I WAS ON THE WRONG CAMPUS TODAY.

Also Sunoo’s TikTok skin care routine is literally witchcraft I’ve seen it.

You laughed quietly to yourself, phone clutched to your chest for a second as your smile slowly faded into something more thoughtful.

Because, honestly?

You’d expected today to be awkward. Maybe awful.

You did not expect to feel… kind of okay.

Actually, more than okay.

Sure, you wanted to sink into the earth and die when Jay said you looked like you wanted it to be a date.

But then Sunghoon had looked actually annoyed—for you. And when you caught up to him, he didn’t walk away. He didn’t ignore you. He let you talk, let you tease him. Even cracked a tiny smile that made your entire brain short-circuit.

He didn’t seem like the type to say much. But he listened. And he noticed things. Like whether you were uncomfortable. Like how loud his friends could be.

That mattered more than you expected.

Your phone buzzed again.

Stella:

Okay but real talk. Did you feel anything? Like when you were sitting next to him? Being in his aura or whatever?

You stared at the screen for a second, then slowly typed:

Me:

Yeah.

He wore glasses.

I’m ruined.

Stella:

…That’s fair.

You rolled over, kicking your legs up and burying your face into your pillow with a groan. This wasn’t supposed to be a thing. You were supposed to get through the semester, maybe stare at him from afar a few more times, graduate with dignity.

Now? Now you were saving a contact in your phone as:

Park Sunghoon (Glasses = my downfall).

And you had a very bad feeling this was only the beginning.

The next morning, you got to class early. Like painfully early. Which was weird, because you were usually a chronic just-in-time kind of student—just enough hustle to not be late, never early enough to raise suspicion. But today? You practically skipped through the lecture hall doors, iced coffee in hand and a hopeful delusion bouncing around in your head like a movie trailer.

You spotted him right away—Sunghoon, in his usual seat near the window, hoodie pulled over his head like a warning sign, eyes glued to something on his laptop. Stoic. Brooding. Beautiful in that intimidating, I-read-whole-textbooks-for-fun kind of way. You took your seat beside him without hesitation this time. Victory, right? You were learning. Evolving. No more fear. Just controlled chaos and denial. He glanced at you as you sat. Said nothing. But you were used to that by now. Instead, you sipped your coffee and let your mind wander—straight into fantasyland.

Scenario One: You two finish the project early. Miraculously early. And somehow, that leaves just enough time for a casual, post-study hangout. Maybe he’s like, “I know this café down the street, wanna go?” And you act totally chill even though you’re internally combusting, and then one drink turns into two, and then next thing you know—

Scenario Two: He starts talking more. Like, actually talking. Maybe even laughing. You learn he’s got this dry, sarcastic sense of humor. The glasses make a comeback. He pushes them up while making some off-hand comment about people-watching or Nietzsche or whatever he reads for fun, and you just melt.

Scenario Three: He thanks you—like, really thanks you—for making the project more tolerable. You say something witty. He says something slightly flirty. There’s eye contact. And maybe, just maybe, he asks you to hang out again even after the project is over.

You blinked, realizing you were smiling into your coffee like an idiot.

“…What.” You jumped a little. Sunghoon was staring at you now, one brow raised behind his lashes, suspicious. You cleared your throat. “What?”

“You were smiling like you won something.” You coughed into your drink. “Oh. Um. No. Just… thinking.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “About?” You hesitated. You. Your stupid hoodie. Your stupid perfect jawline. How good your hands looked when you typed. Us getting married in a cozy bookstore-themed wedding. “…The project,” you lied.

He stared for another second, then looked back at his screen like he didn’t believe you but also didn’t care enough to argue. Your cheeks were burning. You turned toward the front of the room, pretending to listen to the professor. But in your head? The fake scenarios were still playing. And in all of them, Sunghoon never scoffed and walked away again.

You weren’t even sure how you got on the topic of astrology.

One second, you were casually mentioning your moon sign, and the next, you were ten minutes deep into a rant about compatibility charts, birth time accuracy, and how Mercury retrograde was definitely to blame for your chronic inability to meet deadlines.

You were in it—hands flailing, iced coffee half-forgotten, your voice carrying across your little corner of the library like a talk show guest who forgot she wasn’t mic’d.

“And I’m not saying it’s always accurate, but like—come on, I’ve never met a Leo moon who didn’t want attention in the most dramatic way—”

Then you looked at him.

And he was watching you.

Not glancing. Not politely nodding. Not half-focused while typing something on his laptop.

No.

Park Sunghoon was sitting completely still, chin slightly tilted, dark eyes locked on you like he was seeing you—really seeing you—for the first time.

And it hit you all at once: the weight of his gaze. The fact that he hadn’t interrupted you once. The way his expression wasn’t annoyed or bored or even confused.

Just… quiet.

Focused.

Curious.

Your words trailed off mid-sentence. You felt your mouth go dry.

“I, um…” you stammered, blinking hard and glancing down at your hands. “Sorry. I was rambling again.”

A beat passed.

He didn’t respond right away. You peeked up.

He was still looking at you.

For someone who rarely spoke, he really didn’t need words to fluster you.

You quickly turned back to your laptop and muttered, “We should probably get back to the outline.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than usual, but not in a bad way. Just… different.

Like maybe something had shifted. And he noticed it too.

And for once, you were the quiet one.

One week later.

You didn’t know when it happened—if it was the third study session or the way he started waiting for you outside class without saying anything, just casually lingering like he wasn’t—but something had definitely shifted.

He still wasn’t talkative, not by any stretch. Park Sunghoon was still the same quiet, unreadable guy who typed like he was solving a national crisis and stared at his laptop like it offended him. But now, sometimes… he looked at you like you were the more interesting problem.

You noticed it during Wednesday’s library session. You were scribbling notes, brain on overdrive like usual, when you cracked a dumb joke under your breath about Freud being the original red flag. And he—Sunghoon—actually smirked.

Not a full laugh. Not even a chuckle.

But a smirk. Like his mouth twitched and everything.

You were so shocked you nearly dropped your pen.

Now, seven days into being partners, your nerves still spiked whenever he looked directly at you. Which—terrifyingly—he did more often now.

Today, though, you were running late. Again. You’d had a 10-minute breakdown over whether your hoodie looked “accidentally cute” or “accidentally homeless.” When you finally rushed into the same table by the window, Sunghoon was already there—hoodie up, laptop open, long legs stretched out like he owned the entire row.

You skidded into the seat across from him, breathless and messy as usual. “Hi! Sorry—I didn’t mean to be late, I got distracted because I was reorganizing my playlist and then I realized I accidentally put a breakup song on my walking-to-class mix and it ruined my whole mood—anyway, I’m here!”

He blinked up at you.

“You always talk like you haven’t taken a breath in ten minutes,” he said flatly.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself—then paused.

Because even though his words were dry as ever, there was a glint in his eyes. A little tease. The ghost of amusement.

You grinned, emboldened. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta fill the silence between us.”

He didn’t argue.

Instead, he pushed your coffee toward you like he’d been holding onto it.

You blinked. “Wait. Did you—?”

“You always get the same one,” he said, shrugging, eyes flicking back to his screen. “You were ten minutes late. I figured.”

Your stomach did a weird flip.

It was a tiny thing. Barely even a moment. But it was the first time he’d done something unprompted—something thoughtful.

Something soft.

You sat down slowly, hands warming around the cup.

Before, you were a loud girl with a crush and no courage.

Now, you were still loud. Still spiraling. Still catching yourself staring when he wasn’t looking.

But somewhere in the middle of library study sessions, awkward silence, and shared glances that lingered a little too long—

Maybe he was starting to fall too.

Later that night, you were back in your dorm, lying on your bed with your laptop propped on your stomach and your Spotify playing in the background. You were supposed to be finalizing the last few slides of the presentation, but instead, you were deep in the Notes app—typing out possible conversation starters like a 14-year-old girl prepping for a first date.

Which it wasn’t, obviously.

It was just a group project. A graded group project. Which meant this mild obsession with Park Sunghoon was wildly unprofessional.

Still, your brain didn’t care.

He remembered your coffee order.

He smirked at your joke.

He bought your coffee.

You flopped your head to the side with a groan and rolled over, phone slipping out of your hand. “I’m losing it.”

From across the room, Stella didn’t even look up from her phone. “You lost it when you called his handwriting sexy.”

“I never said that out loud.”

She looked at you now. “Babe. You whispered it during your FaceTime call with me while you were editing your shared Google Doc.”

You grabbed a pillow and launched it at her. She caught it with a grin and tossed it back.

“So?” you said, burying your face in it. “Is it crazy to think he might kind of like me too? Just a little?”

Stella shrugged. “I don’t know. He bought your coffee. That’s a huge deal for an introvert. It took me three months to get my introvert ex to say good morning first.”

You peeked over the pillow. “You think he’s soft under all that broody quietness?”

“I think he’s already soft,” she said, nonchalant. “You’re just the only person loud enough to poke through it.”

You blinked.

Huh.

It was a weirdly sweet thought.

You stared at the ceiling for a long moment, your brain doing its usual rom-com spiral. Imagining more coffee. A casual movie hangout after your project was done. Him smiling at you again. Him taking off his hoodie and you realizing he was even hotter underneath it

Your phone buzzed.

You nearly flipped off the bed grabbing it.

Park Sunghoon: Do you want to meet earlier tomorrow? Library’s crowded after 5.

Your heart skipped. He messaged you first.

You scrambled to reply, fingers shaking just a bit.

You:Yeah totally! I can do 3?

Three dots.

Park Sunghoon: Cool.

You smiled down at your phone. Not a date. Not even flirting, technically. But still… something. And it was enough to make your chest feel a little lighter as you sank back into your pillow, grinning like a complete idiot.You were definitely being dramatic.

It was just a study session. Just Sunghoon. Just your project partner.

And yet here you were, standing in front of your mirror like you were about to walk into a k-drama confession scene.

You’d tried to be casual about it at first—grabbed your usual hoodie, pulled your hair into a messy bun, told yourself today would be like any other work day. But then you’d caught your reflection and froze.

Nope.

Not today.

Today, something in your brain snapped—the part that remembered the way Sunghoon looked at you last time. The way he handed you your coffee without saying much but still said everything.

So now here you were, smoothing down the pleats of your white skirt, the fabric light and soft, bouncing just slightly with every step. You’d tucked in a pastel pink top—simple but flattering, cinched at the waist, with a soft neckline that somehow made your collarbones look like they belonged in a Pinterest moodboard.

You curled your hair into soft waves, taking your time with each section like you were preparing for a date—which again, it wasn’t. But your hair looked good, and that was reason enough.

Then came the makeup—just enough to brighten your face. A little concealer, a swipe of blush, dewy highlight, and a soft pink gloss that matched your shirt perfectly. Not too much. Not trying too hard. Just enough to feel… confident.

You stepped back and looked at yourself. Cute, but not overdone.

Like you just happened to roll out of bed this way. Like you totally didn’t spend an hour prepping for a guy who still hadn’t said more than five sentences in a row to you.

You grabbed your bag, gave yourself one last look in the mirror, and nodded. He won’t even notice, you told yourself. But your heart still raced anyway.

You arrived at the library fifteen minutes early.

Which was insane. You were never early. You were barely ever on time. But today, you found yourself practically floating through the entrance with way too much pep in your step for someone heading into a two-hour grind session.

You chose a table tucked near the windows, sunlight filtering in just enough to give you that natural-glow effect you hoped—just a little bit—he’d notice. You pulled out your laptop, opened your notebook, sipped your iced vanilla latte like it was some kind of calming potion and not a way to keep your hands from fidgeting.

Three minutes passed. Then five. Then eight.

And just when you started to spiral, you saw him. Black hoodie, dark jeans, headphones around his neck, glasses on. Glasses again? Was he trying to kill you?

He walked up without a word, dropped his bag in the seat next to you, and sat down like this was the most normal thing in the world.

You swallowed.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound breezy. “You’re early.”

“So are you.”

You blinked. He noticed?

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” you said, smiling before you could stop yourself.

“I notice things,” he said, not looking up from unzipping his backpack.

Your brain promptly short-circuited.

You sat there a moment, trying to reboot your internal monologue, but he didn’t say anything else. Just pulled out his laptop, adjusted his glasses, and tapped a few keys like this was just another Tuesday.

You cleared your throat. “So… should we get started?”

He nodded, eyes flicking to the screen, and you did your best to focus, even though your heart was doing pirouettes in your chest.

Ten minutes in, he finally glanced sideways.

His eyes skimmed over you—your top, your hair, the soft gloss on your lips—and then right back to the screen.

Nothing in his expression changed.

But.

You swore the tips of his ears turned just the slightest bit pink.

It all happened so fast.

One second you were typing away, trying to figure out how to transition from your statistics slide to Sunghoon’s part about correlation, and the next, your phone buzzed with a message that made your stomach drop to the floor.

Mom:

hey—don’t panic. he’s stable. but your dad’s in the hospital. car accident. he’s asking for you.

The panic part, unfortunately, arrived immediately.

You gasped. Shot up from your seat like you’d been burned.

Sunghoon looked up, brows furrowed. “What’s—?”

“I—I have to go,” you blurted, already shoving your laptop into your bag with shaky hands. “My dad—he’s in the hospital—I have to—”

You didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t think to explain. Didn’t notice your phone sliding between the cushions of the library couch when you stood too fast. You were gone before Sunghoon could even stand.

He sat there for a while, blinking after you, confused and more than a little startled. But when the shock wore off, he assumed you just needed time. He figured you’d text when you got the chance.

Except… you didn’t. Thirty minutes passed. Then forty-five.

The seat next to him stayed empty. And despite the hum of the library, all he could hear was the faint echo of how your voice cracked when you said hospital.

He exhaled slowly and reached for his phone.

Pulled up your contact. You’re just checking. That’s it, he told himself.

He tapped the call button. And then frowned. Because your phone—the one he was calling—was… right there. Left on the couch like a forgotten piece of clothing, glowing faintly with the light from the screen. Missed calls. Texts. And one lockscreen wallpaper of you and your roommate pulling dumb faces at the camera.

He reached for it, reluctantly.

And that’s when he saw it.

Right there at the top of the screen, when the missed call alert faded away, was his name.

Park Sunghoon (Glasses = Downfall)

He stared at it. And blinked. And stared again.

Because it wasn’t just Park Sunghoon. It was “Glasses = Downfall.”

He slowly leaned back against the couch, completely thrown off, a mix of confusion and God, was that amusement?—starting to crawl across his face. Of course you saved his contact like that. Of course. He pressed his lips together, unsure if he was more concerned about you… or the way his chest actually tightened when he realized your phone was still here, and you weren’t.

Sunghoon was still sitting there, completely frozen, your phone in one hand and that ridiculous contact name burning a hole in his brain, when a familiar voice cut through the air like a ray of chaotic sunlight.

“Oh my God, is that her phone?”

Sunghoon looked up just in time to see Sunoo appear at the end of the aisle, eyebrows raised and lips already curled into a knowing smirk. His blond hair was perfectly styled, skin glowing like he drank actual light for breakfast, and he was strutting over like he owned the entire building.

“I knew something felt off,” Sunoo continued, stopping in front of the table. “She never leaves her phone anywhere. Last time she lost it for five minutes she had a full existential breakdown and accused Stella of cursing her.”

Sunghoon blinked, still not sure what to do with the phone in his hand—or the smirk that kept trying to tug at the corner of his own lips.

“She left in a rush,” he muttered, eyes flicking back down to the screen. “Family emergency.” Sunoo’s expression shifted instantly, eyes softening. “Wait—seriously? Sunghoon nodded once. “She said her dad’s in the hospital. She didn’t say much. Just left.”

“Shit,” Sunoo said, frown pulling at his mouth. “That’s… crap. Do you know which hospital?” Sunghoon hesitated. “No. I tried calling. That’s when I realized her phone’s still here.” Sunoo sighed and slid into the chair across from him, tapping his own phone screen rapidly. “I’ll call Stella. She might know something. Or at least be able to get in touch with her mom or something.”

Sunghoon gave a slow nod, leaning back again as he watched Sunoo work through his contact list like a professional. The tension in his chest refused to ease, even as help arrived.

“Oh, and by the way,” Sunoo said casually, glancing up with that glint in his eye. “You’re totally blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Sunoo grinned. “Glasses equals downfall? I mean, really? I should’ve known.”Sunghoon cleared his throat and looked away, ears tinged unmistakably pink.

Sunoo smirked. “So… are we finally admitting someone has a little crush?”

“She left her phone,” Sunghoon muttered.

Sunoo leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, completely unfazed. “Mhm. And you’re staring at her lockscreen like it’s a live stream. Just admit it, Hoonie.”

“I’m not calling you that.”

“You didn’t say no to the crush part.” Sunghoon sighed deeply, resting his head back against the seat as Sunoo grinned like he’d just won a game no one else knew they were playing. Silence settled again for a beat—until Sunoo’s phone lit up.

“Stella’s typing,” he said, glancing down. “I’ll keep you posted. You just sit there and keep pining dramatically.”

“I’m not—”

“Sure, sure.” Sunoo winked. “Keep telling yourself that, Mr. Downfall.” Sunoo’s phone buzzed, and he glanced down.

“Stella says she doesn’t know which hospital either,” he said, brow furrowed. “But—and I quote—‘I know her lockscreen passcode because we are married spiritually.’” Sunghoon blinked. “That’s… specific.”

“She says it’s her birthday. Not Y/N’s. Hers.”

Sunghoon stared at the phone in his hand. “Why would it be Stella’s birthday?” Sunoo smirked. “Because Y/N is a simp. Obviously.” Sunghoon inhaled, then exhaled like this was already too much for one day. Still, he typed it in. The screen unlocked.

Sunoo immediately leaned over the table like it was a hot gossip vault opening in real time. “Okay, try checking her notes. Or her location app. She has a tracker on her parents, I swear—oh wait.”

He stopped. Sunghoon had paused, fingers hovering over the screen. Because the phone didn’t open to the home screen. It opened to her messages. With Stella.

And the last message sitting right there at the top read:

Y/N:

sunghoon is wearing glasses today i need the ground to take me out respectfully

Sunghoon’s jaw ticked.

He didn’t scroll. He should’ve scrolled. But he didn’t need to. Because Sunoo saw it too—and gasped like he’d just seen a scandal unfold on live television. “Oh my GOD—scroll up. Scroll up right now.”

“I’m not—”

“GIVE ME THE PHONE.”

Sunghoon sighed in defeat and scrolled up two or three lines, just enough for Sunoo to snatch the phone halfway through and start reading aloud in a dramatic whisper:

Y/N:

i swear to god i’m trying to focus

but his glasses. HIS GLASSES STELLA

why did nobody prepare me for this man to look like a kdrama male lead in a hoodie and glasses combo i’m actually in pain

he said ‘can you pass me the charger’ and i almost proposed right then and there

guys I swear his shoulder look extra broad today

Sunoo smacked the table. “SHE ALMOST PROPOSED.” Sunghoon covered his face with one hand, voice muffled. “Please stop.”

“Oh, I’m never stopping. You’re officially her villain origin story. I can’t breathe.”

Sunghoon reached across the table, retrieved the phone with a blank expression, and locked the screen again. “We’re supposed to be figuring out which hospital her dad’s at.”Sunoo, still giggling, waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I’m texting Stella for the tracking app now. But I need you to know that she was down so bad she literally contemplated death-by-glasses. That’s… that’s poetry.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond. But the tips of his ears were pink again. And this time, he didn’t bother trying to hide them.

Sunghoon was halfway zipped up, bag slung over one shoulder, already mentally mapping the route to the hospital when Sunoo crossed his arms and tilted his head with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

“You know,” he said slowly, “you could save yourself so much embarrassment if you just admitted it.” Sunghoon didn’t pause. “Admitted what.”

“That you like her.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh?” Sunoo snatched Y/N’s phone off the table with a mischievous grin and unlocked it again. “Then I guess I’ll just keep reading her adorable little breakdowns about your glasses, and your hoodies, and—oh look—your ‘annoyingly attractive handwriting.’”

Sunghoon turned just enough to give him a warning look. “You’re making that up.”

“Sexy handwriting,” Sunoo repeated dramatically, scrolling. “Sexy. She called your handwriting sexy. Who even notices that in a group project? Oh wait—Y/N does, because she’s clearly unhinged about you and—oh my God.”

He stopped.

“Oh my God. She drew little hearts around your name in her notes app.” Sunghoon ran a hand down his face. “Sunoo.”

“I will stop,” Sunoo said sweetly, “if you admit you like her.”

“I don’t.”

Sunoo stared at him. Sunghoon stared right back, completely unreadable, posture cool and relaxed like he hadn’t just heard you almost died over the way he wore his glasses. The silence stretched. Finally, Sunoo groaned and dropped back into his seat, tossing the phone down like it offended him. “Ugh. You’re so boring.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond—just adjusted the strap on his bag, eyes flicking toward the exit. But if Sunoo had been paying attention to the way his fingers curled slightly against his side, or how his ears had gone just a shade pinker again… He might’ve known that silence wasn’t denial.

Sunghoon left the library with your phone in his pocket, steps quiet but fast as he crossed campus, hoodie drawn up just enough to shadow his face. He didn’t want to be noticed. He never did. But today especially—not with your words still echoing in his head like some cursed audio loop.

“kdrama male lead in a hoodie and glasses.”

It was ridiculous. And yet… somehow, it made the corners of his mouth twitch in the stupidest way. He forced it down, gripping the strap of his bag tighter.

The hospital wasn’t far. He caught the next bus downtown and kept checking your phone every few minutes—not that there were any new messages. But maybe… maybe Stella would text. Or your mom. Or you.

He shouldn’t be this tense. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He wasn’t even your friend, really. Just a group project partner who somehow got dragged into your world like a moth to a sparkly, chaotic flame.

But still—he needed to know you were okay.

And despite everything, despite the teasing and the denial and the unread messages, he didn’t leave that hospital lobby until someone told him where to find you.

Meanwhile, back in your hospital room, you were staring at the blank TV screen, hand curled loosely around a paper cup of vending machine coffee that tasted like burnt regret.

Your dad was stable, resting just down the hall. You were grateful—more than grateful—but you’d never felt so unmoored. Like you were floating outside of your body.And on top of it all… your phone was gone.

You groaned quietly and buried your face in your hands. “Of all days,” you muttered. Your soul was actively leaving your body just thinking about it. The door creaked open.

You lifted your head, expecting a nurse, maybe your mom.

Instead—there he was. Park Sunghoon. Black zip-up, jeans, perfect hair, and those same glasses that had quite literally rearranged your brain chemistry. Holding your phone. And looking… weirdly hesitant.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Your eyes widened. “You—what—how did you—?”

“You left this,” he said, holding the phone out like it burned. “At the library. Sunoo and Stella figured out how to track you. I came to check if you were okay.”

You stared at him. Your phone. His glasses. Your life. All colliding in one surreal moment. And then, quietly, Sunghoon added, “Your dad… he’s alright?” You nodded, still dumbstruck. “Yeah. Yeah, just banged up. He’s resting.” QA small, relieved breath escaped him. You took your phone slowly, your fingers brushing his, and suddenly every single message you’d sent Stella flashed before your eyes in a horror montage.

He had your phone.

He read your texts.

He knew.

You swallowed. “Did you… uh… see…”

He looked at you, eyes steady behind the lenses. Then—just the faintest quirk of his lips.

“You have a really dramatic way of complimenting glasses,” he said.

You made a noise that could only be described as a muffled scream into your coffee cup. And Sunghoon—stoic, introverted Sunghoon—actually laughed. Soft and low.

But real. And it was worse than the glasses. It was so much worse.

You wanted to melt into the hospital bed and never be seen again. Just fully disappear. Cease to exist. Have your body donated to science and your soul banished to another timeline where you never sent those texts and Park Sunghoon never—never—saw the words “sexy handwriting.”

But you were stuck here. In this room. With him. And the phone that had betrayed you.

You forced out a breath and tried to smile through your humiliation. “I was… under a lot of emotional distress. You know. Midterm season. Lack of sleep. Temporary delusion.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You wrote a three-message breakdown about my glasses before midterms even started.”

You blinked at him. “You read that far?”

He hesitated. Too long. Then shrugged lightly, gaze flicking to the floor. “Sunoo was reading out loud. I… couldn’t stop him.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m just going to die right here and haunt this room forever.”

Sunghoon stayed quiet for a second.

Then he said, “I didn’t hate it.” Your hands dropped from your face like you’d been electrocuted.

“What?”

He looked vaguely uncomfortable now, like the words had escaped before he could catch them. His fingers tugged at the zipper of his hoodie, eyes fixed on the floor. “The texts. I didn’t hate them.” You stared at him.

“No one’s ever said I looked like a… kdrama lead before,” he muttered. Your voice was barely above a whisper. “You do, though.”

Silence stretched between you. Long and awkward and warm in a way that made your stomach flip. Finally, you cleared your throat. “So… uh… thank you. For coming. Really. You didn’t have to.” He glanced up again, eyes soft behind the glasses. “I wanted to.”

Your brain short-circuited again. Before either of you could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. A nurse poked her head in. “Visiting hours end in ten, guys.”

Sunghoon gave a quick nod. “Right. I’ll go.” He turned to you, pausing just before the door.

“Text me when you get home?” he said, voice quiet. You blinked. “You want me to text you?” He looked away again, almost shy now. “Yeah. Just so I know you’re okay.” You nodded slowly. “Okay. I will.” He gave a little nod of his own, then slipped out the door. You stared after him, phone clutched in your hand, your entire body buzzing. And you didn’t even care anymore that he saw your texts.

Because maybe… Maybe he didn’t hate it.

The elevator doors slid shut with a quiet chime behind him. Sunghoon leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets, the cold metal pressing into his spine as he stared blankly ahead.

He hadn’t said much on the walk out of your room. He never did. Words weren’t really his thing—they always felt too heavy in his mouth, too slow to catch up to his thoughts. But somehow, tonight, they’d slipped out easier than usual.

“I didn’t hate them.”

“I wanted to.”

“Text me when you get home.”

He replayed those three lines over and over in his head, each one more revealing than he was used to. More open. Vulnerable, even. It made his chest tighten and something in his stomach twist in a way he didn’t totally understand. And then, before he could stop it—His reflection in the elevator doors caught it first.

A smile. Small. Barely there. But real.

His own face surprised him for a second. Like the muscles had moved without permission. His brows drew together slightly as he looked away, lips twitching back into something neutral. It wasn’t like him to smile over someone. But maybe… you weren’t just someone. Maybe you were starting to be the exception. And he wasn’t sure if that terrified him—or if it made him want to see you again even more.

The next morning, you were exhausted.

You’d barely slept. Between your dad being stable (thank god), the hospital vending machine coffee that had no right being that strong, and the emotional rollercoaster of Park Sunghoon seeing your texts, your brain was absolutely fried.

And yet, there you were—walking into lecture half-dazed with a granola bar in one hand and your phone in the other, scanning the room instinctively.

Your eyes found him instantly.

And you nearly tripped over your own feet.

He was wearing the glasses again.

Same black zip-up. Head down, hair a little messier today. But the glasses were there—slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose as he scribbled something in his notebook.

You froze for a second in the aisle, mid-step, like your brain blue-screened. People filtered around you, annoyed, but you didn’t care. He had to know what he was doing. There was no way he didn’t, not after reading your breakdown in full 4K resolution on your phone the night before.

You finally sat down, heart doing cartwheels in your chest, and tried not to glance back every ten seconds. But of course, your eyes betrayed you. You looked again.

And this time… he looked back.

Just a flicker of his eyes over the top of his notebook. A half-second longer than necessary. Then he turned away. But that half-second? It felt like it lasted hours. And even though you were 99% sure you were hallucinating everything—You swore he was smiling.

You: stella.

You: STELLA.

You: he’s wearing the glasses again.

You: I REPEAT. THE GLASSES. ARE. ON.

You: I am not well. I will not survive this class.

You: If I stop texting it’s because I’ve passed away from ✨visual overstimulation✨

You: and I look like a sewer rat today WHY is the universe like this

You were hunched over your phone like it was sacred scripture, thumbs flying, your screen dimmed just enough to look sneaky, but bright enough to see the disaster you were creating in real time.

You didn’t notice the presence behind you until it shifted. The air moved. Subtle.

“…You text like you’re narrating a crisis.”

You froze. No. No no no no no. That voice. You turned slowly. And there he was. Park Sunghoon. Reading your texts. Looking entirely unbothered. Glasses still on.

You stared up at him, every cell in your body internally combusting one by one.

“I—uh—”

He blinked down at you, face unreadable, then raised an eyebrow. “Sewer rat?” You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. And then the corner of his mouth tugged up. Just slightly.

“You look fine,” he said, voice quiet. And just like that, your brain did the only logical thing it could in that moment. It short-circuited. Completely.

You were still staring at him.

He’d walked away—already halfway to his seat like nothing happened—but you were frozen in place, still clutching your phone, eyes wide, brain buffering like it needed a software update.

He said you looked fine. He said you looked fine.

You hadn’t even washed your hair last night. You were pretty sure there was highlighter on your cheekbone that didn’t belong there. Your socks didn’t match. And this man—this walking iceberg of introversion—looked you dead in the eye and said you looked fine.

Your fingers finally remembered how to move.

You: STELLA

You: HE SAW MY TEXTS

You: AND THEN SAID I LOOKED “FINE”

You: STELLA I AM NOT OK

You: AM I HALLUCINATING???

You: IS THIS FLIRTING??? OR IS HE JUST… NICE???

Stella: what’s the difference

Stella: actually nvm HE CALLED YOU FINE BYE

Stella: u need to marry him IMMEDIATELY

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the dumb grin threatening to take over your entire face. You were not going to smile like a maniac in class. Not in front of him. You looked up. And immediately made eye contact with him. He was already watching you.

Not in an obvious way. But he hadn’t even opened his laptop yet. Just sitting there, elbow on the desk, head tilted slightly like he was waiting for your next move. You blinked. He looked away first. But the corner of his mouth twitched again. And this time—you smiled.

It was Friday night, and your dorm smelled like kettle popcorn, cheap wine coolers, and the faint singe of a burnt microwave pizza. Stella was sprawled across her bed, wearing fuzzy socks and eyeliner like she was going to war. Sunoo sat cross-legged on the floor with a giant bag of sour gummy worms and a pen tucked behind his ear like he was the host of Jeopardy.

You were halfway through a lukewarm sip of grape soda when Sunoo clapped his hands together like a villain hatching a plan.

“Okay,” he said dramatically, pointing the pen at you. “What if—plot twist—we invite Sunghoon to trivia night?” You almost choked. “What?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “You heard me. Tall, pale, wears glasses, makes your heart do backflips—that Sunghoon.” You immediately waved him off, face heating up. “No, no, no. Trivia night is sacred. It’s for us, and our weird little brains. He doesn’t even talk during normal group work. You think he’s gonna scream out ‘Switzerland’ during world geography?”

“Exactly why it would be hilarious,” Sunoo grinned. “Plus, he already likes you.”

“I—he doesn’t—”

Stella looked up from her phone and cut in, “He said you looked fine when you looked like you’d just rolled out of a 2009 Tumblr grunge blog. That’s basically a confession in Sunghoon language.”

You buried your face in your pillow. “I can’t. He’ll say no. He’ll probably run in the opposite direction and drop the course.” Sunoo shrugged. “So? At least then we’ll know he’s terrified of fun and allergic to joy.” There was a beat of silence. Then Stella said, “Or maybe—he’ll come.” You slowly peeked over the pillow. Sunoo smirked. “Wanna find out?” You didn’t say yes.But you did start typing.

You stared at his text reply for a solid ten seconds.

Sunghoon: I don’t think I’m a trivia night type of person.

Ugh. Of course he wasn’t. He was the study-in-silence, read-complicated-books-for-fun, looks-too-good-in-glasses type of person. You chewed your lip and typed back.

You: it’s not that serious!! it’s just a fun little thing!! u can even sit in the corner and judge us in silence like u always do

You: pls sunghoon

You: pls pls pls

You: I’ll owe u forever

You: like forever forever

You: like I will never ask u for anything again ever unless it’s for help opening a jar or fighting off a ghost

You: pls

The little typing dots popped up. Disappeared. Came back.

Sunghoon: …what time.

You let out a squeal so loud that Sunoo jumped and flung a gummy worm at your forehead.

“I take it he said yes?” he deadpanned. You grinned. “He said yes.” Stella threw her hands up. “THE POWER YOU HOLD.” Sunoo gasped, dramatically pressing his hand to his chest. “Should I prep an extra trivia round titled ‘Things That Make Y/N Weak in the Knees’? Number one: Park Sunghoon in glasses.” You grabbed a pillow and launched it at him, still grinning like a complete idiot. Trivia night just got a lot more dangerous.

The first round of trivia began, and you were already regretting your life choices.

Sunoo had been insistent about the rules. “If you get a question wrong, you take a shot of grape soju. It’s fun, it’s fair, and it’s how we build character.”

At first, you thought you could handle it. You weren’t a lightweight, and you could definitely stomach a little soju. But after one wrong answer, you could feel the heat of the alcohol creeping into your chest, and that was when you realized: This was going to be a disaster.

The first question was easy enough, something about ancient history, but you got it wrong anyway. You were too distracted, trying to avoid glancing at Sunghoon, who was sitting quietly in the corner, eyes occasionally flicking to your team’s answers.

“Looks like you’ve got a shot coming your way,” Sunoo said with a dramatic sigh, leaning back in his chair. “You know the drill.”

You took a deep breath and grabbed the small shot glass filled with the mysteriously purple liquid. You could feel Sunghoon’s eyes on you—probably the first time you were actually hyperaware of his gaze. Your fingers shook slightly as you raised the glass.

“To ancient history,” you muttered, making a face before knocking it back in one go.

The burn was immediate. Grape soju was sweet but deceptively strong, and you felt it hit the back of your throat like a truck. You immediately slammed the glass down, half-choking, trying to ignore the laughter from Sunoo and Stella.

“Alright, next question!” Sunoo was practically bouncing in his seat, enjoying your pain. “What’s the capital of…?”

But you barely heard him. You were too focused on not dying from the aftertaste of the soju. You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when—

“Uh, Y/N,” Sunghoon said softly, his voice cutting through the noise. You snapped your head to look at him, a little too fast, probably. “Huh?” He was still staring at his phone, but there was a flicker of something behind his glasses. “You missed your answer to the last question. It was ‘Rome.’”

You blinked at him. “Wait, really? You’re sure?” He didn’t look up, but his lips twitched. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Well,” you muttered, “I guess that means more soju for me.” You swore you caught the faintest, most reluctant smile from Sunghoon as he turned his attention back to the trivia board. DBut you were too busy silently dying from the soju to care about that.

Sunoo stood abruptly, grabbing his tote bag with a dramatic groan. “Okay, I love you all, but I have to go deal with my stupid brother who just tried to microwave a fork. Again.”

“That’s the third time this month,” Stella muttered.

“I know!” Sunoo wailed, already halfway out the door. “Natural selection is right there, but he keeps surviving!” Stella stood up not long after, stretching with an exaggerated yawn. “Well, I should probably head out too. I, uh… left my straightener on. I think.”

You blinked. “What? I thought you unplugged it?” Stella smiled sweetly, eyes flicking between you and Sunghoon. “Hmm, did I? Guess I’ll go find out.”

She was gone before you could even respond. Now it was just you and Sunghoon. Alone. In a room that felt way too quiet all of a sudden.

You turned slowly to look at him. He was just sitting there, sipping water, looking completely unbothered. Glasses slightly fogged up from the warmth of the room. Zip-up hoodie half unzipped.

You, meanwhile, were sweating through your soul. You stood up too fast. Way too fast. The room tilted. And then, everything spun.

The last thing you saw was his eyes widen in slow-motion before your knees buckled and you collapsed—Right into him. You weren’t exactly the type of girl he expected to pass out on him. But there you were. Full dead weight. Head against his chest, breath shallow, skin warm. His arms had instinctively wrapped around you before you could hit the floor, but now he was just… holding you. And trying very hard not to panic.

“Y/N?” he said softly, shaking your shoulder. “Y/N—hey. Are you okay?” No response. You just… mumbled something unintelligible and curled in a little closer. Sunghoon blinked.

His heart was doing a weird stuttering thing. He didn’t like it.

You smelled like peach lotion and grape soju. Your hair was brushing his jaw. He was very aware of how close your face was to his.

He exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip so you were slumped more comfortably against his side. Then he looked around helplessly, muttering to himself.

“This is what I get for showing up to trivia night.” Still, he didn’t push you off. Didn’t move.

In fact, he pulled his hoodie off and draped it around your shoulders, just in case you were cold. He was still holding you when you stirred a few minutes later. And he hated that part of him hoped you wouldn’t move. Not just yet.

Sunghoon didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t exactly trained in what to do when a girl passes out in your arms and also smells really good and your heart won’t stop doing weird gymnastics. So, naturally, he did the first logical thing:

He picked you up—awkwardly, carefully, like you were made of glass—and marched straight down the hall to Stella’s room. He knocked twice. Then again. Louder.

Stella opened the door a crack, chewing a piece of gum, her brows lifting when she saw you slumped half-conscious in his arms, wrapped in his hoodie like a weird little burrito.

“She’s fine,” Stella said, not even hesitating. Sunghoon blinked. “She fainted.”

“Yeah, from like three sips of soju. She does this. Lightheaded. Dramatic. A menace.” Stella leaned against the doorframe and popped her gum. “Just lay her down on the couch, she’ll wake up in like five minutes and scream about missing a skincare step.”

“…Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

Sunghoon looked down at you. Your lashes fluttered slightly, your cheek pressed against his chest, breath slow and even.

“She’s drooling,” he muttered under his breath. Stella grinned. “Yep. Sounds about right. Before he could argue more, she closed the door with a lazy, “You got this, lover boy.” He just stood there for a second, deadpan. Then turned and made his way back to the living room, still carrying you like you were a drunk kitten. He carefully knelt by the couch and laid you down, adjusting a pillow beneath your head and slipping off your shoes so you wouldn’t wake up with sore feet. You looked… soft like that. Peaceful. Lips parted slightly, hands curled near your chest, still wrapped in his hoodie.

Sunghoon sat back on his heels and sighed.

“This is insane,” he muttered. But he didn’t move away just yet.

You let out a tiny groan, barely awake, before slowly turning over on the couch—and promptly rolled right off. It all happened in slow motion for Sunghoon. One second you were peacefully drooling on the pillow, the next your body was halfway to the hardwood floor with all the grace of a sleepy baby deer.

“Shit—wait—”

He caught you just in time, arms shooting out to stop your head from bonking against the floor. Your face smushed into his hoodie again, limbs tangled awkwardly, and your eyes fluttered halfway open in a dazed blink.

“…mm?”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He just sat there on the floor beside the couch, exhaling sharply as he tried to situate you better. With zero idea what else to do—and absolutely no desire to wake Stella again—he gently shifted you, easing your head onto his lap.

You hummed softly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and curled in closer, like his leg was your designated pillow. Still barely awake. Still clearly unaware of everything happening. Sunghoon froze. Hands hovering. Brain static.

You looked so… small like this. Fragile. Sleepy and soft and completely unfiltered. The hoodie he gave you slipped down your shoulder, revealing the curve of your collarbone and the faintest shimmer of glitter from your makeup. A piece of hair stuck to your cheek. He moved it before he could stop himself.

He should’ve moved you back onto the couch. He should’ve gotten up and left. But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed still. Letting your breathing settle against his leg. Letting the room fall into a warm, weird quiet. And when you shifted again, murmuring something incomprehensible and curling your fingers around the fabric of his jeans—he didn’t say a word. Just stared down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching into the smallest, most confused smile.

The first thing you registered was warmth.

Not just the hoodie—though that was still wrapped snugly around your shoulders—but something heavier. Solid. Comforting. Something that smelled like clean laundry and mint and the faintest hint of boy.

And then you blinked your eyes open. Sunghoon. Your head was no longer just on his lap. You were in his lap. Full-on wrapped up in his arms, tucked against his chest like it was a survival instinct. One of his hands rested loosely on your back, the other curled by your waist, his breathing deep and steady, lips parted just slightly.

You didn’t move. You didn’t even breathe.

Oh my god. You were going to die. Actually die.

You could see the headline now: University Student Spontaneously Combusts from Proximity to Hot Introvert in Glasses.

You slowly peeled yourself out of his grip, as delicately as a bomb squad diffusing a mine, heart slamming in your chest the entire time. Somehow, miraculously, he didn’t stir. He just mumbled something low and incoherent in his sleep and adjusted slightly, brows furrowing for a second before settling back into what looked like the deepest sleep known to mankind.

You stared for a second. Just a second. Because what the hell. Then you bolted. You rushed down the hallway in socked feet, practically slammed open Stella’s bedroom door and—She didn’t even look up from her phone.

“I know,” she said, sipping her iced coffee. “And yes, I took a picture.” You froze. “What?!” Stella turned her phone around to show you the screen.

There it was. A full high-def, heart-attack-inducing image of you curled in Sunghoon’s lap, his arms around you, both of you asleep on the floor like a goddamn drama couple.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

“No, you don’t,” she grinned. “Now go wash your face. You drooled on his hoodie.”

You groaned and rubbed your face, trying to wipe off the secondhand embarrassment still clinging to your skin.

“Also,” you muttered, already backing out of Stella’s room, “send me those pictures. All of them. I need to know what level of unhinged I looked like.” Stella smirked around her straw. “Oh, babe. You looked whipped.” You pointed at her dramatically. “I will delete your contact.”

“You won’t.”

You didn’t respond, just turned and padded back down the hallway, heart still thumping like a drumline in your ears. You were about to sneak into the kitchen and grab some water to cool yourself down when you paused in the doorway of the living room.

And saw him .Awake.

Sitting on the couch now, hoodie still half-draped on him, hair tousled from sleep, glasses slightly askew. His eyes were on you. You froze. He blinked slowly. “You drool when you sleep.” Your soul left your body.

“No, I don’t,” you said way too quickly, straightening up like that would somehow erase the last twenty-four hours.

“You do.” He yawned into his hand. “A lot.” You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. “Why are you awake?”

“Why are you yelling?”

“I’m not—” you paused. Cleared your throat. “I wasn’t yelling.” He leaned his head against the back of the couch, eyes squinting like he was still somewhere between dream and reality. “You asked Stella to send the pictures.”

Oh god. He heard that? You stared at him, eyes wide. “Did you—did you hear everything?”

He looked at you. Quiet. Amused. And then—just barely—he smiled.

“I heard enough.” You stared at him, completely still.

“I heard enough,” he said again, softer this time, like he was trying not to laugh. The corners of his mouth twitched, and suddenly you couldn’t remember a single word in any human language.

“I—” You blinked. “You were supposed to be asleep.”

“I was.” He stretched a little, arms lifting above his head, hoodie riding up just enough to flash a glimpse of pale skin before he dropped them again. “Then I wasn’t. Mainly because someone kept squirming in her sleep like she was fighting demons.” You smacked your hand against your face. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You also talk in your sleep, apparently.”

“I do not.” He nodded solemnly, glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. “Something about my glasses being your downfall? Should I be worried?” Your jaw dropped.

You knew that message was on your phone. You knew he saw it.

“I’m gonna throw myself out the window,” you said, already backing away. But before you could flee into the depths of your embarrassment, he tilted his head and looked at you—really looked at you.

“I didn’t hate it,” he said. You froze.

“What?”

He shrugged. “You sleeping on me.” Your heart tripped over itself. His voice was calm. Still low and reserved like always. But something about the way he said it—the almost casual, sleepy honesty—sent your brain into freefall.

“…Are you still half asleep?” you asked cautiously.

“Maybe.”

You swallowed, trying not to combust.

“Well,” you muttered, fidgeting with your hoodie sleeve, “good. Because if you were fully awake, I’d probably be more embarrassed.”

He smiled again. And this time, it reached his eyes.

You didn’t know what to say after that.

Because what could you say when the boy you’d been lowkey (okay, highkey) obsessed with just told you he didn’t hate having you wrapped around him like a human blanket?

Nothing. That’s what.

So you just stood there, blinking at him, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands like they’d protect you from the way he was still looking at you. Like you were interesting. Like he wasn’t just quiet by nature but quiet because he was thinking and you were the subject.

You were fully prepared to melt into the floor.

“Well,” you finally said, clearing your throat. “I should… probably wash my face. And, like, process… everything.”

“Okay.”

“Right.”

You turned, took one step toward the hallway—and then stopped and looked over your shoulder.

“…Are you gonna pretend this didn’t happen later?” He raised an eyebrow. “The part where you passed out?”

“The part where I passed out on you.” He paused for a second, then stood up slowly, stretching again. The early morning light caught on the curve of his cheek, his glasses slightly fogged from sleep, hoodie still draped over his frame like it belonged there—like you had put it there.

“No,” he said simply. “I’m not pretending.” Then he walked past you, brushing shoulders as he headed toward the kitchen like he didn’t just ruin your whole ability to breathe.

You just stood there. Frozen. And the worst (or best?) part? You were grinning. Like an idiot.

You made it to the bathroom on autopilot.

Face = burning.

Heart = sprinting a marathon.

Soul = temporarily vacated your body.

You splashed cold water on your face like you were trying to reset your entire nervous system. Not pretending. Those two words echoed in your brain like a broken record. Not “it’s fine” or “don’t worry about it.” Not “that was weird” or “forget it ever happened.” He wasn’t brushing it off. He saw you—drooly, embarrassing, possibly cuddly—and didn’t want to pretend.

You were doomed.

You patted your face dry and stared at your reflection. Your cheeks were flushed, lips puffy from sleep, hair a mess from the couch. And still—still—you were smiling like a middle-schooler who just got asked to dance at prom.

You pulled out your phone with shaking hands.

Me: stella. stella i think im going into cardiac arrest

Me: he was awake. AWAKE. HE HEARD EVERYTHING.

Me: AND THEN SAID HE DIDN’T HATE IT

Me: AND THEN SAID HES NOT GONNA PRETEND IT DIDNT HAPPEN

Me: DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE EMERGENCY

The dots popped up almost instantly.

Stella: BREATHEEEE

Stella: girl idk whether to plan your wedding or your funeral

Stella: either way I’m bringing snacks

You snorted and shook your head, trying not to slide down the wall in emotional defeat. Then came another message.

Stella: also you left your lip gloss on the couch and he picked it up and put it in his pocket

Stella: do with that what you will

You froze. Lip gloss? In his pocket? You stared at your reflection again. Yep. Definitely time to plan your funeral.

The days after the project wrapped up had been an emotional rollercoaster.

You’d convinced yourself Sunghoon would slip back into his quiet, introverted world. That after everything, after all the moments you thought meant something, he’d go back to avoiding you and staying distant like before. You had tried to prepare yourself for it—convincing yourself it was fine, that you could handle it, that it was just the project that brought you together and nothing more.

But deep down, the idea that he’d stop talking to you again made your stomach twist. And you couldn’t shake the thought: Maybe it was just a one-time thing. Maybe I was just his partner. And now there’s no more reason for him to even look at me. You avoided checking your phone. You couldn’t bring yourself to. It was easier to stay in the quiet, heart-aching limbo where you could pretend nothing had changed.

But then, as you sat on your couch in your hoodie and sweatpants, watching a rerun of a show you didn’t even like to distract yourself, you heard a soft knock at the door. You froze, heart skipping a beat. You glanced at the clock. No way. He couldn’t…

But when you opened the door, there he was. Sunghoon. Standing on your doorstep, with one hand nervously holding a single, bright white flower. For a second, you couldn’t breathe. His usual quietness surrounded him like a second skin, but this time, there was something else in his eyes. Something unreadable, but so undeniably there that it made your heart pound.

“Hey,” he started, clearing his throat, his voice softer than usual. “Uh, I… I know school’s over, but, uh… I wanted to ask… if you’d go out with me. Like, outside of the project. Since, y’know, we don’t have anything else left to do.”

You blinked at him, unsure whether to laugh or cry or pass out from the sheer shock of what was happening.

Sunghoon, Park Sunghoon, the quiet boy with glasses, the one who you thought would never speak to you again, was standing there with a flower, asking you out. And for a moment, it felt like time froze.

“Are you… serious?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, looking both shy and unsure of himself, a far cry from the usually reserved Sunghoon. “Yeah. I don’t… really know how to do this, but… I’d like to take you out. If you want.”

Your heart stopped for a second. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to say of course, but your mind kept catching up with your racing heart, trying to process everything in the last few seconds. And then, finally, you spoke.

“Yes.”

His eyes softened as he offered the flower to you, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” you repeated, your voice more confident now. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

The air between you seemed to hum with a sudden, undeniable connection. You could feel your cheeks heating up, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the undeniable realization that maybe, just maybe, you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

You couldn’t stop smiling.

You tried. You really did. But every time you looked down at the flower in your hand—a little imperfect, probably plucked from someone’s front lawn or a park bush—you felt it again. That ridiculous, fluttery warmth curling in your chest, refusing to go away.

Sunghoon asked you out.

And not because he had to. Not because of a project or a group grade or a seating chart. But because he wanted to.

You were still holding the flower like it was made of glass, like if you squeezed too hard it might vanish. It was stupid how your brain was short-circuiting over one boy and one flower and one quiet sentence—but you’d been waiting for this. Hoping for it. Fantasizing about it, if you were being honest.

And now it was real.

“You’re staring,” Sunghoon said beside you, voice low and a little amused. You startled, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Was not.”

“You were.” You looked away, pretending to examine the sidewalk, the cars, the clouds—anything but the smug little smirk on his face. “Okay, maybe a little.”

He didn’t say anything back right away. Just walked beside you, hands shoved into his pockets, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He was wearing those glasses again—of course he was—and you didn’t know if it was on purpose or if this was just who he was now, but either way: you were suffering.

“You like the flower?” he asked after a pause, like he was trying not to sound like he cared about the answer too much. You looked at it again, smiling softly. “I love it. I’m naming it after you.”

“…You’re naming a flower after me?”

“Yup. Park Sunghoon the Second. A little awkward, but sweet once you get to know him.” He let out the smallest laugh. A real one.

And your heart did a front flip.

There was a silence after that—comfortable, not awkward. One of those rare quiets where everything feels calm. You weren’t rushing to fill the space, and neither was he. You were just walking, side by side, with nowhere to be except here.

Finally, Sunghoon said, “So… Friday. 7:00. You and me?”

You turned to him, grinning. “It’s a date.”

And this time, he smiled first.

Sunghoon was stressed.

Not the obvious kind, either. No pacing, no nervous rambling, no frantic texting. No—his kind of stress came in the form of sitting completely still on the edge of his bed, staring at the one (1) decent shirt he owned and thinking, Is this what people wear on dates? Do people even wear shirts on dates? What if I show up and she’s wearing something fancy and I look like a middle schooler going to church?

He hadn’t even put the shirt on yet. It was just… there. Staring back at him with judgment. Or maybe that was just his own reflection in the mirror. Either way, he was spiraling. Silently. But thoroughly. Meanwhile, on the other side of town, it was chaos.

“Okay, gloss or matte?” you shouted, holding up two lip products like your life depended on it.

“Gloss!” Sunoo said immediately. “It’s date night. You want him to think you’re kissable.” Stella raised a brow. “Do you want him to think that, though?”

You stared into the mirror, hair half curled, blush perfectly pink on your cheeks. “…Yes.”

They both screamed.

The room looked like a war zone—outfits scattered across your bed, makeup brushes covering the desk, heels and flats and boots thrown in different corners like a mini tornado had passed through your closet.

Sunoo held up your tiny pastel pink purse. “This one. It’s giving soft girl danger.”

“I second that,” Stella said, adjusting your curling wand temperature like she was your personal glam squad. “Okay, close your eyes, I’m doing the final spray.” You did as told, heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

This wasn’t just any date. This was Sunghoon.

And somewhere across town, Sunghoon was now staring at himself in the mirror, glasses on, hair tousled, that same black zip-up from the library night over a clean tee. He looked… okay. But he felt like imploding. What if I say the wrong thing? What if she regrets saying yes? What if—

His phone buzzed.

Stella: She looks insane. You better bring flowers. Or I will.

He blinked. Then slowly got up, grabbed his keys, and mumbled to himself, “…I need to find a flower.”

You were ready.

Or… as ready as someone who had changed outfits three times, nearly cried over a smudged winged liner, and threatened to cancel the entire date if her highlighter wasn’t even on both cheeks could be.

“Okay,” you breathed, staring at your reflection like she was someone else. “I think I’m good.”

Sunoo clapped his hands once. “You’re more than good. You’re edible.”

Stella popped her head back in from the hallway. “Sunghoon’s outside. I just saw him through the peephole. He’s standing like he’s afraid of the air.” You ran to the door, then paused. “Wait. Do I look like I’m trying too hard?”

“Yes,” they both said.

“Good,” you grinned, grabbing your purse.

You stepped outside and there he was—hands shoved in his pockets, hair slightly damp like he’d just showered, wearing that same black zip-up he always wore… but there was something different tonight. A tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze immediately lifted when he heard the door open.

And he was holding something. A flower. Just one.

Small, a little uneven, probably stolen from a nearby bush—but it made your heart lurch anyway.

“For you,” he said, holding it out awkwardly, like he was half-expecting you to laugh at him. Instead, you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. “You’re lucky I’m weak for stolen flowers.” He huffed a quiet laugh under his breath and looked down. “You look…”

You waited, watching his face turn a little pink as he fumbled for a word.

“…Different,” he settled on. “Good different.” You gave him a teasing smile. “I’ll take it.”He blinked at you for a second longer, like he was trying to memorize the way your hair curled or the way your earrings swayed every time you moved.

Then he opened the car door for you. And just like that, the nerves melted away. You weren’t just you anymore—you were the girl Sunghoon came to pick up, with a flower in your hand and butterflies in your stomach. And you had a feeling this night was going to ruin you—in the best way.

Going on a date with Park Sunghoon had always been one of the fake little scenarios you made up in class when you were supposed to be listening.

It was a regular thing, honestly. You’d be halfway through pretending to take notes on cognitive development, and suddenly your brain would short-circuit and drift off into “What if he asked me out?” territory. Maybe he’d slide you a note during lecture. Maybe he’d wait after class. Maybe he’d say something completely out of character like “I’ve been watching you for a while now.” (That one made you cringe and swoon.)

You never thought it would actually happen. But now here you were—sitting in his passenger seat, clutching a slightly-wilted flower in your lap like it was an Oscar trophy, wearing the outfit you and your best friends had screamed over not even an hour ago.

And Park Sunghoon? He was right next to you. Driving. Quiet. Focused. Glancing over at you every so often like he couldn’t believe this was happening either.

You tried not to stare at his hands on the wheel. Or the way his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose every time he checked the mirror. Or the vein on his arm that popped ever so slightly when he turned.

It was weird. Surreal. Like you’d stepped into your own daydream. Except this time, it wasn’t just in your head.

You didn’t know Sunghoon was that rich.

Like, you knew he dressed nice. Quiet luxury vibes. Always in simple but suspiciously well-fitted clothes, like someone who didn’t want attention but still made people look. You knew he had a certain air about him—put-together, unbothered, kind of mysterious in that he definitely has secrets way. But nothing prepared you for this.

The restaurant he brought you to wasn’t just fancy—it was the kind of place that didn’t even have prices on the menu. The kind where water came in a crystal bottle and the waiters bowed when they spoke to you. The lighting was soft, the chairs were plush, and the bread basket looked like a Pinterest mood board.

You sat there, blinking around like a tourist while Sunghoon just casually sipped his water, completely unfazed. You leaned in across the table, whispering, “Do you… own this place?”

He blinked. “No.”

“…But like, do you know the owner?”

He paused. “Kind of.” You stared at him. He stared back. You narrowed your eyes. “Park Sunghoon. What is your life?” He shrugged lightly, lips twitching like he was fighting a smirk. “Normal.” You looked down at the gold-trimmed menu.

Normal, your ass.

Your whole life you’d been daydreaming about going on a date with Sunghoon, and never—not once—did the fantasy include sitting in a place that probably had a Michelin star and a dress code for its bread.

And yet somehow, even with all the fancy things around you, the thing making your heart race was still him.

Still the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking. Still the way he asked, quietly, “Is this okay? I wasn’t sure what kind of place you’d like.” You smiled, cheeks warm. “This is… perfect.”

And when he relaxed just a little—just enough for his shoulders to drop and his fingers to uncurl from the edge of the table—you knew.

“I really like you,” Sunghoon said, voice soft and a little shaky.Your heart stopped.

“I mean, really like you. You’re… you’re so pretty it’s hard to look at you sometimes. And I

I’ve actually liked you this whole time. Even back in class, when you wouldn’t stop talking and I was trying not to laugh. I didn’t know how to say anything. But I want to now. I want to say everything. I want to spend my life with you.”

And then—he leaned in. His hand brushed against yours. You leaned in too, heart thudding, lips parting as your eyes fluttered shut—And just as his lips touched yours—The entire restaurant erupted into applause.

Chairs scraped, people stood, a waiter dabbed his eyes with a napkin. Someone in the back shouted, “True love is real!” The pianist transitioned into a soft romantic ballad. Rose petals fell from somewhere—somewhere.

You were glowing. Floating. Kissing Park Sunghoon, the boy you’d once been too scared to talk to, while the world quite literally clapped around you.

“Yn?” a voice said.

You blinked.

“Yn, are you… there?”

You snapped out of it, back in your seat, staring at your half-eaten appetizer. Sunghoon was looking at you, head tilted. “You zoned out for a solid two minutes. Did the salmon offend you or something?”

You blinked again, cheeks warming. “I—uh. No. Sorry. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You quickly took a sip of water. “Nothing important.”

Just, you know. The fake proposal-level confession and restaurant-wide standing ovation that just happened in your head. No big deal. Meanwhile, Sunghoon went back to eating his food like he wasn’t the main character in your delusions.

And you sat there, trying not to smile. Because, who knows? Maybe the real version wasn’t that far off.

For a normal person, this date would kind of be boring.

Like, objectively speaking—Sunghoon wasn’t exactly chatting it up. He wasn’t telling wild stories or cracking dumb jokes or even attempting to carry the conversation when it hit a lull. He was quiet. Subtle. His responses were short, sometimes just nods or hums. There was a moment when the silence between courses stretched so long, you were certain even the waiter felt secondhand awkwardness. But somehow… you didn’t hate it.

Maybe because even in the quiet, Sunghoon felt present. His gaze stayed on you like you were something worth listening to. Like your rambles about Sunoo’s latest crush and Stella’s failed DIY bookshelf actually mattered. He wasn’t loud, but he was tuned in—like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

Still, halfway through the meal, you sat back with a crooked smile and said, “You know, I think I’ve spoken more in the last thirty minutes than you have all semester.” Sunghoon glanced up from his plate, blinking behind those stupidly attractive glasses. “That’s probably true.” You narrowed your eyes. “Are you ever gonna say anything that makes my heart race?”

A beat. Then, casually, without even looking up: “You’re really pretty.” You choked on your drink. He didn’t even flinch—just kept cutting his steak, a small twitch at the corner of his lips giving him away.

You stared at him. “You menace.”

He finally looked up, meeting your gaze. “You asked.”

And suddenly the quiet didn’t feel boring at all. It felt dangerous. Like every second he wasn’t saying something, he was thinking it—and one day he’d say it all at once and knock you flat.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, so you actually think I’m pretty? What’s pretty about me?” you asked, a bit of teasing lacing your voice. You were trying to play it cool, but your heart was already picking up pace, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your napkin. Sunghoon, however, didn’t skip a beat. He set his fork down, his gaze lifting slowly from his plate to meet yours. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, just that steady, almost unsettling focus on you.

“Everything.”

Your breath caught. You weren’t expecting that. The way he said it, so simply, so sure, like there wasn’t a single thing about you that didn’t deserve to be admired—it hit you right in the chest.

It was one of those moments where your entire world seemed to pause, just for a second, and all you could hear was your own heartbeat and the soft clink of silverware around you.

You didn’t know what to say. How could you? You’d spent so long trying to work up the courage to even talk to him, to make him notice you. And now he was here, not just noticing, but seeing everything—and everything meant more than just your smile or your laugh or the way your hair fell over your shoulders. It meant the little things, the things you never thought anyone would care to notice.

You swallowed hard, your voice almost a whisper. “Sunghoon…” His expression softened just a little. “You’ve always been… easy to notice.” And just like that, the room felt smaller, like the two of you were the only ones in it.

For a second, you forgot about everything—about the quiet dinner, about the fact that Sunghoon had been so silent most of the night. All that mattered was this moment. The way you had finally caught his attention. The way he’d fallen.

Sunghoon’s voice broke the silence, soft and unassuming, but there was a certain edge to it. “What about me?” he asked, looking at you with that same steady gaze. “Why do you like me?”

The question hung in the air, and you felt your pulse quicken. He was asking you about him. Sunghoon, the person who had always been so distant, so hard to read, was now waiting for you to give him an answer. An answer that felt so much more complicated than you had ever prepared for.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling a little too exposed under his gaze. “I—I don’t know,” you stammered, trying to find the words. “It’s just… from the moment I saw you, I knew you were different. You didn’t talk much, but you… felt like you were always thinking, you know? Like there was something more behind the quiet.”

You leaned forward, trying to get your words right. “And it wasn’t just because you were… well, you. It was the way you didn’t try to fit in, the way you didn’t care what people thought. You’re… real. And, I guess, I’ve always liked people who don’t hide who they are.”

Sunghoon stared at you, those eyes of his intense, almost searching, like he was trying to figure out whether you were being completely honest or not. And then he sighed softly, as if something in him had relaxed just a little.

“And when did you start liking me?” he asked again, this time more quietly.

You thought about it for a moment, trying to pin down when the shift had happened—the moment when you stopped just noticing him and started feeling the things you couldn’t control. “I think it was when you… when you let me in. I never thought you’d actually be willing to work with me on that project. And even though you barely said anything, you still… listened. That was when I realized I had feelings for you.”

Sunghoon let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle. “I never thought I’d be the one to make someone feel this way.” His lips curled up in a faint smile, something almost shy about it.

There it was again. The softest vulnerability peeking through his usually composed exterior. And in that moment, you knew it wasn’t just you who had fallen.

He had fallen harder.

Enhypen campus series | part 2 (coming soon..)

354 notes · View notes

luvsicktyun · 11 days ago

Text

୨ৎ. INVISIBLE STRING p.sh

ᨳ ׄ ׅ ꒰ 45k ꒱⠀ ‎ູㅤ ‎ིྀ ⸺ word count.

𝓹airings 𝜗𝜚 soulmate ! sunghoon ៹ fem ! reader ᧁ ; smut ˒ supernatural? ˒ red string theory ˒ office romance

𝔀arnings ꒱ . smut angst graphic depictions of injuries grandparent/parental death death in general

𝓲n which ⑅ ㅤׄ ⠀ ‎𓈒 alexa play ❝ invisible string ❞ by taylor swift ‎ིྀ ⸺ They say when someone you love dies it takes a piece of who you were and a piece of who you were going to be. You met the love of your life the day you died; and it took something from you. It changed who you were and you don’t know if you’d ever want it back. Sunghoon was tied to you, two tangled souls connected by one invisible red string but you didn’t know it, until it was too late.

★ ! 𝓻ain's mic is on ── iykyk about this fic fr...I've been working on this bad boy since like the beginning of December...which If you know me is a while. I've stopped writing it for a while but randomly I just knew I needed too pick it back up and finish it. I'm sorry in advance for the use of y/n (i started this before i stopped using it, sorry guys). I love this story line so much and the amount of pure thought I put into is...it's a lot. I hope you all enjoy it and love it just as much as I do. thank you.

They say when someone you love dies it takes a piece of who you were and a piece of who you were going to be. Lying on her deathbed your grandmother hands you a small red bracelet, one so flimsy you felt as if it could snap between your fingertips. Dainty like a small red string. And with the last few breaths that she had left in her she told you something you would never forget. “This bracelet is a representation of what I'm about to take from you.” She took a deep agonizing breath before continuing. “When I die, I will take some of your joy, some of your light. I Don't want to but I will. This red string here represents what is to come, who is to come and when it becomes important to you, because it will. Think of me and what I've always told you about your very own red string of fate.”

The words left her mouth in a sigh. Her eyes closed peacefully as your heart shattered. Taking the string you wrapped it around your wrist vowing to never let it go.

5 years later.

You were going to be late.The rain served as a catalyst to your anger and resentment of this day. Looking outside of your cramped apartment window to see it pouring rain when you have to walk to work has put a severe damper on your already more than pissy mood. Not including the fact that you were up at all hours of the night because the thin material of your walls in this run down apartment building left very little to be desired, especially when it came to your neighbors very active love life.

Pounding on the wall had been no help as the screams of their pleasure just grew, almost as if they were trying to spite you. Spite you because it was four in the morning and you had to be up in three hours and spite you because a very small part of you was jealous that your neighbor was getting laid and you weren’t and hadn’t for well over a year now. So, in turn, waking up when the sun was only beginning to rise was a very new form of hell you hadn’t yet experienced.

Rolling yourself out of bed, brushing your teeth and making yourself look somewhat presentable was the equivalent of hauling a two ton car up a flight of stairs but you did it. You walked down the sidewalk raincoat over your head as you tried your best at keeping the rain from soaking your straightened hair. Finally approaching the crosswalk you were relieved to see it had not been crowded this morning. Which was rather unusual for a monday morning in seoul but you would take your wins as they came.

A man stood at the crosswalk, phone in hand not paying you even a single glance. He was beautiful. You could definitely admit that and his attire for the day had told you that he was dressed for a day at the office. His dark hair was a stark contrast to his very light skin. His face dotted with the cutest little moles you had ever seen. He was a sight to behold, captivatingly beautiful.

Not wanting to seem like a creep for staring, you turned your head downwards, fiddling with the red string bracelet you had worn every second of everyday for the last five years since your grandmother died. The light had turned green finally signaling for you to walk after what seemed like forever of waiting in awkward silence next to what might be the most beautiful man you would ever live to see. The rain continued its assault on you, pelting down hard and fast.

Your rain boots sloshed as you walked.

But suddenly you felt the snap, very lightly you felt the singular snap of the red string on your wrist. It had come undone and like a scene in a movie it had fallen before your eyes in slow motion. Falling to the rain soaked pavement of the very busy street you were crossing. You knew it was dumb, stupid even but still you bent down reaching for the string and again, like a scene in a movie hearing the voice of the beautiful man calling out for you to watch out and the screech of the van tires hurtling towards you were heard just a second too late, it was dark.

You were scared of death as much as the next person. More afraid of not knowing what happens after you die. If you say that death doesn’t scare you, you're lying. How can you not be afraid of what you don’t know? It was a thought you truly couldn't fathom.

With a gasp of breath and a pound in your head you had escaped death. Opening your eyes to the sun glaring in them penetrating your closed eyelids. “Woah! Are you ok?” A voice asked you. You had finally noticed a hand tightly gripping your wrist. Opening your eyes you're met with the most beautiful man you had ever seen…again? Groggily you looked around noticing you were no longer on the street but on the sidewalk. “What happened?” You groaned holding your head. “It feels like I've been hit by a truck.”

With his hand still on your wrist the man helped you up “You just fell over” He murmured. The tiny red string on his wrist caught you off guard. You could think of nothing else as you stared down at it. You glanced down at your own wrist only to notice that it was bare, you weren’t wearing the red bracelet your grandmother had given you. “Where did you get that?” You asked, yanking your hand from his hold. “Why do you have my bracelet?”

“What?” He questioned with shock. “This is mine.”

“But..” You stammered out “I had one just like it and it's missing.” Your head was pounding so hard you had begun to feel it behind your eyelids.

“I’m sorry yours is missing but this is from my grandfather.” with your head still aching you decided to let it go. He seemed genuine and you didn’t have the vitality to argue with him any further.

“Are you alright?” The man said once again. Nodding you dusted your clothing off noticing the now beautiful clear sky.

“Where did the rain go?” You asked. He looked confused again, an expression you were now deeming adorable on him. You may be a little woozy but a girl would always recognize an attractive man when presented to her.

“It hasn’t rained today” He said, you really wish you could know his name. “Are you sure you're alright?” He cautiously inquired. Nodding once again you had half a mind to look down at your watch, your mind fleeting again to the fact that your wrist was now bare. Your red missing bracelet was something you were definitely going to agonize over later but for now, you were most certainly going to be late. On your very first day of the job.

“I’m alright!” You squeaked out. “I’ve got to go” You made your way safely across the street before deciding to make a dash for it. You had exactly four minutes to make it there in time and it was a little over six minute walk. Speeding down the sidewalk you had no time to mull over what the hell just happened.

You could have sworn to the high heavens that it was raining and that you most definitely had your bracelet on when you left your apartment this morning and you vaguely remembered walking across the street and your bracelet breaking. Shaking the thought off you finally arrived. Only looking up at the building for a split second before rushing inside.

“Hi” You breathed heavily to the receptionist. “I’m here for my first day in-”

“Are you Y/n L/n” She cut you off, her voice laced with disinterest for anything you would have to say beside yes or no.

“Yes” Deciding to be curt as to not upset her more.

“Floor nine. Minji will see you through.” She slapped a white badge onto the countertop in front of you. “Here’s your badge, have a wonderful career at seoul inc.” Contrary to her cheery words her voice was monotonous, lacking any depth or feeling. Dumbly nodding your head you took the white badge in your hands and made your way to the elevator.

“Floor nine, floor nine” You whispered to yourself over and over again.

The elevator ride was short and sweet, just how you liked it. You hated when elevators took forever it gave you time to become anxious and becoming anxious was the last thing you wanted to do today. Your head still reeled for the events that took place not even twenty whole minutes ago and adding on a bout of anxiety really would do you no justice.

In true cliche fashion you allowed yourself a small pep talk. Reassuring yourself that everything would be ok, that you had landed the job so at least someone here liked you enough to hire you. Everything would be A OK, as your grandmother always said.

Arriving at the front desk you’re met with a lot more peppy woman. Short probably in her mid to late fifties this woman looked to have lived and loved ten times over. A small pang rang through your chest as the warmth radiating from this woman had reminded you of your grandmother. The small desk plate in front of her read ‘minji’ and right then and there you knew you were in the right place.

“Hello” You spoke as professionally as you could. “I’m Y/n L/n and I'm here for my first day.” MInji smiled at you, the warmth once again seeping into your bones. Instantaneously your anxiety and worries almost completely dissipated.

“Hello dear, you're just in time!” She grabbed a few papers from her pile on her desk in front of her then swung out of her chair. “Mr. Park seems to be a few minutes late so i’ll quickly introduce you to a few of your colleagues that are a part of your team.” Following closely behind her you felt a wave of giddiness overcome you. Starting anew to you, had felt like starting a new life. You were so excited to kick it into full gear. Especially with the little to no support from your family back at home.

Knowing that you would not be coming home to help run their shop had made them make the ultimate decision of disowning you. Not that they had ever truly been proud of who you were to begin with. Being an only child of two adults that never wanted children in the first place had always left you feeling a hole in your heart with a parent's love should fill. Luckily for you, you had your grandmother who had acted as your mother and father figure all rolled into one. Your grandfather having passed away only a year after your birth and your grandmother never remarrying had made the two of you's relationship that much stronger. It had only really been the two of you together all the time.

Especially because your parents were always away at the shop. Tending to and looking after the only thing they truly loved. Having a child was never in their plans and boy did they make that obvious. They looked at you as a legacy for their business and when you had broken the news to tell them it wouldn't happen, well they just had no use for you then. They discarded you like a broken toy in their very coveted and well respected toy shop. Ironic isn't it?

Running a toy shop but never wanting children, neglecting your own. The irony had always been daunting. Most people around you had assumed you had the best childhood. They assumed you had a childhood full of wonderful toys and parents who cherished you and showered you with the marvelous gifts that they sold but they were wrong. Very wrong. It had made you a person who no longer judged books by their covers because after all looks can be deceiving.

Your father had grown up with a fascination for toys and collectables and he never truly outgrew that as an adult. Instead he turned it into a hobby and then into a career dragging your mother along until she learned to love it just as much as he did.

“Alrighty” Minji said with exhilaration. “This right here will be your cubicle.” She pointed to a reasonably sized cubicle, its contents almost completely empty save for your basic office supplies like a computer, chair and pencil holder full of pens and pencils. “Decorate it however you would like. Being the visual department we always expect you guys to have the most put together cubicles.” She smiled at you warmly. Gesturing you to follow her only a few steps further she pointed to another cubicle, this one now occupied. “This is Wonyoung, she's one of your partners.”

“Busy.” Wonyoung said pointedly typing away at her computer.

“She’s a sweet girl when she's caffeinated.” Minji laughed, “Hun, I have some fresh coffee brewing for you in the lounge, go grab a cup.”

“Minji, I could kiss you, I'm exhausted.” Wonyoung rose from her seat. For a moment you were stunned by her pure beauty. She wore a knitted dress that fell to the middle of her thighs, and a long sleeve turtleneck underneath it. Her hair in two braids on either side of her head.

“Nice to meet you by the way” a radiant smile graced her features. “Jay is that way. I’m excited to be working with another girl. I’m soooo tired of being surrounded by men, yuck.” She stuck her tongue out mockingly before be-lining for what you could only assume was the lounge.

“Let me take you to jay.” Minji made her way down only two more cubicles before stopping in front of another one. This time occupied by a man, who you assumed was Jay.

“Good morning Mrs. Lee” Jay chirped, his expression was radiating all things positive. You had already felt safe around him.

“Good morning sweetheart this is Y/n the new cover designer and a part of your team. I wanted to introduce you guys before Sunghoon arrived.”

“Hi Y/n” Jay waved “Nice to meet you.”

You nodded at him, taking a slight bow. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Sunghoon isnt here yet?” Jay’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion looking around the two of you probably in search of Sunghoon.

“Not yet but I'm sure he’ll be strolling in at any minute. You all have a meeting in” Minji looked down at her watch “Three minutes. He’ll be here if he’s not already in his office getting ready.”

“He hasn’t come down to meet Y/n yet?”

“No, not yet. I’m sure he’s waiting until you guys meet.” Standing there dumbly as you waited for them to finish their conversation a sense of once again, anxiety hit you like a wave. You assumed the Sunghoon they were referring to was your boss but what kind of boss didn’t come down to meet their new employees? One that he would be working with closely might you add. It set a strong precedent to who this man was and truthfully that worried you a bit. You had gotten such good first impressions from Minji, Jay and Wonyoung so much so that you were beginning to become even more excited to work alongside them. But none of that really mattered if your boss was a grade A asshole. Having a shit boss made your life in the workplace hell. Something you were mature enough to admit scared the hell out of you.

You were only hoping and praying that Sunghoon was a super perfectionist and took his time making sure that these meetings ran smoothly rather than a man who, with power, made it extremely difficult to coexist with them.

“It’s about that time anyway” Jay rose from his seat grabbing his coffee cup in his hand. “I’ll take Y/n with me to the meeting room Minji, go sit back down and relax.” Minji smiled at Jay reaching her hand to lightly pat his cheek affectionately.

“Thank you sweetheart.” Turning to you she handed you the papers she had brought with her. “Good luck Y/n, you let me know if you need anything ok?” tilting your head in agreement you took the papers from her outstretched hands. Thanking her quietly as she walked back down the room of cubicles.

“Sweetest woman you'll ever meet, I swear.” Jay said. “Come on. Wonyoung is most likely already there we can mee-”

Not being able to control your motor-like mouth you blurt out the one thing on your mind since discussing your boss, completely cutting Jay off in the process.

“Is he mean?” You knew how childish it sounded. It was like setting up a playdate with your friends at five years old. Quizzing them to find out if their parents were ‘meanies” like yours. But honestly, you didn't care. You needed to know even if that made you sound like a kid in the process.

“Sunghoon?” Jay’s surprise at your question did not go unnoticed but once again you couldn't find it in yourself to care. The question was a pressing matter you would argue.

“He’s …” He took his time to find his words “He’s a bit standoffish but once you get to know him he's a really nice guy.”

His words had not soothed your worries at all. In total honesty they had only worsened the pit of perturbation brewing in your belly. You would try everything you could at ensuring that Sunghoon liked you, or at least tolerated you enough to show you respect. It might be dumb to make all of these bold assumptions before knowing the man but you couldn't help your wondering and worrying mind.

It was how you operated, how you got by in life. You had always been that way and you didn't see not for a second you not being that way.

“Really” Jay assured you as the two of you began your descent towards what you were hoping was not your demise “He’s harmless. He acts more like an asshole than he is.”

“You'd call your boss an asshole out loud?” You asked in astonishment.

“Me and Sunghoon have been friends for as long as I can remember. There is not even an ounce of me that is intimidated by him.” Jay's ability to be calm and collected had left you a bit envious. This was the worst part about starting a new job. Adjusting.

Getting adjusted to new people, new surroundings and new procedures was taxing, it was something you dreaded when starting a new job.

“And you shouldn't be either.” Jay continued, but before you could respond you had arrived at the meeting room. The clear windows had allowed you to see inside. Stopping in your tracks you were sure you looked like a deer in headlights.

“Who is that?” You asked Jay pointing to the man that stood at the head of the table sifting through papers in front of him.

“That’s Sunghoon.”

The words had made your heart drop to your stomach. That was the beautiful man from this morning. The one who had picked you up off the ground. The one wearing your red bracelet. Well, according to him it wasn't yours but that was still to be determined. Here he was standing just inside this room, as your new boss.

A part of you had felt slightly relieved. The sunghoon you had met this morning wasn't at all Standoffish or rude. He was kind and although being confused and then accused of taking your bracelet he still had not shown any disdain or attitude towards you.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad afterall and Jay was just exaggerating about him because they were friends. You had hope.

Feeling a bit of whiplash from all the events that had led up to this moment. You were certain that you had woken up to the rain pelting your windows and roof but instead the air was clear and sunny. You walking out of your apartment with the red bracelet on your wrist was almost irrefutable but still your wrist is left bare. You had imagined your bracelet falling onto the floor but you hadn't even reached the street yet when you woke up on the ground, Sunghoon hovering over you.

Opening the door to the room you stepped inside. Wonyoung sat on a chair to the right and Jay circled around sitting directly across from her, sending a shy smile her way.

“Dude, where have you been?” Jay asked. Sunghoon hadn't looked up from his papers just yet. He blew a gush of air from his lips shaking his head almost bitterly. “I had the weirdest dream last night then this morning a woman fell-” The words died in his throat as his head rose, his eyes meeting yours. An expression similar to the one you had outside the doors of the meeting room. Like a deer in freaking headlights. The expression had only lasted a short second before he dropped it, a now stoic one taking its place.

“Goodmorning.” You said shyly. “I’m doing fine by th-” cutting you off Sunghoon sat down in his chair, clearing his throat loudly.

“Good Morning Ms. L/n find yourself a seat so we can get started.”

You didn’t miss the axiomatic expressions of confusion written all over Jay’s and Wonyoung’s face. They weren't stupid. They knew without a doubt how strange this interaction was. They did the smart thing and ignored it. For now.

A squeak of surprise left your lips, the confusion written all over your face probably very evident.

Sitting in the nearest chair the overarching feeling of dread seeped back in. Clouding your mind. You reached down out of habit to grab your bracelet but you were met with the coldness of your bare skin. Bile rose in your throat but you did your best to suppress it. Choking it down like acid.

Jay and Wonyoung looked uneasy in their seats but still, they decided to say nothing. For that, you were grateful. Trying to explain what had just transpired would be a dumpster fire situation that you had no knack for at the moment.

“I’m Park Sunghoon. You can call me Sunghoon, I'm the director of the seoul magazine visual team and Jay, wonyong and yourself work directly under me. We are considered a team, so we must work as such. I expect that from you, have I been heard?” You nodded, not daring to utter a single word.

“I understand you were hired for cover design, correct?” Sunghoon opened a manilla folder in front of him which contained only what you could assume was your previous works. He began sifting through the pages analyzing every single one with potent accuracy.

“Y-yes” You cursed yourself for stuttering, for allowing this man to take your wits from you. He had shaken you to your core at his contrast of personality. Although you had only met Sunghoon today and knew very little of the man you had a crippling wonder of who Sunghoon really was. Was he the man you had met this morning? The one who had you picked you up when you fell, who had been kind and caring enough to ask if you were ok. Or was he this man, the cold hearted uncaring one who cut people off mid sentence. You truly didn't know, and that thought scared you.

“Down to business” Sunghoon continued. “We have a big project coming up. We have a new girl group debuting that needs front cover coverage. We have to make them look stellar. I’m talking about bold fonts, attention to detail with colors and we have to be very careful with editing. Do you think you can make that happen?”

“Of course” You said more confidently this time. “You can count on me.”

“And if we can't we have a ton of other well equipped applicants chomping at the bit for your position. Do not mess this up.” Sunghoon rose from his seat, gathering all of his papers with him. “Project is due exactly three months from now.” With that Sunghoon was out the door. A silence so heavy had followed. You could hear a pin drop. It was that quiet. Wonyoung and Jay shared a glance that you couldn't quite decipher and in all honestly you weren’t up to even trying.

All hope of Sunghoon liking you had fled, leaving a cold dead feeling in its wake.

“What a jerk,” Wonyoung laughed awkwardly. “He’s not usually like that..”

“Jay said he was standoffish…” You trailed off looking down at the table in front of you. “That was a little more than standoffish.” You tried your best to keep your resolve but at the end of the day you were only human and the weight of the events that took place had started to crash into you. You could feel the tiredness deep in your bones. You still had a full day ahead of you and truthfully you didn't know how it was going to go or how you were going to manage to survive it.

“I’m sorry about him..” Jay had looked more embarrassed than anything and weirdly enough that had given you a bit of comfort, knowing that even his friends and colleagues acknowledge how much of an asshole he just was to you.

“Don’t worry Y/n he’ll warm up to you in no time!” Wonyoung hopped over to you.

“I’m sure he’ll get very toasty.” You cringed at your attempt at a joke but by the way Wonyoung threw her head back in laughter had left you feeling just a little bit better about what had just transpired. If Sunghoon wasn’t the type to be warm and welcoming you were glad that Jay and Wonyoung were.

It was only lunchtime and you were beginning to rethink all of your life choices. Not only did your head still severely ache from your fall this morning, but Sunghoon hasn't even begun to let up on you. Dropping by almost every hour to check on your progress, then nit picking it until you've changed almost every single detail. It had been a day from hell and it still wasn't even over yet.

Gathering yourself you made your way to the lounge, Wonyoung trailing beside you. “I hope Sunghoon isn't discouraging you too much. He’s very passionate about the covers we make, he just likes them to be perfect.” In all honesty her attempt at helping had only made it worse for you. You wouldn't blame her for that though. She was just trying to help you understand the way Sunghoon was.

“He changed basically the entire layout draft.” You deadpanned, your annoyance very pellucid. Wonyoung cringed at your candor.

“If it makes you feel any better, Jay and I think that it was a solid first attempt.”

“That does not make me feel any better but thank you.” A laugh fell from your lips as you said it. You and wonyoung had already started getting comfortable with one another. Your cubicles were fairly close and she was definitely the yappy type, but you didn't mind. It had passed the time by more quickly, having someone to talk to about mindless stuff. “I just don't understand why Sunghoon hates me so much. I don't see what I did wrong.” Opening the door to the lounge you were met with the most delicious smells. Your stomach grumbled and for the first time all day you were realizing just how hungry you were.

“Sunghoon doesn't hate you,” Wonyoung said quietly, presumably to make sure no one around you was listening in on your conversation. The lounge was shared with more than just your department judging by the fact that there were definitely more than twenty plus people in here. “Like I said, he's just very particular about the covers. He takes pride in his work. And him being an asshole to you, well that i don't know. You tell me considering the look you two shared when we walked into the meeting room this morning.” She snickered at you as the two of you approached the table of food. It was a big breakfast bar. Breakfast for lunch, yum.

“Do the two of you know each other?” She asked out right. You shook your head immediately, probably looking a bit suspicious.

“No, not at all.” The look wonyoung gave you made you feel like she didn't believe you. “I met him this morning on the way here. I had fallen and hit my head and he helped me up that's all. I didn't know the beautiful stranger helping me was going to be my boss but I guess that's just my luck.”

“Beautiful huh?” Her lips rising in a teasing smirk. Cursing yourself for your word vomit you felt the apples of your cheeks heating up as embarrassment usurped you.

“Well..i-i mean he- well” You stuttered like an idiot as you tried your best at regaining your pride and collecting your barings.

“It’s ok” Wonyoung giggled, placing her hand on your bare wrist in comfort. “I understand. I’m a woman. I know that Sunghoon is an attractive man, I'm not blind. He's just not my type.”

“What is your type?” You asked her, once again letting your intrusive thoughts win. You really had to stop doing that before you offend someone.

“Jay” Wonyoung stated simply with a small shrug. Mid scooping up scrambled eggs you froze, turning to look at her with the goofiest smile on your face.

“You like Jay?” You whisper shouted at her.

“I don’t just like Jay, I'm in love with Jay.” Her frankness had amazed you. How was it so easy to just admit that she was in love with Jay, you wished that you had half as much courage as she did.

“Why don’t you say anything?” You asked her.

“I will, just when the time is right. We're so busy here all the time. I don't want to over complicate his work even more with having a girl two cubicles down from him fawning over him and he doesn't love her back, do you know how embarrassing that would be?” We had finally gathered all of your food making your way to an empty table.

“I get it.” and you did get it. Although you've never really been in love before you knew how it felt to not want to inconvenience the people you loved. Although it might not be the exact same thing you had felt similar feelings when it came to telling your parents that you wouldn't be pursuing their dreams but instead you'd be pursuing your own.

“Jay is coming.” Wonyoung announced, signaling the end of the conversation as we knew it. The both of you knew it wasn’t the true end. You would definitely be re visiting the topic soon enough.

After a tiringly long day you were more than glad to finally be free to go home. Ssunghoon had only visited you two more times then after that you hadn’t seen him again for the rest of the day. Each conversation had been short, curt and he had never looked you in your eyes. Opting to stare at the keyboard in front of you or at the wall to the side of you. He never looked at you. It had felt degrading and dehumanizing.

Once you arrived home taking the elevator up to your apartment had felt like the longest ride you had ever been on, and once outside of your door you glanced at your neighbors, the sight of a bright yellow slip on it catching your eye.

‘Vacant. For rent, talk to the office for details.’ Confusion took over you for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Vacant? That couldn't be right. Your neighbor had no signs of moving at all. Hell, he had been up all night banging random girls for the past week now. How could it have been vacant so suddenly? Deciding it wasn’t worth mulling over at the moment you entered your apartment readying yourself for bed. At least you won't be bothered with his nightly hookups anymore, that was the bright side of all of this.

The more pressing matter at hand wass finding the bracelet your grandmother gave you. You tried gaslighting yourself into believing you had taken it off sometime this morning, but that was really really not like you at all. You never took that thing off no matter what. Not to shower, not for anything. You've been wearing it for five years so there was no way it could have just slipped off could it? It's never done that before and it wasn't loose. You would have noticed if it was loose.

Looking your apartment over top to bottom has proven no help. The fucking bracelet was nowhere to be found. Your chest started to tighten and suddenly it felt a bit harder to breathe. You knew you were having a panic attack, you could feel it. You haven't had one in a while but you could distinguish that feeling anywhere. Feeling like you were dizzy, as if you were going to throw up everywhere, or faint, or both.

You needed that bracelet. Over the years you have become dependent on the familiarity of it. It felt like an extra layer of skin, or a tattoo forever inked into you. That bracelet was the equivalent to a child with their baby blanket or a stuffy they just had to have in order to sleep at night. That bracelet was branded into your heart, it was the one and only thing you had left of your grandmother and it was just …gone?

It made no sense. Scouring your apartment once again, feeling as if you were going crazy. It had to be here somewhere. Or maybe you had dropped it off on the way to the crosswalk this morning? But all you could remember was the rain and how it had fallen over you like tiny little pellets.

Sunghoon said it hadn't rained at all though. So what could you actually recall from this morning that was actually true? How hard did you hit your head?

Deciding to calm yourself down for the night you prepared yourself a bath with extra good smelling soaps in it. You need to take a breather, you'll find the bracelet it has to be around here somewhere for sure.

You kept repeating that phrase in your head even after you got out of the bath and while you brushed your hair and your teeth. It's here somewhere….it's here somewhere…you'll find it tomorrow. As you fell asleep for the night the phrase continued to circulate your mind. It was the only thing keeping your heart caged, helping so it wouldn't burst from your chest with nervousness. And even as you woke up in the morning you thought it over and over again. So much so that for a fleeting moment you forgot about sunghoon and how much he hated you.

You were quickly reminded once you stepped foot into the office area the next day.

Sunghoon stood at your desk, waiting for you. You felt like absolutely shit and knew you looked it too. Internally groaning you made your way to him.

“Good morning Sunghoon.” You spoke quietly, almost as if you were trying to poke and prod at him like a giant angrily sleepy bear. In fear that in a fit of rage he’d explode and eat you alive.

“Morning. We have a meeting in five minutes.” His words were short and curt as he turned on his heels and walked away, leaving you to gape at him from behind. He was talking to Jay now quietly, almost hushed like he didn't want anyone to hear them. You didn’t care what they were talking about, not really so you turned to your work trying hard to ignore the simmering feeling inside of you.

You haven't felt like yourself since yesterday and today you felt even weirder. Deciding to ignore it you gathered your things making your way to the meeting room to ensure you were earlier than everyone else was.

You concluded right then and there that you would no longer show Sunghoon that you feared him. This was the only way to gain his respect. Show him you're serious about the job and mean no funny business when it comes to your art. You loved cover design and you recognize just how lucky you were to get this position. You mean business, and you were damn sure going to show it.

Wonyoung was the second person to walk through the doors. Well, more like burst through the doors.

“I’m here! I’m here” She gasped out, carrying an insanely large stack of papers in her hand. Stopping in her tracks when she noticed it was just the two of you in there alone.

“Those bastards.” She cursed, setting the papers down with a slam. “Fucking bastards” She continued to mutter under her breath.

“Uhh…are you ok?” You asked with concern.

“No!” She shouted throwing her hands up in the air, overly dramatic might you add but you were slowly learning that that was just Wonyoung’s style. “Jay and Sunghoon texted me and said I was super late! That I better run here quickly. I didn't even stop to put my stuff down.” Noticing her big fur jacket you stifled a laugh. “They're not even here yet. Oh when I see those two they're dead.”

“Last I saw they were over by the cubicles” You giggled out. Wonyoung’s eyes turned to slits as she watched you laugh.

“It’s not funny” She whined, running her hands through her hair to try and fix it up “i look a mess.”

“You don't look bad at all.” You smiled trying to offer her some resemblance of hope while in reality she looked absolutely gorgeous while also simultaneously looking like she had just rolled out of bed at the same time.

Before she could spit a rebuttal out the sound of the door opening garnered your attention. Sunghoon and Jay sautered in with two cups of coffee in each hand.

“Looking good Won.” Jay snickered, holding the cup of coffee up to her. “Caffeine?”

“I’m going to strangle you both.” She spewed out, her face bright red with anger and embarrassment.

“That's no way to talk to your boss.” You didn’t miss the way Sunghoon walked past you slowly, only bending down slightly beside you to set the warm cup of coffee he was holding down in front of you on the table. He said nothing to you. No acknowledgement besides that. You didn't know how to feel. It wasn't like he specially brought you a coffee, they also brought themselves one along with Wonyoung. Good to know he wasn't so cruel as to exclude you from something as trivial as a coffee run. At least you were thought about in some capacity.

“Thank you” You spoke up, remembering what you had vowed to yourself earlier. Sunghoon gave no inclination that he heard you. Instead he opted for ignoring you. Once again, not meeting your eyes.

“I’m sorry i wasn't sure if you heard me” You said a little louder “I said thank you.” Sunghoon’s face flashed with shock along with Wonyoung and Jay’s who had stopped bickering with each other once they heard you speak with deeper professionalism opposed to your usual stuttering and murmured words.

“I heard you the first time.” Sunghoon grit his teeth. His canines now on full display. A fleeting part of your mind had thought it to be annoyingly hot. You pissed him off but you couldn’t find it in you to care. In reality you enjoyed it. Maybe too much.

“Well I wasn't able to tell since you didn't bother to say anything back. ”

“It wasn't important.”

“Well it's common courtesy.”

“I don't do common.”

“Clearly.” LIke a scene in a movie, your constant banter had Wonyoung and Jay’s heads spinning. Whipping back and forth almost as quickly as your comebacks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sunghoon said, his eyes narrowing in on you.

“It means that when someone says thank you the normal response is to say you're welcome.” You weren't done and he could tell. He was becoming more and more agitated each time you spoke. You even started to worry that you were crossing a line. Taking it too far perhaps but the overachiever in you wouldn't allow you to stop.

“For god sake sunghoon just tell her you're welcome.” Wonyoung huffed out, rolling her eyes at your admitted childish behavior.

“You're welcome.” Sunghoon grit out. The words falling from his lips had looked like they were dipped in poison. He forced them out in one fail swoop. A part of you wanted to keep going, to tell him you knew he wasn't sincere but you refrained.

That was enough rebelance for one day. You just hoped that Sunghoon knew you were not done. That there was more where that came from.

“Let's begin.” Sunghoon walked to the white board at the end of the table. Like the true boss he was, Sunghoon fixed his suit jacket and cleared his throat.

“As I said in the previous meeting, this cover is due three months from now. And for the newer people-”

“Y/n.” You interjected, reminding him of your name out of spite.

“And for Y/n-” Sunghoon bit out “That might seem like a long time but let me-”

“It’s actually not long at all to me” You interjected again. That seemed to only further Sunghoon’s anger.

“I’d like to get through this presentation without being interrupted.”

“I’d like to get through it without having assumptions thrown my way. If you'd like to know what I can or cannot handle just ask me. There are only four of us in here, it's not a crowded room.” A smirk made its way on your features “You know, in case you're scared of big crowds or anything.”

Wonyoung stifled a laugh behind her closed fist. Her and Jay acting as an audience to yours and Sunghoon’s show. Jay made a show of kicking her ankle under the table but it had only furthered Wonyoung’s giggling.

“I’m fine.” Sunghoon looked down at the table for a moment, taking the time to compose himself. You sat still. The smirk gone from your lips, a serious expression taking precedence. Although bickering at Sunghoon was funny, you didn't want to stray away from what you were really trying to achieve here. And that was to gain professional respect from Sunghoon. Ssure, this might be an immature way to go about it but you felt as if it were the only way. You had to show him that he could just yank you around with his words and you'd just stay compliant. No, you knew how to do your job and you knew how to do it well.

“Like I was saying.” Sunghoon continued. “This cover is due in three months. So far we have images of what they're wearing but obviously they are edited.” Turning to you, Sunghoon set down a few papers.

They were previous editions that this group haad done pre-debut.

“This is how they like to be portrayed. Girly, sweet and innocent. So that’s how we will deal with this issue. Is that understood?” Nodding along you felt it best to keep any rebuttals at bay.

“Don't we think it’s a little crazy that they want them to portray sweet innocent girls when in reality they’re nightmares to work with.” Wonyoung interjected.

“What?” You asked with confusion. “Aren't they a new girl group?”

“Well, yes but we did a cover for them when they were all first announced. They came in to see it and absolutely hated it.” Wonyoung pointed at a specific cover in front of you, one you didn't recognize. “The leader ripped it to shreds. They didn't want it coming out ever. I’m surprised they are even working with us again considering how much they berated us last time.”

“Unfortunately we can't pick who we work with so, we'll just do our best at making the cover look so good they can't hate anything about it.” Sunghoon said while putting away the pages he had set down on the table.

“Easy for you to say Suyu loves you.” Wonyoung rolled her eyes again.

“Yeah, didn't she ask you on a date.” Jay laughed. “Should have gone for it honestly.”

“I don't date.” Sunghoon said with a curt nod. “I had no interest in her.”

“Don't be so uptight hoonie maybe you just need to get laid-”

“Excuse me, that's not an appropriate topic for work and especially not in front of a new hire.” Sunghoon hissed at Wonyoung, a teasing smile spreading across her face. “Also don't call me hoonie, I already told you that.”

“I don't mind,” You said with a shrug. “I think it’s funny.”

“Of course you do,” Sunghoon muttered, shaking his head bitterly. “I’ll see you guys at lunch.” Walking out the door was the last signal Wonyoung and Jay. The two burst into a fit of laughter, Wonyoung so hard tears started falling down the apples of her cheeks. “Oh god!” she wheezed “Y/n that was so funny”

“You really pissed him off,” Jay chuckled with a shake of his head.

“I’m just trying to show him that I'm worth respecting, that's all.” You simply said. You began to gather all of your things in your hands. The laughs of Wonyoung and Jay are still ringing in your ears. You tried your best at suppressing a smile. You should really pat yourself on the back for that one. You were one step closer to getting Sunghoon off your back. But also a part of you had enjoyed the back and forth with him. You had enjoyed just how flustered and annoyed he got. A part of you had felt hot over it. You've said it before and you could really say it a million times over. Sunghhoon was attractive, insanely so. But something that he said had caught your attention. “I don't date.”

It left you wondering why. Asking yourself if something had happened, something like a failed relationship or daddy issues. The nosey person inside of you wanted to ask, but that was one line you knew for certain you wouldn't cross. It was one thing to banter about work and the formalities of it but you certainly did not question someone on their personal lives, especially if you hardly know them.

That didnt mean you wouldn't wonder. You most certainly will wonder about it. But asking was 100% off the table, no matter how badly you wanted to do it.

The rest was mostly uneventful. Sunghoon came to visit a few times but didn’t say much of anything to you. It left you feeling somewhat accomplished upon leaving the office.

As you were half way out the building doors you heard your name being called, loudly.

“Y/n!!” Whipping around you spot Wonyoung rushing towards you. Her coat and sunglasses on as she was also leaving for the day.

“Hey!” She said halting in front of you, her breath was heavy from sprinting towards you. “I just wanted to ask if you would like to meet up tonight for drinks and appetizers. There is this really cute spot downtown that I go to often.”

You had to admit that you weren't much of an outing person. Much preferring to stay indoors with a warm cup of tea and a good book. But for some odd reason Wonyoung’s invitation had excited you. You didn't know how long it's been since you've been out with a friend. A really long time you suppose.

In truth you didn't have many friends anyways. Back home you had one singular friend who you still spoke to from time to time, Chaewon. She was your oldest friend and every time you saw her it was like you had never been apart. You also had a few friends here and there in college but nothing really stuck. You could see yourself without a doubt being good friends with wonyoung. She was funny, smart, pretty and she truly cared about you.

She treated you with the utmost kindness upon meeting her and you had never, ever felt left out around her and Jay. That's why accepting her invitation was no trouble at all.

“Of course.” You smiled, “i’d love to”

“Great!” Wonyoung clapped her hands “I'll text you the address! See you at like ... .seven?” Looking at your watch you had noticed that it just turned four fifteen, giving you ample time to go home and ready yourself.

“See you at seven.” You nodded, turning away with the biggest and cheesiest grin on your face. Racing home to get ready you had a strong urge to pass the crosswalk that you had been at the morning you met Sunghoon. The morning you had lost your red bracelet. You still found it and truthfully you were trying everything you could not to think about it much. When you thought about it you began to panic. You haven't found the courage to ask him about it again. THe man already did not like you for some unknown reason you didn't want to anger him more by accusing him of stealing…again.

Finally getting home you once again noticed the vacant sign on your neighbor's door. You had half a mind to go around and ask when and why he had left so suddenly, and you probably would have done it if you weren't so busy with everything else going on in your life. But once again you decide to ignore it, that seems to be your motto these days. Just ignore everything until it goes away.

It took you practically no time to get ready and out the door. You can't remember a time you had been this excited to go out with a friend. Like you mentioned earlier, going out at all just really isn't your thing, you didn't enjoy settings filled with people and the loudness of it all. You much preferred the serene silence of your home, filled with the familiarity you loved so much

You were early getting to the restaurant so you made an effort in texting Wonyoung that you were there but for her to take her time and not feel rushed.

Entering the restaurant to the chime of the door you were greeted by a hostess. The hostess sat you down with a menu and took your drink order in no time. You took the time to look around at the little bar/restaurant you were at. It was relatively small with very little decor, the lights dimmed and the music blaring through the speakers. It seemed like a place people came to party and eat, it was cute.

Just as you start to settle in, the door chimes again. You don’t need to look up to know—there’s a distinct, comforting energy that surrounds Wonyoung when she enters a room. You hear her laughter first, like a melody, followed by the soft swish of her coat. When you turn, your eyes meet hers, and a warm, familiar feeling spreads through your chest. "Hey!" Wonyoung greets, her voice bright with that signature cheerfulness you’ve admired. But suddenly your breath caught in your throat. Walking in behind her was none other than Sunghoon and Jay.

Walking up to you Wonyoung’s expression held apprehensiveness. She was not sure how you were going to react to Sunghoon being here.

Walking up to your waiting figure Wonyoung sent you a tight lipped smile, one that told you that she knew entirely what she was doing. You forced a smile, but inside, your mind was racing. The last time you’d interacted with Sunghoon had been nothing short of a nightmare. The man was insufferable. He constantly belittled your work, made sarcastic remarks, and had a way of making you feel small with just a glance. Now, here he was, casually strolling into your dinner plans, making everything feel… complicated.

Jay’s had an amused expression on his face, one that had furthered your anger towards the pair. Deciding to not beat around the push you said “Why is he here?” You asked out right, the annoyed look on your face not going unnoticed by the three of them.

Wonyoung chuckled, taking a seat beside you. "I thought it would be fun! You two should get to know each other better outside of work. Jay and I think it would be helpful for the team.”

As Sunghoon sat down across from you, the chair scraping against the floor felt like a loud reminder of how tense the atmosphere had suddenly become. You kept your gaze steady, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing how rattled you were.

But Sunghoon, ever the observant one, smirked. "Don’t look so nervous, Y/n It’s just dinner.” Rolling your eyes you picked up the menu in your hand observing the various courses the restaurant had to offer.

“Like you could ever make me nervous” You said continuing your leisure browse of the menu, trying your hardest to alleviate at least some of the tension that was brewing between the table. “You have a smart mouth. Need I remind you that I'm your boss.” Sunghoon’s face was hard, gone was any sort of amusement. Discontent the only thing in its place.

Scuffing at his words you put the menu down onto the table with a harsh slap, looking at Sunghoon with sharp eyes. “Trust me, I'm reminded every time I walk into the building.”

“Well, you don’t act like it.” Sunghoon’s eyes flared with an emotion you couldn't quite put your finger on.

“Treat me like a respectable employee and I will.” You fired back, not willing to lose this fight.

“Be respectable.”

“Right. Back. atcha.”

“Alright! Alright” Wonyoung threw her hands between the two of you in a dramatic display at being a referee of sorts. “That’s enough. Let’s all get along, we're not at work.”

“She started it-” Sunghoon began to protest. His words were cut short as Woyoung lifted a singular finger pressing them against his lips to shut him up.

“What are you five?” She laughed. “Act like an adult.”

“I’m your boss.” Sunghoon deadpanned. Causing you to roll your eyes at his overused excuse to be an assshole with little to no consequences.

“Give me a break.” You muttered your breath.

“Don't you start.” Wonyoung whipped her head in your direction “You're being just as dramatic as he is.”

“But-” You started out.

“Nope, zip it.”

“OK mom.” You huffed, causing Jay to burst out laughing. Something you could clearly tell he was holding in. Sunghoon’s face was red with embarrassment as his best friend laughed at the two of you, bickering like children.

“You guys are seriously hilarious.” Jay said in between laughs. “Why do you guys hate eachother so much anyways?”

“I don't hate anyone.” You nonchalantly say whilst picking up the menu once again, hopefully for the last time.

“I Don't either.” Sunghoon kicked his friend under the table harshly, annoyed with his constant laughter. “Shut the hell up.”

“Ow, fuck!” Jay hissed. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah order your food.” Sunghoon had the ghost of a smile on his face and for a brief moment you admired him.

You had said it time and time again that Sunghoon was a beautiful man, but staring at him your mind began to wander to unforeseen places. If only Sunghoon wasn't such an asshole, you would begin to think you could develop a superficial crush on him. Looking down at his wrist as he held the menu in his hands you one again noticed the red string he wore. The one that was almost identical to the one you were missing, the one that was currently leaving a gaping hole in your heart. Being without it had felt like being without your skin, and seeing Sunghoon sat in front of you adorning one so similar to yours had felt like pure torture. Looking away from Sunghoon your fingers played at the straw that was sitting in your glass of water. Wonyoung started up a conversation that you were only half paying attention to. Finally after what seemed like forever the waiter came to take your order. You had come in famished but for some reason your stomach was in knots, the appetite you once had now gone.

You were positive that Sunghoon was to blame. Your spat with him only a couple of minutes ago had rendered you emotionally tired.

“Do you want a drink?” Wonyoung asked you softly, “It’s on me.” Smiling softly you nodded not wanting to be a buzzkill with your now sour mood. “Get me whatever you're getting.”

After getting your food and taking small bites here and there you still couldn't shift the awkwardness between you all. The conversation was flowing but still, you and Sunghoon had said nothing to each other. Floating around the conversation to avoid addressing one another. You're doing everything you can to pretend like he's not there, but every time you look up, his gaze somehow finds its way to you. The tension is palpable. You could cut it with a knife.

Wonyoung notices your discomfort, probably sensing that you're deliberately avoiding eye contact with Sunghoon. She tries to pull you into the conversation by telling a funny story, but her voice is barely a cover for the fact that you're hyper-aware of Sunghoon's presence. Every time his voice rings out, it's like a reminder that you're stuck in this moment.

You had this sinking feeling that you were being a buzzkill, that you might be inadvertently ruining the night, you tried your hardest to participate in conversation but it seemed unnatural. You were almost ready to give up for the night. Readying yourself to go home and sink into your bed and never leave it.

It seemed the rest of your party felt the same way. Based on the fatigue in Wonyoung’s eyes and the sluggishness of her gaze. A part of you thought it was the alcohol coursing through her. In the two very long, very agonizing hours you were here you had seen her down at least six drinks. She was sure to be stumbling out of the restaurant.

“I will see you on Monday.” Wonyoung’s voice rang out as he leaned her entire body onto Jay’s for support. He held her upright by her waist and you were sure to catch the look of intimate concern on his face and he stared down at Wonyoung’s drunk state.

“Be careful getting home Won.” You said to her.

“I’ve got her.” Jay spoke softly, grabbing her purse in his hand. Sending him a small smirk you nodded. “I know you do.”

Sunghoon was already at the door saying goodnight to his friends before you could even begin to collect your things. You knew that he didn't like you, that was for certain but him not saying goodbye to you haad stung.

Back wass the feeling of significance because of him, and you hated it. You hated that he had such a tight hold on you. You couldn't understand why. Why did sunghoon’s feelings and opinions on you matter so much, and why did you feel such a strong pull of emotions around him. The thought had irritated you to no end. You just couldn't understand why. Gathering your things you leave the restaurant, your mind and heart a mess.

Monday, you wake up to the sound of your alarm, a grating beep that slices through the comfortable haze of sleep. Your first instinct is to slam the snooze button and pretend for a moment that today is an illusion, that you don’t have to face Sunghoon. You groan, pulling the covers tighter around yourself as if the world outside your bed could just go away. But of course, it doesn't. The moment you even think about calling in sick, you can hear his voice in your head—cool, detached, and just a little too smug. “There are tons of other applicants that are dying to be where you are right now. In this position.” You couldn't bear to listen to it. You hate how his words cling to you, how you can’t just ignore them. The annoying thing about Sunghoon is he’s always right, even when he’s wrong.

But no. You shake the thought away, clenching your fists. You’ve got to go in. You’ve got to deal with him. Because if you don’t, you’ll spend the rest of your day spiraling in your own head, imagining every scenario where you just walk out. Still, you can't help but picture the worst-case scenario in your mind: Sunghoon, smirking as usual, watching you with that infuriatingly unreadable expression. Then he opens his mouth, and everything—your blood, your will to keep it together—starts to boil.

Ransacking your closet has become a daily thing, trying your best to look as presentable as possible. You don't want to give Sunghoon any more ammo to shoot at you with. Plus, this was a fashion magazine job. You just had to look good, or at least look like you knew the difference between your ass and your elbow. Deciding on a simple white blouse and a pair of dark denim jeans you rushed out the door at record speed.

After Friday's fiasco at the restaurant you had felt more nervous than usual to walk into work. You weren't ready to face Sunghoon after the argument the two of you had. You had felt so much embarrassment when you had finally gone home and mulled over exactly what had happened. Sure, Sunghoon is an entitled asshole but he’s right. He’s your boss at the end of the day and you really couldn't afford to get fired.

There is nothing that would hurt more than calling your parents after years of not talking to tell them that you had failed at the career you gave up everything for. That wasn't a humbling experience that you wanted to face. Not now, not ever.

Once you got into the office you flashed Minji a smile before be-lining to your desk. You were trying to go unnoticed by Sunghoon. You really didn't know how you would respond if he came to you being his usual stoic, brazen self. Setting your stuff down you noticed that you were the only one there. Both Jay and Wonyoung were late. You haven't caught a glimpse of Sunghoon yet as well. Something you were thankful for.

You began typing away on your computer, tweaking a few things that you had missed Friday before you left. You noticed a few notes that Sunghoon had left on your doc. Asking you to change a certain color, or a font. You rolled your eyes but did as you were told. You had to admit that some of it did look better then what you originally had. The admittance had made you only slightly angry. You had to remind yourself that this was only your first time doing this professionally, as for Sunghoon who had been doing this for over two years now.

After only a short while of working you're distracted by the sound of an all too familiar giggle.

You catch sight of Wonyoung, and something about her today is different. She’s walking in with Jay, and there's this soft, almost too happy vibe between them. Wonyoung’s smile is a little wider than usual, and her eyes keep flicking toward Jay, as if she can’t help herself. And Jay, for

His part seems a little more careful around her, like he's trying to be sweet without being too obvious, but it’s clear they’re in sync. They’re walking close, way too close for just friends, with her shoulder occasionally brushing his, her voice softening when she speaks. And Jay? He’s laughing at something Wonyoung said, his hand resting casually, almost accidentally on her back, guiding her into the office. That tiny touch says it all. You can see it in the way Wonyoung glances up at him, almost as if she’s living in a little love bubble that no one else can quite pop. The way her eyes light up when he says something, like she’s completely smitten and not even trying to hide it.

Something had changed between the two of them, something catastrophic. The vibe between them had shifted into something more tender. They had looked well, in love. Your heart swelled for the two. You remembered the conversation you had with Wonyoung in the meeting room, how she confessed to being in love with Jay. You had settled hope that she had finally told him. Breaking away from Jay, Wonyoung made her way to her cubicle.

“Um..” You mumbled, waiting for her to finally settle in. “Got something to tell me?” You asked cutting right to the chase.

“No?” Wonyoung had a teasing smile on her face, one that told you she was most definitely messing with you. Dangling that carrot over your head in a mocking way to get you riled up.

“Tell me” You whined like a toddler in no mood for silly games.

“Fine, fine.” Wonyoung said with a smile that you had never seen her wear before. It was bright and glittery and very much dopey. Like she was sickeningly in love. You didn't know whether you wanted to puke or jump for joy. Probably both. “After we had left the restaurant I was pretty drunk. You know that.” You nodded at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Well Jay brought me home, and like a drunk idiot I confessed but Jay knew I was drunk and didn't want to say much until I was sober. He slept over on my couch and when I woke up and saw him there I thought nothing of it, I thought maybe he was just as drunk as me and just crashed at my place instead of going home.” A big goofy grin spread across her lips once again.

Your heart had warmed at the sight. You were over the moon to see your friend happy. “But he told me what I had said to him the night before, truthfully I was mortified. That was not at all how I wanted to tell him, you know that.” You nodded, remembering how she wanted to wait to tell him. Worried that he was way too busy to take up with a girl he considered being his friend being in love with him. She had feared he didn't feel the same but anyone with eyes could tell he did.

“He told me he needed to hear me say it while sober, that he wouldn't believe it until I did. So I told him, I told him I loved him and that I've loved him for a while and just didn't want to inconvenience him by telling him.” Her words were dripped in honey as they fell from her lips and you felt nothing but happiness for your friend. Although you have only known Jay and Wonyoung for a short time you could truly see the care and the love the two of them shared, it was only a matter of time before their true feelings were revealed to one another.

“And..and he loved me too.” She looked down at her hands bashfully. “He said that he has loved me longer than I even loved him. He didn't think I could ever feel the same way so he never told me.”

“So a case of miscommunication?” You cracked, a smile now on your lips as well.

“Yeah i guess so”

You were just about to ask her for more details when you heard the sound of someone walking down the cubicle hallway. Looking up you’re met with Sunghoon, the same sharp expression on his face. Instantly gone was your smile and bubbly attitude. In its place a more foul feeling. And a bit of worry.

“Oh god” Wonyoung groaned, swerving around in her chair to face her computer. Sunghoon made a direct beeline for your cubicle, leaving a heavy sinking feeling in your gut. Of course he was coming to you. When was he not?

“I have a few pointers about what you're working on.” Sunghoon said as he stood beside your desk. No good morning, no hello. Just straight to the point.

“Of course you do.” You huffed.

“Do you think that's a color you should be using for the title?” Sunghoon ignored your comment, instead leaning out to point at what's on your computer screen.

“What color would you like me to use?” You quizzed to humor him.

“Probably something that pops like green-”

“Green?” Your disgusted expression not going unnoticed by Sunghoon. “She's wearing a pink jumpsuit. Why would I make the title green?”

“It's for contrast Y/n” Sunghoon remarked with the roll of his eyes.

“It's too bright-”

Sunghoon leaned forward more, placing his coffee mug down onto your desk with a slow, deliberate motion. "Exactly. That’s the point. People will look. They'll remember it. The world doesn’t need another pastel-colored magazine that blends in. We need bold choices if we want to stand out."

“These are young girls we are talking about. They are the epitome of a pastel-colored and girly girl, it also shows subtlety when you use more boring colors like white and beige. It shows class-”

"Class?" he interrupted with a raised brow. "You think class comes in beige? Or grey? People don’t care about your ‘subtlety’ when they’re flipping through a hundred other magazines that all look the same. We need to be striking. Unique."

“You’re not listening to what I'm saying Sunghoon, and you're also not giving me the creative freedoms I need to make this stand out while also not being a huge eyesore.” You exasperated, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“Whatever.” Sunghoon muttered. “Do whatever you want.” Storming off down the corridor without uttering another word.

You were shocked at his audacity to come in here and suggest your ideas to be weak, and not unique. It had felt like one big slap in the face. You didn't know how much more of it you could stand. You needed to hit this in the but and get this weird tension and argumentative behavior to go away. You needed it to stop if you were going to truly work to your highest capacity.

“Screw this” You muttered, getting up from your seat.

“Where are you going?” Wonyoung shouted after you, but you ignored her and continued your fast descent to Sunghoon’s office. A place you had not yet visited. You round the corner to be met with his semi secluded office. The what was supposed to be open windows to his office were covered in top to bottom curtains, shielding what was happening inside.

Sunghoon was definitely the kind of man that desired privacy, even as the boss in his own workplace. That was something you could find yourself relating with.

Knocking on the door to his office you gave him no more than a second before you were pushing the door open and walking inside.

Sunghoon looked up at you with an expression of shock and the utmost anger at your intrusion but frankly you didn't care. You were over this back and forth with him and you were there to settle it.

“Excuse me-” Sunghoon started.

“What’s your issue with me?” You asked, trying to keep your composure as you stood in the middle of his office. “Why are you being so hard on me? Treating me differently than everyone else?”

His brow furrowed slightly, and for a split second, you could almost see a flicker of something, was it surprise? Annoyance? Maybe a little of both? "You think I’m being hard on you?" His tone was quieter now, but still edged with something unyielding, like a glacier slowly shifting. "You’re not the only one who works hard, Y/N. You’re not the only one who’s been under pressure."

You shook your head, the frustration building. "That’s not it. It’s how you treat me. You’ve always been different with me. Jay and Wonyoung? They get praise, they get leeway, they get humanity, and I know they are your friends. But when it comes to me? You always find something wrong. You never—" You stopped yourself, cutting off the words before they became too much.

He was still staring at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes now—something deep, something you hadn’t expected. He stood up from his desk, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. His smell had wafted your sense, filling you wholly. He smelt familiar, like someone you once knew but had lost.

"You think you know me?" he asked, his voice low, dangerously calm. "You think you understand how hard it is, how much pressure I’m under? To keep this department running, to keep everything in line?"

Your heart raced as you stepped forward, emboldened by the truth spilling from your lips. "I never said it was easy for you. But why do I always feel like I’m the one you're trying to break? Why do I feel like I’m the one who’s always under your microscope? The one you never hesitate to shy away from with your scrutiny.”

“You're making things up in your head, allowing things to brew with your emotions-”

“Don't you dare tell me how to feel and think, Sunghoon. That’s not for you to decide.” Your voice was stern, a tone you should not be having with your boss. He moved closer to you, impossibly close. You felt a pull between the two of you, one you couldn't explain. A pull you weren't sure was fueled by hatred or something else. The red bracelet he wore on his wrist caught the light of the office, making your heart pound in your chest.

He didn’t even flinch. His gaze darkened, and for a moment, You thought he might actually shout at you, but instead, he did something that made your heart skip a beat. He leaned in close, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Then maybe you should stop pretending and just admit you want me to notice you.”

“Notice me?” You echoed, Your voice low and dangerous. “I’m not some damsel waiting for your approval, Sunghoon.” You couldn't believe the sheer audacity that he held. To think he had the right to insinuate you made a fuss for the end goal of catching his eye. How arrogant could he truly be? He was maddening, he was turning your mind to utter mush and still through it all he was so damn hot. It had your mind reeling and your pulse jumping. In the thick of it you couldn't help yourself. He stared at you for a long beat, his gaze softening just a fraction. His lips parted as if to say something, but before he could, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards you. The kiss was hard, urgent. More of a collision than a moment of tenderness. His lips were warm and demanding, and you couldn’t help but respond in a hushed moan, your hands threading through his hair, tugging him closer. For a moment, everything else, the frustration, the resentment, the disdain, melted away.

Sunghoon’s hands were on your waist now, pulling you flush against him, his fingers grazing the small of your back. He kissed you with the same intensity he’d had in the argument, his mouth softening only when he pulled back for air.

“Fuck” You cursed, as his lips found your neck sucking dark circles into the exposed skin. Keeping your hands tightly wound in his hair and lift your hips slightly, creating the tiniest bit of friction that you could muster.

Pulling back Sughoon assessed his work on your collar bone before reattaching his lips to yours with fiver. The realisation of what the two of you were doing hit you like a freight train, but before you could pull back your mind was blank. Your vision, blurry then white as a hazy image illuminated your vision.

It was of two figures, one a man with a familiar build and captivating smile. Sunghoon. The other person is a woman, with hair much like yours. You could assume it was you. The two of you were holding hands as you walked along a beach. The sunset behind you is a warm shade of burnt orange, so beautiful and bright as it illuminates the two of you together. Tangled in one another. Your hands were bound together, swaying back and forth in tandem. Sunghoon was smiling at you with a smile you had never seen before. He leans down to kiss your cheek. The shock of it all sends you jolting and back into reality.

You pulled away from Sunghoon with a gasp. Your breathing heavy as your chest moves up and down trying to catch your breath.

“This is wrong.” You whimper. Your emotions beginning to get the best of you. “We..we shouldn't have done that.”

“No we shouldn't have.” Sunghoon’s voice was void of any real emotion, the tone had a shiver shooting up your spine. The reality of what just happened is daunting on you. You had just made out with your boss. The boss who hates you, and who you're sure you hate back.

“You should go.” Sunghoon averts his eyes every which way as he tries his hardest to not look at you. You were grateful for it for once. Fearing if he looked you in your eye it would trigger a river of emotion to fall from you, one that you wouldn't be able to stop.

You've had enough embarrassment for today. If Sunghoon truly thought you were attention hungry before you could only begin to wonder what he thought of you now. After having spewed your disdain to only pull him into a kiss as soon as he got too close. Your self restraint had flown straight out the window, taking your common sense with it.

You don’t kiss your boss. That was an unspoken rule among any workplace and you had just broken it. How were you supposed to act going forward? There was no way you could look Sunghoon in the eye and not be brought back to that very moment in his office. The moment you forgot about being a decent human being, a sensible one.

You let your emotions and the intensity of the moment speak for itself and look where it got you. You're deep into a hole you don't know how to dig yourself out of. Questioning every feeling you ever felt for Sunghoon.

Your mind was a jumbled mess. Comparable to a jigsaw puzzle you just couldn't solve. The resentment you felt for yourself was heavy as you made the awkward trek back to your cubicle. Ignoring Wonyoung’s awakening stare, you sat down in your seat before letting your head fall down with a thump against the wood of your desk.

You ignored the sharp pain and tried your hardest to hold back the prickling feeling of tears welling in your eyes. What could you possibly be crying about? So what? you kissed your boss, move on. That’s what you wish you could be telling yourself but instead the self loathing set it. You don’t want to tell Wonyoung in fear of running her picture perfect day with your mess of a life. One that you had created for yourself.

You raised your head from its place on the desk before turning to look at Wonyoung with a solemn smile. “What’s going on?” She asked with confusion.

“Nothing” You tried to be short so as to not give too much away. “I went to try and ask Sunghoon a question but he wasn’t in his office. I’ll ask him later.” Wonyoung’s eyes turned to slits. It was evident that she didn't believe a word you said, but by the very grace of god she decided to leave the subject alone. With just the nod of her head and tilted frown you knew you had upset her by not telling her the truth. A part of you wants to just blurt it, tell her what you have done. But you couldn't bear the backlash.

Surly Wonyoung would scold you, tell you just how stupid you were for kissing Sunghoon. Who is A.) Your boss but who B.) also just said that he wasn't the dating type. Who in their right mind would kiss their emotionally unavailable boss.

There wasn’t time to dwell much more on what you couldn't change, deciding to ignore it rather than face it. You only hoped and prayed that Sunghoon did the same.

The next few days at work had been tense. To say the least. You had been ignoring Sunghoon like the plague. Something that hasn't gone unnoticed by Wonyoung and Jay who were still very much in love and flaunting it. It had hurt your head to watch them be all lovey dovey day in and day out.

Jay was truly the picture perfect boyfriend and although you were very happy for your friends you couldn't help the deep seed of jealousy that reared its ugly head every time you witnessed it. Every single kiss on the cheek, hug or subtle caress had made you green with envy. You didn't enjoy feeling that way towards your friends but karma had a sick way of cutting deep when you wanted it least.

Wonyoung asked you multiple times what had happened between you and Sunghoon the day you went to his office but each time you maintained your story that he wasn't there. She didn't believe it any time you told her and it was obvious to you that she was sick and tired of that response.

Sunghoon must have been giving her a similar story because everytime she talked to him she was left with a somewhat sour expression as she obnoxiously stomped away from him like a child not getting her way. If you weren't so caught up in what happened recently you would have thought it to be cute. Today had been no different than the rest, you were ignoring Sunghoon, as much as you could ignore your boss. He hadn't come to your desk at all either. Something you were really thankful for. All of that still didn't stop him from leaving his obnoxious notes in your docs anytime you did something to the cover. It was infuriating, being reminded of him constantly.

When lying awake at night you couldn't help but think of the little…vision? You had mid kiss with Sunghoon. You didn't know what to call it, or what it even was. All you knew was that it had felt, real? Too real. It made your head hurt. It was so clear yet so hazy at the same time. None of it made sense. Then you thought about the kiss, the hot hot kiss. You thought about how Sunghoon’s hands felt when he gripped your hips pulling you closer to him. You thought about his lips trailing up and down the expanse of your neck.

Thankfully it was winter and you were able to get away with wearing turtlenecks to work as to hide the dark purple marks he left on your skin. At night you would run your fingers lightly against them and a deep dark part of you wished that you had done more in that moment. Just so you could have more to dream about, fantasize about.

You couldn't deny that you liked it. Very much. You also couldn't deny that Sunghoon had kissed you back, desperately. It had to mean that a part of him had to be attracted to you? Does it not?

Otherwise he surely would have pushed you away instead of pulling you in. He wasn't the one to stop the kiss at all actually, it was you who pulled away.

You who had stated that it was wrong, that you shouldn't have done it. How much further would you have gone if your head wasn't cleared by the reality of what you were doing and who you were doing it with.

You were hesitant to admit even to yourself that you would have gone much further, so much further. You hated yourself for the part of you that wished you had done so. He's your boss for crying out loud. How on earth were you to go back to normal after this. How were you ever going to get Sunghoon to treat you like a regular employee now. Would it ever be normal after this?

You were at the office like you usually would be, trying your hardest to ignore the most recent buzz over an annual christmas party being held at this fancy bar downtown. You were praying Wonyoung wouldn't have the inclination to invite you to it, truthfully it was the last thing you wanted to do. But before you knew it Wonyoung was beside your desk, a big goofy smile on her face that had represented your impending doom to a T.

"Guess what time it is, bestie?" Her voice was sing-song, cheerful, like she’d just won a prize. It had you cringing at the sound.

You didn’t look up, not ready for whatever was coming next. "Don’t even say it."

"I’m saying it," she chirped, drawing out the words like she had all the time in the world. "You're coming to the Christmas party, and that's final."

You Threw your head back with a groan of protest, "Wonyoung, I really don’t feel like going, Can we just—"

"Nope." She was already scooting her chair closer to you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "You’re coming to the party. I’ve already made the decision for you. You don’t get to make decisions right now."

“I’m serious, Wonyoung.” You leaned back in your chair, trying your best to sound firm. “I can’t go. Not with him there.” You had half a mind to make up some family emergency just to avoid what you knew was your ultimate fate but you were already feeling guilty enough for not telling her that you kissed sunghoon.

Wonyoung’s eyes widened for a split second, before narrowing suspiciously. "Who? Sunghoon?" She dropped her voice, clearly trying to be subtle but failing miserably. "Oh, come on. Stop being so dramatic. I thought this little feud between you two would be over by now. Seriously, the two of you need to kiss and makeup already.”

You visibly cringed at her choice of words, something that didn't go unnoticed by her. “It’s not that,” you muttered, your fingers fidgeting with a pen. "It’s… complicated.”

“What are you hiding?” She said, her eyes narrowed into slits. “Did he say something to offend you more? Cause i'll talk to him again, seriously i need this tension to go away because i'm starting to think of you as my best friend and i need all my friends to get along.”

“Well…” You shifted in your seat, trying to avoid her piercing gaze. “It’s not just work stuff, okay? And no he didn't say anything..”

Wonyoung leaned forward, studying you closely. She was sharp, and she wasn’t going to let this go. "Oh my god. What happened?" Her voice dropped lower, her curiosity piqued. "Did you… did you two kiss?"

You swallowed hard. “I… We…” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. How could you? It felt like everything had changed in an instant. "We kissed, okay?" Your voice came out almost in a whisper, the words heavy in the air.

Wonyoung’s face lit up, her eyes wide with shock, then gleaming with amusement. "Oh my god. You kissed Sunghoon?" She leaned back in her chair like she was trying to process the sudden shift in the universe. "Wait, when? How? Why didn’t you tell me?!"

“I didn’t tell you because it’s… awkward now, okay?” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to steady your breathing. “ Wonyoung. I don’t even know what’s going on between us. I’ve been ignoring him as much as possible. I’m trying to pretend like nothing happened but I can’t just pretend like we didn’t—" You cut yourself off, grimacing. The words felt too heavy in your mouth. "I’m just not ready to deal with it."

Wonyoung blinked at you, and then, as if realizing the full scope of the situation, she burst into laughter. You flashed her a deadpanned look. Her laughter grew harder and louder. “I knew it!” she said, her voice full of triumph. “I knew you two had something going on. All that tension between you? It was like a rom-com waiting to happen! And now you’re telling me you kissed? Oh my god. This is so juicy.”

You buried your face in your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck. “Wonyoung, this is not funny. It’s awkward, okay? And the last thing I want to do is face him at the Christmas party.”

Wonyoung was absolutely giddy now, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, come on. You can’t just avoid him forever. Trust me, you’ll feel so much better once you go and see him in person. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? You both just act like normal human beings and get on with your lives. It’s a Christmas party, not a battlefield."

You shot her another deadpan look. “Wonyoung, you don’t get it. Every time I see him, all I can think about is that kiss. And I really don’t want to be around him when everything is so weird.”

She rolled her eyes, dismissing your concerns like they were nothing. “Come on. It’s not as big a deal as you’re making it. Look, you’re not just going to hide away forever. You’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, I am going, so is Jay, and we need you there to make it a proper party.” You couldn’t help but let out a resigned sigh. You were cornered. Wonyoung would never let this go. If she was determined to drag you to that party, there was no way you were getting out of it.

"Fine," you muttered, slumping in your chair. "I’ll go. But I swear, if he so much as looks at me—"

“Then you kiss him again,” Wonyoung said, her grin widening. “And maybe I’ll start charging for all this drama. I’ll be your manager, and we’ll make a fortune off this mess."

“You're enjoying this way too much.” You muttered with a shake of your head.

“That’s what friends are for” She laughed, “Also, im telling jay about this.”

“No you're not.” You argued. “He can't know. He’ll tell Sunghoon and..and then I really could never show my face here again.”

“He will most certainly not be telling Sunghoon, I won't allow it. I promise.” She assured you with a small pat to your head. “Plus, he’ll probably want to see this all unfold on its own. It's like a comedy show to him.” She rolled her eyes at the thought of her boyfriend's antics. Her pure happiness had brought you joy. Even though a part of you was severely jealous of their relationship, none of that jealousy stemmed from hate, only from love. You wished you had someone who looked at you the way Jay looked at Wonyoung and vice versa but seeing your friend over the moon in love and happy with a good man had made your heart soar.

“When is this christmas party?” You asked, after the two of you had settled down a bit.

“Saturday night.” Wonyoung responded gleefully.

Looking down at your calendar you see that it was now thursday. Three awkward days from your kiss with Sunghoon. You knew you couldn't avoid him forever but you had at least hoped it would be longer than a work week.

You had only hoped that magically Sunghoon wouldn't show up. These things were mandatory he could definitely skip out. You held onto that hope throughout the rest of the day. Continuing to ignore Sunghoon.

At Lunch on friday you and Wonyoung sat in the lounge, you had been too anxious to eat so you just sat as Wonyoung and Jay yapped about what they would be wearing to the christmas party.

Your mind elsewhere not even thinking about what you were going to wear, only thinking about how you could get out of it. Suddenly the door to the lounge opened. Your heart sinking to your stomach as the familiar tap of Sunghoon’s expensive leather shoes were heard, walking this way. Your eyes widened frantically looking over at Wonyoung with a shocked expression.

“I didn't invite him.” She said, her eyes equally as wide as yours. SShe turned her head meeting Jay’s sheepish gaze.

“He might have told me about your kiss, and I forced him to come meet us here for lunch as a way to alleviate the tension.” Jay’s smile was watery as Wonyoung gave him the most brutal look she could possibly muster.

“Jay! You can't ambush a girl like that.” Wonyoung said with a hiss.

“Sorry..” Something about Jay’s sheepish expression gave you the impression that he wasn't sorry at all, instead rather gleeful that this was happening.

Finally Sunghoon approached your table. His eyes rapidly moved back and forth between the three of you. “Hello.” He said curtly, pulling out a chair then sitting down.

The tension was so thick in the air you could cut it with a knife. Your lungs felt about three sizes smaller. The act of expanding them is just a bit harder than before. You knew what was happening. You were having an anxiety attack and you could do nothing but sit in silence as the sickening feeling overwhelmed you.

You couldn't deal with this, not right now. You had prepared yourself for the christmas party but not for this. No, this felt like a surprise attack. You knew it wasn't but still the rapid beating of your heart and the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach just wouldn't go away. It was dizzying. “I-i um..” You stuttered rising from your seat at the table. “I forgot that i have some stuff i need to do i-have to go.” You forced the words out like razors caught in your throat.

“Are you okay?” Wonyoung’s look of concern did nothing to calm the raging storm brewing inside of you, you had to get out of this lounge and fast.

“Yes.” You nodded before turning and leaving the room as quickly as you could. You didn't care how ridiculous it might have looked running out of there.

Sitting down at your desk a heavy breath left your lips and already your heart slowed. No longer were you dizzy with worry. At times like this you wished you had your red bracelet to help ground you, and even more so you wish your grandmother was alive. You wanted nothing more than to call her and ask for her guidance or ask for her to give it to you straight, no sugar coating it.

She would do that for you, much like a mother would. Something you wish your own mother would do for you. You longed for a good relationship with your parents. A relationship where you could call them when you're down and ask for their advice or just their comfort.

They were not entirely horrible growing up. Sometimes your father had acted like a real dad, very rarely but it did happen. You have very few but fond memories of your father waking you up at half past midnight to go to the toy shop with him. He would get new shipments and would be away too excited to sleep. He needed your input on them. He needed you to tell them if they were fun, if they were worth being sold there.

You would play with the toys together really late into the night and it was the most tender you had ever seen your father act. You realize now that a lot of that was because of the shop but you didn't care, it was still a happy memory you shared with him.

Thinking of your messy childhood has somehow helped you calm down. Your breathing was back to normal and your stomach did feel like it was turning every few seconds. You weren't angry at Jay for ambushing you with Sunghoon because you knew truthfully that wasn't his intention. You were more so embarrassed with the way you reacted to him. You must have looked so stupid, so weak. He was right to think of you that way to begin with.

The sound of Wonyoung’s heavy footsteps had also brought you more comfort than you were willing to admit. Somewhat happy that she had come to check on you.

“Are you alright?” Wonyoung’s voice was not a decibel above a whisper as she approached you.

“I’m okay.” You sent her a small reassuring smile. “Let's not make a big deal out of it please.”

“I’m going to kill Jay i swear-” Your laugh cut her off.

“It’s ok i promise.”

“Are you sure because I'll kill him if you ask me to.”

“I’m sure” You said with more laughter. “Please don't kill your boyfriend.”

“Okay..” She trailed off, flashing you a smile. “You sure you're okay?”

“I’m sure.” You reassured her with a nod of your head. You didn’t know how you would fare at this christmas party but at least you’d be ready for it. As ready as you can be anyway.

On the night of the party you made sure to wear something…extra sexy. You wanted to feel good. Plus you were going to a bar. It was time for you to unwind after the last few weeks you've had and how stressful it's been working at a new job with an asshole boss and a huge project thrown your way.

The party’s being held in a bar downtown, cozy and decorated with festive lights and wreaths. It’s supposed to be fun, but the moment you step inside, the last person you want to see is standing by the bar: Sunghoon. He was truly the last person you wanted to see as soon as you stepped into the door. Perched in the two seats next to sunghoon were Wonyoung and Jay, of course.

Ever since that night in his office, the lines between you two have blurred. What started as a sharp, tense argument had escalated into something you never expected—a kiss. Not a casual peck, but a searing, desperate thing that left you breathless and confused. Then the silence. The awkwardness, and the fact that you ran out of the lounge upon seeing him yesterday. Now, here he is, looking effortlessly perfect in a tailored black suit, his hair styled just the right amount of messy. His eyes catch yours the second you step in, and you feel that familiar flutter of dread (and something else you can’t quite name). Your pulse quickens, your palms grow clammy. You think of turning around and leaving before he sees you, but it's too late. Wonyoung is calling for you, waving her hand around like a mad man. It was obvious she already had a few drinks in her.

“Y/n!” Wonyoung giggles as soon as you walk up to them “You're finally here!” You send her a smile, hugging her awkwardly.

“I’m here” You forced the words out.

“Hello.” The words were tense, not sliding off the tongue easily at all. Your stature was rigid; anyone with eyes could tell you were clearly uncomfortable.

“Hi Y/n” Sunghoon says casually, catching you completely off guard but before you could find the words to respond he's already turning to Jay starting up a conversation. And for the millionth time you notice the bracelet on his wrist. That goddamn bracelet. Looking away from it you focused your attention back to the conversation.

“We only have two months left and we can't seem to figure out what pictures to use.” Jay was saying, they were obviously talking about the project. “If we don’t get it right they'll be pissed. You know how they were last time.”

“I was hoping they would cut us some slack with a new hire” Sunghoon’s tone was hushed almost like he didn't want you to hear, but you did and it had pissed you off.

“What?” You hissed out. “You guys hired me as a scapegoat?”

Sunghoon groaned only furthering the simmering anger inside of you. Jay’s eyes widened as Wonyoung went pale beside you, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from Sunghoon. His expression remained calm, detached, like he was making a simple business statement.

“Let’s face it,” Sunghoon continued, unbothered by the sudden shift in atmosphere. “That new project? They’re bound to hate it. And when they do, I’ll need someone to take the heat. You’re perfect for it—you're new, trainable. This is your first time in this field”

The words hit you like a slap, cold and hard. You blinked, momentarily lost for words, the room around you suddenly feeling too tight, the festive decorations too bright, too garish. “I’m perfect for it?” You echoed in disbelief. “So you plan on throwing me under the bus, and you think I’m okay with that?”

“I’m not trying to throw you under the bus Y/n, but these girls, they're brutal ok?” He set his drink down on the bar table. “They hate everything, and if i say you were the one who took the reins the consequences won't be as dire. They’ll use the excuse that it's a teaching moment.”

“Are you seriously telling me you only hired me because I’m some convenient liability?” You said, your voice rising. “Is that all I am to you, Sunghoon? A fall guy?” Jay winced, looking like he wanted to disappear, while Wonyoung stepped back, clearly unsure how to navigate the conversation. But you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Don’t think for a second that I’m just going to let you use me like that,” you spat. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re trying to play a game with me, but you’ve got it all wrong.” Tears welled up in your eyes, the frustration you felt was immense.

Wonyoung glanced at Jay, both of them taking a step back. It was clear that this wasn’t just a disagreement—it was something much deeper, much more personal now. The air between you and Sunghoon had shifted from something casual to something sharp, dangerous even. You haad thought for a moment, just a moment that Sunghoon would treat you like an actual human being for once, but oh how fucking wrong you were.

“There’s no game Y/n.” He spoke as if this conversation was an inconvenience, like your feelings meant nothing. “I hired you because I knew you had potential, but you came at a difficult time and we used that as an advantage.”

“I’m not going to allow you to tarnish my name” You spat. Fresh tears falling down your face.

For a moment, there was a silence between you two—tense, thick, and heavy. Wonyoung and Jay exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to stay or leave. The energy in the room seemed to freeze.

Sunghoon looked visibly annoyed with even a small semblance of anger taking over his features. “It’s not like it wouldn't be your fault if they hate it. You can't even pick a proper title color.”

His sharp words struck you like a knife. Stabbing into your chest with keen precision.

“Fuck you Sunghoon.” You spat out. Words you were surely to regret in the future. Words you would never ordinarily say to your boss. Turning on your heel you rushed to the nearest bathroom. It was one of those family bathrooms that didn't have gender assignment, you were grateful that no one would be bothering you, going in and out of stalls.

Slamming the bathroom door behind you, you allowed the tears to fall freely down your cheeks in what seemed like a waterfall of emotion. You were angry, so severely angry. How dare he insinuate that he was going to use you as a scapegoat. Was your work that subpar that he felt you were the easiest person to use. It had felt like a sick game, one you didn't sign up to play.

A knock on the door sounded throughout the bathroom. “Go away Wonyoung” You sniffled not even in the mood for your fun loving, ever so perky tipsy friend. The door opened anyway, and in the reflection of the mirror you spot Sunghoon.

“Get out.” You grit your teeth.

“Just-just let me talk for one second before you get defensive.” He closed the door behind him with a click.

“Defensive?” You said in shock. “You just told me im being used-”

“That's not- ok.” He took a simmering breath obviously trying to compose himself.

“Yes, ok. I hired you so that we can use you being a new hire as back up for when we inevitably get torn to shreds by Suyu and her members but..it wasn't you specifically ok?”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, Sunghoon? What kind of excuse is that?”

“Its not an excuse Y/n.” Sunghoon ran his hands through his hair, an action that you shamefully maade your knees wobbly at the sight. Why did this man have to be so daamn beautiful while also being so damn irritating? “It's an explanation. The only excuse would be that you're new. Not that you're not good enough. I know you're good, otherwise I wouldn't have picked you over all those applicants. At the same time I also knew that nothing would satisfy Suyu, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone.”

You looked down at your wrist feeling the barness more than anything. “I’m not some villain Y/n i’m not trying to make you feel useless-”

“Then why do you?” You look up at him, your lashes wet from your tears.

Sunghoon’s response is short, concise but it makes your heart beat a mile a minute. His voice was unexpectedly quiet. “I didn’t mean to make you feel small. I’m sorry.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You’re… apologizing?”

Sunghoon nodded dumbly, running his hands through his hair once again. You couldn't help the heat traveling to your cheeks, blaming it on the one single drink you had before coming. Sunghoon unconsciously stepped forward, his cologne invading your senses until it drove you mad. His frame was tall, looming over you like a giant. “I am” He confirmed with his words now.

Before you could process what was happening, Sunghoon closed the space between you. His movements were slow, deliberate, and the air in the bathroom seemed to thicken with every passing second. Your heart raced as he stopped just inches away from you, his gaze intense, searching your face.

“I—” he started, but the words died in his throat. Instead, his hand reached up, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“What are you doing?” You whispered out, hoping that whatever it was, it wouldn't stop.

“I don't know” He said back, just as breathily. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your head shook with vigor. Silently begging him to stay just where he was.

Then, without warning, he leaned down and kissed you.

It was unexpected, and yet, it felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to implode since the last time you had kissed. His lips were warm and insistent, but not in the way you expected from someone like him. There was no arrogance in the kiss, no dominance—just raw, unfiltered emotion, something both of you had kept buried beneath layers of pride and tension.

You stood frozen for a second, your breath catching in your throat. Then, instinct took over. You kissed him back. Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer. His other hand slid around your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss. The world around you seemed to disappear. There was only the heat of his body, the press of his lips, and the racing pulse that had nothing to do with the party outside or the complicated mess that was your relationship with him. Everything felt raw and completely in the moment.

Sunghoon pushed you against the sink, the contrast of the cool porcelain was a godsend against the heat of your skin. With a gasp Sunghoon’s tongue was down your throat exploring the expanse of your mouth with his tongue.

His hands pushed at you, lifting you up and onto the sink with ease you could only deem as incredibly sexy.

“Fuck.” He breathed disconnecting his lips from yours, trailing them down your neck much like he did the day you two had kissed in his office. “Tell me to stop.”

“No.” You gasped out “Dont..dont stop.” Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your hips raising yearning for some kind of friction.

Sunghoon’s hand hungrily grabbed at your sides before sliding up to cup at your clothes breasts. His breath was warm against your skin, fanning over it in quick exhales.

“Can i?” He asked, a sense of urgency in his tone as he toyed with the hem of your tights under the dress you wore. Nodding dumbly you watched as Sunghoon made quick work of pulling your tights down in one fell swoop. Your legs were bare as they hung over the side of the sink. Next to go were your panties leaving you completely out in the open for Sunghoon’s hungry eyes. He drank in the sight of you, his lips rising with a small smirk. “Can I touch you?” He asked.

“Yes” You whimpered out. Once again raising your hips in a show of desperation. “Please” Sunghoon’s fingers ghosted your entrance, feather-like touches leaving you wanting and desperate.

“Please..” You said pathetically, voice barely above a whisper.

“Ok pretty..”Sunghoon cooed, running thumb over your clip, moving it in circular motions driving you absolutely mad.

“You're so wet.” Sunghoon’s voice was ragged and hoarse almost as if he smoked a full carton of cigarettes.

“Mhm” You moaned “Only for you.” You tried to settle your moans not wanting anyone outside the door to hear you, but the way his fingers were working you up and down had made that task nearly impossible.

“I need to taste you.” Before you could say anything else Sunghoon dipped his head down, his hungry mouth lapping up the juices dripping from your wet cunt.

“Oh fuck.” You hissed out arching your back off the sink in pleasure. Your hands were in Sunhoon’s hair pulling and yanking for any form of leverage. “Fuck, fuck.”

Sunghoon’s tongue made circles on your slit, your vision blurry with tears. The overstimulation of the moment is almost too much to bear.

“Oh my god.” You whispered looking down to watch as Sunghoon hungrily ate you out. His actions were comparable to a starving man. It was hot, almost too hot for you to handle.

“Keep…” You breathed “Keep going.. I’m almost there.”

“Yeah?” Sunghoon teased, lifting his mouth for just a split second.

“Mhm” You nodded “Holy-” Your body jolted. You would have fallen right off the sink if it weren't for Sunghoon’s hand holding you in place. Your legs shook with intensity. Sunghoon sucked on your clit, the slurping sound a catalyst to your already awaiting orgasm.

“Oh.” You squeaked “I’m cumming” Your end hit you like a train, blinding your vision with a sheen of white. Your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, it must have been the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced. Steadying your breathing, Sunghoon pulled back. A shit eating grin on his face as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“Holy shit” You breathed out. Holding the edge of the sink firmly in your hands. You rose your legs trembling from the mind numbing orgasm you had just had. “I’ve never come that hard in my life.”

“That was just my tongue.” Sunghoon’s face had a smug smirk on it, one that said he was proud of the service he just provided.

“We should talk-”

“Please, for tonight let's just not.” His voice held desperation. You couldn't ignore how bad it seemed he didn't want to talk about the reality of what just happened. Quite frankly, neither did you. You'd rather be living in this happy little bubble you put yourself into.

“Come back to my place?” His question caught you off guard. The look of shock not going unnoticed by Sunghoon as he smiled warmly. “If you want to, of course.” He assured you. You didn't have to think it through for very long before you found yourself nodding, agreeing that you would go back with him to his apartment where you were certain you'd be doing much more than what you did in here. But for right now you didnt care. You didn't want to think about what the repercussions of what you were doing and what you were about to do would be.

Just for tonight you wanted to be blissfully unaware of the real world and what would happen on monday once you saw Sunghoon again. Tonight you were just a girl and Sunghoon was just a guy. Two people who wanted to have fun after a night out at the bar. A girl could pretend and that's exactly what you would be doing.

“How are we going to get out of here without Jay and Wonyoung noticing?” You questioned. The last thing you wanted was questions from Wonyoung asking what you were just doing and also what you were about to do. You wanted to just do it.

“Jay texted me that he took Wonyoung home. Turns out after we stormed off she down half a bottle of vodka because of the stress. She’s wasted right now.”

You made a mental note to call Wonyoung in the morning. You worried that tonight had been too much for her. You didn't want her to think any of this was her or Jay’s fault, you didn't blame them one bit for what happened tonight, even if it was Wonyoung who forced you to come in the first place. And they for certain had to know of Sunghoon’s plan to hire someone who could be their scapegoat for the project. But that was a discussion for another day, right now all you were worried about was getting to the car unnoticed.

“Thank god.” You sighed out. “Hopefully everyone else is too drunk to care why we're leaving together.”

“Oh none of them really care.” Sunghoon laughed. “They're all like npc's, they just move around the office emotionless.”

Laughing, you put your tights and panties back on before following Sunghoon out the door of the bathroom and back into the dimly lit bar. The Christmas music blaring over the loudspeakers and people laughed and joked with one another. Sunghoon latched onto your hand, dragging you outside of the bar and away from everyone.

“My car is just down here.” He continued to pull you as you followed after him like a little duckling following their mother.

Once you got to his car you admired the sleek black range rover for only a second before you pushed yourself in. Suddenly a giddy feeling overwhelmed your senses. You were excited to go back with Sunghoon. You weren't stupid you knew what was about to happen. Sunghoon hopped into the driver's side of the car, taking off with ease.

“I don't live far from here.” He spoke quietly now, quieter than he was in the bar. You rolled the window down to get some air in, feeling suddenly hot.

The night was crisp, and the hum of the car engine seemed to carry the weight of everything that had happened. Sunghoon was driving, his fingers tense on the wheel, the road ahead illuminated by the glow of streetlights that flickered past in a steady rhythm. The air between you felt heavy, thick with the tension of what had just unfolded.It seemed that both of your minds began to wander, thinking about what it was exactly the two of you were doing.

“Are you ok with what's about to happen?” Sunghoon suddenly asked. It was a dangerous question. And you knew that the right answer was supposed to be "no," that professional boundaries were sacred, that nothing should have happened between you two. But in this moment, everything felt irrelevant. The company, the rules, the reason for you being hired. None of it seemed to matter in the wake of that moment spent in the bar bathroom.

“Yes” I whispered hoarsely “I shouldn't be but I am..” You took a deep agonizing breath “I really am.”

“Are you ok with what's about to happen?” You now asked him.

“Yes.” His answer was short and straight to the put but his single word held so much power. It was all the confirmation you needed to know that tonight was a night to forget about the semantics of it all. How long has it been since you've been touched? Since you've had sex? So long you couldn't even begin to remember.

You missed being vulnerable with someone enough to allow them to see all of you.

Finally when Sunghoon stopped his far in front of a large apartment building you could only assume was his you had the feeling of nervousness in your belly.

You had felt like this since walking into the bar earlier. It was a different kind of nervous though, this was an excited nervous, and when you reached his apartment and walked inside you could only describe the feeling you felt as an overwhelming sense of excitedness.

Sunghoon took your jacket off slowly, pushing it down your body, careful to brush his fingers ever so slightly against your skin.

“Do you want wine?” He asked you. You hummed a yes at him. You looked around his apartment admiring the beautiful art that had adorn the walls.

He had an expensive taste you would give him. His apartment was something out of a catalog so perfectly…Sunghoon. The furniture was sleek black leather polished to perfection. The rug had a cool dark grey tone, it looked warm and fuzzy. You fantasized Sunghoon having his way with you on top of it. The thought had your cheeks warming with blush.

“Here you go.” Sunghoon whispered from behind you. He handed you a wine glass filled ¾ the way with red wine.

‘Thank you.” You took the glass in your hands, taking a sip moaning at the sweet taste of it. Sunghoon watched you with a look of fascination, a hint of deep and desirable lust mixed in.

“I didn't know watching someone drink wine could be so…sexy.” Sunghoon licked his lips, the action causing a shiver to run down your spine straight to your core, just where you needed him most.

“Really?” You purred, bringing the wine glass close to your lips before taking a small sip. You made sure to look at Sunghoon through your lashes looking up at him with a pouty smile. Something that had certainly sent his mind haywire.

“Can i fuck you?” He asked outright. Surprised by his candor you said nothing for a second, blinking at him as he awaited your answer. You nodded dumbly feeling the wetness in your panties already.

“Use your words sweetheart.” Sunghoon took the wine glass from your hand, setting it down onto the island beside you.

“Yes.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you muttered the words. “Please”

Sunghoon circled you and his gaze darkened. His big hands made careful work of slowly moving your hair to the side to expose your neck. Sensually he brought his lips down kissing up with feather-like touchess, hips lips just barely touching the skin. It had you aflame, your body felt akin to his like this was something right, like the two of you were meant to be this close, to be touching one another.

He reached your jaw in no time, then your check. He titled your head towards his, finally connecting your lips as he held onto your chin. The kiss was deep and you savored every second his mouth was attached to yours. Suddenly without warning Sunghoon’s hand left your chin and traveled down the expanse of your body all the way to your thighs where he used both hands to lift you. A yelp let your lips in surprise, then a giggle.

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for weeks.” Sunghoon’s voice was deep, almost raspy. It had your core throbbing at the sound, your heart picking up speed in tandem. “I’ve been waiting for the day i could have you sprawled across my bed completely naked, ready and wanting, just for me.” His words had your mind reeling as he tossed you down onto his bed. His plush duvet and mattress softened the blow.

You looked up at Sunghoon with wide eyes and puffy lips as pure arousal coursed through you, he ended up doing something, anything, and now. Your desperation for him was palpable. Your body is electrified with need for him.

“Really?” You couldn't help but ask. Truthfully you found it hard to believe that Sunghoon had been thinking about you this way for almost the entirety of knowing you, but you'll let it slide.

“Mhm” He hummed as he pulled your tights down your legs for the second time that night. His body rose skillfully, taking off his jacket, then his dress shirt until his upper half was completely bare to your wandering eyes.

“You're beautiful” You marveled, resting your hands on his shoulders as he came back down. His lips connected back to yours in a hungry kiss, his hands pushing your dress up just enough that your panty covered heat was exposed. Sunghoon’s fingers circling your covered core apply light pressure but not enough to satisfy the need brewing inside of you.

“I need you.” You whimpered out raising your hips in a show of desperation. Sunghoon chuckled, a smirk on his lips.

“How bad do you need me?” He was teasing you, playing with you and it hurt so good.

“So bad.” You whined as you ran your hands down his shoulders to his torso then over his groin where his very prominent hard on presented itself even in the confines of his jeans.

You began your own teasing, rubbing your hands over him causing a hiss to leave his lips in pleasure.

“Don't tease me.” Sunghoon grit the words out as his breathing became more ragged with every movement of your hand.

“Your first.” You shot back at him.

Sunghoon’s hands were quick as he yanked your paanties down in one fail swoop. Then running up to the hem of your dress pulling it over your head and off your body just as quickly.

You weren't wearing a bra, it wasn't needed for the type of dress you were wearing. You were now completely naked and ready for Sunghoon.

Sunghoon lifted himself away from you to take off his pants and boxer shorts, the loss of warmth from his body leaving you shivering.

You were really about to do this. You were about to have sex with your boss. The thought made you nervous all over again, but also excited? It’s been so long since you've been touched and to be touched by such a beautiful man like Sunghoon? You were heaven and there was truly no way this was real life.

Your thoughts were pulled from you as soon as Sunghoon’s lips met the skin of your stomach trailing up until he reached your breast. Cupping the left with his big hand he attacked his mouth to the right, sucking on your nipple.

“Oh.” You squealed, running your hands through his hair and down his neck. “Please.”

“Please what baby?” The pet name left you a puddle of yourself coupled with the pure arousal coursing through your veins at the simplest of touches he left on your heated skin.

“Please fuck me.” You were done waiting for him. You needed him, now. The throb of your clit was overwhelming as it called for some kind of relief.

“Since you asked so nicely..” Sunghoon readied himself at your entrance, tapping the tip against your slit a few times before finally sinking in. Slowly at first allowing you to get used to the stretch of him inside of you.

“Is that ok?” He asked you slowly, pushing his hips back and forth. You nodded, struggling to find the words to say.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon moaned “You’re fucking tight.” His hips gradually moved faster now smacking against yours lewdly.

“That’s it.” You chanted “Faster please.” You pleaded with him, begging him to satisfy the craving deep inside of you.

“You're greedy..” He tsked at you as he slowed his hips. He was teasing you again, torturing you and your need for him. Your legs trembled as you whimpered and moaned for him to move faster, harder, anything.

“Greedy.little.thing” He punctuated each word with a slam of his hips against yours. His balls slapping against the base of your ass. “How bad do you want it?”

“So bad.” Your hips lifted from the bed but Sunghoon made quick work of pushing them down, his grip harsh and firm, surely leaving the skin bruised but you didn't care, not one bit. “I want it so bad.”

With a gasp, Sunghoon pulled out suddenly leaving you with an empty feeling. “Sunghoon-”

“Turn over.” His hands grabbed at your hips roughly turning you on your stomach. “Ass up Y/n”

Arching your back Sunghoon took your hips, lining himself up with your entrance once again before slamming himself inside of you with a rough smack of hips against yours. He began a brutal pace.

Moans leaving your lips like a mantra as he overwhelmed your senses, captivated your body with his as he took you sharply from behind with no mercy. The sharp sound of skin against skin coupled with your moans and his groans of pleasure were the only sounds to be heard. You lost yourself in one another as you allowed Sunghoon to take your body any way he wanted. He used your hole as his own personal fleshlight fucking you with a sense of urgency you had never seen him have before. It was maddening, and it was so so fucking hot.

Your body gave way to him as your orgasm approached you with fast speed, an impending doom that you very much welcomed. But suddenly like the time before in his office your vision blurred, turning white and hazy behind your closed eyelids.

Another unexplainable vision passed before your vision, one that just like the other had felt very real, very familiar. You were in a house, a warm and cozy house. The sides of your vision blurry; you're only focusing on the couple that currently occupied the bed. A man, Sunghoon, hovered above a woman who looked identical to you. They were having sex. It was slow, deliberate, it was…Romantic. The kind of sex you would have when you were in love. The fact was proven to you when you distantly heard the sound of your own voice whisper “I love you Sunghoon..”

Then nothing. Your vision cleared and you were back to where you were before. On Sunghoon’s bed in his apartment, face down ass up as he pounded into your core from behind. The vision blinded you, surprised you. It had triggered the explosion awaiting inside of you as it hurtled you towards your end.

“I’m cumming!” You squeaked “Holy fuck i’m cumming.” Sunghoon’s pace didn't let up. Actually, it became more brutal, more intense.

Sunghoon gasped, whacking his hips against yours a few more times before stilling, spilling his load deep inside of you with one last heavy sigh. Your mind was blank as you tried to catch your breath. You didn't even register Sunghoon slipping out of you to grab a towel, and him cleaning you up.

After a while of sitting in silence the lines that you blurred had started to take residence in your mind. What did this mean? How would you move forward? You were not entirely sure what it is you felt for Sunghoon. You knew that he pissed you off. You knew that what happened at the bar had hurt you more than you'd like to admit, and you also knew that you felt a pull to sunghoon unlike anyone else. It also didn't explain the random flashbacks that you got every time something intimate happened between the two of you.

Flashbacks that had felt way too real. It was unexplainable, it was jarring. You've heard about things like this happening in fiction. In things like books and movies and even the old stories your grandmother would tell when she went on and on about the red string of fate, but certainly something like that was not real. This is reality. So what was happening to you?

The silence in the room was deafening.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” Sunghoon finally broke the silence. With words you weren't really ready to hear. You should have known this would happen. He’s been more than clear before when you talked in a group about him getting into a relationship but still the words stung as they hung in the air around you, the silence back.

“I-i think I should go.” You rose from your place on the bed, searching the dark floor for your things.

“Y/n i-” You cut him off before he could get the words out.

“It’s fine.” You pushed out. “You don't have to say anything.”

“I think i should though, i need to explain-” Again, you cut him off.

“You don't owe me anything, Sunghoon.” Your voice whispers. “We’re adults ok.”

“At Least let me bring you home.” But you were already shaking your head, denying him.

You messily put your clothes back on with only the dim lights cascading over you.

“I’ll get an uber, really Sunghoon. It’s fine.” With that you were out the door. A fresh new set of tears falling from your eyes and onto your cheeks. You didn't even know why you were crying really. It seemed ridiculous but you were very dumb. Dumb to think even for a second there was more to this than sex. To consider him as someone who would..care for you in that way. Stupid, stupid, stupid you were.

Did you even want that? A relationship with Sunghoon? You didn't know. But you knew that you would be open to trying. Sunghoon was a man you could see yourself falling for if given the chance, but you wouldn't be. And maybe that's for the better.

It was late by the time you got home. Allowing yourself a bowl of ice cream before bed. You sent Wonyoung a text letting her know you got home and for her to text you when she woke up. There was no way you’d be telling Wonyoung what had happened tonight with Sughoon, not a chance.

Over Sunday you laid in bed most of the day, your mind only on Sunghoon and what you had felt. The sex..well, the sex was phenomenal. You wouldn't deny that. You didn't want Sunghoon thinking he left you wounded though. The strong independent women in you wanted you to walk into the office with your head held high like nothing in this world bothered you. Like you knew you were hot shit and nobody could take that away from you. But unfortunately that way of thinking was unrealistic for you. You were not the confident, take charge type of woman you aspired to be. But you could be, and that would start with Sunghoon.

You had the brilliant and not at all damaging idea to march into his office and propose something he could not turn down. An agreement of sorts.

And on Monday you do just that as you march into the office building with faux confidence. Be-lining straight for his office you knock on the door. Opening it without another word. Seeing Sunghoon sat there at his desk, mid typing. He looks up at you with a flash of shock across his face.

You close the door, twisting the lock behind you.

The air between you feels electric, thick with all the things you’ve both avoided saying. It’s a strange feeling, being here, in front of him after what the two of you did Saturday night.

“I’m not here to complicate things,” you finally say, voice a little rougher than you’d like. You glance at him, wondering if he thinks you look utterly ridiculous. “Friends with benefits. No strings. That’s the deal.”

The look of pure shock on his face doesn't go unnoticed, his mouth opening then closing trying to find the words to say to your…proposition.

“What?” he asks finally, standing from his desk to move closer to you.

“You said you don't do relationships. What happened Saturday was..amazing Sunghoon. So I'm asking you. Friends with benefits?” You could feel your confident resolve fading, the embarrassment settling in at the look on Sunghoon’s face.

“You really want to do this?” he asks, voice steady, though there’s a look in his eyes you can’t quite place, one of uncertainty. You’ve never been good at keeping things casual. A rivalry, a competition, a good round of banter—you know the rules of that game. But this... this feels like a completely new kind of contest. And something tells you that neither of you is walking away without losing something. But there’s a part of you that can’t help but lean in closer, feel the pull of whatever this is between you. You’ve danced around it for too long.

"Okay," He trailed off. "If we’re doing this, we need to be clear. No... misunderstandings. I know this isn't your thing, I know you're nervous. Even if you're trying to hide it."

You’ve always been good at setting boundaries, at keeping things professional. But this? This is different. This isn’t just a professional arrangement. This is... personal, you've crossed a line. You crossed it when the two of you kissed, and even more so when you had sex. What’s one more?

"Look, I’m not nervous," you say, your voice a little too defensive. "But if we’re doing this... if we’re going to be friends with benefits, we need to have some ground rules. Clear ones. No exceptions."

He leans forward slightly, his eyes fixed on yours with that intensity that always makes you second-guess yourself. “Alright. I’m listening.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This is what you’ve wanted, right? This is how you wanted to proceed. This is what you convinced yourself you could handle, you've never been that type of girl before but now, you were going to try. Even if you could end up burned, your heart shattered. Was this decision all that wise? You didn't know. you feel exposed. Vulnerable. Like everything you’ve worked to protect is teetering on the edge of collapse.

“I’m not looking for anything complicated,” you start, focusing on the words to keep yourself grounded. “This is just... physical. Nothing more. No emotional baggage. No trying to change anything.” You hold his gaze, even though your palms are starting to sweat. "We’re just doing this to scratch an itch. And then we walk away, no strings attached." You're lying. Oh god, you're lying. This is a recipe for disaster.

Sunghoon nods slowly, as if considering the terms. “Fair enough. No emotional attachment, no complications.” He smirks again, and it makes your stomach do an anxious flip. “But you’re not worried about catching feelings, are you?” His playful nature sent your stomach turning, how could he be so calm? So collected.

You scoff, though there’s a nervous edge to it. "Please. You think I’m going to fall for you?" You try your hardest to seem composed, it was working. The words sound harsher than you mean them to, but the reality is that you do worry. A part of you fears that this could slip into something more, something deeper, despite your best efforts. And the last thing you want is to make this even messier than it already is.

“Just making sure we’re on the same page,” he says, leaning back in his chair again, his expression unreadable. “But I’ll play by the rules. No emotions. No attachments. And no... complicated goodbyes.”

You nod, but the knot in your stomach tightens. You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you agreed to this, but now that you’re spelling everything out, it feels far more real than you’re ready for. “One more thing,” you add, your voice quieter now. “We keep this private. No one at the office knows. No one. Not even Wonyoung and Jay.”

Sunghoon tilts his head, considering you with that sharp, calculating look that makes you feel like you’re being sized up. “Of course. You think I’m going to go around broadcasting this? We’ll never hear the end of it.”

The way he says it so confidently, so assured only makes your anxiety spike. You can’t help but wonder if he’s done this before. How many others has he had these “arrangements” with? You push the thought aside, unwilling to give into your own insecurities.

"Good," you say, the words coming out a little more firmly than you feel. "And lastly... no mixing business with pleasure. Work stays work." You emphasize the last word, hoping he’ll hear the seriousness in your voice.

You see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes, like he knows exactly what you’re getting at. “Of course. But if the workday does end early one day, I’m sure we can both find ways to... entertain ourselves.”

“Were not fucking at work Sunghoon.” You feel your face flush, and you hate it. You’ve spent so much time keeping it together, maintaining control. But now, with him in front of you, with this new arrangement, you’re on the edge of something that makes you feel both exhilarated and terrified.

Sunghoon’s eyes soften just a little, and you swear you see something resembling sincerity flicker across his face. “I promise. No pressure. We keep it casual. I’m not here to complicate things... unless you want to.” He gives you a knowing look, the one that always makes your heart race, like he can read you better than you’d like to admit.

“I don’t want to,” you reply quickly, almost too quickly. Your voice comes out more defensively than you mean it to, and you hate how transparent you feel in this moment, but you have a feeling you’d be doing a lot more than just work when you come in everyday. His hold on you terrified you just a little bit. It feels like you’ve just signed some invisible contract. The rules are clear—at least, as clear as they can be. But you know yourself better than this. You know that this isn't something you would typically do, And now you’re about to step into uncharted territory, where the stakes are higher than you ever imagined.

“You sure you’re alright with this?” Sunghoon asks, his tone soft now, almost too casual for how serious the situation feels.

“I’m sure,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel.

He stares at you for a moment, the quiet hanging between you. It feels like he’s measuring you, weighing your words, before he finally nods. “It’s a deal, then.”

You nod, your breath finally evening out. You’ve set the rules, and so far, they sound simple enough. “Deal.” though you’ve set the boundaries, though you’ve promised yourself this won’t get complicated, deep down, you know it already is.

It had been a few days since the two of you made your agreement, and to say it's been a bit awkward would be an..understatement. It seemed the two of you didn't quite know how to break the ice. In the bathroom of that bar was easy, you had been heated, in an argument your emotions were running high. You both ran on pure adrenaline to get you going.

Sunghoon still acted himself when it came to the project, but not as bad which you were grateful for. He let up a little, let you take the reins.

Wonyoung noticed the shift in your attitude towards each other. She had asked you what seemed like a million times about what happened in the bathroom that night but all you would say is that Sunghoon apologized, that you had come to an understanding.

She didn't buy it, of course but she decided to leave it alone for now, holding onto the fact that you would eventually spill like you did with the kiss. Little did she know that this was much more than that.

There was no way in hell you'd be telling her that you and Sunghoon slept together and there was no way you'd be telling her that you agreed to continue. No.strings.attached. God, what were you thinking? And why did the thought of sneaking around excite you so much. You didnt realize you were your own fucking maschoist but here you were.

Walking into the office today felt a little heavier than usual. The air is tense and stiff. Minji greeted you with a tight lipped smile void of all its usual sunshine and warmth.

“What's going on?” You asked Wonyoung as soon as you sat down at your desk for the day.

“The big boss is in.” She whispered to you, trying to keep her voice low. “He’s tearing Sunghoon a new one.”

“What?” The word fell from your lips too loud it seemed based on the shush Wonyoung sent your way. “Why?” You said quieter this time.

“Suyu hated the draft we sent. The boss is capital P pissed.” Your eyes knit in worry. You thought about the conversation at the bar. The one that fueled the big fight you and Sunghoon had. He was using you as a scapegoat, was he not? Still he is being ridiculed. How strict were these girls and why did they hate every single thing Seoul magazine did. Why even keep coming back? You just didn't understand.

And if it were so widely known by the company, why is Sunghoon getting the brunt of it. Obviously nothing will please these girls no matter how much all of you try.

“Why do they keep coming if they hate us so much?”

“Suyu is like in love with Sunghoon, but he rejected her. I think it's some kind of revenge. I don't know, that girl is crazy.” Wonyoung huffed. “Great, now Sunghoon’s going to be in a shit mood all day.”

Her words served as a catalyst to your next idea, an idea that’ll help you break the ice with Sunghoon. You told yourself you wouldn't do this at work, but you couldn't think of a better place to get Sunghoon’s mind off of his boss and Suyu. So, you waited. You waited a whole hour till the sound of Sunghoon’s office door opening was heard by the entire floor. The booming voice of what you could only assume was the big boss. He turned the corner entering the cubicles with a scowl on his face. He was an older man, balding with deep wrinkles. He definitely looked..aged. He walked down the hallway with an emotionless expression that had a shiver running down your spine in intimidation.

You couldn't believe you ever thought Sunghoon was intimidating, this man was pure intimidation to its core. He looked angry and that was something you definitely didn't want to deal with. A part of you began to feel defensive as he walked down the hall getting closer and closer to passing by your desk.

How dare he blame Sunghoon or anyone else for that matter for Suyu and her members not liking the cover. From what you've been hearing she didn't like anything. How could you fail your employees who were working tirelessly on a project destined for failure. The corporate word was brutal, and this right here was proof.

It had your blood boiling. You could only imagine what Sunghoon was feeling. Luckily the man passed by your desk with ease, not stopping to check out the newcomer. And as soon as he was out of your sight and you were sure he wasn't coming back you rose from your seat with a newfound confidence. One you didn't see from yourself very often.

It must have been your lucky day because Wonyoung was no longer at her desk, she wouldn't be able to spot you leaving in the direction of Sunghoon’s office.

When you turned the corner coming face to face with his door your heart began to quicken in your chest as the reality of what you were about to do set in. knocking on the door you awaited for his response, it was a quick and curt “Come in.” If you weren't so insanely nervous you'd be turned on by his tone alone.

Sunghoon didn't bother to look up from his computer as you walked into the room, closing the door behind you and locking the door with one single click. The blinds to his clear glass windows were up, allowing anyone to peak in. You thank lord himself that his office was semi closed off from the rest of the floor. You grabbed the blinds, turning them so that they would come down, shielding the two of you from wandering eyes. When you turned back around Sunghoon’s eyes were now on you. His eyes gleamed curiously but also a hint of excitement?

“What are you doing Y/n?” He asked with a low voice.

“You seemed stressed.” You did your best at hiding the nervousness behind your voice. Masking it to the best of your ability. A smirk formed on his lips and you were slightly surprised by how fast he allowed you to infiltrate his office.

“Yeah?” He asked, leaning back in his chair with a smug look. “I am quite stressed.”

“I came to help.” You sent an innocent smile as you crossed your hands behind your back swaying your body lightly. “However you need me to.’

You walked up to his desk as he pushed his chair back, making room for you. You stood next to his sitting figure, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. Sunghoon looked up at you with a coy, very very sexy expression. His hands sneakily circled your waist pulling you closer to his lap.

“However I want?” He hummed.

You gasped softly as he grabbed at the flesh of your ass roughly in his big hands. He set a small smack to the clothes skin, a laugh bubbling in his chest when a sheen blush coated your cheeks.

“You're so cute.” He teased with a smile, turning you into a puddle of yourself with one simple upturn of his lips. “Turn around.” He demanded.

But before he could push you around to face his desk you stood firmly in place. Using your finger to his chest to send sitting back in his chair up right. Waiting and wanting for you. You were in charge here, not him.

“No.” Your voice was stern, no sign of the nervousness brewing inside of you. “I’m in charge here.”

“Are you now?” He said with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm” You hummed, falling to your knees in front of him. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

You made quick work of unzipping the zipper of his dress pants and pulling his length out before he could let out so much as a breath.

“We don't have much time, so I'll need you to be quick.” Your words were accompanied by a small lick to the side of his length. All the way from the top to the very bottom. Sunghoon’s eyes darkened as he took in your kneeling figure before him. Gone was the sexy, smug smirk. A look of pure desperation in its place.

“Can you do that?” You were teasing him, playing with him like a cat playing with a mouse. His breath came out short, his chest heaving.

A single nod. Was all the confirmation he gave, along with a tight lip and the tilt of his head. You decided you were done teasing him. You attached your mouth to his length. Only half of him being able to fit before your gagging.

“Holy f-fuck.” Sunghoon stuttered as you worked your mouth along his length, using your hand to cover the rest that wouldn't fit.

“That’s so hot.” He hissed, his words serving as a catalyst for you to keep going. Your hand circled down cupping his balls in your hands. Giving a slight squeeze.

“Oh fuck!” Sunghoon cupped his hands over his mouth to try and silence himself. The last thing we needed was for someone to hear you.

Moving up and down faster and faster you were left waiting and wanting for Sunghoon to cum down your throat, excited for the warmth he would provide.

You slipped him out of your mouth with a gasp, jerking him rapidly to keep your pace. “How’s that feeling?” You asked him, sticking your tongue out.

“Go-oh fuck-good.” Sunghoon’s words were slurred as you slipped his dick back inside of the heat of your mouth, slurping and lapping like a hungry slut.

“I’m close” He was wheezing, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You want it in your mouth baby? You want me to cum down your little throat?” You nodded along his length, excited.

“I’m almost there.” His voice now a whisper, his eyebrows knitted holding onto the arm of the chair with white knuckles. “I’m-oh”

His cum shot down your throat on spurts as you lapped at him like a dog in heat, moaning. Draining him until he was empty and heaving.

Your mouth left his length, wiping the sides messily.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon tried to regulate his breathing and looked down at you with big wide eyes. “What the hell was that for?”

“You were stressed.” You shrugged your shoulders in an attempt at looking nonchalant but you weren't really sure if he was buying your act.

“Well..Thank you?” He said it as a question, causing a laugh to bubble inside of you as clarity sent in.

“Wonyoung said the boss was in here giving you a hard time. I just wanted to help you out.”

“You did help me out. A lot.” His smile sent a warm feeling shooting through you, falling to the pit of your stomach. The feeling embarrassed you. This was a game you had to remind yourself of, just fun. Absolutely no strings attached, so why were you feeling so warm and fuzzy? Don't be ridiculous.

“Is everything ok?” You asked. Sunghoon nodded, his smile falling from his face.

“Suyu hated the cover, as we all knew she would. He was chewing me out for it. Says everything about it needs to change.”

“What?” Your shock was palpable. Your anger is even more so. “There’s only two more months left.” You couldn’t imagine why the company would allow such abuse from a client, how could they want a group of people they know i'll be dissatisfied no matter what you did. It made no sense to you, and it angered you even more. You, Wonyoung, Jay, and Sunghoon have been working tirelessly on the cover for over a month now. It was unfair for them to come in and pick it apart.

“Doesn’t matter.” Sunghoon said with a tired expression. “The company says scrap it, so we scrap it.”

“Are they going to give us an extra month to work on it?” You questioned, you had a feeling you knew the answer to that already but still you waited for Sunghoon to respond.

“No.” He answered, exactly as you knew he would. For some reason being prepared for his answer didn’t lessen the blow. “That’s bullshit.” You hissed out running a hand tiredly through your hair “And not fair.”

“I know.” He responded. It was clear to you that Sunghoon was dejected. He knew that no matter how unfair it was that the company just wouldn’t budge. This was what they wanted and now you and the rest of your team were going to have to work ten times harder to get the cover done in time.

The next monday Sunghoon isn’t in office. He’s off on a business trip until the end of the week and you couldn’t help but curse yourself every time you started to miss him. Sunghoon wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your boss and someone you were having sex with occasionally. Someone who has made you feel things you’ve never felt before. Especially during sex, and especially almost every time you and Sunghoon kissed or had sex, or sometimes even touched you were flashed with something that feels like a memory, a vision of something that felt familiar but you had never actually done before. You couldn’t figure it out. You were beginning to believe you were going crazy, that was the only plausible explanation for all this, right?

At night you're left mulling over the fact that after even a month you still could not find your red bracelet. It was just…gone. It was even weirder to watch Sunghoon walk around with one exactly like it on his wrist, but he had no way of getting it. You had lost it the day you met him. He was rich and very well off. There was no way a man like Park Sunghoon would go through the trouble of stealing a dingy old red string that was close to falling apart any second, it just made no sense.

They still didn’t erase the fact that it was nowhere to be seen, if it weren’t for your very very distracting month at this new job you were certain the absence of itt would drive you absolutely mad.

Finally on what felt like an overwhelmingly long Wednesday you were home, alone in your solitude and you figured if you couldn’t find your red string, you’d be better off looking through the journals your grandmother left you. After the month you’ve had you could use her wisdom right about now.

Your grandmother was your rock growing up, she was basically your mother and your father all rolled into one. You found your grandmother’s journals tucked away, in a small cardboard box in your closet. You hadn’t had the gull to open them since she died. You flipped through the pages one by one, reading all the words she left behind for you.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until a singular tear fell onto the old yellowed pages of the journal leaving a wet stain in its wake. You had missed her, everyday and you knew you would continue to miss her.

The pages your grandmother left you - had been full of advice. Advice about mundane things, like doing laundry or cooking with the best recipes. Some of the advice was more heavy, like what to do in case of a death, or a breakup or when you got married and had children. And some of the advice was also about love, and how she believed that soulmates were real. Tied together by the red string of fate you couldn’t see. When two people were connected solely to each other in all lifetimes. It would be beautiful if it were true. That’s what you always taught yourself. That it was a made up thing that only people in love believed.

You continued to sift through her journal, to the portion where it became a daily write down of what she started doing throughout the days. You flip through the pages, each filled with words written in rich ink, her voice murmuring between the lines. Some entries are small snippets of her days—what she made for dinner, a flower she saw blooming outside, a storm rolling in from the east. Others are longer, winding passages that carry something heavier, something deeper. You read about her dreams, her fears, the love she once had and lost.

Then, a passage catches your eye, and your breath stills. The red string of fate never breaks, it reads. Even if cut, even if frayed, it finds a way to mend itself. There is no fighting destiny when it has set its sights on you. You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the fragile edge of the paper. Your grandmother always told you about the red string, whispering its legend into your ear as she tucked you into bed. She told you that everyone had a soulmate, a person meant to be tied to them no matter the distance, no matter the circumstances. She had one, she’d said once, a man she loved but lost. But she never spoke of him much beyond that, only that he was real and that she had seen him in ways no one else could.

You continue reading, heart pounding. When you touch them, you will see. A glimpse, a flicker. The universe will reveal what you are meant to know. It will not be loud. It will not be obvious. But it will be there. Because you know exactly what she means. At least you think you did. The memories come flooding back, unbidden. The first time it happened, you were with Sunghoon, It had been fleeting, so quick you almost convinced yourself you imagined it. In his office the day the two of you kissed for the first time. Surely that is unlike what your grandmother was describing right?

But then, you remembered another time, the time you and Sunghoon had sex for the first time at his apartment, when he was deep inside of you, whispering filth into your ear, your vision blurred and overcome with a memory that had never happened before. You had seen a future that had never happened. You saw something that shouldn’t exist. You saw fragments of moments that had no place in your reality. You saw his smile beneath a different sun, heard his voice whispering your name like a prayer, felt an ache in your chest that wasn’t yours but still belonged to you.

You had written it off as nothing. A trick of the mind. The product of exhaustion. But here, in your grandmother’s journal, written in ink that had dried long before you were born, was an answer you never wanted to find. Visions come with touch. You slam the journal shut, chest rising and falling too fast. Your heartbeat roars in your ears. This is ridiculous. This is crazy. You’re not some character in a fairy tale. You don’t believe in soulmates. And even if you did - Even if you did…Sunghoon? It’s impossible. It’s just a coincidence. A trick of your mind. You refuse to entertain anything else.

Your hands tremble as you shove the journals back into the box, your grandmother’s words still lingering in the air. You try to shake them off, but they have already settled deep, weaving themselves into your bones like an undeniable truth. You take a breath and force yourself to move, to step away, to pretend that your heart isn’t beating in a rhythm that spells out a name. Sunghoon. And though you don’t want to, though you tell yourself you won’t - You start to wonder if your grandmother was right all along.

That night, your phone buzzes against the nightstand. The screen illuminates the dark room, casting a soft glow over the journals still left in disarray on the floor. It’s Sunghoon. You stare at his name, your stomach twisting in a way that feels unfamiliar. After everything you read tonight, after the storm brewing inside you, you should let it ring. Let it go to voicemail. Pretend you’re asleep, pretend you’re not affected. But you aren’t strong enough to resist him.

With a sigh, you swipe to answer. "Hey." There’s a pause, then a low chuckle on the other end. "Wow, you actually picked up. Thought I’d have to leave a dramatic voicemail about how I died of boredom without you."

You roll your eyes, but your lips curve despite yourself. "Dramatic and pathetic. I expected nothing less." He hums, his voice warm, lazy. "Guilty. My meetings were dull as hell. Just numbers and more numbers. I was about five minutes away from faking a fire alarm to get out of there." You laugh softly, shaking your head. "You should've done it. Would’ve made the news.

"See, this is why I call you. You always encourage my worst ideas." His tone shifts, something teasing in the way he lingers over the words. A slow smile tugs at your lips before you can help it. "You must really be bored if you’re calling me instead of drinking overpriced whiskey at some networking event."

"Oh, I was bored. But now..." He exhales, slow and deliberate. "Not so much." A shiver traces your spine at the weight in his voice. He isn’t even here, and yet he still manages to reach inside you, find the parts of you that respond so easily to him. You swallow, shifting under the sheets. "Sunghoon—"

"What are you wearing?" It’s sudden, leaving your cheeks a bright red and mouth wide open in shock.

You nearly choke. "Excuse me?"

He laughs, unbothered. "Relax, and tell me. What are you wearing?”

Your face burns, and you glare at the ceiling. "Oh my god."

"What? It’s a totally normal question." He pushes, and you can see that smirk in your head. That smirk that you love so much. "It is not."

“So?” The nonchalance in his voice heats up your body, wishing he was here to satisfy the ache inside of you. You sigh, rubbing your temple. "A tank top and shorts."

There’s a hum of approval on the other end. "Cute. Wish I was there." Your breath hitches, pulse jumping in your throat. This isn’t new. The past few weeks you and Sunghoon have been pushing, teasing, toeing the line between playful and something heavier. But tonight, after everything, the weight of his words feels different. Dangerous.

"I should go to sleep," you say, though the thought of hanging up makes your chest tighten. "Yeah?" He sounds amused. "You tired? Or are you just afraid of where this conversation is going?" Your heart pounds, a war raging inside you. You should shut this down. You should keep your distance. But instead, you whisper, "I’m going to touch myself and think of you while doing it"

A sharp cough was heard over the speaker, then a hum. “You don’t have to go to do that.” He whispers, his voice now husky and low. It sends shivers down your spine and heat down your core. You really really wished he was here. “You can do it, while talking to me.”

“W-what-” You stuttered out, your heart pounding in your chest. Was he suggesting phone sex? And were you seriously considering it? “Don’t leave.” He says and you could almost imagine the laid back smirk on his face, the shrug of his shoulders as if this was nothing, as if he did this all the time. That thought made you feel slightly queasy so you pushed far from your mind.

“Okay..” You said softly. “What do I do?” Your voice was tight, unsure. You only hoped he didn’t notice how nervous you were.

“Have you never done this before?” There was a hint of surprise in his tone, it made you acutely aware of just how inexperienced you are.

“No.” You answered honestly, “Never.”

“Fuck.” Sunghoon cursed on the other end. “That’s hot.” The words had left you dumbfounded, he thought your inexperience was…hot? “Take off your pants.” His voice lowered even more, becoming more husky and rasp. You felt the wetness in your panties already, you didn’t even have to look to know. That was the kind of effect Sunghoon had on you. You had very visceral reactions to him, you couldn’t help it. The man looked like a fucking god, and you did as he said.

You lifted your hips slightly, sliding the pajama shorts you wore off in one fail swoop. “My panties too?-”

“No!” Sunghoon hissed out. You jumped at the urgency in his voice. “No.” He said softer. “Just wait.”

“Okay.” Sunghoon’s breath was a bit faster on the other end of the phone, heavier. You were no idiot, you knew his cock was in his hand, stroking up and down as he told you what to do with yourself. He was just as much a mess as you were, he was just better at hiding it.

“Are you wearing a bra?” He asked with ragged breath. You shook your head “No.” Finding even the smallest word is hard to say. Sunghoon wasn't even here in the flesh and he still managed to take your breath away. Your own breath was ragged as his voice carried every single syllable with a rich sound. His tone captures your attention, shooting straight for your core.

“Circle your clit over your panties, sweetheart.” Sunghoon instructed you. Your hand traveled down the expanse of your body as a small whimper escaped your lips. Your nimble fingers found your wet and waiting bud, rubbing it over your panties creating the most delicious feeling coursing through your veins.

“Nice and slow, okay?” You nod your head even though he can’t see you. A small “uh-huh” escaping your mouth and into the receiver.

“Good girl..keep going.” You continued your slow and torturous rhythm over your clit. It felt good but you needed …more. Your hips rise off the bed as you search for any form of release. Your body was wanting, your moans needy. You knew that Sunghoon was well aware just how badly you needed him. How badly you craved him but this was all you could get, and you’d take it for now.

“How wet are you, baby?” Sunghoon’s breath was even more ragged than before, the tune of his chest heaving serving as a catalyst to your need for. “So wet…” You mewed out the land not on your clit stuck clutching at your bedsheets for dear life. “I need more..”

“Okay, sweetheart..” He cooed with slight amusement. “Pull your panties to the side and stick one; just one finger in..” You hum doing as he instructed with quick precision. The slide of your finger inside of you was potent. You needed this, and although it was not as good as Sunghoon this was certainly second best given the circumstances. “Now move your fingers in and out..slow though.”

“Fuck.” You whined, your hips leaving your bed once again. Your other hand traveled up the side of your body cupping your tit in your palm and squeezing. “I wish I could see you hoon..” You sighed out. Sunghoon’s breathed hitched a soft puff of air leaving his lips like the melody to your favorite song. You’d get drunk on the sounds of his moans if you could, bottle them up and savor every single hum, every single tune.

“I know, baby. I wish I could see you too..” He trailed off. “I know you look so pretty with your fingers stuffed in your pretty little cunt.” His words shot shivers up your spine, your end already nearing. From the sound of his moans and groans it was obvious he was pretty close as well.

“Add another one.” He demanded suddenly. You did as he said, adding another finger roughing moving them in and out of you. “Fucking- i can hear how wet you are from here.”

“I’m so fucking wet-oh god.” Your legs shook your ending near dangerously close. “I’m close-”

“Me too sweetheart keep going.” The only other sound on the other end of the phone was Sunghoon’s grunts and groans as the two of you catapulted to your end, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. Pleasure washing over you and blurring your vision.

“Oh my god.” You huffed. Sunghoon’s breathed slowed neither of you saying a word for close to five minutes, just basking in the post orgasm clarity.

“Uh..” Sunghoon breahed over the end of the receiver, his voice back to normal now void of the lustful words he was just muttering to you. “Thanks.” He said. Thanks. “I- i should go. Meeting in the morning.”

“S-sure.” You stuttered out awkwardly. “Goodnight, see you soon.” The two of you hung up and all that was left was the silence of your empty apartment aside from you. You could hear the beating of your own heart in your ears as slow realization started to settle in. You were starting to fall for Sunghoon, like the fool you were.

Sunghoon comes back the next monday, and the moment you see him at the office, all the doubts that had clouded your mind dissolve under the heat of his gaze. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to. but when your eyes meet across the meeting room, a slow, knowing smile curves his lips. That night, it happens again. In his office, door locked, his mouth on yours before you can even drop your bag. Later, in the backseat of his car after a late dinner with the team. Then again the next morning, in your apartment kitchen, the scent of coffee mixing with the sound of your quiet gasps.

You can’t stay away from each other. Every opportunity you have you take it. You fall back into it with him; it's reckless and urgent, as though nothing had changed. But it has. You have. You were falling from him, stupidly so and you didn't know what to do. The visions still come. Stronger now. They strike like lightning, hot and bright; brief, impossible glances into a life that feels half yours. Every time he touches you, it’s there: a home you’ve never seen, a child’s laugh echoing from another world, his hand in yours under unfamiliar stars. And worse, your heart aches for him when he isn’t near. You think about him when you shouldn’t. You crave the sound of his voice, the small way he furrows his brow when he’s deep in thought, the gentle way he tugs your wrist when he wants your attention but can’t say it aloud.

Wonyoung notices. Just like you knew she eventually would, that girl wasn’t dumb she was bound to connect the dots. But like you and Sunghoon agreed. No one could know. Not even her and Jay, who you wanted to tell so badly. She corners you in the lounge one afternoon, her voice low but sharp. "Are you sleeping with Sunghoon?"

You nearly drop your coffee. "What? No. That’s- why would you even ask that?” Deny. deny. deny. no matter what, you have to deny it. She folds her arms. "Because you’ve been weird. Both of you. And don’t even try to lie. You’ve got your guilty face on."

You look away, feigning casual interest in the humming vending machine. "You’re imagining things."

"Jay said Sunghoon’s been acting weird too. Moody. Distracted. Like, smiling during budget meetings." You tried to not let her words fool you. It was strictly about sex with Sunghoon that was all, nothing more nothing less. Him smiling could have been about anything. Sunghoon’s life did not revolve around you, that was for certain. You want to grin at the thought of this being something more, but you're not an idiot. So instead, You snort. "That is suspicious."

She doesn’t laugh. "Come on. I’m not judging you. I just want to know what’s going on. Are you okay?" That question cuts deeper than you expect. Are you okay? You don’t know. Because you can’t tell your best friend that the man you’re sleeping with- the man who is your boss, your complication, is also possibly the person fate tied you to long before you were even born. The man you're falling in love with but is clearly not interested in you that way. You force a smile. "I’m fine. Really."

Wonyoung studies you for a long beat before sighing. "Just… be careful, okay? Whatever this is, don’t lose yourself in it." You nod, but the truth is, it’s already too late. You’re tangled in it. In him. And you don’t know how to find your way out. You felt like you were drowning and you had no one to shout for to help you, to throw you a raft that would save your life.

For times like this you truly missed your grandmother. You missed her wisdom, you missed her comfort. Life truly was not fair. One could even call it cruel to take the one person in this world who understood you most.

That night, you sit alone on your bed, the city’s glow smudged outside your window, the journals beside you once more. You open one with hesitant fingers, seeking your grandmother’s voice like a balm. She would know what to say. She’d tell you to listen to your heart, to trust the quiet truths hidden in touches and dreams. She’d tell you that the red string does not lie, and that love- true love is rarely convenient or safe.

If your heart is confused, it’s because it’s being rewritten, she once wrote. Love doesn’t always ask permission to change us. It simply does. And with Sunghoon, you are changing. Becoming someone softer, someone braver. Someone terrified. You press your fingers to the page and wonder: if she were here now, would she tell you to leap? Or would she warn you to run? You close the journal, and all you can think about is the way he looked at you today. Like he already knew. Like maybe he’s wondering the same thing too.

The call comes at 5:12 AM. Shaking you from your sleep in the dead of night. Your phone buzzes against your nightstand, the shrill sound tearing through the quiet like a blade through silk. The sky outside is still the bruised blue of predawn. You fumble for your phone, blinking blearily at the screen. Mom.

Your breath catches. You haven’t seen her name light up your phone since the day they buried your grandmother. Five years of silence stretched like frost between you, untouched and unthawed. Your thumb hovers. You think of ignoring it. But something in your chest twists; tight, sharp. You have to answer it. Your mother wouldn’t be calling you for no reason. There had to be a reason and it had to be a bad one.

“Hello?” Your voice is husky from sleep still laced in it. Your eyes heavy lidded. There’s a beat of silence. Then her voice, thin and unfamiliar, like wind pressed through a cracked window. “Your father died.” The words hit like a slap, so sudden they leave your mind blank. No preamble. No explanation. Just a raw, stripped-bare truth.

“What?” you whisper. Disbelief seeping into your bones, into your core and through your blood straight to your heart. Your…father…dead? She exhales; soft, almost annoyed. “He had a heart attack. A month ago.” She says it like it was an inconvenience. Like you were some passer-byer in her life. Like you meant very little, nothing. And you should be used to this feeling from her, but you werent. And you didn't think you would still be feeling it when you find out your very own father has died.

The air in your lungs evaporates. “A-a month ago?” You stutter out because it's the only thing you can think to say at the moment.

“We already had the funeral,” she says. “There wasn’t any reason to drag you into it. We didn’t think you’d care.” Each word was like a blow, over and over she didn't let up, didn't let you come up for air. No, she's watching you drown and she doesn't care. The words echo in your skull like a curse.

You sit up slowly, your voice barely there. “You didn’t tell me. You didn’t even call.” There’s a pause, long and uncomfortable. “You made your choice when you left. We didn’t think you wanted anything to do with us anymore.” An unexplainable sorrow seeped into your bones. Your heart dug a grave in your chest, laying in the hollow confines of your chest unmoving, unbreathing as the breath was stolen from your lungs with every word she muttered. With every single careless word she threw at you.

The anger comes in a slow burn, hot and low in your chest. You squeeze your eyes shut, try to breathe through it, but it festers. You had fought for your own life. For the right to step away from the toy shop that had become your parents’ shrine. For the right to be. Your grandmother had understood. She had stood in your corner when no one else would. She raised you while they drowned in their work. She held your hand through your first heartbreak. She showed you how to be soft in a world that tried to harden you. She’s the only one who ever had your back, and even in death that was apparent. And now this.

“I’m still his daughter,” you whisper. “I still had a right to know.” You didn’t know how to argue with her. How to tell her how hurt you were, you weren't even sure she would care if you did. If it was even worth the trouble. “I’m telling you now,” she says, like that counts. Like it erases the month of silence, the funeral you didn’t attend, the grave you didn’t get to stand over. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to crawl into your grandmother’s lap and let her brush the world out of your hair. But she’s gone. And now your father is, too. Your throat tightens. Your heart aches in places you thought you’d fortified long ago.

The call ends without resolution. Just the dull tone of disconnection. You sit in the dark, staring at nothing, until the light spills slowly across your floor, illuminating dust motes like falling stars. And still, the silence presses in. Not even the city outside dares to speak.

You curl into yourself, as small as you can be, and let the grief take you. Not for the man your father was, but for the chance to make it right. For the words you’ll never get to say. For the goodbye stolen from you like everything else. Somewhere, you hope your grandmother is watching. And you wonder what she would tell you now. Mourn, my love, she’d say. Even if they didn’t love you the way they should have, your heart still deserves to break.

You don’t go to work the next day. Calling in with the guise of being sick. You don’t check your phone, don’t answer the emails stacking themselves like bricks behind the glass of your locked screen. You don’t speak. There’s a silence inside you now that stretches so wide it makes the whole world seem distant, like you're floating somewhere outside of time. Wonyoung calls, Jay calls, even Sunghoon but you don’t answer. You can’t. What would you even say? Hey, I'm mourning the loss of my father who hated me, who didn’t even want me around. My father who loved his toy shop more than his daughter.

You sit by the window as the sun rises, too slow, too cruel. You watch it paint gold on buildings that don’t care you’re hurting. The city hums on without you, cars in motion, people in routine, everything ticking forward as if the foundation of your childhood didn’t just crack clean down the middle. A month. They buried him a month ago. Placed him into the earth like he was already forgotten. You press your forehead to the glass, eyes burning but dry. There are no tears yet. Only the weight. The kind that sits on your chest and makes it hard to breathe.

Your father is dead. Gone in the kind of quiet your family has always been good at. No announcement, no open arms, no room left for the wreckage of feelings. They buried him like a secret. Like he hadn’t raised you, even if poorly. Like he hadn’t once lifted you onto his shoulders to reach the highest shelf of the toy shop. Like he hadn’t once smiled when you built your first little wooden horse beside him, stained your fingers with varnish and paint. You didn’t love him the way daughters are told they should love their fathers. But you tried. You tried even when he didn’t see you, when the only things that ever lit up his eyes were the shelves of handcrafted dolls and tin soldiers.

When you left home, it wasn’t just leaving. It was betrayal in their eyes. You didn’t take over the shop, the pride and joy of your parents’ lives, the beating wooden heart of your bloodline. You chose a different kind of future. One not carved by someone else’s hands. Your own hands, for once in your life you made a decision for yourself and you paid for it. And for that, they stopped speaking to you. But this… this feels like a punishment. Like they wanted to wound you with the silence.

A sob punches through you suddenly, sharp and guttural, like something breaking. You clutch at your chest like you can hold the grief in, but it spills through your fingers anyway, wild and merciless. He’s gone. He’s gone and you didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t get to stand by his casket and remember the sound of his laugh, the thunder of his anger, the way his eyes used to flick to the door whenever your grandmother walked into the room. You didn’t get to speak your pain into the air or leave a single flower on the freshly turned earth. You didn’t even get to be a daughter. Just… forgotten. Discarded.

You don’t know how long you cry. The sun shifts, shadows stretch. Somewhere far away, a neighbor plays the radio and someone slams a door. You lie down on the hardwood floor, cheek pressed to the cold wood, your body curled inwards like you’re trying to become small enough to slip into a memory. Your grandmother would’ve wrapped you in a quilt by now. She would’ve brewed you chamomile tea and said, “Let yourself grieve. He was your father, even if he was flawed.” She would’ve let you rage. Would’ve held your hand and said the things no one else dared to say. Like, “It wasn’t your fault you needed to leave.” Or maybe even, “He should’ve told you he loved you before it was too late.” You whisper to the silence around you: “Why didn’t he call me?”

No answer. Only the echo of your breath and the trembling pulse of your heart, mourning not just him—but the version of you that still hoped he might reach out one day. That little girl who waited, and waited, and waited for him to choose her. Now she knows he never will. You reach for your grandmother’s journal again, fingers slow and reverent. You find a passage you hadn’t noticed before, dated the winter before she passed.

Loss is a winter that never fully thaws, she wrote. But love, my darling, love is what wraps the frost in color. You close your eyes. And for a moment, you can almost feel her hands on your shoulders, warm and certain.

You don’t remember falling asleep. Only the brittle stillness of morning, cracked open by the weight behind your ribs. You don’t know how he knew. Maybe Wonyoung told him something. Maybe your absence stretched too long, and your silence- your complete vanishing sounded different than usual. Maybe he could just feel it in the marrow of his bones the way animals feel the turn of the weather. But sometime just after noon, there’s a knock at your door. Firm. Measured. Familiar. You don’t move. Not at first. You sit there on the floor, wrapped in a blanket that doesn’t warm you, your hair tangled and your body still sore from the way grief wrings a person out from the inside. The knock comes again. Then his voice- low, steady, laced with something that makes your throat tighten.

“Y/N, open the door.” Sunghoon. Of course it’s him. You stand slowly, like your body no longer belongs to you, like every movement is a question you’re not sure you want answered. You reach the door, place your hand against it, feel the hum of him on the other side like a ghost pressed to your skin.

“Go away.” You whisper with all the strength you could muster. Which was not much, if any at all. A pause. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay.”

You laugh, sharp and small and broken. “Too late for that.”

“Then let me in.” His voice is softer this time. It tugs at something inside you, something raw and already unraveling. But you don’t move. You can’t. Because if you see him…if you see those eyes, if he looks at you like you mean something, if he touches you- you’re afraid the dam will break. “Please,” he says.

You open the door. And the storm begins. He steps in like he always does, like this is still whatever tangled thing you’ve been pretending it is. You hate how relieved he looks just to see you. You hate that his presence does soothe something in you, even now, when everything in your world has come undone. “What’s going on?” he asks, his brow furrowed. “You disappeared.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. Because it’s the only thing you can do. You can’t burden him with your problems, you can't bear to bother him. “No, you’re not.” He steps closer, and that’s when you snap.

“Don’t,” you hiss, stepping back like he burned you. “Don’t pretend to care now.” You can feel the resolve of what's left of your life snapping, like the cliff you were holding onto with the tip of your finger was finally crumbling, eventually sending you hurtling to the ground at your demise. And you welcomed it, you didn't brace for the fall. Instead you held your hands out and allowed the wind to hit you face.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He’s defensive, understandably so.

Your voice rises before you can stop it, rage surging like fire through dry grass. “It means this- whatever this is, it’s not real, right? You don’t get to show up and act like I matter just because you haven’t gotten your fix in a few days.” You spit the words out with malice, ash on your tongue.

Sunghoon blinks, taken aback. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” You laugh, wild and bitter. “You think any of this is fair?” You’re crying now, tears you can’t stop, salt water spilling like grief is trying to pour out of you any way it can. You want to hurt the way you hurt, you want to destroy anything good in your life.

“I’ve been walking around pretending I don’t feel anything. Pretending this was just sex. Just tension. Just bad timing. But I do feel something, Sunghoon. I feel everything, and I can’t- I can’t keep pretending.” He opens his mouth, but you cut him off, voice trembling like a bridge about to collapse. And collapse it does. “I love you.”

Silence. Pure and utter silence. A silence you could go crazy in. A silence so loud you want to cup your hands over your ears and scream. You had never known a love like this. It was fierce and intense. it grabbed a hold of your heart like the constraints of a snake and never let it go. it swallowed your entire being, your entire soul. This love hurt.

“I don’t,” he says. Two words. Clean. Precise. A scalpel to the chest. You stare at him like you don’t recognize him. Like the person who just spoke isn’t the one who touched you like you were something sacred. Who kissed you like you were air and he’d been drowning.

“I never meant to lead you on,” he says, not meeting your eyes. “It just… got out of hand. This was a mistake. It was always going to be a mistake.” You want to scream. You want to throw something, tear the sky in half, bury yourself in the quiet dark where no one can find you again. Instead, your voice turns hollow. Cold. Like the ice seeping through your veins and freezing your heart.

“Get out.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out.”

He hesitates. But then he nods. Quiet. Like the coward he suddenly is. And just like that, he leaves. The door closes behind him with a finality that feels like a tomb sealing shut. You don’t collapse this time. You stay standing. But it hurts more. Somehow, it always does.

You wander back into the room like a ghost, like someone newly haunted. You grab your grandmother’s journal again, flipping through the pages with trembling fingers, searching for the red string passage like it might come alive and wrap itself around your hand and drag you back to the truth. But all you see is ink. All you see are lies.

Soulmates are real.You’ll know when you touch them.The universe will show you.

Lies. Because you touched him. And what did the universe show you?

A fool. You saw yourself as a fool, lit up in a soft glow, believing in something that never believed in you. You close the book slowly, your hands gentle this time. Like you’re mourning something more than a love lost. Like you’re mourning magic itself. If the red string exists, it’s tangled around your neck. Tight. Suffocating. Useless. You stare at the ceiling until your vision blurs. Until the world goes quiet again. You don’t know if you’ll ever believe in soulmates. You don’t know if you’ll ever believe in anything at all.

You don’t quit; though the thought slips across your mind like a blade held lightly between your teeth. Instead, you do what you’ve always done: you fold the pain into neat corners and tuck it behind your ribs. You wear your silence like armor, sharp and impenetrable. You show up to the office with eyes hollowed by sleepless nights and lips pressed into a line so thin it might vanish entirely. And you avoid Sunghoon like he’s the epicenter of the earthquake still rattling your bones. Because he is.

You stop taking the elevator if you think he’s in it. You pretend to be deep in work when he walks by. You leave meetings the second they end, ducking out before his eyes can find yours. But he notices. Oh, he notices. And like a cruel twist of fate, he doesn’t leave you alone. No, instead he becomes worse. Sharper. Colder. Crueler in the way only someone who once knew your soft parts can be.

“This is what you call a concept?” he says one morning, tossing your latest mock-up onto the conference table like it burned him to hold it. “Are you even trying?” You flinch. Wonyoung shoots you a look across the table, brows raised in alarm. Jay shifts uncomfortably, eyes flicking between you and your boss like he’s watching a scene unfold he was never meant to witness. “I thought it captured the essence of—”

“It’s flat,” Sunghoon interrupts. “Lifeless. If this is what you think the cover should look like, then maybe you’re in the wrong department.” The words land with the precision of gunfire. You nod once, slowly. Quietly. Swallowing everything you want to scream. The meeting ends, and you make it all the way back to your desk before the tears spill. Silent, shaking, defiant. You tell yourself to hold it together. But your hands won’t stop trembling, your heart won’t stop pounding.

Wonyoung finds you in the bathroom twenty minutes later, sitting on the tile with your knees pulled to your chest, mascara smudged like bruises beneath your eyes. “Y/N,” she breathes, crouching down beside you. “What’s going on?” You want to lie. To say it’s the pressure. That 's the deadline. That it’s anything other than what it is. But your heart’s a dam that’s already cracked open, and the truth rushes out in a flood.

“You were right,” you whisper, your voice small and trembling. “About me and Sunghoon.” She blinks. “You mean…?”

You nod, staring at the grout lines between the tiles like they might save you. “We’ve been sleeping together. For awhile now” She doesn’t say anything right away. Just sits beside you, quiet, letting the weight of it settle in the space between your words. “And I fell in love with him,” you choke, voice cracking like glass under pressure. “God, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. But I did. I fell in love with someone who sees me as a mistake.”

Wonyoung’s expression softens with a tenderness that only true friendship can bring. She reaches for your hand, warm fingers wrapping around your cold ones. “I thought I could handle it,” you say. “I thought I could keep it casual. But then I started seeing him in everything. In every future I imagined. And then… he just—”

“Shut you out,” she finishes softly. You nod. Tears fall again, heavier this time. “He told me he didn’t love me. That it was a mistake. And now he’s punishing me for feeling anything at all.” Wonyoung doesn’t speak for a long moment. She just holds your hand, grounding you. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she says eventually, voice gentle but fierce. “You loved someone. You trusted him with that. That’s not weakness- that’s bravery.”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t feel brave. It feels pathetic.”

“It’s not,” she insists. “He’s the one who should feel ashamed. Not you.” The silence that follows is soft, heavy. But for the first time in days, it doesn’t feel suffocating. “I don’t think I believe in soulmates anymore,” you whisper, more to yourself than to her. “All that red string stuff my grandmother used to talk about… I thought maybe, just maybe it was real. But it’s not. It can’t be.”

Wonyoung doesn’t argue. She just rubs slow circles into the back of your hand, her presence a balm on skin still burning. Later, when you wash your face and force yourself back into the office, the world doesn’t look different. Sunghoon is still a shadow at the edge of your vision. The emails still pile up. The coffee still tastes like nothing. But something in you has cracked open and not just in pain. In truth. In the slow, aching beginning of letting go.

The office is quiet at night, humming only with the low whir of overhead lights and the distant tapping of your keyboard. You’ve buried yourself in work like it’s a lifeline diving into layouts, moodboards, and concept notes with the kind of intensity reserved for those desperate to feel anything but what’s clawing at their chest.

Today is a heavy day. A quietly suffocating one. Five years since your grandmother’s heart stopped beating. One month and change since your father’s did too. You didn’t tell anyone. Not Wonyoung. Not Jay. Certainly not Sunghoon. You just kept your head down and drowned in deadlines. So when the receptionist calls Sunghoon’s line to tell him there’s a flower delivery for you- late-night, unexpected; he frowns.

“Who the hell is sending flowers to Y/N at this hour?” he mutters. And he goes down to get them himself. His jaw is tight the entire elevator ride, fury swelling like a storm behind his eyes. By the time he’s back on your floor, bouquet in hand, the smell of white lilies and soft garden roses clogs his senses like betrayal. He doesn’t knock. He slams the door open so hard the hinge screams. You jump, startled, spinning around in your chair.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you gasp. But he doesn’t answer. He throws the flowers onto your desk like they’ve poisoned him. “So that’s it?” he snaps. “You’re already moving on?”

You stare at him, stunned. “What?” He points to the bouquet like it’s a smoking gun. “I just told you this was a mistake. That we should stop. And not even a week later, you’re already entertaining some new guy? Jesus, Y/N.”

Your voice sharpens. “They’re from Chaewon.”

“Who the fuck is Chaewon?”

“My childhood friend,” you say through clenched teeth. “My best friend since I was five. She sends me flowers every year on this day.” He blinks, momentarily thrown off. You rise to your feet, slowly, deliberately, and something in your expression must shift because he goes still. “Today is the five-year anniversary of my grandmother’s death,” you say quietly. “And the one-month mark since my father died. A death I wasn’t even told about until weeks later.” His lips part slightly, but no sound comes out.

“I’ve been holding myself together with frayed thread,” you go on, your voice trembling now. “I’ve been pushing through grief so heavy it’s crushed every part of me. And you- you come in here, spewing accusations and calling me names, because your ego can’t handle the idea that I might be wanted by someone else?”

You laugh, bitter and breathless. “I loved you, Sunghoon,” you say. “God help me, I did. I still do. Even after everything. But you humiliated me. You used me and then blamed me for having feelings. And now you have the audacity to show up here and call me a whore for getting flowers from my best friend?”

You shove the card toward him, your fingers shaking. He reads it. And his face falls. “Y/N,” he says softly. “I didn’t—”

“No,” you cut him off. “You don’t get to apologize now. You don’t get to regret it just because you misread the situation. You made yourself clear you don’t feel the same. You said it was a mistake. And I believed you.” He stands there, frozen, hands limp at his sides, the tension between you coiled so tightly it might snap the air in two. You stare at him for a long moment. Then your voice drops, quieter, sadder. “My grandmother used to tell me soulmates were real. She believed in fate. In red strings and destined touch. I used to believe her.”

You pick up the flowers, holding them gently. “But now I think soulmates are a myth we tell ourselves to feel less alone. And I’m done chasing ghosts.” You turn back to your screen, the cursor blinking like a pulse, pretending your soul didn’t just crack in half in front of him. You expect the door to shut. Expect his retreat. But it doesn’t come. Instead, silence stretches behind you. Dense. Breathless. Charged. You feel Sunghoon’s eyes on you, like he doesn't know what to say but he wants, no needs to say something.

You wished he didn’t. You wished he would walk out that door so you can continue to cry where he can’t see you. Where you can feel ashamed and embarrassed outside of his prying eyes.

“I’m not leaving.” You freeze. Your breath catches, like the pause before a sob. “I was going to,” Sunghoon says, voice low, rough. “I was halfway out the door, but… I couldn’t do it.” You don’t turn around. Can’t. You’re too full of salt and sorrow and the ghosts of people who should still be breathing. He takes a tentative step closer. And you wince.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “That was cruel. What I said- what I called you. I didn’t mean it. I just… I panicked.” You laugh under your breath, bitter. “Panicked because someone sent me flowers?”

“No, well-yes.” He says truthfully. “I don’t know how to handle this,” he continues. “You… you scare the shit out of me, Y/N.” You finally look at him. And what you see on his face is not arrogance. Not ego. It’s a boy standing barefoot in a storm, trying to keep the wind from pulling everything he loves out of his hands.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” he says. “Not even Jay. But my grandfather died three years ago. Right before I got hired”

You blink, caught off guard. “You never mentioned—”

“We weren’t close. Not for most of my life,” he admits. “But toward the end, when his memory started slipping, he talked about her. This woman he met when he was young. Said she was the love of his life. But he never got the timing right. Always one step too late.”

Something in your chest goes very still.

“The day he died, he gave me this.” He pulls up the sleeve of his coat, pointing to the red bracelet, completely identical to your missing one. “He said it belonged to her. The woman he never stopped loving.”

You reach out without thinking, your fingers brushing against the red string. “My grandmother,” you whisper, heart pounding like thunder behind your ribs. “She had a story too. She used to tell me about this boy she loved in her youth. They lost each other. She never told me his name. Just that he left, and she never stopped waiting.” Sunghoon’s breath catches. “What was her name?”

“Eunju.” His eyes close. “That’s her,” he says. “That’s the name.”

The room shifts. Time folds inward. And suddenly, you’re not two people standing in an office under flickering fluorescent light. You’re the echo of two others who once stood on the edge of a different beginning. Souls that never found their way back- until now. “I don’t even know what this means,” you whisper. “But it feels like something bigger than us.”

“It does,” he says, voice barely more than breath. “And it scares the hell out of me.” Your eyes sting. “Then why did you push me away?” you ask. “Why did you say it was a mistake?” His gaze drops, heavy with guilt.

“Because I’ve never had something I didn’t know how to ruin. And you… you’re not something I could just forget after. You were never just sex, Y/N. You were the first thing that made me feel human in a long time. And I didn’t know what to do with that.” You’re quiet for a long moment.

“Say it,” you whisper. “Say how you feel. Stop hiding behind fear.” You’ve had enough of the hiding of the fear. You needed to hear him say it out loud. You weren’t asking him to shout to the rooftops or brag about to everyone he knows but you needed that confirmation, or it wouldn’t feel real. Whatever you two learned about each other wouldn't feel real until he said the one thing you needed to hear from him. “I have feelings for you,” he says, the words breaking from him like waves on rocks. “Too many. And I don’t know how to carry them without dropping them at your feet and praying you don’t run.”

Your throat closes up. Emotion wells like a tide, like a wound too long ignored. “You think I haven’t been carrying them too?” you say, stepping closer. “You think I haven’t been trying to rip you out of my heart every time you looked at me like I was just something easy to forget?”

He flinches. “I never looked at you like that.”

“Then why did you pretend this meant nothing?”

“Because I’m not good at this. Because I didn’t want to break you.”

“You did anyway.” The silence that follows is heavy, but not empty. It hums with unfinished truths and fragile hope. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “For every time I let my fear speak louder than my heart.” As you look at the bracelet on his wrist and feel your grandmother’s love lingering like smoke around your shoulders, you can’t help but wonder if some love stories are meant to be rewritten. Not with new words- but with new hands. Hands that aren’t afraid anymore. Hands that are willing to try.

You decide to try.

It isn’t some cinematic confession, no fireworks or strings or sweeping score. It’s quieter than that. It lives in the way he brushes your hair back from your face like you’re something fragile he’s learning how to hold. It lives in the way you don’t flinch this time when his arms wrap around you like an anchor. Neither of you says this is love - not yet. But you say: I want to try. And that is more than enough. The night unspools between you slow and warm, like honey melting down the edge of a glass. Sunghoon kisses you like he’s never tasted something real before. His touch is different now - not just hungry, but reverent, as if every inch of you holds secrets he’s finally ready to hear. He takes you to his apartment, carefully peeling away at you, layer by layer and you let him. You revel in the feeling.

You fall into each other like waves crashing in a quiet tide. His hands roam your skin like they’re mapping a route back home. He whispers your name into your mouth like a promise, like an apology, like an offering. And when it’s over, when you’re tangled in each other’s limbs, skin still glowing from the heat of it all, he doesn't move away. Instead, he lifts you gently, carries you to the bathroom with soft steps and softer eyes. The bath is already running, steam curling up toward the ceiling like incense smoke. He lowers you into the water first, then slips in behind you, his arms coiled around your waist, his chest a steady drumbeat against your back.

for a while, you just sit in silence, water lapping around you, time slowing to a heartbeat. Then it hits. Not like the others- not a flicker, not a shimmer behind your eyes. This time, it’s a storm. You’re no longer in the bathtub. The warm water is gone. Sunghoon’s arms are gone. You're being wheeled through sterile hallways bathed in fluorescent white. The lights above you strobe like lightning, blinding and sharp. Your chest is tight, your vision blurry. You hear voices; clipped, urgent. “She’s crashing—get the crash cart—”

“BP dropping—move—” Hushed but urgent ringing in your ears.

“Miss? Can you hear me?” Your body feels too heavy, your limbs suspended between planes. You're trying to speak. Your lips move but your voice is paper-thin. “Where’s… Sunghoon?” you murmur. “Please… tell him I—” And then; Darkness. Complete darkness. The memory rips away as fast as it came, and suddenly you're back in the bath, water sloshing against the sides. Your breath is caught in your throat, your heart galloping like it’s trying to outrun something it hasn’t even seen yet.

Sunghoon notices instantly. “Hey—” he sits up straighter behind you, arms tightening. “You okay?” You nod, too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I just… got dizzy for a second.” He doesn’t push. Just smooths his hands along your arms, grounding you. But inside, your mind is spinning. That wasn’t just a flashback. It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like something you hadn’t lived yet. Like a prelude to pain. A warning sealed inside your bones. It felt so real and raw, the pain you felt lying on that bed was real, until it wasn’t.

And it came now, when you were warm, when you were loved, when your body was finally held like a prayer and not a battlefield. The world shifts under your skin. But you swallow it down. For now, you lean back into him, trying to chase comfort, to drown out the tremble in your spine. His lips press to your shoulder, slow and unknowing. You don’t tell him what you saw. Not yet. Because the moment is still soft. The red thread is still stitching you both closer. And whatever that flash was… it can wait. The heart, after all, can only carry so much weight at once. And tonight all you wanted to be was in love.

Something shifts after that night; gently, like the seasons turning without permission. Not a dramatic tilt, not a bolt of lightning, just a hush in the way the world begins to hold its breath when the two of you are in the same room. You and Sunghoon begin working on the project again. A visual campaign wrapped in pastel chaos and sharp, defiant edges. But this time, it’s different. The air between you hums with something alive, something unspoken, something tender. You sit beside him at the long conference table, your laptops open, coffee cups sweating, and you find yourself stealing glances when you think he won’t notice. Except… he always does. And he smiles. That smile you were beginning to love more and more everyday.

Those soft, rare smiles that melt in the corners of his mouth like sugar. He doesn’t say much in the meetings, still the same gruff, perfectionist Sunghoon who eyes fonts like they’ve insulted him personally but now, there’s a warmth beneath it all. A hand that finds yours under the table. A look that lingers just a beat too long when you laugh. “You two,” Wonyoung says one afternoon, flicking her pen dramatically in your direction, “are not as subtle as you think.”

You freeze. So does Sunghoon. Jay, across the room, just snorts and mutters, “Took them long enough.” But that’s it. That’s all they say. There’s no big reveal, no confrontation, just a collective decision to let it be. To let this new, fragile thing you’re growing unfold on its own.

And unfold it does. There’s a rhythm now. A cadence. Mornings that begin with Sunghoon brushing his knuckles across your cheek while you’re still half-asleep, his tie hanging loose, the scent of cinnamon toast curling in from the kitchen. Lunchtimes filled with casual touches, a hand grazing your back, fingers brushing yours as he passes you a folder. Evenings spent buried in mood boards and color palettes and sketches, your bodies leaning closer and closer until work becomes the excuse to stay near. And even longer evenings spent between the sheets wrapped up in one another.

You catch him drawing you once. Not on purpose. It’s a rough doodle on the side of his notes, half-shadowed in graphite, your profile rendered in a way that makes your breath catch. “Is that me?” you ask, teasing.

He doesn’t deny it. Just shrugs, eyes still on his screen. “It’s habit now.” There’s a softness to it all. A lullaby woven into the mundane. The kind of romance that grows in the quiet in the brushing of hands as you reach for the same pen, in the way he starts memorizing your coffee order without ever asking, in the long stares across the office when he thinks no one’s looking. But you’re always looking. And falling. Falling deeper every day.

One night, you stay late, the others long gone and it’s just you and Sunghoon at the office, the windows reflecting the golden haze of the city outside. You’re both reviewing final edits, shoulders brushing every so often. He’s mid-sentence, talking about lighting contrast, when he glances over and stops. “What?” you ask, heart fluttering. He stares for a moment longer, then says, almost reverent, “You’re beautiful.” The words are simple. But the way he says them- like they’re sacred, like they’re truth — makes you feel like the whole world paused to let them echo.

You kiss him. There, in the fading light, paper scattered like fallen petals around you, hearts pressed too close to pretend you’re still pretending. And maybe it’s too soon. Maybe it’s foolish. But you can’t help it. With Sunghoon, love doesn’t feel like falling. You weren’t afraid to keep falling in love.

Soon, you were doing things outside of work and his or your apartment. Soon you were going on dates and even double dates with Wonyoung and Jay. You forgot all about the red bracelet you were still missing and the fact that the father who didn't really care for you was dead, you forgot that the project was most likely going to fail and there was nothing you could do about it. All you knew was that even if it did, you would have Sunghoon in your corner as your support, defending you and himself as he should.

It was a Saturday night and Wonyoung and Jay wanted to go out. Bowling, you couldn’t pass it up. The bowling alley glows in soft retro neon, half bathed in violet and seafoam, the kind of lighting that feels a little bit like a dream. The air hums with pop music and the sound of pins clattering against waxed wood, laughter curling from every direction like it’s something you can breathe in. You’re leaning against the plastic bench seating in lane thirteen, watching Wonyoung do a celebratory spin after knocking down seven pins. Her oversized sweatshirt flutters like a cape behind her, and Jay’s clapping like she just won a gold medal.

"Did you see that curve?" she gasps, strutting back like she’s on a runway. “I think I was a bowling prodigy in another life.”

“You didn’t get a strike,” Jay deadpans, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. He kisses her cheek anyway. You’re laughing when Sunghoon comes back from the snack counter with a tray balanced in one hand; two sodas, a tub of buttery popcorn, and a red-and-white-striped basket of chili cheese fries that smells dangerously good. “Is this a date or an artery-clogging death wish?” you tease, taking a fry and popping it into your mouth.

He shrugs, setting the tray down beside you. “Both.” You roll your eyes but your heart flutters anyway, that strange, silly way it always does around him now. Soft and full and entirely too much.

“Alright, your turn, lovebirds,” Wonyoung sing-songs, tossing you a ball with sparkly green nail polish. “Let’s see who’s the real athlete here.” Sunghoon stands, cracking his neck with exaggerated drama. “Prepare to be humbled.”

You snort. “Please. You design magazine covers for a living.”

“And I still have better hand-eye coordination than Jay.”

“Hey!” Jay protests from his seat, a fry halfway to his mouth. “Unnecessary.” Sunghoon picks up his bowling ball- matte black, naturally, because of course he’d pick the most intimidating one, and lines up his shot. You lean over to Wonyoung as he takes his stance. “Ten bucks says he slips.”

“No bet,” she whispers. “He’s definitely slipping.” He doesn’t. The ball sails down the lane like it was born to. Not quite a strike, but a noble nine. Still, he spins around with that smug little smirk that makes you want to punch and kiss him at the same time.

“I’m waiting,” he says, arms out.

“For what?”

“My praise.” You cock an eyebrow, grabbing your own ball, a bright lilac with sparkles, completely your vibe. “You’ll get it when you earn it.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” He teased. You give him a grin over your shoulder as you walk to the lane. “It’s always like that.” Your throw goes a little off. You get five pins and one tragically rogue ball but you raise your arms like you just conquered Everest anyway. Jay and Wonyoung cheer you on, loud and dramatic, and you blow a kiss in their direction before sliding back into the booth beside Sunghoon. He passes you a soda, his fingers brushing yours, and leans in close enough that your shoulders touch. “You’re terrible at this.”

“And yet, I still look amazing doing it.” He smirks, his voice low. “That’s true.” You nudge his shoulder with yours. “You’re flirting.”

“You make it easy.”

The game winds on like that, playful insults and bad technique, shared bites of fries, the occasional high-five that turns into hand-holding when no one’s looking. Wonyoung sings along too loudly to every song that comes on. Jay takes the bowling way too seriously and actually tries to calculate his win percentage. Sunghoon teases everyone and somehow still ends up doing the scoreboard. But more than that- it’s easy. It’s fun. The kind of fun that fills your chest like helium and makes your laugh louder, your smile wider. The kind of fun that doesn’t ask for anything in return. There’s a moment, near the end of the night, when you catch Sunghoon looking at you, really looking. His head tilted, mouth soft, eyes full of something that makes your whole soul ache.

He doesn’t say anything. Just reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe now… it is. You lean into his side, just a little, and let the night wrap around you like a warm, flickering blanket. Neon lights, greasy food, too-loud laughter. All of it stitched with something golden and glowing. It isn’t perfect. But it’s yours. And right now, that’s more than enough.

The ice rink is quieter than you expected, nestled between city buildings like a secret. The lights above the ice are dim and golden, soft like early morning sun through lace curtains. There are just a few people gliding across the surface, laughter echoing like bells in the cold air, the kind of sound that makes your chest ache in the best way. You tug your scarf tighter, breath fogging the air in front of you. “You’re really serious about this?” you ask, eyeing the ice with no small amount of suspicion.

Sunghoon just grins, crouched down to lace up his skates like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Dead serious.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you warn. “I know,” he says, standing up with a grace that makes your stomach flip. He’s already taller than you, but on skates he looks like something carved out of winter. Long lines and quiet confidence, something familiar and dazzling all at once. You wobble when you stand, arms flailing until he catches you. His hands find your waist, steady and warm, and you glare at him, breathless.

“This was your plan all along,” you mutter. “To watch me fall on my ass.” He leans in close, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe. But I’ll catch you every time.” Your heart doesn’t know how to handle that, so you look away. The first few minutes are exactly as humiliating as you expected. You cling to the railing like it’s a lifeline, feet sliding in every direction. Sunghoon skates backward in front of you with ridiculous ease, hands out like he’s luring a stray cat.

“Come on,” he says, voice gentle. “Just one step.”

“I am stepping! I’m also dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I could be.” He laughs, the kind of laugh that hits you in the ribs, bright and full of something that feels like home. He skates up beside you, takes your hand in his without asking. “I’ve got you,” he says. “Always.” Somehow, you believe him. With him guiding you, it gets easier. Your legs stop shaking so much. Your fingers don’t cling as tightly. He teaches you how to glide, how to bend your knees, how to fall safely, which you do, spectacularly, three times in a row. But he never lets go. Not once.

And when you’re finally coasting across the rink on your own - a little wobbly, a little wild, but free, he cheers for you like you’ve just won gold. You laugh until your cheeks hurt. “Okay,” you say, breathless. “How are you this good at skating?”

He shrugs, suddenly shy. “I used to want to be a figure skater when I was a kid.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’d watch competitions on TV and try to copy the spins in my kitchen.” He glances down at the ice, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It felt like flying.” You skate closer to him, heart aching at the softness in his voice. “Why didn’t you keep doing it?”

He looks up, and there’s something a little broken in his smile. “My parents didn’t think it was practical. I let it go.” You reach for his hand. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not. Not anymore. I still skate sometimes, on nights when I can’t sleep. It reminds me of who I was before the world got too loud.” The air between you shimmers, cold but not empty. Full of things unspoken, things that have been building since the moment you met him. It’s in the way he looks at you now, eyes wide and vulnerable, like he’s waiting for something he’s not sure he deserves. And maybe… maybe you’re ready to give it.

You skate backward a little, still holding his hand. “Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” It’s a whisper, but it echoes louder than anything else. The kind of truth that makes the world slow down. His eyes go wide. He stops moving.

“I didn’t mean to,” you say quickly, breath shaking. “I didn’t plan it. But somewhere between fighting with you and falling on my face, I—” Your voice catches. “I just did. And I know we said we’d take it slow, but I'm ready, this is it for me, You are.” For a moment, the only sound is the scrape of skates on ice and your heart beating like it’s trying to break out of your chest. Then he steps toward you.

“Say it again,” he whispers. Your throat tightens. “I love you.” And then he’s kissing you, right there on the ice, hands on your face, lips cold and sweet and desperate. The kiss is slow but trembling, like the both of you are trying not to fall apart, trying to hold onto the feeling as long as you can. When he pulls back, his voice is rough and full of awe.

“I love you too.” Your breath catches. “I didn’t want to,” he admits. “I was so scared to let this become real. But it did. And I’m not going to pretend it didn’t.”

You smile, eyes stinging. “So what does this mean?” He presses his forehead to yours. “It means we’re official. As of right now.”

Your laughter turns into a sob halfway through, and he kisses it away, holding you in the middle of the ice like the world has narrowed down to just this. Just you and him and this quiet, golden moment where everything feels right. When the lights begin to dim for closing time, he skates you one last circle around the rink, holding your hand the whole time. And in that frozen orbit, beneath stars too distant to touch, you fall in love all over again.

That night Sunghoon takes his time with you, soaking in the smell and feel of your skin against his. It’s not hard and rough like you’re used to, it’s soft like the pillowy feeling of being on cloud nine. It was tender and it made you alight with pure happiness. You had not known happiness like this for such a long time. You were beginning to feel like he was sent to you. That your grandmother knew you needed someone to fill her void.

And Sunghoon didn't just fill that void, he lit it ablaze, lighting a candle inside of you and setting your heart on fire with need for him. Not just sexually but spiritually.

Sunghoon whispered soft and quiet i love you’s against your skin as you sat atop him, connected as one. He held your hand as he slowly pushed into you over and over again. He drank in your moans while simultaneously spilling his own. This was love, and it did not hurt this time. It felt good. You were high on this love, addicted to the rush, and you never wanted to let that go.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He breathed against your ear, his breath harsh. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“So-good.” You whined, legs to your chest as Sunghoon took his time with you, reaching unbelievable places inside of you. “Don’t stop-” Tears welled in your eyes threatening to spill over. “Please don’t-”

“Never.” He cooed. Sunghoon sank his face down to yours, kissing at the apples of your cheeks and whisking away the tears falling from your eyes. “I’ll never stop loving you.” Your sob rang through the room, along with the sound of his skin hitting yours. But it was not a sob of sadness, you did not cry of despair. The emotions coursing through you were simply too heavy, too much. It catapulted you to your already awaiting orgasm. It ripped through you like a storm, creating chaos in your mind. You welcomed it.

Sunghoon followed suit. His head tipped back, eyes screwed shut and lips slightly agape. He was the most beautiful person you had ever seen. Even more so than the day you first met him, staring up at him with wide eyes on that dirty sidewalk. This was it, he was it.

The next few weeks continued to pass by in a blur. Days in the office no longer felt long. You, Sunghoon, Wonyoung and Jay became a proper team creating the most perfect cover that Suyu could not even hate if she tried. It was the perfect mesh of everything her and her other members claimed to want. You don’t know if you were saying this out of bias or not but it looked pretty damn perfect to you.

“Knowing Suyu, she’ll find something to hate about it.” Wonyoung says with the roll of her eyes, two afternoons before the big presentation is supposed to happen. “That girl is never happy.”

“She’ll only be happy if Sunghoon agrees to go on a date with.” Jay snorts from his end of the table in the very big conference room the four of you occupied. You’ve decided to ditch the cubicles and work in conference rooms together for my cohesion. It seemed it was working in your favor.

“Not happening.” Sunghoon said, typing away, not even looking up. You snort a little laugh, shaking your head. “Over my dead body.”

“Rawr, Y/N” Wonyoung snickered. “Didn’t know you were so possessive.” Your cheeks heat in slight embarrassment looking down at your paper to hide away from their prying eyes.

“It’s hot.” Sunghoon mused, your head shot up, shocked at his open candor. Although Jay and Wonyoung were very much aware of your relationship, Sunghoon tended to keep the PDA away from the office. Sunghoon sent a knowing smirk your way. A way to tell you he knew exactly what he was doing to you, and he liked it.

“I didn’t know you were such a romantic Park Sunghoon.” You flirted back sending him a small smile that you knew would drive him absolutely mad.

“for you i’d be anything baby.” Wonyoung’s grunt of disgust broke the flirting fest the two of you were having.

“Spare us all.” She complained, but still there was a small smirk on her face. One that said she really wasn’t all that bothered by the two of you. She loved it.

You laugh, light and airy like you felt in that moment. “Like you and Jay aren’t always on top of eachother all the time.”

“We do n-”

“Yes, we do.” Jay interrupts before she could utter another word. “I don’t mind, they’re in love. Let them flirt, Won.”

“Yeah..” Sunghoon trails. His eyes on yours “We are.”

The morning of the presentation rises with a golden hush, sunlight sifting through your curtains like powdered gold. It spills over the sheets, over his bare back, tracing the ridges of muscle and the delicate rise and fall of his breath. The room smells like skin and sleep, like warmth you’ve grown used to waking beside. Sunghoon stirs, eyes fluttering open, and he finds you already looking at him. His lips curl into a sleepy smile. “You watching me again?”

“Always,” you whisper, your voice still threaded with dreams. He reaches out and pulls you into him, your legs tangling effortlessly. There’s a peacefulness to it, a kind of calm you didn’t think you’d ever get to have. You don’t speak for a while. Just lie there, breathing together in sync, the calm before the storm. The presentation is in a few hours, the culmination of months of ideas and revisions, of whispered meetings and sparks behind locked office doors. But none of that matters right now not when he kisses your shoulder like he’s promising you forever in silence.

The world tilts.

Your breath catches. Your eyes glaze. And the room falls away in one cruel sweep. In its place is sterile white. Bright, blinding. The kind of light that doesn’t bring warmth, only fear. You’re standing in a hospital corridor, the walls humming with fluorescent dread. Nurses rush past you, voices sharp and clipped. And then you see him. Sunghoon. But not the Sunghoon you know. Not the one who smiles like sin and kisses like salvation. He’s lying on a hospital bed, still as stone, wires snaking from his chest, from his arms, from his scalp. Machines beep in jagged rhythms, cruel little lullabies counting down to something inevitable.

He looks pale. Hollow.

Dead.

A doctor turns to the others. “We’re losing him. There’s not much time—”

“No,” you breathe. “No, no—” You stumble forward in the vision, chest aching with a pain too big for your ribs. You’re screaming his name but no one hears you. It’s like you’re not even there. You reach for him, desperate to hold his hand, to shake him awake, to do something. But then like a gunshot to the head- darkness.

You’re yanked back into the present like a diver breaking the surface after too long underwater. Your lungs seize. Your body jolts. You sit upright in bed, heart galloping against your ribs like it’s trying to escape. “Y/n?” Sunghoon is already up, panic etched into every line of his face. “Hey—what happened?” You blink at him, throat raw. Your hands are shaking. Your mouth opens, then closes. What was that?

You clutch the sheet around you, the image of him lying on that bed seared into your memory like a brand. You can still hear the flatline in your ears. “Talk to me,” he pleads, scooting closer, brushing the hair from your damp forehead. “You’re scaring me.” But you can’t find the words. You don’t even know what this means. All you know is that it felt too real. Too visceral. Like a ghost of a future that hasn’t yet happened. And you’d never felt fear like that. Not even when you lost your grandmother. Not even when your father died without goodbye. Because this was Sunghoon. And he was gone in your arms. “I’m okay,” you lie, voice shredded. “I just—bad dream.”

He pulls you into his chest, wraps his arms around you like a shield. “It’s over now,” he murmurs. “I’m right here.” And you let yourself believe him. Just for a second. But the image won’t leave you. Not even when you get dressed. Not even when you walk into the boardroom hours later, hand in hand, presenting your final vision to an audience of executives and strangers. Not even when you see the pride in his eyes as he watches you speak, like you’ve somehow always belonged to this exact moment. Because beneath the suit, beneath the smile, beneath everything he is, there’s still that hospital bed, cold and waiting. And you?

You’re terrified that someday, somehow, it won’t be a dream. You shallow your breath, allowing yourself to fall back into the resolve the Sunghoon was giving you. “I’m sorry.” You say.

“Don't be sorry, baby.” Sunghoon plants a small kiss to the side of your head. “Do you want to talk about it?” But you shake your head no. This was the morning of a very important presentation. You can’t allow something like a vision..or a dream? To break your balance.

Sunghoon decides on taking a shower together and you can honestly say it was the best idea he's had all morning. Letting the warmth of the shower water fall over you like a security blanket did good for your quaking anxiety. The two of you savored your time together before it was time for what was no doubt going to be a stressful presentation.

The conference room gleams with sterile promise, all white walls, steel accents, and the flicker of rain pressing hard against the windows like it’s trying to get in, trying to drown the whole day in gray. The storm has soaked the city in gloom, made the roads reflective, the sky a bruise. It’s the kind of weather that clings to your clothes, your hair, your spirit. Still, you sit tall. You're perched at the long, lacquered table beside Sunghoon, Wonyoung and Jay across from you. The CEO sits at the head, aloof and unreadable, surrounded by a few of Suyu’s management staff. The mood is already tense, the kind of tight that makes every throat clear feel like a bullet ricochet. You're clutching the presentation clicker like a lifeline.

And then she arrives. Suyu steps into the room like she owns every inch of it, her heels tapping with the arrogance of someone used to the world bowing before her. She’s wrapped in designer spite — sunglasses still on despite the indoor lighting, lips already pursed in disdain. Her team trails behind her like shadows, but she commands the storm all on her own. “Sorry I’m late,” she says without sounding remotely sorry. She doesn’t offer a reason. Doesn’t need to. She knows no one here would dare call her out. Her gaze flickers across the room, then lands on you. And stays there.

A slow, venomous smile curves her mouth. You know that look. You’ve seen it on girls in high school, in boardrooms, in battlefields dressed as brunch tables, the kind that hides a knife behind lip gloss. But you refuse to flinch. You return the smile, polite, professional. Determined. Even if your stomach is already turning. Even if you know something isn’t right. Because before the meeting, as you and Sunghoon stood tucked in a corner hallway, nerves vibrating between you, he kissed you. Not a small, fleeting thing but a real kiss. A grounding, you-got-this kind of kiss. You thought you were alone. You weren’t. Suyu had seen it.

You caught the flicker of her figure at the edge of your vision as you pulled away, the flash of her hair like a flag of warning disappearing around the corner. But she didn’t say anything then. She’s saying it now, in the set of her mouth. In the storm behind her eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” she drawls, sliding into her seat.

You rise. Your voice is steady. You begin to speak. You talk about the concept, the vision, the artistry, the story you built with your bare hands. The cover design, sleek and dreamlike, a blend of sharp femininity and rebellious edge. You talk about the themes you studied from her past work, the ways you’ve tried to elevate her image without losing what made her iconic. You worked your soul into this.

Halfway through your explanation, Suyu starts to scoff. Loudly. You ignore it. Keep going. Then she interrupts. “I’m sorry, are we seriously pretending this is good?” The room stills. Your mouth goes dry. “I mean, really?” she sneers, crossing her arms. “This looks like something a design intern from a knockoff fashion school would make after drinking two energy drinks and crying over her ex.” Your hands grip the edge of the table. Wonyoung’s eyes flash in defense, but she stays silent. Jay’s jaw tightens. Sunghoon doesn’t move.

“I wanted fierce. I wanted iconic,” Suyu continues. “Not this sad, watered-down Tumblr board with delusions of grandeur.” You swallow. “I can explain the—”

“Oh, please don’t. You’ve explained enough. I don’t need to be walked through mediocrity.” A flicker of laughter comes from someone on her team. And it hurts. But not as much as when the CEO leans forward and says, “She’s not entirely wrong. This doesn’t feel aligned with Suyu’s brand.” Your breath catches. Your fingers shake around the clicker. You turn to Sunghoon, desperate for something. A word. A hand. A glance. Something to say you’re not alone. He sighs. The hurt had only started to seep into your bones when sunghoon nodded, a simple nod of agreement was what tore your heart in half. Yanking it from your body and smashing it to pieces on the floor in front of you. “I told you we should’ve gone with the second mock-up,” he says. “This one doesn’t hit the mark.”

It’s not just the words. It’s the casualness of them. Like you’re not standing there bleeding. Your heart tears clean in two. You stare at him. Unblinking. Unmoving. The man who once said he loved you while holding your hand in the snow now sits there like you’re just another person in the room. A stranger he happens to know. Suyu’s smile curls. “Maybe you should stick to something you’re actually good at,” she says sweetly, eyes flicking between you and Sunghoon. “Like kissing your boss in public hallways. That seemed more in your lane.” And there it is. The dagger, Slammed into your chest and twisted with precision.

Wonyoung rises to her feet. “That’s enough.” But it’s not. It’s far from enough. You don’t cry. You don’t scream. You gather your notes. You click the laptop shut. And then you speak. “Thank you for the feedback,” you say. “I’ll revise the design.” Your voice is steady. Your hands are not. The storm outside begins to weep harder against the glass, like the sky is mourning with you. You turn without another word, walking out with the sound of your name left echoing in Sunghoon’s throat — unheard, too late. And somewhere in the distance, a red string frays.

You were humiliated, destroyed, disgusted. How dare he. How fucking dare he. You had all agreed on the design, all. You had all worked tirelessly on the cover for months now. It was not just you. Sunghoon had warned you that you were their scapegoat but to not even defend you when you were being torn in half? Not even an ounce of accountability. How fucking dare he. You were livid, you couldn’t even see straight as your eyes blurred with tears threatening to spill.

You don’t remember running. You only remember the sound your heels make against the marble floors- sharp, frantic, echoing behind you like a second heartbeat. Like guilt chasing your ankles. Like shame trying to wrap its claws around your throat. The doors burst open, and the cold hits you like a slap. The sky is sobbing. Fat, angry raindrops fall in sheets, soaking through your blouse, your skin, your bones. It’s as if the universe itself has decided to mourn your dignity.

You don't have an umbrella. You don’t care. You just run. Your breaths come out in ragged, uneven stutters. You can’t stop seeing their faces. Suyu’s cruel smirk, the board’s blank indifference, and worst of all- his. Sunghoon. Sitting there. Saying nothing. Letting it happen. His silence was louder than any insult they could have thrown. A betrayal more cutting than any blade.“I told you we should’ve gone with the second mock-up.”

He might as well have said, I don’t believe in you. I never did.

The words keep replaying, rewinding, looping until they stitch themselves into the lining of your chest. You make it to the sidewalk, the rain pounding harder, your tears indistinguishable from the storm. Your fingers tremble as you wrap your arms around yourself, like maybe you can hold the pieces of your heart in place before they fall entirely apart. But then- A hand on your wrist. Firm. Familiar. “Y/N—please,” Sunghoon’s voice cracks through the rain, desperate, raw. “Just wait—listen to me.”

You spin around, water dripping down your cheeks, your hair plastered to your face. “Why? So you can say I told you so again? So you can throw me under the bus a second time? Was watching them humiliate me not enough for you?!” His mouth opens. Closes. He looks like he’s been punched. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t lie to me,” you whisper, voice trembling. “Not now. Not after everything.” You try to pull away but he doesn’t let go. And that’s when it happens. The world vanishes. Time fractures. You’re no longer in the rain. You’re back there.

Bright lights. White walls. The cold sterility of a hospital room seeping into your bones. You’re on your knees. Screaming. Doctors surround a still body on a bed. Tubes. Wires. The sound of machines flatlining. Your voice is raw with anguish. You’re clawing at someone—anyone—begging, pleading.

“Please—no—don’t—_bring him back, please—_he can’t be gone—he can’t be—” And then the words you will never forget: “Time of death—7:46 PM.” You hear them like a bell tolling inside your ribcage, like a countdown to the end of the world. You watch Sunghoon’s chest stilled beneath the sheet. You see your own face; twisted with disbelief, with agony, with a kind of grief that doesn’t come from this world.

Your voice breaks through the flashback, one last scream: “SUNGHOON—!” And then you’re back—but barely. The rain is still falling, and his hand is still wrapped around your wrist. You look down at it like it’s the thing that killed you. And with a sharp, guttural sob, you yank it away. Like his hand was on fire and you were burning, burning from the rage and the humiliation and from your breaking point. A breaking point that was bound to come.

You were a ticking time bomb of emotions, you missed your grandmother, you missed the comfort of your red bracelet, funny enough you missed your parents and the father you never got the chance to say goodbye to, that too stolen from you.

You miss the childhood you never had, one filled with love and reassurance. One where you didnt feel like a burden but like a gift. You hated that this was your life, that you were always second best even in the most mundane of places.

“Don’t touch me!” you cry, voice shattering. “Don’t ever touch me again!” He stares at you, completely soaked, completely stunned. “Y/N—what—what just happened—” But you’re already stumbling backward. Away. From him. From the pain. From whatever this is turning into.

You bolt into the street, blind with heartbreak, with fury, with something you don’t even have a name for. And behind you; his voice. Desperate. Terrified. “Y/N—watch out—!” You turn too late. A flash of headlights. A screech. Then- Nothing.Just blackness, folding you in like a final breath. And the rain keeps falling, like the sky is crying for both of you.

The first thing you feel is the weight. Heavy, like you’ve been asleep for centuries. Your body is lead, your limbs sunken deep into stiff hospital sheets that smell like bleach and absence. Your mouth is dry. Your head aches. Your skin is sore, like the bruises haven’t bloomed yet but are waiting, just beneath the surface. The beeping of a heart monitor slices through the fog. You open your eyes.

The ceiling is too white. The light overhead buzzes with the subtle hum of sterility. You turn your head, slowly like moving through water and see the pale curtain that separates your bed from the rest of the world. It stirs slightly from the hum of an unseen vent, like a ghost brushing its fingers against your reality. You glance down at your wrist. Your breath catches in your throat. There it is. The red string.

Thin, delicate, impossibly bright in the sterile light. Wound gently around your wrist like it never left. Like it belonged there all along. You sit up too quickly, dizziness punches the edge of your vision, but you push through it, heart hammering in your chest like a trapped thing. You look out the window. Grey clouds churn like smoke against the sky. Rain clings to the glass in streaks, as if the world has been weeping without you. You press the call button. A nurse rushes in, kind eyes and a clipboard clutched to her chest. “You’re awake,” she breathes, a smile blooming like dawn. “Thank God. You’ve been out a while.”

“You were in an accident. You’re going to be okay.” You blink. A car. That’s right. The street. The rain. Sunghoon. “What day is it?” you ask, and your voice trembles because something in your chest is already breaking. The nurse glances at the chart. “April third.” The words punch the breath from your lungs. “…What year?” you manage. “2024.”

You swallow, heart thundering like it’s trying to run from your chest. “That’s not possible.”

But she only smiles gently, like she thinks you’re confused. Like she’s seen this before. “Don’t worry, honey. Just rest. You’ll feel more like yourself tomorrow.” But you’re not even sure who you are. Because this is before. This is before everything. Before the journals. Before the office. Before Sunghoon. It’s the day of the accident. The first time. You stare down at the red thread on your wrist like it holds the answer to the unraveling of time itself. You twist it gently between your fingers, like maybe if you touch it long enough, you’ll remember how to breathe.

You don’t know what kind of trick the universe is playing. You don’t know why it’s giving you another beginning. But your heart already knows one thing for sure. Somehow, somewhere; Sunghoon exists. He has to. Your chest heaves with the weight of it, lungs tight with questions that have no place in this timeline. That hospital light is still buzzing above, casting everything in a strange half-glow, like you're caught in the moment between lightning and thunder waiting for something to strike. The red string clings to your wrist like it never left. Like it knew.

“Was there… was there a man?” you ask suddenly, voice raw, broken from something older than your waking. The nurse looks up from the monitor she’s checking. “A man?”

“Was he hit, too?” You sit straighter in the bed despite the protest of your bruised ribs, your fingers clutching the blanket like it's the only thing keeping you tethered. “Outside. In the rain. I— I remember him.” The nurse hesitates, then softens. “Yes… there was someone else. A young man. He pushed you out of the way before the car hit.”

Your mouth falls open, lips parting like they’re trying to catch a breath that won’t come. “What—what does he look like?” She sighs gently, like she’s already replayed this conversation in her mind. “Tall. Dark hair. Pale skin. He had a bracelet, I think. Something red around his wrist.” You nearly choke on your breath. “Park Sunghoon?” The name escapes your lips like a prayer and a curse all at once.

The nurse freezes. Then she nods. You can't speak. He’s here. He was real. Not just a dream, not just a creation of grief and longing- he’s real. And he saved you before he even knew your name. “Can I see him?” you whisper, barely audible. “Please. I need to see him.”

It takes time. Paperwork. Permission. A quiet nod from someone behind the desk. Then the wheels of your bed begin to move, and the world around you shifts as they push you down the too-bright hallway, every fluorescent light a drumbeat in your chest. You don’t know what you expect when they wheel you into the room, but it isn’t this. Sunghoon lies still beneath pale blue sheets. Monitors blink softly at his side, IV lines like threads of spun glass winding into the curve of his wrist. He looks too still. Too quiet. His skin is waxen, the color of snowclouds. His lashes fan over cheeks that hold no warmth. He could be sleeping- but the stillness has a weight to it. The kind that feels like silence after music has died.

“They’re not sure if he’ll wake up,” the nurse murmurs, lingering near the door. “His brain took the worst of it.” You nod once, wooden. Silent. Then the door clicks shut behind her. You are alone with him. And he doesn't know you. You pull your blanket closer around your shoulders, trying to hold in the warmth that suddenly seeps out of you like mist. You wheel yourself closer to his bedside, trembling fingers reaching out- but not quite touching.

“You don’t know me,” you whisper. The words slice your throat on the way out. “You don’t know my name. You don’t know the way I laugh when I’m nervous, or how I cry when someone talks about their grandmother.” You laugh, a hollow thing. “You don’t know that I drink tea when I’m anxious, or that I never learned to whistle.” Your eyes burn. “I know that you hated my first cover design. I know that you have a terrible poker face and that you secretly adore puns even though you pretend not to. I know that you’re stubborn and serious and kind in the quietest, most impossible ways.”

“But I also know that none of that’s happened yet. Not here. Not in this version of us.” The red thread lies between you both, as if waiting. “He saved me,” you say aloud, voice crumbling like old paper. “Before he ever knew me.” You reach forward, gently resting your hand over his; cool, unmoving. “I don’t know why this is happening. Why the universe spun the clock backward. But if it brought me here to find you again…”

You lean closer, forehead nearly brushing the edge of his bed. “…Then I’ll wait. I’ll find a way to make you fall in love with me again. Even if I have to start all over. Even if it takes years. Even if you never remember a single moment.” Your voice breaks on the last word. You sit there in silence, the storm outside casting shadows across the floor. And somewhere, deep beneath the machines and the stillness- You think he might squeeze your hand. Just barely.

It’s only when the stillness settles, soft and cold as snowfall, that you notice it, his wrist. Peeking out from beneath the hospital blanket, slack and pale in the hush of machines, lies a single braided thread. Red as pomegranate wine. Frayed at the edge, worn, but unmistakable. Your eyes widen. Your breath stalls. It’s the same. The same bracelet. The same shade, the same knot, the same tiny bead like a drop of dried blood tucked between the threads. He still has it on. Your hand trembles as you lift your own wrist, laying it beside his on the edge of the bed. The two strings look like they’ve been waiting all this time, twin threads from different cloths, now side by side, humming quietly in the silence of the room.

It steals the air from your lungs. The stories your grandmother whispered flicker to life behind your eyes. The red string never breaks. Even when cut, it finds its way back. You’d doubted it- how could you not? After everything. After losing him. After watching him disappear in that final flash of memory and headlights. But now? Now the thread lies between you, unmistakable and real.

And then he breathes. A gasp. Wet and sudden. You jolt back in shock, eyes darting to his face as his chest rises in a shallow breath, then another. His lashes flutter. His lips part. He’s waking up. He’s waking up and you don’t exist to him here. Your heart stutters, cracking open like thin ice under too much weight. You scramble up from the chair, nearly knocking it over in your rush. “I—I’m sorry. I got the wrong room. I’ll get the doctor—” But before you can turn to flee, before your fingers even brush the call button-

“…Y/n?” It’s so soft you almost miss it. A breath more than a word. A tremble more than a voice. But it’s your name. You freeze, eyes wide, back still turned. “…Y/n,” he says again, a little stronger this time, as if drawing your name up from some hidden place in his bones. You turn slowly, not daring to believe. His eyes are open now, barely, but they’re there. Dark and dazed and clumsy with pain. He’s looking at you like you’re a dream crawling out of the dark. Like he doesn’t know what’s real and what’s just memory, but you- you, he remembers. “How…?” you whisper, barely able to breathe.

His lips twitch into something like a smile. Weak. Trembling. “Your voice,” he murmurs. “I knew it.”

You stumble back toward his bed, tears burning down your cheeks like fire. “You… remember?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “Not all of it. Just pieces. Feelings. I saw you before I woke up. I felt… like I lost you.” Your hands clutch at the blanket, at your own chest, trying to keep yourself together as your heart swells to fill every broken place. “I thought you wouldn’t know me,” you say through a sob. “I thought I’d have to find you again. Start all over. Make you fall in love with me a second time.”

He blinks slowly, exhaustion drawing shadows under his eyes. But his fingers twitch, reaching weakly toward you. “You already did,” he says. “In every version of this world… I think I would love you.”

You sit beside him, hand trembling as it hovers over his. The machines beep quietly, like lullabies sung in code, and outside the clouds churn, endless shades of grey bruising the morning light. But none of it touches you. Not really. Because Sunghoon is awake, and he remembers you. Even though he shouldn’t. Even though this is a time before he should know your name, before your first meeting was ever supposed to happen. Still, he looks at you like you are a story he’s read a thousand times, and only now understands the ending. He turns his wrist slowly, eyes drifting down to the red bracelet wrapped around yours.

“It was always you,” he murmurs, voice soft and unsteady. “Even before I knew it.” You inhale shakily, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “How?” you whisper. “How do you remember me?” His gaze lifts, lashes damp from pain and memory.

“I had dreams,” he says. “Or… I thought they were dreams. Every time I touched you—I’d see something. Sometimes it was nothing more than a flicker. A flash. You smiling under golden light. A hallway I didn’t recognize. Your voice calling my name in the dark.” He closes his eyes briefly, breath hitching. “But then… every time I touched you, it got stronger. Clearer. And near the end—I saw you dying. I saw you bleeding and screaming and I couldn’t reach you. I’d wake up choking. I didn’t understand why.”

Your fingers clutch at the sheet. “In mine,” you whisper, “you were the one dying.” His eyes flutter open again, searching your face. “You had the red string. I never did. Not in the dreams.”

A beat. And then another. The air between you crackles with something ancient. Something bigger than time “The string connected to you,” he says, voice thick. “I think it was showing your side. Like the dreams were through my eyes, but your pain. Your memories.” You stare down at the bracelets—his, tucked beneath pale hospital linen. Yours, worn and dulled but still whole. And then the truth falls between you, like a thread slipping back into the eye of the needle. “We’re soul ties,” you say, the words trembling out of you. “Not just lovers. Not just fate. We’re pieces of each other.”

Sunghoon swallows. “The string wasn’t just some story, was it?” You shake your head, heart pulsing against your ribs like a caged thing. “No. Our grandparents… they had this once too. My grandmother told me stories. She loved a man she could never be with. She said the string would return—find its way through generations if it had to.”

His eyes shine. “My grandfather gave me this bracelet before he passed. Said it was for ‘when the thread comes back.’ I thought he was being poetic.” You let out a soft, broken laugh. “Mine told me the same.” And for a moment, you are quiet together. Wrapped in this wild, impossible truth. A love so old it circled back. A thread so stubborn it refused to break. Worn by your grandparents. Given to you.

Soul ties. Lovers across lifetimes. The one that got away, born again in a heartbeat and a car crash. “I’m sorry I ever doubted it,” you say, tears slipping down your cheeks. Sunghoon smiles weakly, thumb brushing your wrist. “I’m not. I think we needed to doubt it. To fight it. So that when we stopped… we knew it was real.”

And suddenly the pain of the past doesn't feel like a punishment anymore. It feels like a bridge. A path winding through lifetimes, across heartbreak and death and fate bending back on itself like a red thread pulled tight. You reach for his hand, fingers sliding into his gently. The bracelets touch. The strings align. “I love you,” you whisper, for the first time in this life with your whole soul behind it.

The red string of fate had brought the two of you together, in something so magical and true. More magical than your grandmother had ever described before. Something you wished she

would have gotten to feel at a scale that you did, in this very moment with sunghoon.

Epilogue

One year later

The sky is soft that morning draped in cotton grey and trimmed with streaks of early gold. The kind of sky that doesn’t need to dazzle to feel holy. The kind your grandmother used to call a good omen. You stand outside the little toy shop at the corner of the old neighborhood. It’s quiet, the shutters half-open, a chime ringing as you step inside. The air smells like sawdust and lavender, memories and beginnings.

It took time to get here, months of healing, of relearning how to breathe without bracing for grief, of sorting through boxes and stories and broken pieces of the past. You and Sunghoon didn’t rush. You stitched yourselves back together gently, one soft moment at a time. The shop isn’t just your parents’ anymore. It’s yours. It’s new. It’s old. It’s both. Just like your love. Sunghoon’s laughter echoes from the back room, followed by a thud and a quiet curse. You smile, setting the "Grand Reopening" sign in the window.

He appears a moment later, hair tousled and cheeks pink from effort, holding a tiny wind-up ballerina in one hand. “She spins like you when you’re tipsy,” he grins. You roll your eyes. “So, gracefully?”

“Sure,” he teases. “Let’s go with that.” You take it from him and place it on the shelf, right beside a row of handmade music boxes you designed together. There’s a rhythm in everything now. A shared breath. A new life. Wonyoung and Jay come by in the afternoon, arms full of flowers and cake. The four of you spend the day laughing, telling stories, pretending not to see the way Jay looks at Wonyoung when she’s not looking.

Later, after the lights are off and the door is locked behind you, you and Sunghoon walk home under a sky that has cleared into starlight. The city sleeps around you, but your hearts are wide awake. Fingers intertwined, you glance down at the bracelets on your wrists. Still there. Still unbroken The red string doesn’t glow. It doesn’t hum. It simply exists. A quiet truth. A promise kept across time. Sunghoon squeezes your hand. “What do you think our grandparents would say?”

You smile. “That we finally got it right.” And with that, you lean into him, the night folding around you both like a story ending in its rightful place. A love lost once. Returned again. And this time- held tight enough to never let go. Every now and again, Sunghoon would whisper “In every walk of life I will love you.” You knew in your entire body and soul that that was true.

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bumlyn · 3 days ago

Text

holy fucking shit… the tension?!?!?

right next door!

pairing: enemy!sunghoon x reader

synopsis: you and park sunghoon have been tangled in hogwarts' most explosive rivalry since fifth year—all duels in corridors and sabotaged potions and lingering stares across the great hall. now in your last year, you're forced to share prefect duties, and between his infuriating teasing and surprisingly caring moments, you can't decide if you want to hex him or kiss him. but when old wounds resurface and the line between rivalry and something else blurs, you'll have to confront why his attention still makes your pulse race—and whether some bridges are better left burned.

genre: hogwarts au, ex friends to enemies to lovers, forced proximity

warnings: highly suggestive content!!, a steamy pool scene, sunghoon gets called an exhibtionist as a joke, mentions of blood status, jealousy, swearing, lots of hogwarts lore references, angst

note: lowkey got inspired to write this after reading deadly education but ended up making it spicy lol. also i haven't specifically mentioned which hogwarts houses the reader and hoon are in since you guys must be different houses so yeah. enjoyyy

word count: 8.1k

If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3 | taglist

the parchment trembled slightly in your grip, the edges crinkling under your fingertips as you stared at the freshly inked letters spelling out your name beside the words girl prefect. your breath caught—just for a second—before a giddy warmth spread through your chest. you could’ve sworn your feet barely grazed the stone floor as you made your way to the front of the classroom.

this was it.

all those late nights hunched over textbooks in the library until your eyes burned. every extra credit assignment you’d taken on, every house point you’d fought for. the way you’d practiced spells until your wrists ached, all for this moment—the recognition you’d craved, the proof that your effort hadn’t gone unnoticed.

then the head of house cleared their throat.

“—and your fellow prefect will be park sunghoon.”

the air left your lungs in one sharp exhale.

your head whipped toward him instinctively, muscle memory from years of tracking his movements, and just like always—just like always��he was already looking at you. his lips twitched, not quite a smirk but something dangerously close, his dark eyes alight with amusement.

of course.

of course it had to be him. the universe had a cruel sense of humor.

the head of house folded their hands atop the desk, surveying the two of you with the weary patience of someone who had long since grown tired of your antics. “i trust,” they said slowly, “that this appointment will encourage you both to set aside your… differences and act with the decorum expected of prefects.” their gaze flicked between you, pointed. “no duels in the corridors. no jinxes in the common room. and for merlin’s sake, no more sabotaging each other’s potions.”

sunghoon’s expression was the picture of innocence. “i would never.”

you barely suppressed a scoff. liar.

the moment you were dismissed, you spun on your heel, determined to escape before he could so much as open his mouth. but sunghoon, with his long legs caught up and fell into step beside you with infuriating ease, his shoulder brushing yours just enough to make you stiffen.

“looks like we’re stuck with each other, sweetheart,” he mused, voice dripping with false sweetness.

you clenched your jaw. “don’t call me that.”

“what, would you prefer partner?” he grinned when you shot him a glare, the torchlight catching the sharp curve of his cheekbones.

“oh, come on. admit it—you’re thrilled. all those patrols together, just you and me.” he leaned in just slightly, and you hated the way your pulse jumped. “bet you’ve been dreaming about it.”

“dreaming of hexing you into next week, maybe.”

he laughed, low and taunting, and you hated the way it sent a prickle down your spine—the way it still did, even after all this time. “you’d miss me too much.”

“in your dreams, park.”

“already there.” he winked.

you stopped short, turning to face him fully. the corridor was empty save for the two of you, the flickering torchlight casting shadows across his sharp features that made him look almost otherworldly.

“listen,” you hissed, “just because we’re prefects now doesn’t mean i’ve forgotten what you did last term. or the term before that. or—”

“you’re really holding onto that?” he tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness, but you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched at his side—like he was stopping himself from reaching for something.

“i’d say it’s flattering, but it’s starting to sound like an obsession.”

your fingers twitched toward your wand. “i swear, if you don’t—”

“ah-ah.” he tutted, nodding pointedly to the enchanted portraits lining the walls—several of whom had paused their conversations to watch the spectacle. “decorum, remember?” his voice dropped, just for you. “wouldn’t want to disappoint the head of house on our first day.”

you forced your hand to relax, but the fire in your chest refused to die. this wasn’t just about rivalry. this was about the way he’d looked right through you fifth year, like you were nothing. like you’d never been anything.

“this isn’t over,” you muttered.

sunghoon’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “oh, i’m counting on it.”

and with that, he strolled past you, robes swishing behind him like a victory banner. you stared after him, torn between the urge to scream and the sinking realisation that this year was going to be very long.

but if he thought for one second you’d let him win?

he had another thing coming.

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

the moment you stepped into the prefects’ wing, the air itself seemed to thicken, pressing against your skin like a warning. this part of the common room was unnervingly quiet—separated from the usual chaos by an ornate archway woven with enchanted ivy that shivered as you passed. two doors faced each other in the dim torchlight, close enough that you could’ve stretched out your arms and touched both at once.

yours. and—

“no.”

sunghoon’s voice curled around you from behind, rich with amusement. “yes.”

you didn’t need to turn to see his expression—you knew it by heart. that lazy, lopsided grin, the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners just before he delivered some infuriating remark. your fingers twitched toward your wand, but you clenched them into fists instead, nails biting crescents into your palms.

the door in front of you seemed to taunt you with its very existence.

“this is a joke,” you muttered.

“a hilarious one,” he agreed, brushing past so close his sleeve whispered against yours. he leaned against his doorframe with practiced ease, the flickering torchlight carving shadows under his cheekbones, gilding the curve of his smirk.

“aw, don’t look so heartbroken, princess. could’ve been worse,” his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “you could’ve been stuck next to someone boring.”

you shot him a look that could’ve melted steel. “right. because you’re a delight.”

he pressed a hand to his chest—the same way he used to when you’d accuse him of cheating at exploding snap—and the familiarity of the gesture lodged like a splinter in your throat. “i’m wounded. after all these years, you still don’t appreciate my charm?”

“your charm,” you spat, the words tumbling out raw and unfiltered, “is what got us here in the first place.”

the silence that followed was deafening.

for one fractured second, his mask slipped—just enough for you to catch the flicker in his eyes, the barely-there tightening of his jaw. but it was gone before you could name it, smoothed over with a careless shrug that didn’t match the sudden tension in his shoulders.

you remembered when those shoulders had carried your unconscious first-year self to the hospital wing after your disastrous attempt at flying. remembered how they'd shaken with silent laughter during history of magic when you'd charmed his quill to draw rude pictures on his parchment. remembered most painfully how they'd turned away from you in fifth year, when he'd started sitting with them—the polished, pureblooded group who whispered about blood status in the corridors.

it had started small. skipped study sessions. forgotten inside jokes. then one day you'd walked into the great hall to find your usual seat by the window—your seat, the one he'd saved for you every morning since first year—occupied by some simpering girl from his new circle.

when you'd cornered him after potions, demanding to know what his problem was, he'd just shrugged. "people change." like it was that simple. like four years of friendship meant nothing.

so you'd made sure he remembered.

if he wanted to pretend you didn't exist, you'd force him to notice you. you charmed his robes neon pink during presentations. swapped his pumpkin juice with vinegar. turned all his quills into snakes during arithmancy. each prank was a scream into the void: look at me, see me, remember what you threw away.

now, standing in the dimly lit corridor, the weight of those memories pressed between you like a third presence. sunghoon recovered faster than you did, his smirk sliding back into place with practiced ease.

"still holding onto ancient history, i see," he mused, pushing off the doorframe to take a step closer. the movement brought him into your space, close enough that you caught the faint scent of cedar and ink that still haunted your dreams. "what's next? you gonna charm my shoes to stick to the floor like third year? or—"

"that was you," you interrupted, your voice sharper than you intended. the accusation hung between you, trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. you did this first. you started this war.

his eyebrow quirked. "and you turned all my quills into snakes during arithmancy."

"after you vanished my potions textbook the week before NEWTs!"

"allegedly."

"you left my handwriting on a fake love note to flitwick in the margins!"

he grinned, wide and unrepentant, and it was so familiar that your chest ached. "allegedly."

you turned back to your door before he could see how his smile still affected you, how your traitorous heart still stuttered at the sight. but sunghoon, ever relentless, wasn't finished.

"you know," he said, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate—the tone he used to reserve for midnight confessions and hidden corners, "if you wanted my attention this badly, you could've just asked."

your hand froze on the doorknob.

for one suspended heartbeat, the air between you crackled with the ghost of what you'd once been—two halves of a reckless, unbreakable whole. you could almost feel the warmth of his shoulder pressed against yours in the library, the way he'd whisper jokes into your ear until you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

then reality came crashing back.

"keep dreaming, park," you scoffed, shoving the door open with more force than necessary.

his laughter followed you inside, warm and melodic and wrong—because it wasn't yours to keep anymore. "already do," he called after you.

you slammed the door behind you, pressing your back against it as if it could shield you from the way your pulse raced, from the way your eyes burned with something dangerously close to tears. outside, you heard his footsteps pause, followed by the sound of his door gently slamming shut

your chest ached.

this year was going to be hell.

it becomes a thing after that.

you start bumping into sunghoon at the worst possible times—as if the universe has decided your suffering is its favourite spectator sport. like when you drag yourself into the hallway at 2 am, bleary-eyed and half-dead from studying, your vision swimming from hours of staring at ancient runes, only to collide with something warm and solid.

"oof—"

the scent hits you first—cedar and something faintly sweet, like the peppermint candies he always used to sneak during classes. your sleep-addled brain recognizes it before your eyes do, and your stomach does a traitorous little flip.

sunghoon steadies you with hands on your shoulders, his own hair sticking up in three different directions, dark strands falling into his eyes. he's wearing what might be the most ridiculous sleepwear you've ever seen—flannel pants with little animated broomsticks that actually move, hanging low on his hips, and a threadbare quidditch jersey that's definitely two sizes too big, slipping off one shoulder to reveal a sliver of collarbone.

you blink.

he blinks back.

for one horrifying second, you're both frozen there in the dim torchlight, his fingers warm through the thin fabric of your oversized hoodie (the one with the cartoon snitch that says "catch me if you can"—a gift from your friend jungwon that you'd never admit to owning).

then his gaze drops to your feet.

and he snorts.

"please tell me those were a gift," he says, pointing at your slippers—fluffy monstrosities shaped like kneazles, complete with little ears that flop when you shift your weight. one ear has started to curl inward from wear. "tell me you didn't willingly purchase those."

you flip him off, shuffling past with as much dignity as you can muster when your slippers make a soft mrrp noise against the stone floor.

"they're warm," you mutter.

"they're embarrassing."

"says the guy wearing pyjamas with his dancing broomsticks on them."

you don't even have to look back to know he's grinning. you can hear it in his voice. "you noticed? i'm flattered."

your cheeks burn. damn him.

he starts stealing your favourite study spot, too.

the one by the window in the common room—the table with the perfect view of the lake, where the afternoon light turns the water to liquid gold and the old oak table bears the carved initials you'd put there fourth year (SH + Y/N, hidden under the edge where only you'd know to look). you've claimed it for years, and everyone knows it.

which is exactly why sunghoon's sitting there when you walk in one evening, already sprawled across the bench like he owns it, twirling his wand between his fingers with lazy precision. the dying sunlight catches on the silver rings he always wears, making them gleam.

you stop dead.

"wow," you deadpan. "you work fast."

he doesn't even glance up from his parchment, but you see the way his lips quirk. "what can i say? early bird gets the view." he finally looks up, and the smirk he gives you is all sharp edges and challenge. "maybe you should try being less predictable."

you consider setting his notes on fire.

instead, you take the table next to his—the wobbly one that always tilts your inkwell—and pointedly ignore the way his knee brushes yours under the table when he stretches.

(he definitely does it on purpose.)

(you definitely don't think about how his legs have gotten longer since fifth year.)

but the worst is the patrols.

being forced to walk the castle's quiet, echoing corridors together—where every footstep sounds too loud, every breath feels too close.

tonight, he's holding his wand aloft like some kind of dramatic victorian ghost hunter, the lumos glow casting long shadows across his sharp cheekbones, catching on the silver hoop in his left ear.

you roll your eyes. "bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"sorry for not having bat vision like you."

"maybe if you didn't spend all your time preening in mirrors—"

you don't even see the uneven step.

one second, you're scoffing at him—the next, your foot catches on a raised stone, and you're lurching forward with a startled gasp, your wand flying from your grip.

but before you can faceplant into the cold stone floor, his hand shoots out, gripping your elbow and yanking you back upright with surprising gentleness. your chest collides with his, and for one terrifying, electric second, you're right there—close enough to see the flecks of silver in his dark eyes, close enough to count his eyelashes, close enough to feel his breath hitch against your lips.

neither of you moves.

his fingers are still wrapped around your arm, warm and firm, and you hate how familiar it feels. how right. how easy it would be to lean in, to—

then he clears his throat and lets go like you've burned him, taking a deliberate step back.

"watch your step," he mutters, already turning away to gather your scattered notes.

you don't miss the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tremble just slightly as he hands your wand back.

the rest of the patrol is silent, but everything left unsaid makes the air between you suffocating.

you pushed open the heavy oak door to the prefects’ bathroom, steam curling around your ankles as you stepped inside. the massive sunken tub glimmered under floating enchanted candles, their reflections dancing across the marble walls. and it seems that no other prefect from the other houses were here.

perfect—just what you needed after a gruelling day of school.

then you heard the water splash.

sunghoon stood waist-deep in the pool, his back to you as he peeled off his soaked white t-shirt. water sluiced down the defined muscles of his shoulders, tracing the elegant dip of his spine before disappearing beneath the waterline. the dim candlelight gilded every curve of his toned arms as he tossed the shirt aside with a wet smack against the tiles.

your brain short-circuited.

he turned at the sound of your choked gasp, water dripping from his dark hair. for one horrifying second, his eyes locked onto yours—wide, startled—before his lips curled into that infuriating smirk.

"enjoying the view, sweetheart?"

you whirled around so fast you nearly tripped over your own robes. "this is a shared space, you—you exhibitionist!"

his laugh echoed off the marble. "shared, yes. which means knocking is customary." you could hear the grin in his voice. "unless you were hoping to catch me like this?"

"i'd rather catch dragon pox!" you fumbled for the door handle, cheeks burning.

"liar," he called after you. the splash of water told you he'd leaned back, completely at ease. "you stared for a solid five seconds."

you slammed the door hard enough to rattle the torches in their sconces.

…

"five seconds?" sunoo nearly spat out his pumpkin juice, eyes sparkling with mischief. across the table, jungwon choked on a laugh, thumping his chest.

you stabbed your fork into a roasted potato with unnecessary force. "i did not stare."

"sure," jungwon drawled, stealing a roll from your plate. "and i'm the minister of magic."

sunoo leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "you two need to either fuck or duel already. the sexual tension is giving me hives."

"sunoo!" you kicked him under the table, but your traitorous gaze flickered across the hall before you could stop it.

sunghoon sat with his usual group, idly stirring his soup. as if sensing your stare, he glanced up—and winked. the bastard had the audacity to mouth "five seconds" before his friends noticed and started elbowing him.

you dropped your forehead onto the table with a groan.

you should’ve known the universe had it out for you.

the thought pounded in time with your footsteps as you stomped toward the forbidden forest, the cold night air biting at your exposed skin.

of course this would happen on the one night you actually planned to sleep before dawn.

of course it was a group of reckless first-years from your house who decided to wander off here.

and of course—because fate had never once been kind to you—sunghoon was the one marching beside you, his shoulder brushing yours every few steps like some cruel reminder of how things used to be.

"this is your fault," you muttered, more out of habit than anything else.

his sigh was barely audible over the crunch of leaves underfoot. "how, exactly?"

"you gave them detention for the dungbomb incident. this is clearly revenge."

"ah yes, because children are famously logical creatures who plan elaborate revenge schemes." his voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was no real heat behind it. just exhaustion. it threw you off—this version of sunghoon who didn't rise to your bait like he used to.

you risked a glance at his profile in the moonlight. the sharp line of his jaw was tense, his brows drawn together in that way they always got when he was thinking too hard. you hated that you still noticed these things. hated that after all this time, you could still read him like a book you'd memorised but pretended not to care about.

the forest loomed ahead, darker than the sky around it. a shiver ran down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

"we'll split up," you said abruptly. "cover more ground."

"no." the word came out sharp, surprising you both. he cleared his throat. "it's... not safe. we stick together."

there was something in his voice you couldn't place—something that made your chest ache in a way you refused to examine. so you just nodded, stepping into the treeline beside him, close enough that your sleeves brushed. neither of you moved away.

the forest was wrong tonight.

usually alive with rustling leaves and distant animal calls, now it was eerily silent, like the trees themselves were holding their breath. your own breathing sounded too loud in your ears, your heartbeat pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

"this is stupid," you muttered, just to break the silence. "what kind of idiots think wandering into the murder forest at midnight is a good idea?"

next to you, sunghoon huffed a quiet laugh. "the same kind that think turning their rival's hair pink right before a quidditch match is a solid life choice."

the unexpected callback to simpler times caught you off guard. warmth bloomed in your chest before you could stop it, quickly smothered by years of built-up resentment.

"that was one time—"

"and the time you swapped my pumpkin juice with vinegar—"

"you deserved that—"

"and the time you definitely stared at me in the prefect's bathroom for five full seconds—"

something inside you snapped.

"oh my god, are you serious right now?" you whirled on him so fast he actually took a step back. your wandlight threw wild shadows across his face, illuminating the startled widening of his eyes. "you're really gonna act like i started all this? like you weren't the one who—"

your voice cracked traitorously. you hated it. hated the way his expression shifted from amused to concerned in an instant. hated how your eyes suddenly burned with unshed tears.

sunghoon went completely still. "who what?" he asked quietly.

the words tore out of you like a dam breaking:

"who ditched me the second you found a shinier group of friends!"

the silence that followed was deafening.

sunghoon looked like you'd struck him. his mouth opened, closed. for the first time since you'd known him, park sunghoon seemed at a complete loss for words.

you didn't wait for him to find them. turning on your heel, you stormed deeper into the forest, your pulse roaring in your ears. you made it three steps before you heard him move behind you—quick, urgent footsteps—and then his hand was wrapping around your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

"wait—"

a shrill voice cut through the trees before he could continue.

"oh thank merlin!"

the first-years.

sunghoon's grip loosened immediately, but his fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary before falling away. the ghost of his touch burned long after he'd turned toward the sound.

the walk back was torture.

the kids shuffled ahead of you, sniffling and covered in mud and leaves, while you and sunghoon trailed behind in suffocating silence. your mind raced, replaying the moment over and over—the look on his face when you said those words, the way his hand felt around your wrist.

at one point, he moved closer, his shoulder brushing yours. "we should—" he started, voice low.

you sped up, pretending to adjust the scarf of a trembling first-year. you didn’t wand to do this now.

by the time you reached the common room, your jaw ached from clenching it. you handed out detentions on autopilot ("no, you cannot serve it together, yes, you're lucky we're not telling the head of house"), your voice sounding distant even to your own ears.

the second the kids scurried off, you bolted for your room, desperate for space to breathe, to think—

—only for a hand to catch the door before you could slam it shut.

suddenly, you were being yanked into his room.

"what the hell—"

"i didn't ditch you."

his voice was rough, raw in a way you'd never heard before. his grip on your wrist was tight enough that you could feel his pulse racing against your skin—or maybe that was yours. you were too overwhelmed to tell.

you glared up at him, chest heaving. "oh, really? because i remember you ghosting me for months—"

"my parents made me."

the words burst out of him like he'd been holding them in for years. he released your wrist to rake a hand through his hair, pacing the small space between his bed and the door like a caged animal.

"they—merlin, they lost it when they found out i was friends with a muggle-born," he continued, voice cracking on the last word. "threatened to pull me out of hogwarts. i had to—" he stopped, swallowed hard. "i had to pretend. until i could figure something out."

the confession hit you like a bludger to the chest. all the air left your lungs at once.

memories flooded back—sunghoon's sudden distance fifth year, the way he'd flinch whenever his new friends made comments about blood status, the times you'd caught him looking at you across the great hall with an expression you couldn't decipher.

"you could've told me," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he shook his head, eyes shining in the dim light. "I couldn't. you would've tried to fix it. you would've—" his voice broke. "you would've gotten yourself hurt."

the raw honesty in his words stole your breath. for years, you'd assumed the worst; that he'd outgrown you, that you weren't enough. but this... this was something else entirely.

the air between you was heavy with everything unsaid. you could see the exact moment he realised how close you were standing, because his breath hitched, his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"...i'm sorry," he murmured, so quiet you almost missed it.

the words settled over you like a warm cloak. not perfect. not a complete fix. but a start.

"me too," you whispered back.

when you slipped out of his room and back into yours, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

neither of you slept that night. you lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every word, every look. wondering if this changed everything—or nothing at all.

you woke with a start, your cheek pressed against a half-open textbook. sunlight streamed through the common room windows—you’d fallen asleep at your usual table with the view ofthe lake, the one sunghoon had stolen so often. your neck ached, and there was drool on your parchment.

a shadow fell across your notes.

"rough night?"

sunghoon stood over you, holding two steaming mugs. he looked unfairly put-together for someone who’d also presumably gotten no sleep—his hair slightly damp from a shower, his prefect badge already pinned neatly to his robes.

you sat up too fast, your elbow knocking into an inkwell. "what are you—"

"coffee." he set one mug down in front of you, black with three sugars, just how you liked it. "figured you’d need it."

you stared at the mug like it might transform into a dungbomb. this was new. this was terrifying.

across the room, a group of fourth-years whispered behind their hands.

sunghoon cleared his throat. "patrols tonight. meet at eight?"

"yeah," you managed. "eight."

he nodded, already turning away—then paused. "oh, and y/n?"

"what?"

"you’ve got…" he gestured to his own cheek, mirroring where your face had been smushed against your notes. "ink."

you swiped at your face furiously as he walked off, but not before catching the way his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

the whispers started the moment you walked in together to the dining hall.

it wasn’t intentional—you’d just happened to leave the common room at the same time, and sunghoon had held the door open for you like some kind of gentleman, and now the your entire table was gaping.

"what the hell happened last night?" sunoo demanded as you slid onto the bench. next to him, jungwon’s eyebrows were in his hairline.

"nothing," you muttered, reaching for the toast.

"nothing?" jungwon leaned in. "he’s been staring at you since you sat down."

your head snapped up. sure enough, sunghoon was watching you from across the hall, chin propped on his hand. when he caught your eye, he smirked and took an exaggerated sip from his mug—the same one he’d brought you earlier.

you kicked sunoo under the table when he opened his mouth. "don’t."

meanwhile, at the slytherin table, sunghoon’s so-called friends weren’t even pretending not to stare. one of them—a tall guy with a permanent sneer—said something under his breath. sunghoon’s response was too quiet to hear, but the way his friend’s face paled was very satisfying.

you found out what he’d said to them later, when you passed them in the corridor.

"—thought you were done with that," sneer-boy was hissing, just around the corner from where you’d frozen mid-step.

"changed my mind," sunghoon’s voice was calm, but there was steel underneath. "got a problem with it?"

"she’s a muggle-born—"

"finish that sentence," sunghoon said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, "and i’ll hex you into next week."

silence.

you ducked into an alcove before they could see you, your heart pounding. when sunghoon walked past minutes later, alone, he paused—like he could sense you there.

"you can come out now," he called, amused. "unless you’re planning to ambush me again. which, fair."

you stepped out, cheeks burning. "i wasn’t eavesdropping—"

"liar." he fell into step beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world. "but since you heard all that…" he bumped your shoulder with his. "you’re welcome."

you bumped him back, harder. "idiot."

he grinned.

things changed after that.

sunghoon stopped stealing your study spot—instead, he’d join you there, sprawling across the bench like he owned it. you stopped hexing his belongings—mostly. (some traditions had to stay alive.)

his old friends glowered at you in the halls. yours teased you mercilessly.

and when you had patrols together, the silence wasn’t suffocating anymore—just quiet, comfortable.

(though he did still tease you about the bathroom incident. some things would never change.)

the moment the first raindrop hit your nose, you knew this trip was doomed.

you'd been assigned to chaperone a group of first-years on their first hogsmeade visit, with sunghoon as your unfortunate co-supervisor—because apparently the universe still hadn't finished laughing at you. the kids had dragged you from honeydukes to zonko's, their excitement barely contained as they pressed against every shop window.

sunghoon lingered at the back of the group, hands in his pockets, occasionally shooting you glances you couldn't quite decipher.

then the sky opened up without warning. one second you were counting heads near the post office, the next icy rain was pelting down in sheets, sending students scattering in every direction.

"in here!" sunghoon's voice cut through the chaos as his fingers closed around your wrist. you didn't process where he was pulling you until the bell above the door tinkled and the overwhelming scent of floral perfume hit you.

madam puddifoot's. the most notoriously romantic tea shop in the village, all lace doilies and floating cherubs and couples canoodling in heart-shaped booths.

"we are not—" you began, already backpedalling, but it was too late. the first-years had already stampeded inside, their squeals of delight echoing off the pink walls.

sunghoon stepped in behind you, his chest brushing your shoulder as he shook rainwater from his hair. "well. this is cozy."

you shot him a glare that could melt steel.

"i'd rather swim back to the castle."

the elderly witch behind the counter beamed at your bedraggled group. "young love! how precious!"

"we're not—"

"just chaperones," sunghoon finished smoothly, though the smirk playing at his lips ruined any attempt at innocence.

the next twenty minutes passed in a haze of humiliation. the first-years were seated at a large table near the back, leaving you and sunghoon wedged into a tiny booth for two—one adorned with actual cupid statues that periodically blew glitter into the air. your face burned as a cherub floated by dumping rose petals on unsuspecting patrons.

across from you, sunghoon looked unbearably amused, stirring his tea with infuriating calm.

"you're enjoying this," you accused, watching as he added a third sugar cube to his cup.

he raised an eyebrow. "the tea's decent."

"i meant the utter humiliation of this situation."

the corner of his mouth twitched. "that too."

a sudden commotion at the first-years' table saved you from responding. one of the girls was pointing between you two with alarming enthusiasm. "are you going to kiss?"

your teacup clattered against its saucer. sunghoon choked on his sip.

"we are not—"

"not in front of you lot," sunghoon interrupted solemnly, sending the table into giggles.

you kicked him under the table hard enough to make him wince. "you're dead to me."

the rain showed no signs of letting up, trapping you in this pastel nightmare. as minutes ticked by, you became increasingly aware of every accidental brush of sunghoon's knee against yours, every time his fingers grazed yours reaching for the sugar bowl. the shop's enchanted ceiling—currently mimicking a sunset—cast warm light across his features, softening the sharp angles of his face in a way that made your chest feel oddly tight.

at one point, you caught him staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite place—something between amusement and that same unreadable look he'd worn in the forest after your argument.

"what?" you muttered, self-consciously wiping at your face.

he leaned forward slightly, voice dropping so only you could hear. "just wondering how long it'll take you to admit this isn't so bad."

before you could retort, a chorus of "ooooooh!" erupted from the first-years' table. you looked down to realise sunghoon's hand was still covering yours on the tabletop—when had that happened?

you jerked back as if burned, sending a saucer clattering to the floor. the resulting cheers from the children made you want to disappear into the upholstery.

by the time the rain eased, your dignity was beyond salvage. the walk back to hogwarts was a parade of giggles and not-so-subtle whispers from your charges. sunghoon walked beside you, his shoulder bumping yours every few steps like he couldn't quite help himself.

"you realise we're never living this down," you groaned as the castle gates came into view.

he grinned, that infuriating, lopsided grin that used to make your stomach flip in fourth year and—annoyingly—still did now.

"where's your sense of adventure?"

"back in that tea shop, buried under approximately two hundred rose petals."

his laughter followed you all the way up the path, warm and familiar, and despite yourself, you found your steps falling into sync with his. (and if you didn't protest when one of the first-years snapped another photo of you two walking shoulder-to-shoulder—well. some things were better left unexamined.)

things between you and sunghoon had become dangerously comfortable. what started as reluctant co-prefect duties had slowly melted into late-night study sessions where your head would end up on his shoulder, patrols where his fingers lingered a second too long when helping you up, and inside jokes whispered too close to each other’s ears in the great hall.

it wasn’t a relationship, not really—just stolen moments and unspoken tension that made your stomach flip whenever he smirked at you across a crowded room.

that’s why it stung so much when you walked into the library and saw him laughing with eunji, a bright-eyed ravenclaw a year younger than you both who had newly joined. logically, you knew there was nothing romantic about it—he was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as she enthusiastically explained some arithmancy concept, his expression more amused than affectionate. but the way his eyes crinkled at her enthusiasm, the easy way he nodded along—it reminded you too much of how he used to look at you before everything got complicated.

"y/n!" sunghoon called when he spotted you hovering by the shelves, waving you over with that same warm smile that always made your pulse skip. "come join us. eunji’s explaining this ridiculous theory about using arithmancy to predict quidditch outcomes."

you forced your feet to move, your grip tightening on your book bag. eunji greeted you with a cheerful wave, her braids swinging. "sunghoon said you’re brilliant at charms! maybe you can help me understand this part about wand movement harmonics?"

the next hour passed in a blur of half-hearted contributions from you and increasingly animated discussion between the two of them. every time you tried to interject, the conversation would circle back to some inside joke or advanced magical theory that left you feeling like an outsider in your own friendship. when eunji reached over to adjust sunghoon’s grip on her notes, demonstrating some wand technique, you suddenly couldn’t breathe properly.

"i should go," you muttered, gathering your things before either could protest. "forgot i promised to meet sunoo for... something."

sunghoon’s brow furrowed as you stood. "you okay?"

"fine." you forced a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "just tired."

the walk back to your dorm felt infinitely longer than usual, each step weighed down by memories of fifth year—of sunghoon slowly slipping away from you, of empty promises to study together, of eventually finding him surrounded by new friends who looked at you like you didn’t belong.

hogsmeade weekend only made it worse. you’d been hoping to bump into sunghoon accidentally-on-purpose near honeydukes, maybe share a chocolate frog like old times. instead, you found him outside the three broomsticks deep in conversation with eunji again, their heads bent together over some parchment. when he laughed at something she said, that familiar loud, unguarded laugh that used to be yours, something sharp twisted in your chest.

you turned on your heel so fast you nearly collided with a group of third-years.

"there you are!" sunoo’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts as he and jungwon appeared beside you, their arms laden with zonko’s purchases. "we’ve been looking everywhere—oh."

sunoo followed your gaze to where sunghoon was now helping eunji adjust her scarf. "that again?"

you let them steer you into the three broomsticks, where jungwon immediately ordered three butterbeers.

"you’re being ridiculous," sunoo said bluntly as you slumped into a chair. "he looks at you like you invented sunlight. that’s just some kid he’s tutoring."

"but what if—"

"what if nothing," jungwon interrupted, pushing a frothy mug toward you. "remember when you turned his hair pink before the gryffindor match last year? he still smiles when someone mentions that."

the memory should have comforted you. instead, it just made you think of how easily things could change—how sunghoon had drifted away once before, how his parents’ disapproval still hung over whatever this was between you.

by monday, you’d started taking deliberate detours to avoid him. patrols were reassigned, library visits carefully timed, and when you couldn’t avoid crossing paths, you kept conversations painfully polite. sunghoon’s confused frowns and hesitant "hey, wait—"s as you hurried away only made your chest ache more.

"are you trying to break his heart or yours?" sunoo demanded one evening after you ducked into an empty classroom to avoid sunghoon in the corridor.

you pressed your back against the cold stone wall. "it’s not like that. i just... need space."

"from him? or from whatever’s happening between you two?"

you didn’t have an answer.

the tension came to a head in charms class. with flitwick delayed by some mishap in the staff room, the classroom had dissolved into chaos.

you’d gotten pulled into helping jay, a handsome gryffindor, untangle some particularly stubborn enchanted yarn. his dramatic retelling of his disastrous attempt to knit a scarf for his gran had you laughing so hard your sides hurt.

then you felt it—that unmistakable prickle of being watched.

sunghoon sat three rows back, his usually expressive face unreadable as he stared at you. his quill had stopped moving entirely, fingers clenched so tightly around it you could see the whites of his knuckles from across the room. when jay leaned in to whisper another joke, sunghoon’s jaw tightened visibly, his dark eyes flashing with something that sent heat crawling up your neck.

you forced yourself to look away, suddenly fascinated by the grain of your desk. but like a compass needle finding north, your gaze kept drifting back. minutes passed, and he was still watching you with that same intensity, as if trying to communicate something words couldn’t capture.

when flitwick finally arrived and class ended, you were out of your seat before the dismissal fully left his mouth. you didn’t look back, even when you heard sunghoon call your name in the corridor. your heart pounded as you took the stairs two at a time, your mind racing with questions you weren’t ready to face.

why did his attention still affect you like this? why did part of you still want to turn around and walk straight into that stormy gaze?

and most terrifying of all—what if you’d been wrong about everything?

the uncertainty settled heavy in your chest as you disappeared around the corner, leaving sunghoon and all your unanswered questions behind.

you should've known better than to think you'd have the prefect's bathroom to yourself. the universe had a cruel sense of humour when it came to you and sunghoon.

the massive, pool-like tub was empty when you arrived, steam curling off the water's surface in lazy tendrils. you'd changed into your bathing suit—a modest but pretty thing—before stepping in, sighing as the warm water lapped at your skin.

the golden taps lining the walls gleamed, each set with a different jewel that dispensed everything from rose-scented bubbles to vanilla-infused oils. you'd chosen a mix of both, the sweet floral scent wrapping around you as you leaned back, eyes closed, finally relaxing for the first time in days.

then the door slammed open.

your eyes flew open just in time to see sunghoon stride in, already shirtless, a towel slung low over his hips. your breath caught. he looked unfairly good, water droplets clinging to his skin from the humid air, his dark hair slightly damp like he'd just showered.

his gaze locked onto yours immediately.

"you," he said, voice rough, "have been avoiding me."

you swallowed, sinking a little deeper into the water. "i wasn't-"

"don't lie." he dropped the towel (thank merlin, he was wearing swim trunks) and stepped into the pool, not breaking eye contact for a second. the water rippled around him as he moved closer, and you instinctively backed toward the far edge, your pulse thundering in your ears.

he stopped you with a hand on your wrist. "where are you going?"

"the-the soap." you gestured weakly to the rose-and-vanilla tap across the pool. "i wanted to.."

sunghoon's grip tightened just slightly. "then go."

you didn't move. neither did he.

the silence stretched, thick with tension, until he finally let out a frustrated breath and tugged you closer. "you're really going to pretend nothing's wrong?"

you bit your lip, glancing away. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"bullshit." his thumb brushed over your wrist, sending a shiver down your spine. "you've been dodging me for days. skipping patrols. running away every time i get near you." his voice dropped, low and dangerous. "was it because of him?"

you blinked. "who?"

"that gryffindor. the one you were laughing with in class." his jaw clenched. "are you into him? is that why—"

"what? no!" you gaped at him. "i was just helping him with—"

"then why?" sunghoon's fingers slid up your arm, his touch burning even through the water. "why avoid me?"

you hesitated, then muttered, "you were the one always with that ravenclaw girl."

sunghoon stilled. then, slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips. "eunji?"

you scowled. "don't act like you don't know who i'm talking about."

he laughed, low and amused, his other hand coming up to cradle your face. "she's my friend's little sister, and, for the record, very much into girls."

your cheeks burned as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "were you jealous?"

"no!"

"liar." his nose brushed along your neck, and you shivered.

"you've been driving me crazy, you know that? watching you laugh with someone else, then running every time i tried to talk to you—" his hands slid down to your waist, gripping tight. "i couldn't take it"

your breath hitched. "sunghoon—"

"let me help you with that soap," he murmured, already reaching for the bottle floating nearby.

you didn't protest as he poured a generous amount into his palms, his hands smoothing over your shoulders, down your arms, his touch deliberate and slow. when he reached your back, you tensed, but his fingers were careful, kneading the tension from your muscles as he worked the lather into your skin.

"you're so fucking pretty," he muttered, his lips brushing your shoulder. "it's unfair."

you leaned into him without thinking, your head tipping back against his chest. his hands stilled, then slid around to your front, tracing the dip of your collarbones, the curve of your waist. you could feel his heartbeat against your back, rapid and unsteady.

"sunghoon," you whispered, "your parents wouldn't approve of this. of us."

he stilled, then huffed a laugh. "who cares what they think?"

"they pulled you out of my life once already—"

"and i regret letting that happen every day." his thumb brushed your wrist. "they'll give in once they meet you."

your breath hitched. "you're going to make me meet them?"

"yeah," he said simply, pulling you flush against him. "you're gonna be my girlfriend after all."

the word sent heat rushing to your cheeks. "i never agreed to that."

sunghoon's hands slid to your waist. "then say no." when you didn't, his smirk returned. "that's what i thought."

he turned you to face him, his eyes dark with something that made your stomach flip. "tell me you feel it too."

you didn't have to ask what he meant. "i do."

his breath left him in a rush, and then his mouth was on yours, hot and desperate.

the kiss stole the air from your lungs, a messy clash of teeth and tongue and aching want. his hands gripped your hips like he was afraid you might slip away, fingertips digging into your skin through the thin fabric of your swimsuit. you whimpered against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his damp hair, tugging just enough to make him groan—a low, broken sound that sent a fresh bolt of heat straight to you.

"fuck," he muttered against your lips, voice hoarse, "i missed you. you have no idea—"

he cut himself off by kissing you again, deeper this time, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that made your knees weak. you barely realised you were moving until your back hit the slick marble edge of the pool, trapping you between the cool stone and the hard, burning press of sunghoon’s body.

he kissed like he was trying to memorise you—long, unhurried drags of his mouth against yours, punctuated by little nips to your bottom lip that had you gasping. one of his hands slid up your side, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip beneath your ribs, until his thumb brushed just under the swell of your breast, featherlight.

you broke the kiss with a gasp, your head falling back against the marble. "sunghoon—"

"tell me to stop," he said, voice wrecked, forehead pressed to yours. his hand stayed where it was, trembling slightly.

you opened your mouth—but no protest came out. instead, your hands slid down his chest, mapping the planes of muscle, the slick heat of his skin, until you were clutching at him helplessly.

"that's what i thought," he breathed, almost a laugh, before his mouth found your throat.

you choked on a moan as he kissed down the column of your neck, teeth scraping lightly, tongue soothing the sting. his hands, bolder now, roamed freely over your body, mapping every inch like it was his right. the thin straps of your bathing suit slipped down your shoulders under his touch, and you shivered, equal parts from the chill of the air and the heat building inside you.

"someone could walk in," you gasped, barely coherent as his teeth grazed your pulse point.

he cursed under his breath, dragging himself back enough to look at you. his eyes were black with heat, pupils blown wide, chest heaving.

"then come to my room," he said roughly, his voice pure sin. "please."

you hesitated—but then he kissed you again, slow this time, coaxing, like a promise of everything he wasn’t saying out loud. his thumb rubbed slow circles into your hip, grounding you.

"unless," he said against your mouth, smirking wickedly, "you'd rather stay here and risk getting caught."

you swatted his chest, but the fight had long since gone out of you. your body was already leaning into his, your mouth chasing his kiss. "fine," you whispered. "but only because—"

he didn't let you finish, with a grin, he lifted you out of the water in one smooth motion, making you squeal as he carried you toward the door, his lips finding yours again before you could protest.

“your room is right next door after all, so we don’t have to worry about disturbing anyone else.”

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

#sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon suggestive #need that

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